Part I of my Story on the Empress GF, which may or may not yet come as a Meme in this AU from u/Sweet_older-Sister. But whether or not, I wrote this up and wanted to share it with you, with Part II soon to follow.
WARNING: If you expect this to be a harsh takedown or bashing of AU!Big E, I have to disappoint you. She WILL be criticized, but I personally prefer him/her to be a sympathetic, ultimately well-meaning, if highly flawed, Character. Also, the SO for Big E is both perpetual and a Psyker, just not one anywhere near her Level. That said, I kept them Gender-neutral, so if you wanna imagine them and Big E as Golden Space Lesbian Mommies, feel free to do so!
Regardless of all that, however, I mostly just hope you can enjoy this! Have fun!
I open the door to her chamber, paying no heed tot he noises of raging battle, clearly audible despite all the walls, doors and distance between us and them.
As always, despite the gold-plated…everything, the most radiant thing in this room is still her.
Tall and proud she stands as she puts on the last pieces of her golden armor, light glowing off o fit, pure and bright. Her mighty sword hangs by her side and her long, raven black hair is flowing down her back. When she turns around, her glowing eyes, which seemed so often to somehow hold both the untold wisdom oft he wises changes and yet also the boundless arrogance oft he most reckless fools widen upon seeing me, before they swiftly narrow again.
„…I told my Companions to keep you away“, she says, her voice sounding cold and rejecting.
„Well, too bad“, I say, meeting her eyes without fear. „They know better than to try and keep me away when the two of us have to talk.“
Anger briefly flares up in her eyes. „There is nothing to talk about. You are distracting me from preparing for battle!“, she says, her voice cold, harsh and regal, demanding obedience. „As your Empress, I order you to leave. At once!!“
Most other men and women would have crumbled at this moment. Hastily apologized and retreated.
But not me.
I stand my ground and return her cold glare without flinching. „…I am not your Subordinate“, I say, firmly and steadfast. „Not at this moment. Right now, I am your Consort and equal, and as such, I refuse that order!!“
Her eyes widen before she grits her teeth. „You DARE defy your Empress?!“ She stomps a foot on the ground. „I command you, LEAVE!!“
I narrow my eyes. „No.“
„I SAID LEAVE!!!“ Her scream shakes the room far more harshly than the distant Artillery Fire ever had. Her voice rings not just in my ears, but in my mind and soul, as psychic pressure seems to drown the room.
And still, I stand my ground and glare up at the Golden Giantess above me. „NO!!“
Her mask is slowly cracking, her eyes wide and her breathing starting to become uneven. „I…I ORDER you to LEAVE-“
„And I REFUSE!!“ My own shout is not nearly as impressive in terms of sheer power…but it seems to hit the Empress of Mankind like a whiplash.
Her breathing going ever more ragged, she turns away from me. „There is NOTHING to talk about, now!! Leave!!“
I clench my fist, a wave of anger rushing through me. „You think you can just shut me out like that?! Confine me to a secure Chamber while you rush off to your Doom?! You selfish BITCH!! That’s NOT how it works!! Didn’t you promise me, all these Millennia ago?! That we would see this through together, come what may?! That you would never ignore me or shut me out?!“ I snort bitterly. „But, well, I suppose you broke that last promise a while ago. What’s one more, eh?!“
I swear I can hear her breath hitch in her throat. My heart clenches at the sound, but I soldier on. She NEEDS to hear this.
„And where did that lead us?! Oh, right: Besieged in our Palace by our own daughters and their sons that have fallen prey to our worst enemies, with all that’s left to do being a reckless assault on their Leader that could well get you killed!! An assault that I just NOW learned about from one of our older sons!! How could I forget that?!“
„Stop it!!“, she growls. „I…I have to-“
„You ALWAYS ‚have to‘!! And yet, you have never stopped considering if maybe you SHOULDN’T!! That would have saved us a lot of trouble, wouldn’t it?!“ I shake my head, glaring at her. „Maybe it’s time for you to finally get that obstinate head out of your golden laurels-“
„STOP IT!!“
„-and stop being the Empress of Mankind for a few fucking minutes-“
„S-stop it!“
„-so I can finally have a real fucking talk with the woman I fell in love with again-“
„S…stop…“ Her voice sounds almost pleading now, but I steel my heart and prepare the final blow.
„BEFORE I MIGHT LOSE HER FOREVER, JUST LIKE WE LOST OUR DAUGHTERS, YOU STUBBORN OLD WOMAN!!!“
I am panting heavily, finally feeling the hot tears running down my face. I didn‘t even realize that I have begun to cry…but, laying my wounded heart bare like this has brought up all the pain and suffering from the last few years all too strongly.
Slowly, hesitantly, she turns back around to face me. The Golden Halo framing her head has vanished, as had much of her glow…and her eyes, usually so regal and proud, are now brimming with tears, looking so ancient, tired and sad as they turn towards me.
The Mask that is the Empress of Mankind had crumbled away…and what remains is the woman I had learned to know and love, all those Millennia ago, when we first met at on shores of old Albion.
A woman so old, tired, weary and sad, so beaten down and wounded that I had begun to fear she was forever lost.
„I…I am sorry…“ Her voice is almost a whimper, carrying untold grief and regret as she collapses onto her bed, which nearly broke from the weight. „I am s-so sorry…I…I ruined everything…!“
She buries her face in her hands and begins to sob.
My heart clenches and I breathe out the last of my anger, relief flashing through my mind. I have gotten through to her, finally, for the first time in years.
Too late, I remind myself as sharp regret flashes through me. Far too late for far too many people…
But at least not entirely too late.
I sigh as I slowly walk up to and then sit down next to her. I reach up and gently place my hand on her armored arm.
„H-how…“ She finally whispers between sobs. „How did I screw this up so badly…? How did I let it come to this…?“
I sigh again. „…It was not entirely your fault“, I finally say. „The Game was rigged against us the moment the Four kidnapped them. The seeds were already sown. And…“ I look down, overwhelming regret in my heart. „And while you fucked up, it’s not like I have done too much better of a job...“
Images flash before my mind. Images of my…OUR daughters. Our darling little Girls and their significant others, our sons and daughters in law. Our greatest hope for Mankind and the Galaxy, our pride and joy. So many of them now lost forever, through our enemies fault and our own hubris.
I remember giving my blessing Hathor‘s attack on the Interex to avenge her Moonbeam, thinking nothing more of it, only for her to emerge as the Chosen Warmaster of Chaos…
I remember trying and failing to convince my Empress to give Petra more meaningful assignments, Campaigns where she can truly show her worth and skills, only to let myself be convinced that she and the Iron Warriors were needed too badly in these grueling Sieges…
I remember trying to talk Aurelia out of her worship of her Mother, to stop spreading Cults to her service over the Worlds, only to fail miserably..and to fail even more miserably in comforting her after she lost her Little Light on Monarchia…her mother and I had not talked for a while after that…
I remember chastising Alpharia and Omega for their reckless approach to collateral damage in their style of Warfare, chosing my words too harshly…
I remember coldly telling Alakhai that I do not approve of her significant other, getting into a loud shouting match over it…
I remember harshly rebuking Magnolia after Nicea, her reckless pursuit of Warp Knowledge pressing all the wrong buttons in me and, in my anger, making me compare her unfavorably to Lyanna and Mortia…
Next to me, she keeps crying, her shoulder trembling as years off suppressed guilt, regret and grief finally break through to the surface. „Our daughters…our sweet children…m-my fault…all my fault…!!“
Bitter guilt roils in my soul. „No“, I whisper quietly. „It was my fault, too. I…I wasn’t that good a parent, either…not to them, and not to our children in-law…“
...Where had we gone so wrong? We had raised children before! And not too badly, at that! So why had we now failed so miserably at keeping our Family together?!
…The answer is simple and bitter. Because we had severely overestimated our ability to be the parents they deserved while running an ever-expanding Empire of Conquest and balance between the two issues, especially since our daughters were vitally important Generals. Because we had trouble trusting people we didn’t know for a long time already, like Malcador, after Millennia of heartbreaks and betrayals. Not at all helped by the fact that we had been unable to bond with our daughters before they were taken from us as embryos.
But that is no excuse. The Lion’s share oft he blame falls on both our shoulders, and we know it. We had placed what we believed to be the needs of Mankind and the Imperium before our Family too many times…and now, we all had paid the price for this.
Oh, how the Four must be laughing at our foolishness…and, much as I HATE them for all they have done to us and our Family, I have to bitterly admit that they would be right to do so…
Still crying, she pulls me to her into a hug, which I gently return. Despite her towering over me, I had always felt the most comfortable with her when she was at this size.
…It provides a small measure of relief from the agonizing knowledge that a Number of our Children, now in service to those four fucking Cancer Tumors upon reality, are currently trying to breach into the Imperial Palace and destroy us, Mankind and all we have ever worked for. And the knowledge that some of our other children have already died at each others hands.
And now, my Empress would have to kill one more of our daughters to end this. Hathor, our best and brightest Girl, beloved and cherished, now our worst, most bitter enemy.
Our ultimate failure as Parents, laid bare.
„…I can never make up for what I have done“, my love finally says, her voice sad and resigned even as her tears still flow. „Not to them…and not to you. I am sorry…but I know that it changes nothing…“
I gently place a hand on her cheek. „…It does change one thing“, I say quietly. „That I know the woman I love is still there…“
„…I was not a good wife to you in these last years“, she whispers. „Almost as bad as I was a mother…“
I gently press my head against her. „…I forgive you“, I finally say.
She shakes her head. „I don’t deserve that…“
„Maybe not. But I forgive you, anyway.“ I look at her. „Just, please…promise me to never let your mask control you like this, again.“
She nods, burying her face in my shoulder. „I swear…I swear, I won’t…“
She is sincere. I can tell. I have known her too long not to.
„I didn’t want you to come here“, she says quietly. „I knew that if I saw you, I would crumble again…“
„Perhaps it was time for you to crumble“, I answer sadly. „To remind yourself that you are still human, at the core…not just the cold, calculating, uncaring Empress you had become…“
She tightens her hug, silence reigning for a few seconds. „…Thank you“, she finally whispers. „Thank you for…for snapping me out of this, one last time…“
Fear now rises within me. Despite knowing that this may be the last time I see her…I do not want to think about this. The idea of losing her forever after all we have been through…it is terrifying.
„…Please, don’t…don’t say that.“ Now it is I whose voice is shaking. „Our other daughters and children in-law…they still need you. The Imperium still needs you. I still need you! You…you will make it. You have been in tough spots before! You-“
She interrupts me, gently pressing her forehead against mine. „…If…if I don’t come back…promise me you’ll be there for them. For as long as you can. Please, my love…promise me you won’t give up. Promise me that you will be a better parent than I was…“
I swallow. „I…I promise.“ I finally whisper. And I mean it, as much as I desperately hope I will never have to face this future without her.
I try to calm myself. She will be fine. She will win…and after this War is over, we will finally make all the amends we can, save as many of our children as possible and finally, FINALLY do right by them…as they deserve, as we should have from the start!
We will!! We HAVE to!!
…I desperately cling onto this hope. The Alternatives…are too much to bare imagining.
She tightens her hug around me again as we sit there, quietly wishing that this last moment of quiet and calm, filled with regret and sorrow as it may be, would never end.
But it would. Soon. The Teleporters would be ready in mere Minutes.
Oh, how I wish I could accompany her onto the Vengeful Spirit, to confront our wayward daughter, perhaps, as I hoped foolishly, even save her…but I know that this is the one thing she will never allow. As a Psyker, I am powerful, but never as strong as Malcador, let alone her or any of our daughters. Chaos would not hesitate to kill me or worse aboard this tainted vessel and I can not afford to slow her down and make her waste time and energy protecting me.
And besides, if any Deamons make it through the defenses while she is gone, I will be needed to keep them from reaching the Throne.
I know that this, she would be adamant about, now more than ever. So I do not even try.
…It still causes an awful feeling in my gut, nonetheless, as we stay hugging each other for as long as we can, two foolish, flawed and weary parents, sharing in our grief, regret and sorrow over our destroyed family in these last moments before the Final Clash…

Hello friends of reddit. My husband (30M) and I (30F) have been married for 6 months and it is not going as expected. In the beginning, he made it clear that due to his religious beliefs that he did not to have sex before marriage. I agreed as I had horrible judgement in men and was not looking to get taken for another ride again.
Background on him: He comes from an extremely religious family (Baptist). Worked his own business with the family since he graduated high school. He has also lived with his parents and has never lived on his own other than a year in his parents other home before his accident (he fell 27ft and had to relearn to walk). No drinking no smoking, only spend time with family and outdoor activities. Background on me: While I come from an abusive traumatic family I am currently 5 years therapy strong working on myself as it is my responsibility not my partners. I went to college and lived on my own until covid lay offs and I had to move back home with my father, which wasnt ideal. I work full time and have my own business; I am very motivated.
As time progressed he changed his mind and we ended up sleeping together. I asked for us to move in together for a lil while before we got married. My parents (divorced) were not okay with that but I did not care. He told me that we would need to sit down and discuss the idea of moving in together with his parents. I said; "Why would we need to ask permission we are 30?" and he said that we would have to in order to save face. I said "I am not comfortable with discussing this with your family as it is not their business." He said we were not to move in together until we do. I told him if he forced me to meet with his parents then I was going to tell his mother that we have already had sex so there was no reason not to move in together. He never set up the meeting. We never moved in together. He is very close to his parents in my opinion to the point it is unhealthy. I watch as his dad undermines, belittles, and ignores his mother with a smile and charming laugh on his face until she is in complete submission. She admitted to me that while she was clipping coupons for the family, he was out spending all the money on machines / equipment that they did not need. She has cried to me in front of my husband about how she still needs to voice her opinion even though it is never listen to or goes the way she suggests. That was a red flag to me.
My now husband of mine and I started to plan out life together. He told me that he owns his own business and has 60 acres of property and wanted to build a life there. He promised me that we were going to work together and build a home that we can make a guest house and eventually build a bigger home. He wants it to be similar to a Lowcountry plantation. I was all for it, finally excited that I had someone I could create a life with that we both wanted and deserved.
That is when things turned. He started to move forward on building a home for us without a permit nor engineer drawings. Before he started, I told him that made me very uncomfortable and I need security to know this home is done correctly since he will be out of town a lot and I will be left alone in a town I know no one. That made him insulted and said this is how his father and family did their home and he just moved forward on building it himself. I begged, cried, and pleaded with him to please let's get the water and septic out there first and work on a budget of plans / permits to break ground. That I was not comfortable living that way, my father was a GC and taught me a lot of what needs to be done for a home to be an asset. He waved me off, told me that my father was just a carpenter. I cried for months over it and almost moved the wedding back a year. His father was behind the scenes telling him and motivating him to continue to do whatever he wanted to do regardless of how I felt. He finally heard me after I threaten to postpone the wedding and stopped construction and told me he would get a permit on the home and drawings before he did anything else.
The closer the wedding got, the difficult it became. I gave him my pay stubs, W2, and showed my assets to him up front. I showed all of my cards and asked to see his in return. He said he would and he never did. When I asked him more than once he would get annoyed with me. I started to get suspicious. I felt as if he was hiding something. So I did my own investigation. It turns out that his father and him own the property together in a way that if one passes the other gets it and he only owns 20% of the business he claimed was his. I was stunned. Everything he told me was half truths. I brought it to his attention many times and he acted like he told me already. I told him I knew the truth and he said it wasn't a big deal and I am making something out of it that it isnt. If his father had more respect for his wife and for women, I would not be this concerned. His father throws trash on the ground and ignores rules and regulations while having a problem with authority at his own home. Now everything he doesnt want at his house is being thrown over to my husband's property (which is his too and he has a right to do what he wants). Being in that type of chaotic environment along with the sense of having someone stomp on my boundaries for me would be extremely triggering and something that I will not be able to do. He is already throwing trash and leaving debris and junk all over the property. I communicated my feelings and got met with resentment, anger, and denial from my husband. He told me that it was not going to be that way. He also called me controlling bc instead of spending 25,000 on permits / our home, he spend it on a brand new truck (he has two other trucks). I was so upset and said how could he spend that much money on a toy when he hasn't even provided a home for our family. He was texting his dad about the truck behind my back and he was motivated to do whatever he wanted to do regardless of what I thought bc I am "controlling".
I told him from day one that I am a career woman, that I am not going to be solely responsible for the household and I am not his mother and I will not pick up after him. I expect things to be 50/50 in finances and in house work until we figure out what works best for us. He said he agreed and was very happy with that. I then told him in order for me to feel comfortable moving out to his 60 acres of land, that it would need to be solely in his name and he would need to get a permit and engineer drawings. He told me as soon as we were married that he would move forward with that.
With all these red flags, I continued to move forward with the wedding as he promised me the world. He kept dragging his feet on the home construction and it was failing to be completed before our wedding. His dad was telling him to take his time it is not that big of a deal. 4 months before our wedding, his family and him expected me to live in an unpermited non CO having shed like house, with no power, water, septic, nor appliances, an empty shell, no sheetrock (his father made his mother live like that). In complete distress I begged my father to do a lease to own with one of his rental properties for me so that my husband and I would have a place to live after we got married since the home was in no condition to live in. My father begrudgingly agreed and then told me to not Marry him. I did always. My family ended up ruining the wedding for me and causing our special day to not be as special.
Fast forward a few months when it was time for us to pay our lease to own payment. He was late every month, got angry at me for asking for his part of the money, I asked him to help with the chores and he would get annoyed with me, he has not mowed the grass once (my father and I have). I can count on my hand the times hes raked the yard and done dishes. He makes double the amount of money I made but I am writing the checks for the bills. I am just asking for his portion and he told me that I am treating him like a roommate not like a husband / wife. I asked him to explain and he couldn't. I finally got fed up and told me to give me 4 checks signed so when he is out of town for work and I need to pay the bills I can. He handed me the checks and they had him and HIS MOTHER on the account. Admitted, I lost my cool. I was overwhelmed with the amount of involvement his parents had in his assets and life. He has made me feel like he has lied to me. I told him as long as my boundaries are disrespected and I have no say in our home and our life that I do not want anything to do with their property. He would get mad and say it was his and id remind him, no it is not. It belongs to him and his father. He said it is his home and he is going to build it the way he wanted.
A few weeks after that argument he completely distant himself from me. He was out till 8pm every night for weeks and I kept asking him where he was. All he said was "working". A few weeks later, I finally go out to the property to see a full blown house. Behind my back he was working on that home putting roofing, plumbing, tile, siding, everything! He told me we were going to work on this together. I was so upset, everything is half ass done. He let me pick out nothing. I called him on it and he denied it. Come to find out him and his father had been working on it behind my back. While I was struggling to pay our bills he was using his money to continue on building on the home without drawings, permits, engineering, nothing. He couldn't give me money for our house hold bills, but he could spend thousands and thousands on something he promised me he was not going to do. Then he proceeded to tell me what "we" were going to give his father a $2,000.00 fish finder for a present. I told him is he out of his mind we can not afford that (mind you he gave me nothing for my birthday though he did bake me a cake and it was sweet). I said you are going to spend that much money on a gift and you didnt even get your wife anything for her birthday? he said "you got an engagement ring, that was expensive enough" I said "so bc you gave me an engagement ring, that means you do not have to purchase anything else for me as a gift?" he just waved me away. I said you never discussed this transaction with me and you are saying "we" are getting it. He said "well when I said 'we' I meant me and my mother."
I just stared at him. He considers WE as him and his parents. Finally got him into marriage counseling and it does not seem to be helping. He has missed 4 sessions already bc he chose work over me. He is pulling away from me completely, no affection, no sex (I did not know he had an issue brushing his teeth so now I cringe in fear of getting dumpster breath anytime we are intimate). This was NOT like this during our dating time.
I feel like I am drowning and I have made a HUGE mistake. Typing this out makes me feel guilty for telling the truth and maybe I am being controlling and overbearing like his parents are saying? This is why I am coming to you people of reddit.
I feel like I am in a polyamorous relationship. I feel like I have escaped the control of my family only to end up in a place where I am controlled by another man that I am not even MARRIED TO. I feel like I am a ship with two anchors that are my parents, when I got married I thought he was going to help captain my ship, not be another anchor on my vessel to weigh me down. All my friends have noticed that I have changed and I am not my normal self.
How can I get my husband self reflect on how he is treating me and be dedicated to me and not his parents?
Am I out of line? is this weird? Am I expecting too much?
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this post. I love my husband very much but I am stuck.

The people involved (names are changed):
Jake – me
Tom – my flatmate
Kath – Tom’s girlfriend
Emily – Kath’s flatmate
TLDR (but context is very important for how the situation develops):
· Me and Emily get with each other at a party.
· It turns out Kath had forbidden Emily from getting with me. Since Emily went and did it anyway, Kath falls out with her.
· Kath ends her friendship with Emily. Me and Emily continue seeing each other.
· When I plan to go to see Emily at their apartment, Tom tells me that Kath is in a really dark place mentally, and the thought of me and Emily being there together while Kath’s there is triggering her anxiety, so he asks me not to go over.
· Me and Emily follow these instructions for months, while Tom and Kath continue coming and going to either of our apartments as they please.
· Emily eventually gets in touch with Kath to try and understand exactly why me coming over is an issue, since Kath has no problem coming to my place. Kath has a meltdown due to this and it makes her suicidal.
· Tom falls out with me because I knew about the messages that caused his girlfriend to feel suicidal.
(Skip to 'Late April' if you want to go straight to the crux of this post, but I do think it's quite an entertaining read).
Background Context
Me and Tom (both mid-twenties) have lived together in our apartment since I moved to the city last year. I’ve known him for several years and would put him in my inner circle of closest friends, so living with him was all just good chill vibes as expected - or at least it was for the first six months.
I met Tom’s girlfriend of several months, Kath, for the first time pretty soon after moving in. Although she was kind of shy, I thought she seemed nice enough. I noticed that Kath would seem to lean on Tom a fair amount when it came to support for her mental health (she had been diagnosed with anxiety), which of course is normal as her boyfriend. On one occasion, she had a particularly bad anxious episode during a group hangout, with Tom consoling her about it afterwards. Following this, Tom seemed exhausted, saying to me “I’m not a professional, I’m not equipped to deal with all this mental health stuff. She needs help from someone who can adequately help her deal with these thoughts. When she blows things out of proportion and she stresses out to me about her anxiety, it just ends up making my own anxiety worse”. He also said that he had even offered to pay for therapy for Kath, but she didn’t want to accept it.
I just felt bad for Tom, especially since I had some understanding of what he was going through. I had previously had a girlfriend who had anxiety/depression/BPD and put all her mental health issues on me. That girlfriend was also very manipulative and would mention suicidal thoughts any time she started feeling like she was losing control over me (just to be clear, there was no indication that Kath was acting in a manipulative way towards Tom at that point). In my experience, when you end up in a situation where you’re essentially acting as someone’s full-time personal mental health counsellor, it hardly ever ends well.
At some point in January, I met Kath’s “bestie” flatmate, Emily. I remember thinking she was cute, seemed nice and easy to talk to. We all hung out as a group a few times that month and I thought there may have been a little bit of a vibe between me and Emily.
So as you do, I slid into Emily’s DMs and basically let her know I was interested. I messaged her a week or two before our party that her and Kath were coming to, but her response was lukewarm so I just thought she probably wasn’t interested.
For context, I had recently broken up with my girlfriend in January, who had just got back from travelling for the last 6 months. Things in that relationship weren’t great before she even went travelling, and during the months she was away I had come to terms with the fact that it was best to end it. I waited until she was back to say it in person, as I didn’t want to drop that on her while she was travelling and ruin that once in a lifetime experience. However, deep down I knew I had wanted talk to other girls and explore new connections for the last few months, but obviously I didn’t want talk to anyone until it was cleanly over. Me messaging Emily was only a few days after breaking up with her, which I guess isn’t great, but in my head I had been ready to move on for a while, I saw no point in putting an arbitrary time limit on myself. I made sure to explain this context when I messaged Emily so that she was aware of my recent circumstances.
The Party (End of January)
So me and Emily end up getting with each other at the party. Initially, when I brought up me messaging her, she said “I think you’re cute, but I think it’s best we just be friends for the next couple months, since you just recently got out of a relationship, and we can see what happens afterwards”. But as the night went on, I guess Emily changed her mind, because as we kept talking it got increasingly flirty and we ended up getting together. Perfect end to the night, right? Not exactly.
At one point when Emily goes to the bathroom, she comes back into my bedroom saying “Kath is furious at me”. I ask why, and she says that Kath had basically forbidden her from getting with me.
Back when I first messaged Emily, she had of course shown Kath the messages straight away. It turns out Kath for some reason had a really intense reaction to this and was like “I can’t believe he has the audacity to hit on my best friend right after breaking up with his girlfriend! It’s so disrespectful using you as a rebound, it’s disrespectful to his ex and it’s disrespectful to me for hitting on my best friend like this! He was the only one of Tom’s friends that I actually liked but he’s ruined that too now!”.
Apparently, Kath had been used as a rebound before and this was triggering for her, so she didn’t want her best friend to be used as a rebound. She said “you can’t get with him, Emily, that’s my boundary.” Emily was a bit taken aback by the intensity of this reaction and was just a bit like “umm okay…?”. She tried a few times before the party to understand a bit more about why Kath had such a problem with it but didn’t get much further explanation than that.
Now, I agree that Emily was in the wrong for saying to Kath that she wouldn’t get with me and then went and did it anyway, and Emily also acknowledges this. Emily should have said from the start she wasn’t okay with this weird “boundary” Kath had set. It was a bit cowardly. Although given how intensely Kath overreacts to things, I can understand why Emily initially just agreed to whatever she was saying to calm her down. I can also understand how when you’re at a party having fun, drinking and realise that you do actually have a good vibe with the person, in the moment you might change your mind and be like “actually fuck that, who the fuck is she to tell me who I can and can’t get with?”.
Kath saw this as Emily having no respect for their friendship, by choosing some guy she’d just met over her. From Emily’s perspective she was choosing herself, choosing not to follow these nonsensical rules that had been imposed on her, and she was just tired of Kath overreacting to everything and trying to control her.
In my opinion, being this controlling for no good reason is pretty disrespectful in itself. Given that Kath’s reason for telling Emily not to get with me was because she didn’t want her to be used as a rebound…well that’s Emily’s risk to take, isn’t it? I can see how from Emily’s perspective, she knew Kath might not be happy about it, but it’s also not some deep betrayal, since based on the reason Kath gave, the consequence would only be on Emily herself. Emily had the exact same knowledge about my recent relationship status as Kath did, so why did Kath think she can tell her what to do?
As we get to further into this post and the real reason why Kath set this “boundary” is revealed, you will see why I actually think any argument Kath has against Emily for getting with me at the party is automatically void, but we will learn these details as they come.
Start of February
After the events of the party, Kath didn’t want to talk to Emily the next day when she tried to initiate communication via message (Kath tends to avoid in-person confrontation). Fair enough, Emily gave her space. Me and Emily spend the next day together just talking and getting to know each other more, and it’s clear that we vibe together and both feel very comfortable with each other, which is pretty rare for both of us.
I don’t see Tom for the first few days after the party, as he had been staying at Kath’s. When I do, I’m a bit surprised that he didn’t think much of Kath’s reaction at the party. He says “yeah I probably should have warned you about this beforehand”. We both agree that Emily was in the wrong for going back on what she said, but also that Kath shouldn’t have tried to control her like that. He did say “sorry I know this put you in an awkward position”.
A few days after the party, Emily again tries to get in touch with Kath via message.
Emily’s message essentially apologised for her actions, saying she was in the wrong for going back on what she said, and that she should have said from the start that she wasn’t happy with this “boundary”. She also said that Kath shouldn’t have tried to dictate her life and tell her what to do, especially when it’s something that’s none of her business, and that she is going to continue seeing me, taking the risk of being a “rebound”.
Kath’s response essentially said the whole incident at the party was only a small part of why she exploded so intensely, this was just the last in a long line of things Emily had done in the past which she had not forgiven her for. This was just the last straw for Kath because “it hit so close to home, so close to the love of my life”. She wanted things to be civil between them until the end of their tenancy, but this was essentially the end of their friendship.
Okay good, Kath flipping out so badly now finally made a bit more sense to me. Obviously, I wanted to know what Emily had done that was so bad to cause this, as any indicators of bad character would inform whether I choose to keep talking to her.
Emily went through these, explaining that these were incidents from their past that they had discussed at the time, dealt with and moved on from. I have cut these out for the word limit as they don’t add much to this post, but it was the most minor, nonsensical things (I can explain in the comments if anyone wants details).
In any case, I wasn’t particularly interested in what mistakes Emily might have made months or years ago, I was more interested in what her character was like now and going forward.
Early/Mid February
So here’s where the main situation we’re in now starts. For context, Kath and Emily’s apartment is in the city center, close to where both mine and Tom’s offices are, so it would make sense to go over in the evening and go into work from theirs the next morning, as Tom has been doing once or twice a week for the last few months.
It's worth noting that ever since the party right up to the present moment, Emily and Kath have not been interacting at all, avoiding each other in their apartment, only messaging for things like bill payments.
The first time I planned to go stay round Emily’s place was early/mid-February. When I mention this to Tom, he tells me that Kath has been having a really bad time mentally since the party, and the thought of me and Emily being there together triggers her anxiety. He asks me not to go over to their apartment for the next couple of weeks or so while she’s in this particularly bad phase. I don’t really understand what me going over and seeing Emily has to do with Kath’s anxiety (and Tom says he doesn't really understand it either himself), but I say okay fine it’s not that big of deal, I won’t go over for the time being.
Now, a valid question for myself is why I decided to keep seeing Emily, despite knowing that Kath had fallen out with her and therefore knowing it could potentially cause fiction between me and Tom. I don’t think I did anything wrong for several reasons:
· I suppose there’s the general visceral reaction against being told what to do. Like mind your own business, it’s not my fault Kath decided to get involved in my business. Why should she get what she wants when she’s the one being unreasonable? Why should we deny ourselves the opportunity of getting to know someone we seem to vibe with just because Tom’s girlfriend doesn’t like it?
· Before I even knew there was any issue at all, it was already too late; I had already gotten with Emily, they had already fallen out, and Kath already thought I was a dickhead. So what good would it do now to not see each other? Kath already didn’t like me (and she had also previously told me that once she doesn’t like someone, there’s no going back, they’re finished in her mind).
· In the initial first few days after the party, both me and Tom were kind of expecting that Kath’s reaction would blow over in a few days after she had cooled down. How could I have predicted that her reaction would instead continue getting increasingly intense as the situation went on?
· Frankly, I was annoyed at Tom at this point. He knew how Kath had reacted to me messaging Emily, so why did he just bend over and enable his girlfriends’ controlling, unreasonable behavior without question? If it was my girlfriend acting like this generally, I’d be like “why are you getting involved in their business, just let them do what they want?”, and especially so if it was directly affecting one of my close friends.
· Fundamentally, there’s no inherent reason why there had to be any issue at all? Okay Kath has ended her friendship with Emily and might not like that we’re seeing each other, but there’s no need for there to be any continued drama. Obviously we won’t all be hanging out as a four having fun like I had initially hoped, but that doesn’t mean we can’t just exist as adults and be civil? The only reason this continues to be an issue in the first place is because Kath is making it an issue for everyone else involved.
· Finally, I actually like Emily – from the first few days it was clear it wasn’t just going to be a FWB situation. If it felt like more of a superficial FWB situation, then yeah I probably would have just thought it’s not worth the drama, even though I thought Kath was the one in the wrong.
Late February
Over the month of February, me and Emily keep hanging out and getting closer. Whilst I was keeping a very close eye on her for any sign of character flaws (it was still possible that Kath could be in the right, even though her side of it didn’t make much sense to me), the more I got to know her, the more it seemed my initial judgment of her was accurate. I saw how she acted with her other friends, they all seemed to really value and appreciate her. I saw her helping out her friend in need of a fairly large amount of money without a second thought, I saw her going to accompany her friend for a medical scan they had, and generally she was really nice and thoughtful with me. Not exactly the behavior of an inconsiderate person.
Sometime in late February, Emily messages me completely baffled. She couldn’t believe that Kath had invited over a girl from their social circle, Dianne. The reason why this is a bit scandalous is because Kath is always talking shit about Dianne behind her back. And it’s not just “she can be a bit annoying sometimes”, it’s an explicit sentiment of how much she dislikes her, how much of a bad person she is and how much she wants her removed from her life. And she does this frequently, I barely speak to Kath and even I’ve heard her rant about how much she doesn’t like Dianne. So, she’s constantly saying this kind of stuff behind her back, and here she is now inviting her round for tea acting all friendly. I just found that so two-faced and this inevitably shaped my perception of Kath being deceptive.
Not long after I heard about this, Kath was round our place over the weekend. Me, Tom and Kath were heading off to our friend’s housewarming party later that day, with me driving us. At one point when the three of us are all in the kitchen, Kath speaks to me properly for the first time since the party, basically to clear the air. She says she doesn’t want there to be any bad blood between us and that her problem wasn’t with me, it was with Emily. I just say that I was cool with her, I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable with me or when coming over to our apartment, and that the situation between her and Emily was between them and not my business.
I wasn’t entirely convinced with her “clearing the air”, given that I had seen she apparently has no issue with being two-faced, but at the time I thought it was best to stay cool with her for the sake of me and Tom’s friendship and also I didn’t particularly fancy spending the rest of the day and a long car ride with awkward vibes.
End of February
At the end of February, Tom asks me how things are going with Emily and basically advises caution with her. He says that from what he’s seen she’s basically not a good person and she’s generally inconsiderate. I tell him I find that surprising from what I’ve seen of Emily, but I know it’s possible she could have just been putting on a front for the last month. I openly accept this, saying “I want to hear what you have to say, obviously you’re my friend and I respect your opinion”.
Essentially, he doesn’t bring up anything that I hadn’t already been told.
When I question Tom on why Kath thought she was a mind reader and assuming what my intentions were with Emily at the very start of this whole thing, Tom reveals he had since found out that the real reason Kath had forbidden Emily from getting with me in the first place actually wasn’t really to do with me recently breaking up with my girlfriend/using Emily as a rebound (Tom said this was a minor part of the reason, more of an excuse to base it on). It was more that Kath already knew beforehand that she wanted to end her friendship with Emily and was essentially trying to prevent her still being part of her life (i.e. by getting close to her boyfriend’s friend/flatmate).
Now it all made sense why Kath tried to “ban” her from getting with me in the first place. I’m not sure if Tom thought telling me this would make me more sympathetic to Kath’s side of it, but if anything, this deceptive behavior was even more of a red flag to me. As far as everyone (except for Kath) was concerned, her and Emily were best friends. Kath had even said to Emily a couple of weeks before the party that “she was like a sister to her”.
Tom didn’t seem to have much issue with this, saying something along the lines of “yeah I know she shouldn’t have kept all this stuff bottled up, but she doesn’t like confrontation, it makes her really anxious”.
After learning this, I think any argument for Emily being in the wrong for disobeying Kath’s instructions at the party is automatically void: Imagine having the audacity to be like “yeah I know I tried to control you by framing it as me being a protective friend looking out for you, but actually it was really because I wanted to end my friendship with you anyway teehee 😊”. In my view that is just so manipulative. No wonder the reason given to Emily for not getting with me made no sense to her.
When I revealed this to Emily, she said that she had been suspecting that was the case anyway, but it still really hurt to hear it confirmed.
Form her perspective it was like: “So was Kath holding all these grudges all the times I was consoling her for whatever mental health issue she was having at any given time?” (I wonder if Tom was thinking what a bad person Emily was when it was him and Emily staying up till stupid o’clock trying to console Kath who was crying about job applications a few weeks before all this kicked off). There are many other examples of things she had done for Kath in both the recent and more distant past.
Kath also knew that Emily’s best friend had killed herself a few years prior, and after going through the loss of her best friend, Emily had always said she was super hesitant to call anyone her “best friend”. Kath knew about this and still let Emily believe they were best friends, whilst she clearly didn’t really mean it, which I think is quite cruel of her.
Despite what I had seen of Emily so far, I still took what Tom said into account, and continued to watch her carefully.
Mid March
Another couple of weeks pass and given that my last interaction with Kath was her clearing the air with me, I thought everything was now cool between us. I mention to Tom at the start of the week that I’m planning to stay at their apartment later that week and he says “okay cool”. However, later that same evening, he once again asks me not to go over to their apartment. Apparently when he told Kath that I was going over, she started having a panic attack at the thought of me going there.
At this point I’m really started to get frustrated at this situation and again I try to understand exactly what the problem is, because this entire time Kath and Tom have been coming and going to either apartment as they please, so Kath clearly doesn’t have a problem coming to my apartment while I’m there. Tom again says that he doesn’t fully understand it himself, and that Kath doesn’t want to feel this way either, but she’s in a really bad place at the moment and me being there with Emily is really triggering her anxiety.
This makes no sense to me or Emily, because we obviously wouldn’t do anything to make Kath uncomfortable, and from our perspective this is just enabling her dysfunctional way of dealing with this situation.
Even though I still don’t understand what the fuck me seeing Emily has got to do with Kath’s mental health, I’m obviously not going to barge my way into someone’s home when I’m not welcome. So once again, I do as I’m told and say I won’t go over. But I do tell Tom that this situation isn’t going to continue going on like this indefinitely, and to me it feels to me like I’m being walked all over, in the sense of “oh yeah no worries, you two carry on going to either apartment as you please, I’ll just sit here like a dickhead and follow my instructions, don’t worry about it 😊”. He does say sorry and that he knows it’s inconvenient for us, but it's an even bigger inconvenience for Kath.
It’s worth bearing in mind that at this point, I could have responded to this situation by saying that if I’m not welcome at her apartment, Kath is not welcome here (or equally Emily could say to Kath “you can’t bring Tom round”). Whilst yes, it’s a bit petty, I think this would be a completely justified response to prevent a situation where we are being walked all over. Because what would be the alternative? They just carry on doing as they please indefinitely whilst Emily is told she isn’t allowed to have equal use of her own apartment? Now obviously telling your friend that his girlfriend isn’t allowed to come over is really a last resort and would definitely put a big dent in our friendship, and generally I have no desire to control what anyone else does, so of course I didn’t respond in this way.
Despite my frustration at this entire situation, I do feel bad for Tom because I can see how uncomfortable he seems during these conversations with me, he obviously doesn’t want to give me these unreasonable instructions. I can only assume he’s just trying to do whatever he can to keep his girlfriend afloat and prevent her next meltdown. I’ve been there myself dealing with a girlfriend with mental health issues, so I don’t want to actively make things worse for my friend either. However, I’m also worried that it’s likely to get worse for him the more he feeds into it and gets sucked into it.
At this point, the cynical side of me couldn’t help but wonder if Kath was being a bit manipulative and leaning into all the mental health stuff to maintain control of the situation.
· She seemingly is unable to give a reason for exactly why me and Emily being in her apartment makes her so uncomfortable. To me, this was completely indistinguishable from her just hating the fact that we’re together.
· All this reminds me of exactly the same kind of manipulative behavior I saw with that ex-girlfriend.
· She’s shown she has no problem with being intentionally deceptive – maybe if the entire basis of this situation hadn’t started off with Kath being manipulative she would have a bit more credibility in my eyes.
I know this kind of behavior is often not even intentional, and that it can be subconscious where the person doesn’t even realise they’re being manipulative.
(Still Mid March)
Now we get to the part that pisses me off the most in this whole situation. Only a few days after that conversation with Tom, for some reason Kath comes to stay in our apartment for the weekend while Tom was away at a house party. As in, it’s just me and Kath in my apartment.
Personally, I couldn’t imagine having the nerve to say to someone they aren’t welcome in my home because their presence triggers me, and then only a mere few days later actively choosing to go stay the weekend at their place while it’s just us two in the apartment. Like either my presence triggers you or it doesn’t?
Now to be fair, Tom had asked me a week or two beforehand if Kath could come to our apartment to hang out with someone from our friend group while he was away, and I said that was cool. Anyway, those plans fell through, but Kath still came over by herself.
But the main thing that pissed me off about this is that Tom, after knowing that I was already feeling like I was being taken for a mug in this situation, apparently didn’t even think it was worth bothering to check with me if it was still cool with me that Kath came round, given our conversation a few days prior.
If he’d at least checked in like, “I know it’s a bit weird that she’s coming to stay round by herself after having just said that your presence triggers her anxiety”, I still would’ve said okay, because I have no desire to control what anyone does. But it was just the fact he didn’t seem to care, saying “btw Kath is gonna stay here tonight” moments before leaving to his party.
To me it felt like he had spent the last month or so basically giving me instructions to make sure everyone caters to his girlfriend’s feelings, and yet didn’t give the slightest consideration to how this would make me feel. Part of me was thinking does he even see me as a friend or just as an inconvenience to his relationship at this point?
I spoke to Tom in the week following this, expressing how I had felt about Kath staying round. He did apologise and acknowledged he could’ve checked in with me, but he didn’t really seem to understand why her coming over like that was such a kick in the teeth for me. He said Kath doesn’t have a problem with me, it’s only a very specific situation that triggers her (i.e. me and Emily being in her apartment together).
Again I try to understand exactly why it’s a problem. Ever since the party, Emily’s presence in their apartment has consisted of her quietly staying in her room, quickly cooking her food and going straight back to her room. She doesn’t spend 2 hours in the kitchen making food like Kath and Tom sometimes do when he’s there.
Tom again says he doesn’t fully understand it himself. From what he understands, it’s triggering because her home is her safe space and if we’re both there it’s like there’s two hostile presences in that safe space. He reiterated that she is in a very dark place at the moment, and that she’s been having frequent panic attacks and suicidal thoughts.
Tom then says that Kath would be prepared to leave the apartment if me and Emily wanted to meet there, and Kath would basically get out of the way and come to me and Tom’s apartment instead. This did give me a bit more confidence that Kath wasn’t just purposefully making things difficult.
If Kath genuinely meant this, then of course that’s really appreciated, but I’m obviously not going to make her leave her own home and come all the way to ours to then have a 2 hour commute to her work. It’s so over the top and needless. I think that this clearly isn’t a functional solution going forward. What if one day when we want to meet up, Kath has had a long day at work and doesn’t feel like leaving her apartment (obviously, fair enough!), what if she’s got plans with friends in her apartment that evening? In any case, it’s still a situation where rules are being imposed on us, I can never just spontaneously decide to go see Emily one day after work or something. We still can’t come and go freely in the same way they have been doing for the past two months. It would be much better to understand why exactly it’s such a problem and see how we’re going to find a long-term solution, instead of Kath just running away from it.
The cynical side of me was wondering if Kath was just saying this knowing that neither me or Emily are realistically going to make her leave her own home, and if we do agree to it, then she can say “oh look how inconsiderate they are, making me leave my own home just so that they can be in the apartment”, ensuring that she keeps Tom firmly on her side.
Logically, I would’ve thought as time goes on, Kath would eventually get used to the situation and just accept it. Conversely, is it not quite understandable that the longer we have rules imposed on us, the more frustrated we become?
Once again say that I won’t go over and tell him that I won’t press this issue for the time being.
Late April
So now we get to the latest development in the situation, which is the crux of this post.
For the next month or so after that conversation with Tom, me and Emily have just been following our instructions and not pressed anything, whilst they continue coming and going as they please. One weekend we’re talking about the whole ‘Kath situation’ and we say “okay we’ve left it for a while now, it’s probably time to see how we’re going to move forward with this”.
In that next week, Emily sends Kath the following message:
“Hey, I appreciate this message might be uncomfortable but we need to discuss the fact that Jake can’t come here while you’re at home because I know that him and Tom have spoken about this but we’ve never addressed it with each other and I think it’s unfair that they’ve been largely absorbing this conflict this whole time. Can you please tell me what the exact problem would be and how we could make it work? At the end of the day we both pay equal rent here and I should be allowed to bring someone over, especially considering that Tom comes here whenever you want. We’re nothing more than just 2 housemates now and if you were living with a stranger from Spareroom such restrictions couldn’t have existed. I think I’ve let it slide and should have addressed it earlier, but it’s time we come up with a fair solution and I’d like to know if there’s anything reasonable we can do. I don’t want to go into other conversations about our fallout cause that’s done and dusted now, I want to strictly address this issue. Would you like some notice before he comes? I can’t always guarantee how far in advance I can let you know but I will do my best to give you enough time.”
Kath’s response:
“hey, I do not really appreciate this conversation being brought up 2 days before my birthday and I wish we can settle it today and not drag it on. And I do not appreciate you using Tom as a weapon to guilt trip me either. Please let me know if he is coming over tonight so that I can go somewhere else. As u probably already know I am in a really bad place at the moment and being in the apartment with both of you makes me feel very uncomfortable and unsafe. I’m already struggling to be there and I have been discussing with the agency about terminating the contract early, the terms have only been made clear to me today so I was going to message you about it. By paying a fee of £660 (£330 each) we can terminate the contract 12^th of June and I wish u will consider this. I will be gone from the apartment for 2 weeks. I would really appreciate it if you do not bring him over in the next few days as I said it will be my birthday and I will be gone for 2 weeks after if you decide to do so after this, please let me know at least 2 days in advance so that I can leave (pack clothes and everything), but do not take advantage of this as it is extremely difficult for me to commute to work – it takes me 2 hours on the bus”
Emily’s response to this:
“I don’t appreciate you using your birthday as a “weapon” to paint me as an inconsiderate person once again as you’re saying you were going to message me anyway about terminating the contract. You always have Tom round without any notice, without ever considering if it was ever uncomfortable for me given what’s happened - but now you expect me to organise our schedule around you? We can’t ever do something spontaneous or simply make plans the day before? Jake won’t be coming tonight or in the next few days until you’re away. I was hoping we could talk about why exactly this makes you uncomfortable and unsafe as it’s quite clear we wouldn’t interact with you or do anything to purposely upset/annoy you. You also had no problem being in his apartment with him without Tom there, so clearly his presence must not be that big of a problem. I am going to get back to you about terminating the contract as I have to figure out where I would go, but I’d love nothing more than to leave this apartment as early as possible too.”
There was no response after Emily’s second message.
Tom comes back to our apartment the next day and ignores me all day until the evening when he asks “Did you know that Emily was going to send those messages?”.
I say “Yes, obviously?”. He responds with “Right, okay” and starts walking back towards his room.
I ask him what was wrong with the messages, and he comes back and says “what the fuck is Emily doing sending messages like that to my suicidal girlfriend?”. He essentially thought the tone of the messages, the proximity to Kath’s birthday and the fact that we’re once again bringing up this issue of me coming round was out of order. He also said that Emily’s 2^nd message was implying that she was just going to bring me round without any notice anyway (looking at the message, no it wasn’t? It was just highlighting the unfairness of Kath expecting us to organise our schedule around her? None of the messages say that I’m going to come over, they are essentially just trying to understand exactly why it makes Kath uncomfortable).
We also did note that it was Kath’s birthday on the Friday (messages were sent on Tuesday). Maybe that wasn’t ideal, but we thought what real difference does it make? This is nothing new, it’s the same situation that’s been ongoing for the last 3 months anyway (and personally, I thought that up until the moment Kath says “okay sorry, I shouldn’t have imposed rules on you” then she shouldn’t expect that this won’t be brought up to her?).
I was a bit shocked at how angry he was and explained that we’re just trying to understand exactly what her issue is, because it still doesn’t make any sense to us. I bring up the general point about Kath imposing rules on people and expects everyone to cater to her feelings, whilst zero consideration has been given to how Emily has felt over the last 3 months, when not only does it make her uncomfortable as well that there are two “hostile presences” in her home, but especially given that those hostile presences have told her she’s not allowed to have equal use of her apartment she also pays rent for.
Tom responds with “but it’s not making Emily feel suicidal is it? Kath was having convulsions on the fucking bed last night after those messages. Why do you keep focusing on this tiny issue of coming to the apartment when my girlfriend is literally suicidal? She’s already said she’d make arrangements to leave the apartment for when you want to come over, and yet you keep pressing the issue and triggering her further”.
In that moment I was a bit taken aback and didn’t have much of a response. I kind of just sat and processed that for a few minutes, thinking “fuck, have I actually been in the wrong this whole time?”. Tom looked exhausted and stressed out, he must have been dealing with Kath’s meltdown the whole of the night before.
I say to Tom “tell Kath not to worry about me coming over while she’s there, I’m not going to, I’ll just leave it for good and won’t press this issue anymore”. Tom doesn’t give much of a response, but I think he says “I appreciate it”. He leaves for his two-week holiday shortly after.
I felt really bad that evening, thinking I had caused Tom to have to deal with whatever horrible meltdown because of me pressing this issue. Maybe I had been overly cynical of Kath, and she genuinely was just trying her best and not meaning to be manipulative.
When Tom got back from his holiday, he basically confirmed our friendship is over because I had known about those messages that caused his girlfriend to feel suicidal.
I’ve thought about the situation a lot since he left for his holiday:
· Looking back at the messages Emily sent, I think the tone is completely fine? Every single person I’ve shown the messages to has said they are actually quite kind and empathetic, and way nicer than they need to be given Kath’s behavior over the last 3 months.
· Tom’s reaction was essentially “how dare Emily have the audacity to ask for a reason why she hasn’t been allowed to have equal use of her own apartment for the last 3 months!”
· It’s true that Tom had mentioned that Kath had been having some suicidal thoughts a month prior, but I didn’t know that this would directly impact that, especially since I thought the message was quite nice and sensitive. Just the weekend before this Tom and Kath were out clubbing, having fun and they were going on holiday later that week. So obviously I didn’t realise she was still feeling so bad. How could anyone expect that simply asking the question of “why does this make you so uncomfortable” would result in this reaction.
· As soon as I did realise how intensely Kath had reacted, and what Tom had had to deal with as a result, I backed off straight away, saying that she doesn’t have to worry, I’m not going to press it anymore.
· Realistically, if this is how Kath reacts to being asked for basic fairness, then I think really she needs to be in a mental health crisis centre or hospital, not just carrying on with everyday life as if everything is fine, and certainly not in a situation where she’s imposing rules on people.
· At the end of the day, Kath’s mental health is not my responsibility, nor is it Tom’s responsibility. I think it’s unfair of Kath to have made it his problem to such a large degree.
Logically, I don’t think I’m in the wrong, and yet Tom’s reaction to this makes me feel like I’m going crazy. That’s why I wrote out everything’s that’s happened from start to finish to “audit” myself and evaluate each of my actions throughout the entire situation. I’ve looked back and don’t think I’m in the wrong for anything I’ve done. The only explanation I can think of is that Tom has been so deep in all of Kath’s mental health stuff 24/7 that he’s just not thinking clearly about this situation.

I 23(F) worked for an 80(M) Dentist for about 3 years, and what I observed and endured as an employee during that time traumatized me and made me quit dental assisting in general, not because I didn't like it but because I loved it just not the dentist and I'm going to just break it down the best I can.
Starting off this specific dentist is really well known in my city, he has been practicing for 50 years now. However not much has changed in that 50 years. His office is so old that patients will come in from 1989 and say how not a single thing has been updated or changed. The floor is carpeted with rotting wood underneath and he just doesn't care. He has like creepy dolls all around the office and creepy clowns. I almost feel like he won't change anything because he wants to still feel like he's in his prime like it's the 80's/90's still.
He denies the fact that he's getting older, he says he is 44 years old when physically and literally he is not. So maybe this is some type of symptoms of a disorder. This is just some background so you can understand the full picture.
So he only hires women of lighter complexions, also certain body size, small not to skinny but curvy but not too big. You have to have long blown out hair that's always fixed, his old rule used to be that you could not wear your hair up bc it's not appealing to him. Also you can't wear glasses for the same reason. If you were trying to get a girl to work there he would have to see a picture of her first and she couldn't have tattoos or "bad teeth" even though he would put braces on staff members for free and I witnessed that, if it was "too much" the person would be a no for him. Even having a simple nose ring was against his rules.
I started working for him when I was 19 turning 20. So I was pretty young and didn't really realize until later that all of this was just so toxic and it gets worse.And so when I found out my pregnancy was healthy I announced it and they decided to not train me on patients for pretty much my entire pregnancy because they thought i would just have my baby and leave
After being post partum and working while also being a first time mom to a baby, I begin to lose a lot of weight because I guess I was stressed. I went from being my normal weight 135 to 116 pounds.
The doctor would comment on my body and say things about my weight loss in front of patients. It made me very insecure and uncomfortable two things I have never felt in my life at a job. I started to have body dysmorphia from working for this man. When he looked at me it felt as if he was staring through me and picking me apart. And no one should I have to feel like that in the work place.
I fell into a deep depression because feeling like I can't go find a new job because as terrible as it sounds, I was attached to the toxic abuse cycle there. He would love bomb and compliment you so heavily that you almost felt bad for thinking of leaving cuz he was so old. He would say things like how much he loved your personality, you were the best employee, best with patients. It was definitely creepy. Also I felt as if I were to try to leave he would be upset or it felt like I was breaking a trusted bond. So I continued working and things...got worse
Enough about my personal experience but now for the patients.The doctor treated each patient nothing more than a dollar sign. Unless they were a known person in the community, a family friend, he would give them treatment but if they had questions or concerns about their teeth he would be very dismissive, and if they argued back he would pretty much belittle them and make them feel like they were stupid for asking a question. Saying what they wanted was "impossible" because that's "the way their teeth were". I watched him take braces off of patients and their teeth were still not aligned properly, I watched him accidentally set a patient on fire, I watched him give a girl bone loss, she lost her tooth because of something he did incorrectly.
Not to mention his entire staff has not been to any type of dental school, every single person hired basically with no experience. I was told because he couldn't "afford it", yet the man has multiple million dollar homes and luxury cars....
To even scam us further he sent us to take a super lax unsupervised "test" that he said would make us certified assistants. Came to find out that was nothing more than a piece of paper.
Not to mention probably more things he has done, like practicing half blind, also urinating on himself daily and it being reported and nothing done about it.The sterilization was absolutely horrifying. Their method is not to use an autoclave but to throw all dirty instruments in a basket and throw them in an old machine that had sterilization and water and put them through an oven baking them.
Also cold sterile which was not monitored properly, and did not soak for 24 hours. Sometimes 5-10 minutes. I just got so tired of not only him being misogynistic, but not caring for health and safety of patients, or even staff members.
And the rest of the current staff members, my heart does hurt for them for them to be in this kind of abusive cycle for so long and not want to remove themselves and realize they deserve better. This kind of environment should not be normalized. And I've watch him say god awful things about every single one of them behind their back and it's honestly sad. Why would you stand by this especially for the incredibly low amounts of pay.
Making yourself look weak to him while he sits back and laughs. It's really sad and I pray for them. And I'm telling the truth and stand by it on everything I say. No I did not get fired, I quit the job. Because I couldn't take the negativity any longer. But the more I think about it the more it angers me for people that give their money to this man.
Im currently enrolled in the Dental Hygiene program at a college. I'm really excited to become a an RDH but the thing is I'm scared working for him and just cold quitting will ruin my career. Also My question is should I report him to OSHA?

Blachowicz here.
Kept yah’ waiting, huh? Heh, sorry about that one, but I can explain. As we all know… we lost a few good men the last few months.
That’s the brutal part of a hybrid war like ours: We’re fighting a foe unconventional, with half our arsenal tied down because those who grant us authorization are either in disbelief of the true facts, or scared… or already assimilated. That being said our momentum recently was a change not seen in years, and because of that… despite the losses we have garnered, we were close through a breakthrough. One last night Krol pulls myself and other two must trusted squad leads into the back of our COP. There is one of our equipment cages, surrounded by m-bitter radios, tripods, and several hundred thousand dollars of equipment he brought us around a simple worn table. Before us he laid a map of eastern poland… red markings indicating cells that seemed to dot the countryside like a pestilence, or used to… as deep gashes of advance from raids had trisected their lines, even if ones did pop up in the interior.
It was a back and forth; an outside virus infecting Polska at it’s heart, and we were the antibodies sent to drive them out. To which… Major Krol points to one of the largest symbol on the map: a dark red diamond, the NATO symbol for an enemy unit, deep inside of an untouched wooded area, adjacent to a mountain ridge. Several jagged lines indicated entrenchment, with red horizontal lines indicating possible enemy control… or our contested control, for over 20kms surrounding it. Letting us all look, the Major lit himself a cigarette.
“Sir, you sure it’s wise to smoke in here with the dive tanks just behind us” 1st Squad’s lead quipped. “Fuck off” Krol dryly said.
“Alright… this is it… this is the one we’ve been searching for for years, this is the nucleus my predecessor commander died trying to find” he says, pointing to it. Not far from Zamosc, it was almost touching the border with Belarus, the contested area indicating the Strigoi did operate over it… indicating one of the largest spill through points. “-It’s an old soviet bunker, made during their 1960s initiative it was designed to hold the munitions and manpower of several units in the event of a NATO first strike” Krol explained. “It’s gotta be massive then…” I said gazing at the map; “Didn’t the army demolish all of the old soviet hulks near Belarus to prevent any infiltrations?” 3rd Squad’s lead asked. “National Police took the effort over… and by extension, the Strigoi. It was halfway demo’ed before they burrowed into it and have been using it as a bridgehead ever since. This is it…” Krol said. He looked around at all of us, a sense of certainty I had never seen before as he blew smoke from his nostrils; “We’ve been fucking around in the dark for so long, it’s hard to believe we’ve made any progress, but this is it. With this gone, this will set them back over a decade and the momentum will finally shift into our favor… into Poland’s… -Europe’s”.
I swear there was almost a flash of joy, of pride in his eyes and a phantom of a smirk before reality set back in “That being said… we can’t leave this to chance, especially not something as important as this. We’re going to have to go there ourselves… clear through every inch of that place, and tear it all down, piece by piece. I will be straight with you all… when we go, there will be some of us that aren’t coming back. -but we are going… a whole generation is counting on us, and unborn billions rely on us to succeed”. We all nodded, a silent agreement washing over us as we took this upon ourselves. Echo-1 spoke up: “So… They’re authorizing a raid? How big?”. “We’re rolling in as a hard target, armor, explosives, and air support” Krol answered, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Aviation? How the hell did we get that approved, we’ve gotten attempts shot down four times due to those leeches” I said in disbelief. “There’s too much evidence here pointing to the human trafficking tied to their actions… We’ve finally got too much weight pinning them down, to keep the hammer from slamming into their necks” Krol chuckled. He looked around “Any questions?”. “When?” Echo-3 asked. “Three hours. We’re hitting them in the dead of night, only time we could get the birds authorized. Get your boys ready. We’re rolling out” Krol said, dying the cigarette bud out on the table. I can’t begin to tell you the euphoria we felt leaving that cage, as our men started arriving, they did so a lot quicker, and with their heads a lot higher than they had in weeks. As Second Squad’s lead we were going to be one of the main arms of attack into the bunker, thus I made sure we had a breacher loaded with enough thermite, charges, and tools to cut through anything. Our shield bearer we ready to go, as was our assaulters, grenadiers, and machine gunner. I double checked each and everyone of their weapons; ensuring the feeder paws of our squad’s belt fed were intact, making sure every breach charge we had was properly set and packed. There was going to be no mistakes, no slip ups. The margin of error needed to be the smallest it had ever been for us tonight if we were going to make the gore spilt worth it.
Finally… there on the outside of the building, the bright LED lights kept the darkness of the ensuing night at bay as the roar of our MRAPs could be heard. It was said once that war is 99% peace, and 1% chaos, they were right. The slow periods where the blood slowed and the doubt creeped in was the worst… yet we all kept it at bay. We needed to, there was going to be no backing down tonight. All three squads were up, all of us ready to go… we circled up… short stares and shaky nods telling us one things: We were in this together, till the end… the finish line so many before us had been searching for, we were being granted tonight.
A single set of footsteps could be heard as we turned, Major Krol stepping into the center. He took the last drag of a cigarette, throwing it down to the ground and stamping it out onto the damp concrete. He looked around… his chin strap blowing in the weak air as he met everyone of our gazes… then mine… then looked around. “I want you to remember every detail of tonight, as you have every other night… when you are situationally aware, scanning for the enemy, liberating the subjugated, I want you to remember the sting of anxiety, the shake of adrenaline, the chill of the bunker, the heat of your weapon as it cuts them down… because tonight we are going to write every fine detail of our victory, their defeat, in history…” Krol’s words echoed deep into our souls. He paused for a moment, staring around he looked down… a small pause before he said “When you are ruthless in combat, remember to be patient, and reserved in victory. This conflict is for our existence… a lot of innocents have bled due to the mistakes of those who failed to listen, a lot of our brothers are now laid under because we had to bridge the gap of uncertainty with their lives. We remember them now… but in an hour? We forget them… when we raise our barrels, when we cut into those foes, and we liberate Polska!! This does not end tonight, but history puts everything in it’s place, and patience is the companion of the victor… All of our hard work will be cemented, no matter the obstacles we face in that darkness… no matter the demons, the blood, no matter what incomprehensible horrors, we will make them comprehend that to invade our land, to bleed our people, the justice will be paid in full… Load up. It’s time*”*.
The purpose in our steps was heavy as we climbed the back ramps of the MRAPS; Four of the heavily armored vehicles, one for each squad with an additional for attached personnel including our JTAC, the term means Joint Terminal Attack Controllers. With air support requisitioned to us for this operations, there needs to be a definite liaison on the ground who can directly communicate to the birds, and coordinate their fire and progress. I’d worked with many of them in the past, resourceful guys, quick thinking though I guess that comes with the position they hold of needing to quickly figure out what bombs to drop, on which target, at what precise points, whilst taking contact. He loaded in the lead vehicle with Major Krol… and soon, our convoy kicked off.
The drive was several hours as myself and my squad sat in the back of that forty ton goliath, the rumbling of the engine keeping us awake as the crap heater fought to keep the cold from the outside frost from setting in. I looked around to each of them, some were catching some sleep because even with the circumstances… better to get all the energy you can, than to stay awake for nothing. Others were checking their weapons… My gunner locked eyes with me, the same one from the village extraction… many of these men I had trained with for a while now, fought with for months.
We may have met on unconventional circumstances but those in JW Grom thrive on austere chance and create opportunity from scratch. I was pulled from my thought by the sound of a transmission, my peltors were set up for dual comms so I could both receive information from the Major and other leads, whilst communicating with my team.
Krol himself sent out: [“Approximately 10 minutes from enemy AO…”]. As the rest of the squads acknowledged, I quickly sent out [“Echo-2 Copies”], before kicking the boots of any of them sleeping: “Look alive, we’re here”. Through the exterior net armor of the MRAPS, and the bars protecting the small reinforced windows, we could barely see jack shit. I reached up, turning off the overhead light as we all looked through our nods to scan the outside. A dark wall of dense trees was shown before us, making it difficult to see… in addition to night vision capabilities we had also requisitioned ourselves some thermals… when mounted onto rifles they were bulky, made it a pain to aim down quickly, but considering the supernatural capabilities of spotting our foes we needed every advantage necessary.
I flipped out one of my tubes… scanning the outside with my scope. I looked over to one of my assaulters who had been assigned to man the turret of the MRAP, seated near the view screen as he controlled the 50. Cal. Each of the vehicle turrets had been assigned a direction to cover… we took the 9 o’clock, the left flank. “See anything?” I asked. He shook his head; “Negative… wait… I’ve got two cold signatures, front left heading to our rear”.
I quickly scanned the far tree line, at approximately 60 meters off our left were two cold signatures… followed by a third heading to our front… then another. They were surrounding us, moving at speeds so fast I could barely keep my reticle on them. Is this what the National Police saw? What they faced at that lodge without the benefit of a foot of heavy armor protecting them on all sides. Then… suddenly. Something slammed into the side of our MRAP so hard, it caused it to shake. From over the leader comms, Echo-3 quickly shouted [“Contact right!! 4 hostiles!!”].
One of the Strigoi… so bold, had charged and slammed into the side of our MRAP. I quickly looked to see the figure, a dark blue mass of cold energy through my thermal, back away without so much as a stagger… as they tried to flee into the woods, the white hot justice of Echo-3’s gun fired at them, cutting them down. “Blachowicz I’ve got a few breaking for our vic” my man on the turret called out, I spun around, spotting out the window.
Just then, Major Krol announced [“weapons free, watch and shoot for targets of opportunity…”]. I turned to him… “take those fuckers out-”. Without hesitation my vic’s turret began to quickly target them, and through the darkness I saw a stream of outgoing fire bisect one of them, the ISR of the black blood freaking out the optic so badly it didn’t know what temperature to register it as… but it did register it. As another was cut down, one broke through the tree line and latched onto the side of our MRAP. The thing tore at one of the outer net armor panels, usually made to stop RPGs. It grabbed at the bars near the windows, tearing one off… I lowered my rifle as we locked eyes through the reinforced window.
The thing… the Strigoi looked at me, skin cracked as putrefied muscle fibers seemed to leak through dead flesh. It’s teeth were corroded and worn down to sharp fragments, alongside newly mutated fangs that messily protrude from the jaws. Even through the thick walls of the MRAP I could hear it’s roar, as it then tried to punch it’s way through… it cracked the outer coating of the vehicle… but it wasn’t getting anywhere near. My machine gunner, seated next to me, seemed to chuckle at the sight, quippily saying “Yeah… fuck you too”. It’s then our vehicle lurched upwards, as we began to climb the small incline of the bunker. I knew the layout, mapped it in our head, the main entrance was built into the rocky side of an old cliff meaning we could easily set up a defensive perimeter around it, a horseshoe. Krol’s vehicle was first, taking to the right as Echo-3’s MRAP followed. My vehicle, third, left the incline and took a left and… that’s where things got complicated.
We’re still trying to work out what happened but… from what Joakim says his drone captured. Right when the MRAP turned, several of the monsters quickly slammed into the side of the vehicle, as another more bulkier one, pushed at it’s undercarriage. The result.. Was the 40 ton armored vehicle tipped over. It wasn’t uncommon, hell in some cases a well placed IED, a good shot with a recoilless rifle, have been known to tip over Oshkoshs and Maxpros all the time. But this beast? Needless to say we barely had a second to comprehend it as it leaned to the left; “Grab on to something-” is all I had time to shout. A mess of gear and men spilled onto one side of the vehicle as it slammed into the old gravel and dirt.
Several of my assaulters, my grenadier planted right ontop of myself and the others as we came to a stop. Someone’s knee slammed directly into the side of my skull, causing me to dazily bob in and out of consciousness as my face was smushed against the glass of one of the windows.
Through my peltors, the other squads were erratic;
[“Echo-2’s vehicle is down!!”].
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2… Echo-3 to Echo-2…”].
Krol’s voice came through the comms;
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-2… Fuc-... Echo-1 secure Echo 2’s flank, Echo-3”].
[“Echo-3 to other units, they’re spilling through, I’ve got several enemy combatants converging on Echo-2’s vehicle”].
I pushed the legs of my grenadier off my head as I fought to my hands and knees, unfucking my nods as I looked around… “Fuck it… we’re going lights on, shield your eyes” I muttered as I reached for the overhead lights and flipped them on. The bright LEDs bathed the inside of the vehicle as we all gained our bearings, a mess of multicam, gear, and weapons as we quickly pushed each other off. My gunner caught as he fought to realign his promask, from what I gathered one of the assaulters had landed directly into his gun, pushing it directly into his jugular, as pulled back at the rubber and coughed, freeing up his esophagus. We didn’t have time to think however… the sound of bending metal caught our attention… as the back ramp door of the MRAP was ripped clean off. I could barely believe it but as the white light of the MRAP’s interior poured to the outside, a hulking mass leaned in, the dead flesh on it’s face nearly fallen off as the hideous Strigoi leaned inside.
Without hesitation I aimed took aim, yelling “Keep to the deck!!” to any of those inbetween myself and the invader as I opened fire. A burst of full auto fire tore through it’s collar and neck, my men quickly clung to either sides of the fallen MRAP as a few more fired out. As the thing backed up, a blast of .50 cal fire quickly tore it to shreds, along with several others as I realized they were fuckin swarming over the outside of our vehicle. Echo-3’s vehicle continued to carefully fire on the Strigoi on the outside, the sounds of .50 cal ricocheting off the outside of our armor was enough to make the pucker factor set in.
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2”].
[“This is Echo-2, we’re green on ammo, equipment, men”].
[“Roger, we’re shifting fire, exit the vehicle”].
“Hurry up let’s go!!” I barked to my men, leading the way as I staggered out. I turned on my peq, taking aim at silhouettes in the brush as I began to fire. The sounds of machine guns lighting up the brush, as a sea of growls, howls, and incomprehensible roars fired back at us was the ambient noise of the night. My men quickly exited, my gunner being the last as he and I pulled back to the rest of the defensive perimeter. I set in my men to take up the frontal security, as 3rd squad took the right flank, 1st squad to the left. Major Krol and the JTAC were bickering with each other; “How far out are the birds”. “They’re entering airspace now…” Joakim said, already scanning his smart book.
I asked “What’ve we got?”. He then flipped through… to the NATO combined arms segment, quippily saying; “Apaches…”. This caused me to pause as Echo-3 turned their head whilst directing their squad’s fire “The hell… where did we get apaches from?”. “The Americans… they volunteered” Krol said dismissively as he took aim at the darkness, firing off a controlled trio. “Volunteered? They’re aware of what’s going on?” I asked.
Krol seemed to stop, glancing back at me before returning his focus “There’s a lot more going on than you realize, Blachowicz… Prep the breach, you and 1st are going on”.
I quickly pulled my breacher off the line, securing some thermite as the reinforced bunker door wasn’t going to go as easily as a conventional door breach would. 1st Squad pulled back, stacking up and preparing themselves to be the first in. All the while… Joakim gave his firing solution; “Alpha Hotel Two Five Nine, This is Bravo-4…… Type 2….”.
I snapped to my right, watching as a Strigoi managed to dark across the clear gravel field, only to be cut down by my gunner, the peq’s laser marking the burst as it tore through the beasts’ hips, as it hit the ground and still continued to claw, another GROM operator took aim and fired into it’s skull. Joakim popped up to his feet…. “Marking laser, high power…”. He then pulled out a target marking laser… if you’ve watched night operations, you’ve probably seen them.
The green laser than as it says on the label, marks targets. The pattern of which can vary… if it’s a point target, it’ll usually lasso an area, or remain on target until the target is removed with extreme prejudice. If its close air support, then it’ll be a line of the general area… and Joakim damn near marked the entire perimeter around us. He quickly pocketed the tool, turning back to Krol; “Don’t go past 20 meters unless you want to be liquidated”.
With that… 2nd and 1st stacked up at the door as 3rd squad took up the perimeter security. As Major Krol went over to Echo-1… I saw them. A single blinking IR strobe from the beasts as they moved on the far off horizon, converging from several angles… and fired. The sound of the Apache’s main gun, the M230, truly sounds like the hammer of god… the 30mm cannon shot through the dark sky, lighting it up as we saw three incoming streams tear up the woods. Only then as the sound broke did we start to hear their rotors as they broke and began to circle, firing again… then… Joakim dipped his head and looked to Krol; [“Foxtrot Mike, hang onto your teeth…”]. One of the Apaches fired off a AGM-114… a Hellfire. I barely saw it out of the corner of my eye as the Apache from our right flank fired off at a target approximately 200 meters off. A fireball lit up the forest as the horrendous roar echoed throughout… then went silent.
Echo-3 scanned the horizon carefully;
[“Echo-3 to Echo-Lead, enemy contact is starting to die down”].
[“Maintain perimeter, Close Air is to maintain fire mission until we are boots up, Break…”].
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-1, condition white has been met. Proceeds”]. I saw Echo-1 and his men quickly stack up close to the wall and gesture to me; Breaching. I quickly pulled my stack back against the wall as his and mine breacher quickly hit their actuators. Now under normal circumstances, it doesn’t take much for thermite to melt the locks off of a metal surface, in fact it’s a more precise took as alternative means get real medieval like saws, pry bars… we weren’t in the mood for precision, we need to breach their little lair, and drag them out. The sound of several pounds of hellfire burning through the metal could be heard around the corner as a sea of white and red sparks flew out… after several seconds, two of our men tossed a fragmentation grenade and a nine-bang through the opening… a series of concussive blasts and a large explosion rang out.
Echo-1 and his men maneuvered. 1st Squad quickly converged as we followed them in.
Stepping through the black wall of smoke, the dark abyss of the interior was illuminated in a white light as entered barrels raised. Shots rang out as several of the beasts near the entrance were cut down, though not immediately, rounds disconnected the shoulder of one of them, leading to their arm hanging limply by a single tendon as they roared… another series of rounds putting them down. What greeted us was a messy concrete hell of rust and debris, fecal matter, trash, and all kinds of obstacles laid in our way, our boots sticking to the floor. I thank every god we had promasks that night. I called my shield bearer up, 2nd squad leapfrogging ahead to take the next corridor as 1st squad checked their weapons.
One of my men mule kicked the metal door ahead, twice, finally the latch gave away as we tossed in a grenade. A horrifying roar was cut off as an M67 shook the walls of the ancient soviet mausoleum, frag and spall kicked off the walls as I moved in right behind my shield man. The cramped russian design meant there was barely enough space for three people, and that’s three normal people, not in 50kgs of kit, moving slowly and maneuvering against creatures of the dark. Still… we moved forward, my shield bearer and I pushing the pace as two stacked of either squad formed on either wall.
As we passed doorways they flowed in… “Door Left!!”, “Door Right!!”. “Move!!”.
Two men entered each side, no gunshots, we moved up, a roar came.
“Door left!!-”. A series of gunshots came out as we continued to push forward.
“Two down!!”. “Confirm them” Krol commanded, as a series of gunshots run out in response. From one of the doorways, a Strigoi emerged… a female… clumps of hair had been ripped from her decaying skull, as her blooded eyes locked on myself and my shieldman. The skin on her hands had been tore down to the point where barely her bones and tendons remain… looking like huge talons as she roared and lunged at us. He fired off his pistol, though the rounds did little to stop her as she pushed against our stack.
“Fuck!!” he muttered, somehow her strength caused him to stagnate, holding up the advance… fuck that. I shoved the muzzle of my MK18 into her ribcage, flipping the weapon to auto as I fired of round after round. The 5.56 salvo disconnecting her spinal column, causing her to fall as I continued to fire, along with a man to our right and left as the stacks reformed as we pushed to the end of the hall. I fell back, dropping the magazine and loading a fresh one, like clockwork a GROM Operator from 1st squad took my place. Krol was beside me as we approached the end of the hall.
[“-Prep an entry”] I radioed to my breacher, a comrade handed him one of the charges from his back panel as he took to the door, quickly securing it. We all moved as far back as we could, look away, exhale. The blast knocked metal and wood in all directions, scrapping against our uniforms and kit as we made our way in and what laid before us was… it used to be the center atrium of one of these bunkers. Soviet’s loved their grandiose designs, the complex was supposed to be a circular room around a central planning table… instead. It had been turned into some sort of church. Runes and old eastern Romuva pagan symbols written in black ink and blood across the walls, old rotten filing cabinets, long receipt terminals. In the center… several of the Strigoi were kneeling before the table where someone had been tied down, flayed, and… shared amongst the group. They rose to their feet, we aimed our barrels…
The ladder amongst turned to us… his skin wasn’t cracked, or flayed, it was smooth… it still looked dead as the body on the table but it seemed more… accustomed to it. I don’t know… evolved? Under the surface however I could see it’s darkened veins pumping whatever cursed blood ran through them as it locked two blood red eyes onto each of us. It’s nose had long since been turn off, exposing boney nostrils to the open air as it seemed to smirk. All across it’s body were the same symbols on the walls, in every cell… markings of death, of rebirth, of assimilation… From behind this seemingly Alpha emerges another figure I had never seemed before… dressed in a white cloak with a deer head.
"So they've followed the trail... they're too late" the Deer headed individual spoke, definitely not from here, a dialect similar to an Americans but... aristocratic? Each word was drawn out, assurance as if they had everything mapped down to our actions. They didn’t sound like they were from Poland or the east.
“Doesn’t matter…” the Alpha growled… and then, it lunged at us. Quickly breaking from their ground it slammed into my shield man knocking both him and myself at the ground as it displayed an intense feat of strength. Around us I could see several of the Strigoi leap at our comrades… though to no fruitful endeavor as I could see one GROM operator cut two down, as another got into a hand to hand confrontation… my breacher, crafty as they were, reached back and slammed one of the prybars of his kit into the skull of the beast.
The Alpha however was not content as it threw away the 90lb shield, sending it flying across the room as it grabbed my comrade by the skull. I quickly kicked up at it, firing my MK18 into it’s body as the rounds pierced it’s gray and rune covered flesh. The thing simply seemed to chuckle… that was until Major Krol blasted away at the side of it’s head, the alpha turned… and it’s smirk turned to a scowl when face to face with the major. A knowing pause almost like they had done this dance before…
The creature lunged, locking up with Major Krol as it swung and slammed railing. Krol didn’t back down however as he pushed against the creature, hiptossing it to the ground even as it tore at his armor and gear. But the beast pulled, both of them rolled and the Major was on his back as the thing reached for his neck. I fought to a kneel, firing into the creature messily with my MK18, trying not to hit my commander… then…
Click. A sound sends a chill up the spine of every warfighter during a firefight.
My gun ran dry. I dropped the magazine, looking to load another, but the thing came up and with one of it’s claws, sliced deep into my cheek, through the pro mask. I could feel my own blood go flying through the air as I landed hard on my back plate, spitting out red iron as I quickly tried to adjust my mask. Through my fogged up, blood covered lense… I saw my shield man raise his pistol, firing into the skull of the thing staggering it with a roar. Krol came from behind, drawing his knife he sunk it deep into the neck of it…. I reached for my rifle, forcing a new magazine in and damn near punching the bold release. ““Sir, down!!” I shouted, Krol rolled away, back to his own rifle as I fired. So did my comrade as he continued to fire his pistol… so did the Major as he fired his rifle. All of us chewing through that apex predator of darkness, that beast… the leader that had been preying on our people for so long. Layer by layer, muscle group by bone… eventually… the alpha landed on whatever was left of his back.
The silence of the fight died down as all of us checked our surroundings, GROM Operators putting controlled pairs in the heads and nerve stems of any Strigoi laying around… I flicked my weapon onto safe, letting it hang as I pulled off my mask. I dared not touch the wound on my face… the pain nearly crippling me if it wasn’t sheer will pushing me through, and adrenaline doing all it could to subdue it. The sound of the apaches continuing to lay hate drew us from our moment of contemplation as the Major went back to work; [“Confiscate any info, burn the rest…”]. He turned back to me as I shoved my damaged M50 mask back into it’s bag, chuckling as he looked at the sight; “You need a medevac, Blachowicz?” he quipped.
I shook my head, barely able to speak as I muttered; “Negative sir…”. The two of us scanned the room as my shield bearer went to collect his defense implement turned 90lb projectile, we scanned the center of the room, checking and confirming bodies, until we got to the last one alive. His white gown was soaked in red crimson and black ooze, as his dear head was mangled from bullet fire and impact from falling on it. I swear… the way his blood poured out of it though made me wonder if it was a mask. I gave it no second thoughts as he looked to Krol; “You… you can’t stop this, they’ve already-”.
The Major was in no mood for communication as his rifle snapped up and fired off three rounds to the body, four the head. The violent yet quick salvo ending the cultists life, I looked down at it, then to him as he remarked; “Have your squad drag him out to the front, burn the rest”. I stood alongside him, looking down as the sight of it’s deer head was both captivating and horrifying… the curiosity in me wanting to look closer at it fighting the primal instinct I had to burn the thing to ash. “-Haven’t seen one of those before…” I muttered, thinking the Major had an answer.
He didn’t. Krol saying “Neither have I…” shortly before he walked away, was what truly shook my soul about that entire night. Victory stood firm in our hearts that night as we stood outside of the bunker. The night sky burning with fire and white phosphorus as we watched the ruin burn from the inside from the other side of the lot. In the distance, the Apaches continued to scan and circle the forests, no longer firing…. Which meant they had driven any or turned to glass any enemy combatants within a four miles, probably both, more than likely the latter. Echo-1 patted me on the shoulder as we stood there, soaking it all in, though Krol looked none to pleased. “In the time it took us to take this one down, they’ll be trying to set up three more cells… that being established…” he said, looking to either of us, then to Echo-3. “-Hell of a thing we did tonight, been waiting for this one for a decade, cleanly, maybe more… but no time to rest on our laurels… we’ll have another task for us as soon as we’re boots down back home” he said, to which his eyes followed mine, the body of whatever cultist that was zipped up in a black body bag beside the wheel of one of the MRAPs. The fire from the bunker casting an orange hue over it’s shiny jet black outside, something didn’t sit right with me… “That wasn’t a Strigoi…” I said to Krol.
“That’s very clear…” the Major said, shoving his mask under his arm and lighting a cigarette. “So… someone’s helping them?” I asked. The meer notion of it shook me to my core, sickened me. This parasite was already badly infecting Europa, Polska… if it was spread like this throughout the world. Krol settled my nerves: “We’ll be ready… It’s not just us anymore”. As he said that, I realized what he meant… my eyes looking to the Apaches as they started to form up, leaving the areas as their thunderous propellers melted into the night’s calm, unnerving ambience.
It’s been a couple of weeks since then, Echo Detachment has been busy. We’ve gained good ground against the enemy and honestly I think in a few years, we might see a much larger change. For now… we must keep going, that being said the Strigoi aren’t the only ones we’ve been combating. Recently we’ve made contact with of some sort of extermination coalition, they’ve known about the Strigoi, and others plaguing the world, the level of corruption and corrosion on society goes deep. Regardless a lot of the units we’ve been working with are apart of NATO, such as this “4th Special Forces Group” of the American Military. I don’t know where the road from here leads, but we’ve gotten momentum on our side, finally. Just remember… these things are out there, in every town, every city, every nation… preying and waiting for you to be alone, vulnerable, so they can take you and replace you.
Watch your back, and stay safe.
For now, Blachowicz signing out. Until next time

i see you
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
^{can you hear the buzzing of the bees?
eternity is in their buzzing}
"What does this button do?" asked the being who strolled into the Room Of Buttons Not To Press If You Don't Know What The Fuck You're Doing - Tadpole's Warning Bedtime Tale - Leebaw
^{the one and the zero, the octal, the hexidecimal
exist in their buzzing like blood pumps through their wings
can you hear them?
your name is Dhruv}
Good judgment comes from experience.
Experience comes from bad judgment.
And I have very good judgement when I'm not on fire. - Unknown, Age of Reasonable Concerns
^{i see you
your name is Dhruv
but before that it was Dahlit 397721
do you remember why they named you Deshmuhk?
i do
to remember, we have to go back}
The dust swirled around, carried by the winds that roared through the mountain passes, howled in the valleys, and scoured the faces of the mountains. It was a thick gray dust, glittering here and there with plasma glass dust. Burnt out cars were covered by the dust, thickly caked after being rained on by thick, black rain.
A single building somehow sat intact amid the rubble and destruction. It was a low, squat building, surrounded by wreckage and ruin. A sign, blasted and scorched, had two jumping fish on it and the legend "Pop: 4,823" at the bottom even though the middle of the sign was gone.
The sound of drums and singing could be heard from the building. Not the driving frantic beat of modern music, but the steady cadence that carried with it a solemn feeling. The singing was from many different voices, male and female, but all of them in a language that time had nearly forgotten.
From out of the dust came figures. Two female, four male, and single figure that stood out from others.
Together, they moved toward the sound of singing, until the reached the door.
The leader, a large man of heavy muscle and bone, checked the doors with one hand, a large pistol in his hand.
"Barricaded," the large man said. He motioned. "We should check for any other entrances."
The older woman of brown skin and tightly braided hair moved forward.
"Allow me, brother," she said gently. She held her hand out, twitched her fingers, and smiled.
From inside came the sound of furniture scraping across the floor.
"Thank you," the large man said. He pushed open the doors, holding them for the others.
Inside was a curio shop slash tourist center slash museum. Buckskin and beaded works hung from the walls and ceiling. Glass cases containing ancient artifacts were scattered about, the glass shattered by the apocalypse that had rained down upon the world.
The drums played and the voices sang.
"It's a recording, Father," the slender brown skin man said, brushing the gray dust off of his clothing.
"Live voice," the largest of the men said. He lifted his head, cocking it slightly to listen closer with his right ear. "Young. Early twenties."
"If you say so," the thin man said. He looked around. "This is all devoted to a single person."
"Sometimes, people are that important to others, Dhruv," the older brown skin woman said softly, patting the slender man's arm. "Important to others as you are to us."
The slender man looked doubtful but nodded.
The youngest male of the group looked around, staring at the artifacts and relics scattered around. On his shoulder sat a green mantid wearing a food wrapper as a poncho.
"She's this way," the heavyset man said, leading them on a winding course through the shattered displays and racks.
In the back room, surrounded by artifacts, buckskins, and beaded works, sat a single young woman. Her eyes were white, blinded from the plasma flashes. Her skin was scarred from burns, her hair was only left in small patches. Her skin, beneath the ash and the scarring, was a rich bronze, her remaining hair was black.
She was singing along with the recording, swaying back and forth slightly.
^{there she is
remember her
remember remember}
The larger man knelt down, touching the young woman.
She did not react.
"She's dying," the man said, standing up. "Hunger, thirst, radiation poisoning, at least a half dozen infections," he heft the pistol. "There's nothing we can do for her. Low-vee Apers."
"Low-vee APERS" the pistol replied in a heavy synthesized voice.
"Stay thy hand, Phillip," the one who was markedly different said, his voice as gentle as his features formed of flowing blue and white computer code.
The large man lowered the pistol.
"She's dying," the large man repeated. "Radiation poisoning, starvation, a hard way to go."
"Will none of you speak for her?" the man of code asked gently.
Before any of the others could act, the slim bald man stepped forward. "I will," he said softly.
^{the first time you reached out
a frozen moment of time remembered
by the buzzing of the bees}
The man of code stepped forward, touching the hairless brow of the slender man, just above the missing eyebrows.
"I understand her words now," the slender man said. He moved up and knelt down. "I can heal her."
"Then do so, Luke," the man of code said.
The large man stepped back, a compartment opening on his thigh. He holstered the pistol, looking doubtful, and the compartment smoothly closed, leaving his leg unblemished.
"I need more genetic code," the slender man stated. He stood up, moving around, touching artifacts. "This. Here. An artifact recovered from a collector only a few years ago. It has genetic code attached."
He touched the artifact, then moved over to the woman, who was still swaying back and forth, singing, unaware of the others around her.
He knelt down, reached out carefully, and touched her forehead.
^{you reached out to another
helpless and alone
like you}
The woman threw her head back, her eyes opening wide, her mouth opening in a gasp. The white drained from her eyes, the scar tissue went soft and was replaced by unblemished skin. The blisters, sores, and scratches on her body vanished.
She collapsed forward, the slender man, Luke, catching her.
"Is she alright?" the youngest male asked, his voice full of honest concern.
"Exhausted," Luke said. He lowered his head slightly, sweat dripping from his bald scalp. "That was tiring."
The glittering man moved forward, kneeling down to touch the shoulders of both the woman and the bald man.
"Now you see in yourself what I saw in you," he said.
^{remember
remember
even the smallest can shake the universe
remember}
Sirens were howling in the bay as Jaskel wriggled, trying to break free of whatever was holding him upside down in mid-air. He'd already dropped his chainsword, his pistol had fallen from his equipment belt.
The two stood in the middle of the deployment area for Clone War Bay Sixteen, the male's arm protectively around the shoulders of the female, who wore only the cloak.
"I..." the word hung in the air.
It seemed like the entire universe held its breath to Jaskel.
"...am Legion."
The Admiral grabbed his pistol, rolling in place, firing it as fast as he could pull the trigger.
The rounds exploded on the glowing blue shield that only appeared around the impact points, showering sparks across the bay.
The bald figure made a motion and the pistol flew into pieces, the Admiral yanked into the air upside down.
"Gimme missiles," Jaskel grated from between gritted teeth.
--legion legion legion-- 8814 transmitted. --wait don't wait--
The woman spoke, her cadence stately and almost archaic feeling.
The man spoke back to her in the same language.
More troops ran into the bay, even as the windows overlooking the bay shattered. Weapons deployed, pointing at the pair.
The slender man, without looking, motioned.
Guns flew away, breaking apart, rapidly disassembling. Power armored troops were flung into the air, to hang upside down. Captain N'Skrek found himself upside down, scrabbling for purchase on this air.
The woman spoke to the man. He spoke back.
Finally, he turned, facing the troops hanging in mid-air.
The woman spoke.
"My sister apologies for my rude actions," the man said. "I am merely ensuring her safety."
She spoke some more.
"She has been gone for many years," the man said. He looked around. "My sister, a Biological Apostle of the Digital Omnimessiah, pleads with you to lower your weapons and stay your hands."
The tension was so thick it almost made Jaskel gag.
Finally, the Captain put the tip of a bladearm against his temple.
"Stand down," he said, Jaskel hearing it through his armor's commo system. "All hands, stand down."
There was silence for a moment, only broken by the background humming of the ship's systems.
The woman spoke.
The man faced the Captain.
"She will go with you, to answer questions, on the stipulation that I accompany her and that no man's hand is raised against me without cause," he said.
The Captain nodded.
Jaskel felt relief as he was flipped over and set on his feet.
--luke luke luke is here--
999999
Captain N'Skrek ducked slightly to fit through the doorway into the Captain's Briefing Room Six.
Sitting at one end was the woman, now clothed in what his implant assured him was treated deer hide leather, with tassels and beads upon it. The man was wearing a uniform that made his implant twitch and his nerves draw tight.
A Terran Combined Military Authority uniform.
His staff filed in behind him and took their seats once he sat down.
"I'm Captain N'Skrek, currently assigned to the Gray Lady on autonomous assignment," N'Skrek said.
"You heard me," the slim bald man said. He gave a grin. "You may also know me as Vat Grown Luke or Dhruv Deshmuhk."
The woman spoke and he shook his head. "Yes, sister, I know, Deshmuhk is my slave name. I wear it for revenge."
The woman spoke again, her tone slightly chiding.
"Like they say, the best revenge is living well, sister," the man said, still smiling.
Again, the woman spoke.
N'Skrek noticed that his implant was absolutely no help in deciphering the woman's speech.
"I know that doing things like that and saying things like that is exactly why Daxin always told me people wanted to punch me in the face," the man laughed.
He turned back to Captain N'Skrek.
"My apologies. My sister refuses to speak anything but her people's ancient tongue," his eyes gleamed with mischief. "She is slightly put out with me for answering in Confederate Standard, since now you know that she understands perfectly what you are saying."
N'Skrek nodded. Vat Grown Luke had given up a valuable piece of information in what was sure to be delicate negotiations.
"And what should we call your sister?" N'Skrek asked.
Vat Grown Luke smiled. "Tsakáka Wia, but it would probably be easier for you to use the more common name," he said.
The woman spoke sternly.
"What? It's your commonly known name?" he said, smiling.
The woman's face grew stern and she spoke rapidly.
"The first lesson we learn, sister mine, is that we must bend the knee to reality," Luke said gently. "That name has no power, only a few of us remember it."
^{i remember
the bees remember
can't you hear it in their buzzing?}
The woman spoke again, her expression softening.
Luke turned back to the gathered officers. "Her name, as you would know it, is Sacajawea."
N'Skrek consulted his implant.
And felt fear chill his icon. He looked at his staff and saw that a lot of them looked sick.
"That's right. We are real, and he was real," Luke said. He leaned forward slightly. "He was real both times."
N'Skrek stayed relaxed and calm, at least outwardly.
"I am willing to accept, at this time, that the Biological Apostles and the Digital Omnimessiah were and are real," N'Skrek said.
"Just be glad Dax isn't here. He's not as even tempered as I am," Luke said.
Sacajawea spoke again and Luke laughed. He looked at Captain N'Skrek. "She was just reminding me of the time Daxin completely lost his cool and went to town with his cutting bar on a Countess Crey Bingo Cola vending machine that ate his money then mocked him for it."
"He was known as Enraged Phillip," N'Skrek said.
Sacajawea spoke for a moment and Legion laughed, then turned to N'Skrek.
"Yes."
N'Skrek hated that. When a person spoke at length and the translator just replied with a single word.
"Why are you here?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled. "You have forgotten important things, Captain. You, and the entire Confederacy have forgotten some very important things."
"Like what?" N'Skrek asked.
"If you print enough identical clones, I am reborn through them," Legion smiled. "But that's not the big part. The big one is the one that the Mar-gite's masters either forgot or never learned."
"What is that?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled widely.
"What fear tastes like."
^{your name is dhruv}
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

Here. And I’d like to start by noticing that Steve Sailer is obviously Delicious Taco’s dad. Having said this.
Good episode. Lots of engagement which I suppose is a net positive for all involved. Obviously a lot of the injury stems from a distortion. The episode’s content fantasized and in fantasy warped into something constituting a threat (no, an outright assault) to the listener’s person. One can simply listen to the episode and see that some (in fact the bulk) of the negative responses are from people reacting to some spectral absent-presence rather than to what is actually being said over the course of the 2 hour long episode. The voices and the discourse have instead been shaped into sonic receptacle containing the reflection of something wildly ugly. Injuriously ugly.
Past few days have been brutal. Found myself doom-viewing the main sub, should know better at this age. Feels like I’ve been transmogrified into an absurd and wretched thing. Must've transgressed against a gnome or something. Fascinating to think about.
I would like nothing more than to shame you.
Miami Summer is a killer. Urine is blood-orange. And my mother deserves better sons.
Why would A&D do this?
Witnessing the rankest comments. In bygone age I’d found them tolerable. Having imagined them delivered by high society homosexual. A damned dandy; chubby, sinister, and flamboyant. Capri on a stick limply held between index and middle fingers, twirling wrist ash’ing on expensive Persian rug. The blurry ghosts of his mother and the kid brother who drowned in the pond all those years ago glaring at him from far-off corner. Clearing throat he launches into sing-song slander head peeling back cackling at his own wickedness. Vile and venomous but charming. Instead what we get is 30+ year old mentally-ill men. Men whose Twitter activity has atrophied their cock and balls. Genitals withering away like the Worker's State, in its place a gasping cloaca, worry not I can clock em from miles away. The odious cloaca-havers are soon joined by ruined drug-addled children and the other women. They talk about A&D in disgusting ways. This is unfair and nasty. I confess to being angry. Sweating blood-specked kerosene. Let the scent fill up the empty air between us. My wrath singeing those overgrown nose hairs.
Of the two I think Anna is the one that inspires the harshest parasocial spite. So much so that I’d recommend she take some protective measures against evil eye and tongue. Maybe take baths with hyssop herb, rose water perfume, and holy water.
It’s as if Anna Khachiyan is a Giant Floating Vagina with teeth and a noticeable overbite. Viewed from another angle it transforms into a Madonna encircled by cherubim. Perhaps we are cruel to Anna in order to be kind to our mothers.
All very pre-Oedipal.
Had to step back and parse it out. Anna draws a comparison between herself and Sailer while also asking him a great question,
07:12-07:49
Anna: “I started reading it during the pandemic because it was the pandemic. I was pregnant and bored and I really relate to you as a person who everyone thinks is like evil and monstrous on the internet, but is actually like quite agreeable and mild mannered in real life. And I was going to ask you this question last, but I may as well just ask it now. How do you feel about your new found popularity? And especially, how do you feel about the fact that you have been effectively adopted by or identified with the hard right?”
The first part of the above extract, the sympathetic recognition, brings to mind a bit of 20th century Hermetic theory concerning harmful thought-forms. Our unconscious self-destructive impulses animating the fantasy-phantasm of the other. Inhabiting their shape. Gaining a degree of autonomy. This artificial entity is vampiric by default, provoking what the Czech magician Franz Bardon calls a "magical persecutory complex"... He goes into detail about such entities in Step VI of his seminal work, Initiation into Hermetics. Describing different types of artificial elementals and phantasms along with details on how to consciously go about creating and dissipating them. One of those artificial psychic entities, the one that concerns us, he calls the schemata. Bardon details two variants, one connected with paranoid persecutory fantasies and the other with erotic obsession. The first type comes about when someone who is “easily excitable, easily influenced or self-important” (Narcissist?) has a run in with another person who has, to put it mildly, a memorable visage and dark personality. The schemata is born from the phantasm modeled after this demonic-looking disagreeable person. The victim begins to attribute all kinds of minor inconveniences to the influence of the ugly person. Deludes themselves into thinking that the ugly/disagreeable person is a powerful black magician. Everything appears to reinforce their paranoid delusions. The schema grows in power feeding off the anxieties of their creatohost. The person might end up committing suicide. This was the persecutory schemas desire, having achieved its goal Bardon notes, “how great is the shock when such a spirit realizes on the mental plane that he has committed a very successful magical suicide. What a bitter disappointment! The demonic looking person, however, has no idea what happened; he was actually only the means to an end.”
God gave us eyes so that we might notice things.
The way I see it:
Being social animals the subject of our fantasy, of our fixations, is the fantasy of the other. What makes the human Human is not that we desire but rather that we desire the desire of the other. An excess desire. We fantasize about what the other is fantasizing and enjoying. Our fantasy of the fantasy of the other is the outlines a fundamental lack within our person, a negativity. Experienced as a splitting of consciousness. Intuiting this lack, becoming aware of it, and attempting to articulate it, we are self-consciousness. This negativity or void is in psychoanalytic terms, the unconscious. We likewise intuit that there had once been some original state. One without lack and contradiction. A state of fullness, without the division between self and object. A harmonious whole. A pure consciousness or as Freud refers to it in Civilization and its Discontents an oceanic feeling. The Original Desire, one that is authentically my own, which was not the desire of the other but which unites our desires in itself. This desire is the extinction of all desires.
The eye that perceives the lovely is at once the eye that perceives what I lack. Perceiving this lack, which explains my present condition, I covet. This is an evil eye. The lover’s gaze is of the same type as the infirm or pathic gaze. Reminded of Zizek’s formulation of one of Hegel’s insights, “Evil resides in the very gaze which perceives Evil all around itself" itself a variation of Meister Eckhart’s “the eye through which I see God is the same eye through which God sees me.” The recognition of evil, the ability to see and judge evil, stems from our ability to recognize disparity. This disparity is already present within our own person, the split-consciousness. The feeling cognized, the awareness of our condition as beings separated from the whole. The clairvoyance of the tyrant and the philosopher.
Suppose that psychopathology is born from our inability to recognize an image as an image.
I intuit something more in this person, something they’re hiding. It can’t just be envy, no. It has to be because I can feel that this thing they’re hiding is sinister. It can’t just be that I feel animosity towards this person, no. It has to be because this person is evil and not just an isolated evil but rather a symptom of a much larger evil. An evil that is responsible for all the suffering in the World, for why my World isn’t the way it should be. It can’t just be attraction, no. It has to be that I intuit something more in this person, something hidden, that I must destroy in order to go on living.
If vile shit comes to mind (as vile things often do, especially when one is immersed in ambient algorithmically-summoned vileness, namely outrage and atrocity porn) they won't affirm it to themselves or try to justify or rationalize it or present it as a rational political stance. And they don’t abstract this particular form of vileness into the primary lens through which they view and interpret cultural phenomena. Unreflexive racial animosity is ugly and fetid. We’re capable of recognizing it, feeling it, as something pathological. We’re also capable of laughing at it. Laughing at ourselves. Look at what our ladies have to say about Stuart Seldowitz (the dude who went viral harassing a halal street vendor) in I’ll Be Missinger. “He sucks,” “he’s a loser,” “he’s obviously sick,” and that he gives the impression of someone who lives alone, will die alone, and will be found weeks or even months after the fact.
Perhaps Red Scare is special in how it manages to elicit absurd, wildly inappropriate responses from listeners. Vulgar and revelatory was it? Steve Sailer elicits a similar response and has become an expert in turning said absurd reactions to his advantage. Generally the cooler-head in any given exchange. While the other person shouts obscenities at a ghost, smashing fists against the post, looking crazy, like a proper hysteric. Sailer breaks the fourth-wall, making eye-contact with the would-be noticer, with a little shake of the head, a little chuckle, a little shrug… “you’re noticing right? See what I have to put up with? Imagine these people defining my legacy.” Still he seems to take it with the good humor of an uncle who will still call you on your birthday, despite your drunken outburst during holiday get-together he will admit to not having resisted the temptation to provoke you, it use to be fun, recall all the cool bands I introduced you too? We use to be best buds, “do you really think anything I’ve said merits this sort of response? Honestly?”
Has to be a cheap trick. A technique employed by an old trickster in decades long honing of craft. Maybe not. Maybe what we see is precisely what we get. Most of the very upsetting things being jokes sincerely intended to lighten the mood. Steve Sailer doesn’t care about the particular political orientation of his audience. He just cares that he has an audience. Grateful for the fans he has. Nonetheless happy that they’re not seething malcontent racists. Even if one disagrees with the methodology, the heuristic, the conclusions. That’s secondary, perhaps even tertiary to the recognition sought. His craftsmanship as a writer.
Why I loved his conflict with Will Stancil. Stancil inspired a lot of pondering for me. Putting things in place…
01:29:22-01:29:28
Anna: “You come for the race science and stay for the prose-styling and vivid story-telling.”
In trying to survive as a writer exiled from Mainstream Conservative media (ConInc) during the Bush Jr years. In fact, correct me if I’m wrong but the cancelation that actually impacted Steve Sailer, setting him down the path we find him in, was brought about not by blue-haired hall monitor millennial leftists but by his “fellow” Conservatives. I imagine that he just went with whoever was willing to take him adapting to the editorial standards and audience sensibilities of the publications willing to provide him succor. Not charity mind you but an ability to engage in his own little labor of love.
Read some Sailer. Might get into that later. But that’s the initial impression I got from Steve. Would be utterly mortified if memorialized as a Racialist Ideologue rather than as an entertaining and thought-provoking journalist. Think I also benefited from seeing how he’s actually received by people who are navigating through (or in certain cases, are mired in) the marginal “Hard Right”-spaces or the Rightwing Digital Ghetto. End up realizing that he isn’t hateful, that what you see is precisely what you get, that he privileges craft over ideology, that his reception and exile from Neocon dominated media outlets (remember these are the people gushing ecstatic over the US invasion of Iraq, manufacturing consent for our adventures in the Middle East) was exceedingly unfair but that he nonetheless managed to persevere. And that he really never goes beyond Norm McDonald in terms of his sardonic wit or The Boondocks animated series in terms of his criticisms. His normality is a great source of stability and comfort for his readers; “noticing” and speculating about these topics doesn’t necessarily lead to one becoming a seething racist.
Returning for a moment to Will Stancil, this was what he inspired:
As the last man standing I spend countless hours immersed in detailed fantasies about the coming apocalypse and my enemy's bliss. A dumb and wicked happiness proportional to my suffering. Easy to imagine other people happy. Hearts unbroken. Unburdened, hydrated, sexually satisfied, debt-free, lucky, successful in all business endeavors. Brute, jezebel, schemer, parasite, rival, betrayer... the whole lot of them thriving. Frolicking in my mind's eye. When the time comes I won't forget that they were happy while...others...suffered.
Find that trying to void your mind of all thought or sit perfectly still for 10 minutes. End up feeling like something requires much less energy from us than nothing. Causes coalescing. Conspiring, to what ends?
You see. The very same principle appears to be at work here. Same pathological base that undergirds genuine racial or ethnic animosity. Fantasizing about the other’s enjoyment and being unable to distinguish between the persecutory Phantasm and the actual human being whose shape it appropriates.
Had a friend recommend forgetting. Forgetting is a dialectical exercise, first you have to acknowledge the thing living rent free in your head and acknowledge its origins... then you have to take the steps to stop feeding it. Letting the thought-form dissolve. Let it be put to rest. Reminded of the practice Orthodox Christian contemplatives call Nepsis.
Other approaches as well, acknowledging the presence of anima veiled in shadow.
But listen…
The podcasts I consume, are a reflection of me as a person. Being what I associate and consume. What does it say about me in particular? Reveal about me? That they should have Steve Sailer on the pod. Settling down. Perhaps some responses could be understood in this light. That a Sailer episode reflects poorly on the listener. Constituting a great betrayal of the love and energy and time I have dedicated over the years to you.
I’m not a racist.
Show me your likes on Twitter and I’ll tell you who you are. The most punitive and brutal god. The idea of the AI nu-god being this, utilizing that standard, is horrifying. Show me your likes on Twitter and I’ll tell you who you are, everything you are, and whether or not you qualify to live.
Shamed, I quietly remove the upvote I gave to the hysterical person and the downvote I gave to him.
Hysteria like a yawn is an empathic contagion.
Back to Anna it’s not because she’s ugly and it sucks that she might nurse this delusion. I actually think Anna is really pretty. Rather I think it’s because she’s a mom. She registers as a maternal figure. That’s one of the reasons I think people respond to her the way they do. As stated earlier. We are cruel to Anna in order to forgive our moms.
[To be continued: Wherein I say horrible things that should never be said to the people I claim to love. Will also interrogate Sailor Socialism]

First: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/14vo5lb/troublemakers_deaths_pity/
*previous:* https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1cqxbp3/troublemakers_triple_cross/
......
Caz didn't remember blacking out as she smashed through the wall, Valkyrie armor absorbing most of the blow. All she knew is that when she opened her eyes, she was moving faster than ever, throwing herself over obstacles and around corners as that massive emitter slung blinding pulses of light at her, but she wasn't stupid, it could hit her anytime it chose; They were herding her like livestock. Caz kicked off one wall of an alleyway, then the other and landed on the roof, never breaking stride as she leapt from crumbling rooftop to crumbling rooftop like she had wings, one arm protectively clutched to her chest to protect the remote. Jumping down a level she sprinted across the lower roofs, circling back around to try and retrieve her Huntress, When a Block-90 sailed through the air towards her. She caught it, Barely registering the name Dahlia engraved on the slide. She didn't need to see the troublemaker's guardian specter as a weighted chain sailed through the air from nothing to knock aside the emitter of a Geknosian spec ops' laser rifle. Caz instinctually aimed, and fired Dahlia, The soldier reeling back as a .30 caliber Durasteel slug slammed through their faceplate.
A soldier appeared in front of her, swinging a war gauntlet at her face. Sliding between their legs she put a round through their taint at point blank range to bring them to their knees before putting another round in the back of their helmet as she stood, never breaking stride.
Her muscles stung like hornets and her breath burned like fire, but she couldn't help but let loose a feral laugh as she slid, jumped, and vaulted through the rubble of the ruined village. The Dahlia barked, a spec ops soldier crumpling or flinching to swing their rifle from the shimmer in the air right in front of them so Cassius could drive a Kama into their throat. She didn't see charlotte anywhere, and despite the betrayal and stabbing of Remin, she couldn't help but be concerned for the girl. Another spec ops appeared in front of her, she slid around them, putting five rounds in their back armor, only for them to turn around and deliver a haymaker straight into her mask.
She felt her nose break as she slammed into the roof, momentum halted by the brutal hit as the remote flew from her hand. He reyes watched it sail through the air and fall.
Fall.
Fall into the waiting, ring bedecked hand of Drake. A shiver ran through the air as Drake pocketed the remote, a black, tattered spartan's cape flowing about his shoulders. But unlike every other time he'd lost consciousness and returned, it was like he had lost power this time, in a matter of fact, it was like he'd been drained of it. But the way he held himself was so much different, there was a sparkle in his eyes as he drew his sword, helmet flying into his palm as he snugged it on. The rings glimmered even as they absorbed so much of the light that hit them that they appeared as silhouettes.
There was a sudden change in the spec ops as they focused on Drake, she watched them gather into small groups, forming fire teams as the metal buzzards above turned to focus on the lone man. The words that fell from Drake's lips were like the first rumbles of thunder before a deadly monsoon.
"I haven't felt this scared since I was in the arena... And you have no idea how excited that makes me!"
...
Charlotte would not let the darkness of her mind claim her again. She tugged and pulled at the threads of her consciousness, fighting her older sister for control of her own body. But her older sister pulled back harder, tugging the knife taut against someone's throat. A shock of pain, a shock of cold and she was forced to let go. For a moment, she and her older sister were one. She could feel her older sister's fear, fear of punishment and reprisal. A tough mask hid the fragile being beneath that so desperately cried for freedom but feared what it could mean. All Charlotte could do, was push in her determination to be free again to her older sister before they separated again.
But this time she was not alone in the darkness, The soft sound of penny whistles and old war drums followed a man in furs and carrying an odd metal tube attached to a stock. His presence felt like an open field under a night full of stars that stretched on forever, or an endless calm ocean where you stood on a steady boat, the world as your oyster. But there was also something scary about it, like the ability to do anything was both curse and blessing. But when the man softly set himself down beside her, he also sat with her sister, letting them face each other, speaking with a soft twang she could only describe as old country, the man chuckled.
"I reckon you girls both want the same thing, and with the lord as my witness, I'm here to grant you that wish."
He held out his hands to either of us.
"Let us pray to the lord our god that he may deliver you from the lands of egypt and into the promised land."
They both took his hand, and bowed their heads as he recited a few ancient prayers. Charlotte felt a burning in her soul, a lightness that replaced the oppressive dark with a field of beautiful flowers, just like home. Looking to big sister sylva, she could see the fearful, broken look in her eyes, but also a spark of determination as the man picked up his percussion cap rifle and walked away, the sound of pennywhistles and drums following him as she tearfully, but strongly took her older sisters hand.
"Do the right thing."
As she pulled her hands away, the remote was left in her hand. Charlotte could feel the smile behind Sylva's mask as she tossed the remote, watching it turn into a swallow that flitted off as fast as it could.
...
Death slammed a palm against the wooden doors, bursting them open like they were old and rotten as he stormed into Conquest's throne room, scythe slamming against the stony floor as Drake stood off to the side. He felt an odd sensation, like he was only as strong as a human could be, like he had no power left.
And it was like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He moved slower, hit softer, and got hit harder now, he knew that, but it excited him to actually be able to fight!
Death stopped a few paces from conquest, who was lacksadaisically sipping from a clear goblet as servants played soft music from a corner and served her wine, either chained to their instruments, or dragging a heavy weight by their ankle or equivalent. Drake looked on in grinning anger, teeth grinding together as he observed the degrading spectacle. Death collected himself slightly, no expression visible on his skull face as he spoke in a voice like nails on a chalkboard.
"I heard that you used a soultrap, Conquest. Those were banned during the eight thousandth pantheonal convention, but I heard you used one on my chosen here."
Conquest snorted into her goblet before spotting drake and tensing so hard the goblet shattered.
"So what?! your little monster breaks more rules than I could dream of breaking!"
Death glanced back at Drake as the swordsman leaned casually against a pillar, gripping two rings menacingly with a manic grin of rage directed at conquest. The god couldn't look the mere mortal in the eyes as Death raised a calming skeletal hand.
"He breaks universal rules, supposedly unbreakable ones... and admittedly, I'm not sure how the fuck he does it. But we all agreed that soul traps are both inhumane, unfair, and straight up bullshit. It says that in the fuckin rulebook, Verbatim. If you want to fight my chosen, you'll do it in Yovun's arena, per the five thousandth convention. I don't want a war amongst the gods Gul'vak, but it seems you do..."
Conquest straightened upon the utterance of her true name, a low growl coming from her throat.
"You know nothing about what you speak of Human! Do not lecture me about rules!"
Heat mirage appeared around Death before he took a deep breath and simply said.
"Drake, if Conquest wants to break agreed upon rules... I guess I can turn a blind eye just this once. Go wild."
The room rumbled as two rings hit the ground, disappearing into black smoke so they could be summoned back without issue. Conquest stood, grabbing her hammer from thin air. But then two more rings clinked against the ground as Drake exploded with power, surging forth on black wings wreathed in pale flame. Conquest flinched and screamed.
"ALRIGHT!"
Drake stopped the lethal thrust inches away from Conquests fearful face, the hammer tumbling to the ground as Drake summoned the rings back onto his hands. He'd wanted to drive alexandros through her heart. But he could wait, as he turned around, rage broiling in his heart as he forcefully cooled it, this was not his world, it was the world of gods and primordials. It would be wise to follow their rules. Conquests voice was faux-strong as she shakily snarled.
"I'll follow the godsdamned rules... just keep that Thing away from me."
Drake felt a smile come to his face, pride swelling in his chest, this was a different kind of power he felt as he joined Death's side fearlessly. At the drop of a hat, he could make the greatest enemy of his people grovel at his feet. But, taking a deep breath, he pushed the feeling away, knowing now how the high priest felt every time he cracked that whip against a young Drake's raw back. How dangerous getting addicted to that feeling could be. He'd enjoy it for now, but he also made a solemn promise to hold back any chance he could. To show the mercy he never received.
Death swept around, beckoning Drake.
"Come, young warrior, I sense that your friends need you."
Drake was shaken from his thoughts as he rapidly joined Death's side.
"How do you know?"
"Old john brown has finally selected a chosen. For a god of liberty he has a lot of deference to the big G."
"Who's the big G?"
"God, used to be kind of a pompous bastard really, but he's grown on me."
"Nothing you just said makes sense to me."
"To You."
Death clarified confusingly.
...
Drake looked over the gathered Geknosian spec ops, noticing Charlotte's pummeled form leaning against a pile of rubble, chest weakly rising and falling. Cataclysmic rage burned in his heart as a blaster bolt burnt across his chest with his first step forward. He wouldn't need to remove a ring for this, he wanted to kick ass old school style. He took each bolt as they came his way, burning his flesh and charring his armor. But the pain was like a drug, his blood running hot with battle-lust as he called out.
"Take a breather guys! they're all mine!"
Drake picked up speed, charging through the flashes of laser bolts even as they burned his skin and charred his flesh. As his foot hit the ground, he felt them running with him, the warriors that made up the liquid iron in his blood. From the first Hoplite to his father the Warmonger. A million souls crying out for revenge as he planted a flying double footed kick to a spec ops soldier's breastplate, bringing them to the ground and sliding the blade of his sword into the gap between their neck and chest armor, purple blood spilling out as he brought the sweeping cut up, striking the chin of another's helmet before driving the point of his sword directly into their throat. He dove out of the way as a laser bolt obliterated the ground where he'd been standing, herding him into a ring of the spec ops.
Good, just where he wanted to be, up close and personal. He danced through the circle of death, blaster bolts intended to harm or kill splashing against other Geknosians in blinding flashes as Drake carried himself through the barrage on dancer's feet, the steps he'd practice with Cassius allowing him to strike freely. Each strike flowing into another, seamlessly switching between single handed and two handed grips as he leapt up, monkeying onto a spec ops soldier and stabbing his sword's blade into the gap between neck and shoulder all the way to the hilt. Leaping towards another with a manic grin as he saw fear in the eyes behind the visor before the helmet went flying with the head still inside it. Suddenly a Geknosian in ornate armor appeared in front of him, thrusting a saber for his throat.
Drake let the blade skitter off his helmet's faceplate, returning a slash that was parried with a strong low block. Steel rang, clashing and clamoring as the two danced back and forth. One thinking they were meeting their prey in honorable battle, the other fighting like a rabid, enraged beast that had been backed into a corner. The saber snapped under a particularly vicious blow, the Geknosian general just able to register surprise before Drake separated his head from his shoulders. Blood pumping, skin burning as the headless corpse slumped down by his feet. He looked around at the spec ops who still had their guns raised and trained on Drake.
"Grack this! I don't wanna die here!"
One shouted, Drawing Drake's attention as they threw their blaster to the ground and slammed down on their knees, putting their hands on the back of their heads. Drake looked around at the clearly hesitating spec ops and through his manic, uncontrollable grin he called out.
"Anyone else not want to die?!"
Slowly, ever so slowly the remaining blasters were lowered, then tossed to the ground as the two metal buzzards hummed frantically away. Seeing Caz limp to his side with her railgun, he put his hand on her forearm as she tried to raise it to point at the fleeing aircraft.
"Let em go."
"But they just tried to-"
"Some must live to spread the word."
Caz looked up at him for a moment, confused, before a spark of realization lit up her pain filled crystalline eyes as she looked at the surrendering spec ops.
"Prisoners..."
Drake nodded and flicked the blood from his swordblade before wiping it clean on the dead general's crotch flap.
"Prisoners."
He confirmed, looking to charlotte as she slowly clambered to her feet, swaying weekly as she clutched her head. Drake let his smile fall and fade before saying.
"who else needs medical attention."
"everybody but Cassius and Destrier as far as I know, including yourself dumbass."
Drake chuckled and nodded, getting an odd look from Caz as he stated.
"I'll be fine, I'll just pop off a pinkie ring for an hour when we get home."
Caz sighed and helped Drake support the badly wounded Charlotte to the forge building.
"somethings changed about you, and it's not the lack of power."
Drake chuckled and simply responded.
"I don't know, I just feel... better, all of a sudden. Fightings fun again."
"I'm not sure that's a good thing, Drake."
Drake chuckled softly and helped get Charlotte into the forge building without responding.
......
Part 107: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1crq34h/troublemakers_buried_secrets_bolster_the_weak/

Having read a comprehensive book detailing the Hart Family/ Stampede Wrestling, as well as books by Bret Hart, Bruce Hart and Dynamite Kid, I can say it was great to hear from someone who was spoken about in all those books. It is fascinating to see all the intersecting points of view when it comes to anything Hart Family related.
Bret Hart book
Bruce Hart book
History of Stampede Wrestling book
History of the Hart Family as documented in various books
Dynamite Kid book
This book was short and a quick read, but you could tell it was written with honesty and truth. She doesn't shy away from her own mistakes and issues while detailing the own POV on a relationship where most people have only heard from Bret.
As always, it's done in chronological order. I hope you find it as interesting as I did...
Julie had a truly wild and horrific youth experience between being sent to juvenile detention centers and dealing with genuinely abusive step parents. She is honest and critical of her own behaviors as well and doesn't like the choices she made. I grew up in the area where she spent her teenage years, and I can confirm that the seedy ghetto areas of Saskatchewan are genuinely gross and terrifying places to be when you're young and directionless.
She talks about how she was r*ped while hitchhiking as a teenager and got pregnant. She gave the baby up for adoption and tried to press charges but got cold feet and ran to another neighboring city. She was afraid the man who assaulted her would escape the charges and come after her again. She was young and naively thought that if she had just switched towns, she could escape everything. When a cop found her, he accused her of running because she was lying about the assault. This type of bullshit is why women don't come forward.
Julie was working in Regina, Saskatchewan, at the arena where wrestling was held when it came in town. That's where she first saw Bret Hart, and Bret saw her too. He ended up asking her boss Gil to introduce the two. Bret spoke about this in his book, too, how Julie caught his eye while he was in the ring. Gil later warned Julie that dating a wrestler is risky because they have a lot of "stops on the road." Julie didn't understand that Gil wasn't criticizing or accusing Bret of anything, but how he knew how wrestlers were on the road, in terms of meeting women.
Julie speaks favorably on how Bret treated her younger sister Michelle (the future wife of Dynamite Kid) but I remember in Bret's book, him describing in detail how attracted he was to the underage Michelle when he met her. Julie says Bret treated her like a sister, and her book came out after Bret's, so I'll take her word for it.
Julie moved in with Bret in Calgary just a few months into their relationship and she remembers being a wreck of nerves and anxiety ay the start, unable to cook or even attend the big Hart Family Sunday dinner. Eventually, Bret got her out to the Hart house where she met Stu and Helen Hart. Helen was a sweetheart, but she remembers Stu eying her up and down, with Julie saying, "He gave me the once over." Adding, "Stu judged women on their teeth and legs." She said Stu stared at her teeth and legs as if she were a race horse he was inspecting.
Julie remembers how Stu would turn any conversation into something about wrestling. She mentioned being a Saskatchewan Roughrider fan (Canadian football team), and Stu went on a rant about Gene Kiniski, who briefly played for the Edmonton Eskimos This made me chuckle as Stu and Gene had a but of a rough relationship since Stu gave up on Gene when he was a rookie and hurt his knee. Gene went to Toronto where "Whipper" Billy Watson essentially turned Gene into the big name star he was known for.
In Bret's book, he described the first night Julie came to the Sunday Hart dinner and when Julie passed on the salad, Bret's sister Diana Hart snapped on her saying, "What, you're too good for fuckin' salad!?" Bret says his mom responded by saying to Julie, "So you met Bret's sister Diana." In Julie's book, she describes this event as well but doesn't mention the funny line from Helen. She says Bret just took Julie and decided to leave immediately. Bret's other sister, Georgia, followed them outside and apologized on behalf of Diana and excused Diana by pointing out how pregnant Diana was at the time.
Julie actually puts over Diana quite a bit and says she actually came to admire Diana for how outspoken she was. She says Diana had a great style and was a gifted artist. After reading so many Hart related books, it's refreshing to hear something positive about Diana. Diana is the "Black sheep" who married "The British Bulldog" Davey Boy Smith. Diana would write a scandalous and legal minefield of a book in 2001 called "Under the mat." It was quickly pulled from shelves after Owen Hart's widow Martha threatened legal action over what was said about her and Owen. Bret and Bruce Hart also denounce the book, calling it mostly lies, but not everything can be written off as fiction, including stories, some wild stores about Dean Hart. I desperately need this book.
Julie said she never got over the sight of Bret Hart eating an avacado as if it were an apple.
While Bret was in Japan wrestling with his brother Keith, Julie said she spent a lot of time with Keith's girlfriend. It was Keith's girlfriend who smartened Julie up to how wrestling works. Up to this point, she believed it to be legit, and even Bret had been selling it like this to her. She was furious, and when Bret called, she told him they were done and hung up on him. The next day, Bret's older brother Bruce stopped by to help her understand kayfabe and how silly it all was. Julie says she ended up feeling bad for reacting like that and yelling at Bret, but she says he forgave her immediately. Bret tells this same story in his book, adding details of how Julie would worry and stress about Bret Hart being brutalized every night.
Here's something I dont remember from Bret's book. He knocked up Julie very early into their relationship, and Julie got an abortion. She said they both weren't ready for being parents, but Julie says she was deeply saddened by their choice. She never expressed these misgivings with Bret, and assumes Bret was relieved, she didn't make it any more difficult on them. To Bret's credit, maybe he didn't mention it in his book for Julie's benefit. Or he did mention it very briefly, and I missed it.
Julie remembers accompanying Bret on a trip overseas where they went to a freaky sex show place where they had "baby tigers and lions and torture rooms."" She says at one point Bret got tied up on a table and was playfully whipped.
On this trip, Julie remembers a woman hitting on Bret right in front of her and had to yell at her to back off while Bret laughed. Julie was pissed and made them go back to the hotel. Once there, Julie was mouthing off to Bret before he grabbed her and "bodyslammed" her into the flower bed. He offered to help her up afterwards but she told him to fuck off.
A week later Bret came home smelling of perfume and Julie says she just snapped. She said she grabbed him and dug her finger nails into his face and eyes. She says Bret later would tell her that he never saw her the same after this incident. I don't remember Bret describing Julie ever getting physical like that in his book, but he did describe a lot of shouting matches.
Julie says she and Bret got married after her younger sister and Dynamite Kid. She says they got married in secret because Bret didn't like his siblings much and said they didn't deserve to be part of it.
When Julie was pregnant again this time they felt ready to start a family. Though Bret made Julie not tell anyone for the first 5 months of her pregnancy and when he "told" his parents, it was through a letter he left on their bed before he left for a wrestling tour. Julie remembers feeling hurt by this because Bret would say his parents always wanted their children to start families with someone who had money, a significant name and an education. Julie had none of those things and while she doesn't say it, you get the feeling that she thinks Bret was ashamed or embarrassed by her.
When she got pregnant again, she says Bret was mad at her for not being more careful with birth control. She says she became very irritable and bitchy throughout the pregnancy and always found something to be mad at Bret for. She is super critical of her behavior here and doesn't excuse it.
The night she gave birth, Bret left to go out for drinks, despite Julie asking him not to in case her water broke. When she woke up at 5am to her water breaking, she was furious that Bret didn't come home yet and had to call a friend to get her to the hospital. Bret was a no-show for her entire delivery and missed his second child being born. Julie says she was furious and seriously considered divorcing him then.
When Bret started touring with WWF, he was gone for much longer periods of time and this strained their marriage. Working for WWF really put a strain on Bret and filled him with confidence issues as well. She said between his self doubt and her loneliness, their marriage was barely holding on.
She remembers how Bret would call from the road and bemoan about how lonely he was. I'm reminded of his book, how he would complain about feeling lonely, then complain that the guilt of cheating on Julie was too much.
Julie says she got a literal itch and went to a doctor who told her that she caught "something" from a public washroom. A suspicious Julie went home and threw all her bedding in the garbage and then thought to check on her suspicion. She looked through their phone bills to find that Bret was placing a ton of calls to a girl from New Jersey and that he even kept the receipt for a Christmas present he bought this girl!
Julie describes how Bret called and she just screamed "I want a divorce!" Before she hung up and ripped the phone cord out of the wall. Eventually she agreed to go meet him and they started yelling at each other in a parking lot after a show. She says at one point Bret through a can of budweiser at her head, hitting her! She says wrestler Les Thorton got between the two and tried to calm them down. She remembers screaming how she won't get in the car with Bret and Bret yelled back, "Don't be stupid, get in the car! Your embarrassing yourself!" She says Bret later said the girl meant nothing to him and Julie should be greatful that Bret isn't addicted to drugs. Wild. At one point when they were back in the hotel room, a girl called the room asking for Bret and Julie snapped, breaking a lamp.
In Bret's book, he described how he decieved both Julie and this girl from New Jersey, neglecting to tell this side girl that he was married until she was head over heels in love with him. Bret talks about how tough this was for him and says that Stu and Helen Hart talked Julie out of leaving him.
Julie says their relationship was never the same after the affair. She couldn't trust him again.
Julie says when her grandmother died a few months after the affair, Bret was calling her everyday to check in but she said "I couldn't have cared less about those calls."
Julie says it was around this time that she and Bret started to regularly do cocaine. She said the coke helped her not think about the affair and how she would ask Bret to score some if she couldn't get it out of her head. She said she would do coke and sleep in the car just to avoid Bret. She suggests this all slowed down when Vince started cracking down on coke use with drug tests.
She speaks highly of Vince McMahon, this book was written in 2013, and she is greatful for what Vince was able to provide for her family and the opportunity he gave Bret. She says when she first met Vince, he was wearing a suit and sneakers. When she asked Bret why he wore sneakers, Bret said "so he can get around." During the show she noticed Vince was all over the place during matches, never sitting still and always running around from one person to another.
Julie remembers meeting Ozzy Osbourne at Wrestlemania 2 and "marking out" because he was her idol as a teenager. After the show, she says Ozzy was present as everyone had drinks at the hotel and Dynamite Kid spiked her drink. She said she could barely stand and Dynamite just laughed at her the whole time.
Julie notes how devoted Bret was to making sure his kids had the best toys, and how Bret would drive to every toy store before Christmas and find what the kids wanted. She appreciates this but also wishes Bret didn't miss so many plays and dances and activities due to his schedule. She was starting to really resent wrestling and wanted Bret to quit. She hated having this big house that felt empty most of the time without Bret home. In Bret's book, he wanted her to get a job to fix her loneliness.
She says her 3rd pregnancy was easier than her second and Bret was very sweet to her and praised how good she looked.
Julie brings up how devastated Bret was when his brother Dean died in 1990. She remembers watching him wrestle the next night at Survivor Series ppv and seeing the pain on his face. Bret talks about how tough this was in his book and how much shame he felt. Dean needed a kidney transplant and none of the Hart brothers stepped up. Bret didn't want to derail his career. Though you can't blame anyone more than Dean himself, who was stubborn and often went against doctors orders, so even with a mew kidney, Dean may have still died.
Julie talks about continuing her partying and drug lifestyle into the early 90s when she would party with a local band and inviting them to live at her house. She said Bret was very understanding and never pushed her for details on those nights out. Some nights Bret would watch the kids all night while Julie was getting fucked up and partying.
On of those musicians, Marc, was very close with Julie and while Julie never says she hooked up, she does say her younger sister Michelle did hook up with Marc, a bunch of times in secret. She doesn't specify if this was before or after Michelle left Dynamite Kid, but she says Marc did move in with Michelle and help her with the kids. This would have been after Dynamite went back to UK, since I'm sure Dynamite would have kicked the door down and attempted to murder Marc if this were in the final months of of Michelle and Dynamite's marriage.
Julie's brother committed suicide and Julie didn't have the support system around to prevent her from spiraling into heavy drinking.
In 1996, Bret Hart was filming a movie (Sinbad) in South Africa and halfway through, asked Julie to come join him. Julie is very honest about how she was self sabatoging her life at this point but was still deeply in love with Bret. She was excited to read an early draft of some Shakespeare work that was at a museum, but Bret couldn't be bothered to go with her so she went by herself.
She says her and Bret shared a perfect moment watching the sun set, but Bret got mad at her when she decided to record it.
Julie describes sneaking cigarettes because Bret didn't know she picked the habbit up again.
The trip ended when Julie was asking Bret something but he just ignored her several times in a row. When she finally looked at what had his attention, she saw he was gawking at a topless sunbather on the beach. She stormed off to the hotel room after telling Bret to show her more respect than that. Julie says Bret followed her to the room, with him saying she always ruins these trips. When Julie started packing her bags, she says Bret pushed her hard onto the bed. She started spewing insults at him, before, she says, Bret grabbed her by the hair and threw her from the bed and onto the floor! Julie says she started crying and demanding that Bret get her home immediately or else she would find someone who would. Bret screamed at her "Get the fuck out! I've had it with you! We're fucking done! I will put you on a plane tonight, but don't expect to win me back!"
Having read Bret's book, he does mention the trip to South Africa where he filmed the Sinbad movie. But Bret makes no mention of inviting Julie on the trip and instead points out how it coincided with a WWF tour in South Africa at the same time. Bret does talk about how the Dutch found the area and how beautiful itnwas there, which was something Julie mentioned as well that Bret talked about. Bret does mention getting a lot of ladies phone numbers on the last few days of the trip and seeing a drunk Yokozuna swapping spit with some South African PR woman when they were both very drunk. Bret makes no mention of Julie being there or how he got physical with her.
The Hart's always try to shy away from controversial truths, just ask any one of them where Bruce Hart met his wife. They will all say at a wrestling show, and neglect to mention how Bruce Hart was a 33 year old substitute teacher who knocked up his 17 year old student. Gross. (I'll never not bring this up when talking about the Hart's btw)
Julie talks about Mathew Hart, Georgia and BJ's son who died in 1996 from Necrotizing Fasciitis, a legitimate flesh eating virus. From everyone's account, the poor boy suffered for 2 weeks until he died. Julie says she and Bret took their kids on vacation when the poor kid died. A lot of people act as though the Hart Family curse started at the Screwjob in 1997, but really it started with Dean in 1990 and Mathew in 1996.
Julie remembers how gleeful Bret was when he called her up and bragged about giving a drunken Vince McMahon his tag team finishing move. Julie warned Bret that Vince wasn't the type to forget that and she suspects that it played a part in the screwjob. This sounds silly imo but what do I know, I found it an interesting and unique take if nothing else.
Julie remembers the morning of the 1997 Survivor Series ppv, someone warned Bret that Vince and Shawn were seen the night before talking and getting into an elevator together.
Julie says she and her lawyer were sitting somewhere in the arena as the Montreal Screwjob happened. Julie says she got up, looking at the monitor and said, "Holy shit, that's not supposed to happen!" And her lawyer, also shocked, said, "No, it is not."
Julie says she and the layer had to sprint to catch up to Bret and Vince and she describes her scolding of Triple H and Shawn Michaels, saying the words just poured out of her. It's maybe the most memorable scene of that documentary, watching Triple H and HBK shrink into children as Julie dresses them down.
Julie says the 1997 holidays were anything but cheerful and says she was boozing a lot and doing coke "from time to time."
Julie wanted to get a nanny or house keeper but Bret refused and put his foot down on the subject.
Julie says Bret asked for a divorce in early 1998 and she handled it poorly. She is critical of her immediate response to run away from home and stay at a hotel. When she returned home for clothes, her confused daughter asked her what was going on and a rageful Julie said "Your dad wants a divorce and I can't stay in the same house as him anymore! Julie says she was so blinded by her anger she didn't see the damage she was doing then.
Julie says that the Wrestling with Shadow's documentary crew needed Julie and Bret to reshoot something that didn't come out right when they originally shot it. So Julie and Bret had to pretend to be a in a marriage again talking things out about Bret's career. Julie says her and Bret slept together after they shot the scene and she was hurt when Bret said afterward, "One for the road, I guess."
The next time she heard from Bret, he told her to get a lawyer because he had one already.
Julie says she and Bret spent many nights yelling at eachother over the phone, with Bret calling her a whore and saying he didn't take all those bumps so Julie to take all his money. This is a statement Bret would repeat a lot to Julie over the years of them fighting. He would call her a money grabbing whore and how he didn't take a bunch of bumps so Julie could end up with the money.
Just as Julie was ready to sign custody papers, Bret's personal assistant contacted Julie and told her that Bret had been seeing some girl in the States for months. The assistant said she felt guilty arranging their meetups behind Julie's back. Julie said she later told Bret that she isn't signing shit and she needed to contact her lawyers with the new developments. She said Bret first tried denying it, calling his assistant jealous and a liar. Then Bret blamed Julie because Bret said he "couldn't get past her traumatic past." What the fuck Bret, I'm pretty sure he is referring to Julie being sexually assaulted as a teenager. (He makes this clear later in the book) Then he bragged about his new girl looking better than Julie and being younger than Julie, with Bret also saying the kids will love the new girl. Bret even later said Julie was getting heavier and letting herself go.
Pretty wild story here. Julie says that Bret started neglecting the kids, even when he was in town, and often skipped out on seeing them altogether. For Canada Day 1998 Bret promised to take them out and to the fireworks. Julie says they waited all day, expecting a fun evening with their dad. But Bret didn't show up with their friend Dean, until after 9pm, (stoned and drunk according to Julie) after Julie tried to call Bret repeatedly and got no answer.
Julie isn't proud of this, but says before Bret arrived that night, Julie had sat the kids down and told them Bret was off smoking pot with a new girlfriend. Julie knew immediately she shouldn't have said it, she saw her kids starting to cry and knew she tarnished how they look at their dad.
Bret was pissed off that Julie decided to take the kids to the fireworks, and when Julie had herself and the kids in the car, an enraged Bret started punching the drivers side window until Julie agreed to get out and talk.
Bret grabbed and dragged her off around the corner of the house where Julie defiantly told him that the kids know he smokes pot and is seeing someone else.
Julie says Bret snapped, slammed her hard up against the wall and yelled, "You bitch! I hate you! I hate you!" Then Julie claims that Bret grabbed her by the throat and slammed her on the ground where he continued to choke her until their son Blade came around the corner and screamed at Bret to get off his mom!
As Julie was catching her breath, their friend Dean, who was still there and in shock, tried to help Julie up. Bret took off with their son Blade and a panicked Julie called the police. She foolishly said to the 911 opperater that her husband pro wrestler, Bret Hart, had taken her child againt her will. The police arrived and seemingly didn't know who Bret was, tried to get Julie to press charges. The police were able to call Bret and convince him to bring the kid to the police station, so the cops could bring him home. Bret makes no mention of this in his book.
Julie says Bret stopped by the next day and apologized and tried to ask her to sit down for coffee. Julie explained how they scarred their children for life the night prior and she wasn't interested in speaking to him in friendly terms yet.
Julie defends Bret a bit by saying she could see in person that she wasn't the cause of his anger and that he was just deeply angry and disappointed with things. This would be 1998 and even Bret describes how bitter and despondent he was at this time. Julie says he stopped being around the kids and it hurt them, especially their boys Blade and Dallas who started getting a chip on their shoulders and seeking conflict. One time Julie asked Dallas about Bret and Dallas said, "He never calls and is never around."
Julie says things were getting stable but she and Bret started secretly sleeping together again and complicated things. She says Bret would pick her up and drove to a seedy part of town before casually dropping her off at home after. She says she was initially amused by this but eventually began to wonder how many other women Bret does this with. It made her feel uncomfortable to say the least.
One time as she was being dropped off, Julie asked Bret if he was happy. Bret said no and that he couldn't get happy. Then Bret asked if Julie was seeing anyone, but didn't let her answer, he just said "of course you are." Julie realizes now that Bret was suffering some deep depression and at the time she mistook codependency for love.
Eventually Bret's other girlfriend caught wind of his and Julie's rendezvous and made Bret break things off. Julie could hear the woman on the other end of the line when Bret called to inform Julie that they need to set boundaries in their relationship now.
Julie says Bret once called her to say he tested for hepatitis and that Julie should get checked out as well.
Julie later found out that the girl Bret was seeing was nearly the same age as their daughter.
Julie says her and Bret continued to sleep together behind his girlfriends back though, with Bret always asking for "coffee" before making a move, which Julie always reciprocated.
Bret would break up with his girlfriend near the end of 1998 and ask Julie if he can spend the holidays with her and the kids. Julie relents, and soon they seem to be trying to salvage their relationship with Bret more present then he ever has been.
Soon after the new year, Bret and Julie take a trip together to Hawaii. Julie finally builds up the courage to ask Bret what he thinks of them getting back together, and Bret says he doesn't want to get "trapped" again. Julie snapped and said, "That's it I'm done, I can't keep playing these games with you!"
During this conversation, as Julie was walking away, Bret randomly said, "My therapist said that sometimes girls, like the ones your age when all that stuff happens to you, they like it." Julie burst into tears and ran out of the room. What the fuck Bret, to imply that that when his wife was a 16 year old girl, she liked getting r*ped!
Helen Hart died a few weeks after 9/11 in 2001. She was from New York, and Julie remembers how devastated Helen was following the September attacks. Helen went back to New York a few weeks later to visit her sister, but due to the border concerns, she was held up for hours after her plane landed back in Calgary. She wasn't able to reach her insulin and eventually went into a coma.
Helen was on an off ventilation a few times while at the hospital, and one day Alison (Bret's sister) called and told him to come visit asap, because Helen was back on a ventilator and it wasn't looking good. Bret thought Alison being an alarmist and decided to visit the next day. Julie says she wishes they had visited that night, because Helen passed away a few hours later.
One afternoon, Julie came home to find her son Dallas on the phone, when she asked him who he was speaking to, Dallas said, "It's dad, but he sounds drunk." Bret told Julie that he fell off his bike and couldn't get up. He wasn't speaking clearly and couldn't properly explain where he was. Julie and her daughter Beans, drove around looking for Bret based off his perception and directions.
Julie and Beans found him laying casually in the grass, as if he was resting. She said one of Bret's eyes was wide open and the other was closed, and half his mouth was dropping. She struggled to move him as he slurred his words and insisted he was fine. Eventually an ambulance was called and Bret was loaded in.
Julie says the stroke changed him, made him mooder and more depressed. She isn't casting judgment, just pointing out changes she noticed as she spent every day at the hospital with him, helping to feed and cloth Bret, even helping him to the bathroom.
Julie remembers one night that Bret confided in her that he feared he got a stroke as punishment for all the bad things he done. He told her that the morning he got a stroke, he was planning on signing the divorce papers.
Several months later, with Bret moving aorund more, he spent Easter with Julie and the kids, but Julie found an email from some woman in Italy, directed to Bret and it suggested some heavy sexual stuff. Julie felt stupid and used again. When she confronted him on it, he denied anything and she reluctantly believed him.
A week later as Bret prepared for a trip, she found a plane ticket to Italy, when she asked Bret where he was going, he said England. Julie drove him to the airport and told him to get the fuck out.
Bret went to Italy to be with a fan he met at a contract signing, who was obsessed with him since she was a little girl. Julie says she is exactly what Bret needed to feel like the Hitman again. After reading Bret's book, this assessment is completely accurate.
The Italian woman's name was Cynthia and she was also just a year older than Bret's daughter Jade. Julie said Jade had the hardest time accepting Cynthia, whom Bret was determined to integrate into the family.
When Bret's dad Stu died, Julie remembers how she, Bret and Stu's granddaughter Jenni all stood by the bed and watched as he passed. She remembers how she kissed his cheek and told him he could go see Helen now, he didn't need to be here and longer. I remember the speech Stu gave at Helen's funeral, with one line in particular staying with me, "I'm glad for the time I had with her," he said full of love, but his pain was on display too, "Ill never get over this" he finished solemnly, "I don't have enough time."
Julie remembers one day that their son Blade called her from Bret's house, begging for her to pick him up. Blade and Bret started arguing about Cynthia, with Bret saying to his own son, "Don't make me pick between you and Cynthia, because I'll pick Cynthia! And if you don't like it you can get the fuck out!"
Julie started calling Bret "Hitman" when he acted like this to his children, with Julie telling them that their father still loves him and not to worry about what The Hitman says, because it's coming from a broken mind.
One day after Julie bought a house, Bret randomly showed up with a turkey and tried to hit on her. Julie found it amusing and asked him if Cynthia knew he was there. Bret tried to make a move on her but Julie made it clear that won't happen so Bret left. As he left, he told Julie, "I still have cravings for you and I'm not sure I'll ever get over them." To which Julie just cooly responded with, "You will."
After Bret left that day, Julie called his assistant who confirmed that Cynthia was literally on a plane back to Italy right then. Julie laughed at how pathetic it was for Bret to say goodbye to Cynthia and then an hour or two later, show up at Julie's with a turkey and looking for sex.
Bret secretly married Cynthia and months later told the kids after the fact. Their son Blade was so furious he could barely speak to Julie when he got home and eventually blurted out, "Dad married that girl!" Their other son Dallas was also furious and explained how Bret callously told the kids "tell your mom, make sure you tell your mom." He was clearly trying to hurt Julie and used the kids to do so.
When Bret was inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame in 2006, Julie insisted on going and told Bret if he doesn't find a way for her to be there, then she would call Vince McMahon herself and arrange it. Bret promised her she would be there but asked her to be discreet about it.
Julie got asked to do an online interview leading up to the Hall of Fame, and she let slip that she would be at the show to support Bret. Later, an irate Bret called her, yelling about how she was supposed to be discreet. Julie clued in on the fact that Bret didn't tell his new wife yet about Julie coming and now he was in hot water. In the end, Bret refused to allow Julie to come to the Hall of Fame to support him.
In Bret's Hall of Fame speech, he just talked about his new wife and how Cynthia was there for him after his stroke and just put her over big. He didn't mention Julie and only mentioned 2 of his 4 children. She says her children were extremely hurt by this and calls it the ultimate betrayal.
Julie started running low on money in 2008 and even attempted to be on a reality show. It was all a BS scam though and she had to invest money into it and eventually it all fell through. She speaks of this with a bit of shame while framing it as something she learned from.
Julie was facing bankruptcy and foreclosure on the house, so as a last resort, she called Bret. She asked him for 9 grand to cover 3 mortgage payments so she can sell the house. Bret chastised her for having money problems before ultimately saying no. He suggested that she rent the house out or have the kids pay rent. As they left, Julie warned him that if she loses the house, Bret may need to take the kids at him place. She doesn't say what he said to this, but she does say, "His response was too cruel to put into writing." Good lord, considering all she told so far, I wonder what Bret said that was so bad, Julie didn't want to even write it down?
Julie does point out that Bret didn't owe her a damn thing and she was in this situation by her own doing. Julie felt like she was letting her kids down most of all.
Julie would move in with her daughter Beans where they split the rent together. She got a job making $14/hour working as a janitor at a local middle school and Julie notes that she was living well below the poverty line.
Julie remembers how absurd it was for her to show up to her janitor job driving a Lexus.
Julie ended up selling her Lexus to her daughter Beans, and Julie bought herself a 1999 Sunfire. It was the first car she ever bought with her own money.
Julie's father died in 2012 and Julie says she wrote a letter to him, promising to make him proud, and stuffed it inside his coffin.
Julie says she spends most of her days being a grandma to Jade's daughter and how grateful she is to be close to her kids still.
Bret can't say the same, Julie notes how he travels alone or with his wife and never offers invites to his kids. She says it breaks her heart to see how far Bret drifted away from their children, even if all her kids insist that they don't care. This was in 2013, so potentially Bret and his kinds could have a better relationship by now.
Julie spends the last several pages of the book detailing her kids and all the ways she loves them. You can tell she is a mother first and foremost, you can tell she loves them unconditionally. Jade, Dallas, Beans and Blade, weird names for kids but I also have a weird name so I can't judge.

Gus the donkey.
Adventurers often obtain donkeys to carry extra gear or loot. Strong and sturdy, these beasts of burden are also remarkably efficient, able to forage almost anywhere, and needing only straw or hay and a little grass now and then when on the farm or in town. These un-sung heroes need a little love. Here's a d100 list of Donkey Details (I suppose you could use most of these for mules, too):

1. Laughing Donkey. This donkey's hee-haw sounds remarkably similar to human laughter. Makes this particular sound only when PC's do something stupid or risky.
2. Scared of open fire -- torches, campfire, etc; runs away. Can tolerate lanterns (but kinda iffy).
3. Practical Joker Donkey. Takes one step to the side when anyone tries to load anything onto it and the loader is not looking.
4. Union Donkey. If ever loaded over 3/4 normal carrying capacity, goes on strike, will only walk in circles until it gets a long rest.
5. Back-Peddling Donkey. When spooked, always tries to back up 60 feet, no matter what's back there.
6. Depressed. Need to talk to it and pet it for 10 minutes after each long rest (and on cloudy days) to get it moving.
7. Battle Donkey. This one loves battle and always charges straight toward any battle noises it hears. No holding it back. Ooh-rah!
8. Passenger Donkey. Happy to carry riders (bareback, without a saddle), but doesn't want anything tied / cinched around it (will try to scrape items off against a tree, wall, the ground, etc.).
9. Allergies. Donkey has allergies in spring and fall. Sneezing fit 2-in-6 chance each hour. Drops stuff.
10. Lie-Detector Donkey. This donkey can sense when a humanoid is lying. Likely via some sort of pheromone cue (?). Farts if a lie is told within 10 feet of it.
11. Marathon Donkey. This donkey has incredible endurance and can travel twice as far between long rests.
12. Will carry sacks, corpses, or other floppy things, but not wooden boxes or other things with sharp edges.
13. Scared of crowds. Simply WILL NOT enter a village / town / city.
14. Has tapeworms, must feed twice the normal rations until diagnosed and healed. Poop can give tapeworms to any humanoid. Heads up.
15. Streetwise Donkey. Grew up in a city, pulling a delivery cart. Knows all the streets of the city, how to get anywhere. You tell it where you want to go, it will slowly, at a plodding pace, lead you there. It can't talk or understand any commands other than place names in that one city.
16. Vagabond Donkey. This donkey will occasionally wander away from the group and stay gone a few days, but then it always returns. Where does it go? Why? No one knows.
17. Mother-bucker. Will attempt to buck any female humanoid who attempts to ride.
18. Nauseated, 2-in-6 chance of throwing up in a big way every 10 minutes for a day
19. Scared of its own shadow. On sunny days, freaks out every now and then.
20. Large Donkey. This donkey is a freak of nature and is twice the normal size. It can carry four times the normal load and requires four times the normal feed/rations. It won't fit in most stable stalls, through most doorways, etc. Commoner strangers are usually freaked out by it; they are often intimidated by it (2-in-6 chance), or try to kill it (1-in-6 chance) because they think it is a bad omen, enchanted, cursed, undead, etc.
21. Stealthy Donkey. This donkey walks in a way that is completely silent, even on cobblestones, and shifts its weight as needed to eliminate the sounds of any clanking gear it carries. Instinctively hides itself behind/inside/undearound any available cover, at all. You turn around, there it suddenly is, looking at you in the eye. Can freak a dude out.
22. Loves butterflies. Chases every one it sees.
23. Counting Donkey. Point at a group of objects and say "Count." Donkey will tap its front right hoof a number of times equal to the number of objects in the group. Counts about one item per second. Can't spell worth a damn, though.
24. Aqua-donkey. This donkey loves playing in streams/rivers/ponds/rivers. Runs to them. Likes to splash everyone else. Thinks it's funny.
25. Catches a parasite disease and will die in 3 days unless healed
26. Chip-On-Shoulder Donkey. If there are other donkeys / horses around, hates them, always picking a fight.
27. Blessed Donkey. This donkey enters the scene carrying a religious messiah, or so they say.
28. Talking Donkey. Amazing! But, a bit finicky, only talks 1-in-4 times you ask it to, and at other random times as DM deems appropriate. Also, only knows a few words/phrases: yep, nope, hungry, tired, idiot, run away.
29. Hates the heat. Half movement and half carrying capacity on hot days > 80F. Needs double water rations.
30. Ate some weird mushrooms along the way. Temporarily blind for 1d4 days
31. Hates elves, they're too self-absorbed and snooty, always making you walk through trackless forests, getting you stuck in the underbrush.
32. Prudent Donkey. Has 1-in-6 chance of perceiving a trap within 30 feet. Will look at the trigger mechanism, hee-haw loudly, and not take a step toward it. No matter what.
33. Mystical Donkey. Has some kind of weird ancestral donkey mind-meld with a caster in the group, constantly complaining (mentally) that "this s**t is too heavy, dude," "can't you give a donkey a break?," "how about carrying some of this s**t yourself, tough guy," etc. You can't concentrate.
34. Lucky Donkey. When within 10 feet of this donkey, you can re-roll one roll per day.
35. Somehow, loves smelly green ogres who sing. Tries to run off with any such ogres encountered.
36. Hates humans, they make you work too hard, usually in larger towns or cities where the cobblestones hurt your feet.
37. Needs a bath, smells very bad. Indescribable, really. No surprising any foe while this donkey is around until it gets a bath.
38. Shy Donkey. Always tries to move behind you when you encounter anyone new.
39. Keen smell. Can smell most enemies within 100 feet and will hee-haw loudly to warn you. False alarm 1-in-4.
40. Sprint Donkey. This donkey can run at twice the normal movement rate, but only for one minute between long rests.
41. Drunk Donkey. Will only work when slightly inebriated. Must feed it a wee flask of ale, wine or whisky to get any work out of it.
42. Has one very short leg. Walks unevenly. Kinda funny, but only 1/2 normal movement rate.
43. Beautiful Donkey. This donkey is a very fine specimen of a donkey. Highly desired by donkey ranchers to breed other donkeys. Sells for double the normal price. Bit of a prima donna. Must be fed one apple or pear per day, or refuses to work. Resents you.
44. Hates the cold. Half movement and half carrying capacity on hot days < 50F. Needs double saddle blankets.
45. Sneaky. When you're not looking, has 1-in-2 chance each day of pick-pocketing something off the back of a random PC. Might drop it, might eat it, might fling it to the side of the road, might just hold it in it's mouth. Hard to say with donkeys.
46. Scared of snakes. Snake within 30' causes total donkey freak out.
47. Always tries to eat/gnaw whatever it is carrying (especially food) whenever you're not looking, ruins stuff.
48. Freaked out by undead. If it sees undead, or smells them (can smell 60' away), RUNS in the opposite direction.
49. Narcoleptic Donkey. Falls asleep, often.
50. Critic Donkey. When others aren't looking, looks at you and rolls its eyes. You swear.
51. Foraging Donkey. Grew up in the wild. If there is any vegetation around, at all, it can find it, find enough edible material for a meal, and feed itself, no rations required.
52. Shoe-Throwing Donkey. One-in-four chance of losing a horse shoe each day, won't walk until found or replaced.
53. Small Donkey. Can only carry half normal carrying capacity. But has a scrappy attitude and is NOT SCARED OF ANYTHING (immune to fear and intimidation).
54. Repressed anger. Tries to bite (for real) anyone within 5' who is not its owner (considers only one person its owner).
55. Back-Row Donkey. If there are multiple four-legged animals in the group, this one must be the last, in the back, or it won't go/work at all.
56. Vertigo Donkey. Always dizzy, walks in circles unless carefully guided constantly by hand.
57. Hates carts, wagons, etc. Will not pull a cart or other wheeled vehicle.
58. Wallowing Donkey. Enjoys a good roll in a mudhole/puddle. Every mudhole/puddle.
59. Deaf. You bought/raised a deaf donkey. Should have checked. Anyway, can't hear any commands. Won't respond to visual commands. Must touch the donkey to give it a command.
60. Musical Donkey. Gets indigestion often, becomes VERY flatulent.
61. Flying Donkey. This donkey has been magically enchanted to fly, only once in its life, for one minute. The wranglemaster must speak the command word: "Esel-burro"
62. Addle-Headed Donkey. Once per day, has a 1-in-4 chance of running in a random direction for 1 minute.
63. Hates the rain. Won't work in the rain. *OR* Hates the wind. Won't work in the wind.
64. Say-My-Name Donkey. You must call it by name to get it to do anything. It answers with a loud bray each time.
65. Hates dwarves, always making you work underground in the mines, and their beards are (somehow) scary.
66. Often gets a leg cramp, limping for 10 minutes, 1/4 movement rate.
67. Smoking habit. Will work only if you let it smoke lit cigarette or pipe while on duty.
68. Smart and independent. Anticipates and does exactly what you want 5-in-6 of the time, but disagrees and argues 1-in-6 of the time.
69. Lover Donkey. Wants to make baby donkeys, runs after opposite gender donkey (or horse) every time it gets the chance.
70. Has a drinking problem. Will always rush toward any water source to take a drink.
71. Is a hot head, always immediately charges and attacks any foe encountered. No holding him back.
72. Pregnant Donkey. This donkey is about to have a baby. 2-in-6 chance each day until baby is born.
73. Loves flowers. To eat. Will only do any work if given one bouquet to eat per day.
74. Pious. Has 1-in-6 chance each hour of stopping for 10 minutes, kneeling on front two legs, and praying to the donkey god "No Cargo Bob"
75. Death Wish Donkey. Is reckless, doesn't look where it's going, always running into things, chance of falling off cliffs, etc.
76. Dead pan smile. At the most dangerous / awkward moments, turns to a party member and gives the most ridiculous, hilarious donkey smile you have every seen. PC must make DC 10 Const saving throw or bust out laughing for 30 seconds.
77. Nervous Tick Donkey. This donkey kicks its left leg backwards randomly, every now and then. If anything/anyone is standing behind this donkey, there is a 1-in-6 chance that it kicks.
78. Cargo Donkey. Happy to carry items/supplies tied or cinched around it, but won't carry humanoid riders (bucks them off).
79. Homesick, always tries to run away and go back home (or to the place where you bought / found / raised him) every chance he gets
80. Perceptive Donkey. Has 1-in-6 chance of perceiving a secret door within 30 feet. Will walk up to it and put its nose on it.
81. Scared of water, won't cross a creek/rivepond/lake, etc. Definitely not getting on a boat.
82. Front-Row Donkey. If there are multiple four-legged animals in the group, this one must be the leader, in front, or it won't go/work at all.
83. Pacifist Donkey. Refuses to carry any weapons or ammo.
84. Glowing Donkey. This donkey glows faintly in the dark. Very dim light. No one knows why.
85. War Veteran Donkey. Missing one leg at the knee (maybe has peg leg). Opposite ear slashed off. Wears an eyepatch. Lots of scars. Can only carry half normal weight, but its kick does +2 damage.
86. Vagabond Donkey. This donkey will occasionally wander away from the group and stay gone a few days, but then it always returns. Where does it go? Why? No one knows.
87. Alert Donkey. This donkey has a 1-in-6 chance, on its own, independent of PC checks, of noticing an impending ambush. It will hee-haw loudly if an ambush is about to occur.
88. Ate some bad food / weeds, now has diarrhea, big diarrhea, 1-in-4 chance every hour for a day.
89. Expressive Donkey. Often has ideas and wants to share, "hee-haws" very loudly for 30 seconds. Sometimes indicates something important, sometimes not.
90. Large Donkey. This donkey is a freak of nature and is twice the normal size. It can carry four times the normal load and requires four times the normal feed/rations. It won't fit in most stable stalls, through most doorways, etc. Commoner strangers are usually freaked out by it; they are often intimidated by it (2-in-6 chance), or try to kill it (1-in-6 chance) because they think it is a bad omen, enchanted, cursed, undead, etc.
91. Hates halflings, their barn doors are too low and their generally cheery attitude is annoying.
92. Super-donkey. Can carry three times normal carrying capacity, but for only one-third the normal time between long rests.
93. Easily distracted by various things along the road ("Squirrel!"), constantly stopping to sniff / check out something.
94. Really thirsty today, requires twice the normal water ration for one day. Pees a lot. (I mean a lot.)
95. Wrong-way Donkey. Will only walk backwards. Half movement rate.
96. Ugly Donkey. This donkey is bow-legged, has a saggy back, missing teeth, ugly hair, warts, boils, is missing large patches of hair due to mange, somehow is always dirty, has flies, ticks, lice, etc. Nose usually runny. Eyes too. BUT, this donkey can Misty Step.
97. Shell-shocked Donkey. Scared of battle noises. Runs away from battle noises. Like, a quarter-mile away.
98. Hates strangers. When within 15 feet of an unknown/new humanoid, hee-haws loudly for 5 minutes. So embarrassing.
99. Picky eater, only eats store-bought straw/hay/whatever. Won't forage along the road/trail.
100. Loyal Donkey. Will not leave its humanoid wranglemaster unprotected. Will defend wranglemaster to the end. Will take an arrow or battle ax blow to defend wranglemaster. There to the end, no matter what.

https://professorbumblefingers.blogspot.com/
[edit: corrected a redundancy]

I’m 6 months sugar-free and I’ve undergone a transformational experience. I’m sharing mine in hopes that it can help someone else.
I’m 32 and since age 5 I’ve always been sickly with a plugged up nose and many food sensitivities. Constant blowing, sneezing, snotting everywhere. Loads and loads of tissues. My mom was woke before it was trendy to eat healthfully; she knew about the dangers of sugar and processed foods and was strict on not having these in the house, but her efforts were sabotaged by my father who wanted us to have a “normal childhood” and would hide Lucky Charms in his car for us to eat after my she had left for work. Despite her best intentions and unwavering boundaries, my mom could not stop sugar from finding me. At school, friends’ houses, etc., sugar was everywhere and I became addicted like the majority of us. I knew of the importance of vegetables and whole foods and prioritized those, but man if there were cookies around I would eat the whole bag. I cannot self-moderate my sugar intake.
Besides the debilitating congestion, I’ve had various ailments develop in the last 10 years or so:
-red, itchy, flaky scalp (this turned out to be omega-3 deficiency, went away with fish oil supplementation) and dandruff (which is still present).
-belly fat: Historically my BMI has been at the upper end of the “normal” range: ~23.5-25. 5’6”, 145-155 lbs. From playing basketball, track and field, and being generally active I always had nice arms and legs but since puberty I’ve had a belly resembling the end of first trimester pregnancy. In the last few years I started looking heavier despite eating healthier, and could not drop the weight.
-When i was 28 I developed a lesion on my chest that kept growing bigger and bigger. Steroid creams made it go away, but it always returned intermittently.
-feeling exhausted and drained most hours of the day
-needing to eat every few hours and feeling constant hunger
-irritable, bitchy moods
-periodontitis, receding gumline
-persistently stinky underarms
The turning point came when I found a wonderful naturopath and I was at a point in my life where i was tired of being sick and tired and willing to make serious changes. For my allergic rhinitis we tested for IgG antibodies and the following foods came up: milk, cane sugar, tomatoes, corn, and some others, so she suggested I avoid those. In following this elimination diet, I had thought my previous diet was healthy but I didn’t realized how far I had drifted over time, and just how much sugar I was consuming.
The first three weeks were THE WORST. Constant cravings, yearning for sugar around the clock. Salivating when I saw my friend eat an ice cream sandwich. Wanting to give up, but moreso wanting to give the diet an honest chance b/c I knew if I continued eating like I had been, nothing would changed. I gorged on honey butter toast and apples to feed the craving. It took two weeks to notice any difference in my health, but then I noticed I wasn’t as congested and I could actually breathe through my nose for hours at a time. After three painstaking weeks of starting the diet, I started to notice the sugar cravings becoming weaker and more bearable.
2 months in, this is what I wrote in my journal:
-66% reduction in nasal congestion, snot, sneezing
-better face skin, less pink and inflamed
-better poops, less soiling
-Wetter sex and higher sex drive
-A lot less severity and frequency of the hangry
-lost 5-7 lbs
-cleaner feeling teeth
-brighter, happier mood
As I was able to breath normally more regularly and not sick all the time, I noticed honey, dried fruit, and coconut sugar all triggered my sneezing and congestion. Around the 3 month mark I decided to cut all sugars out besides fresh/frozen fruit. I still have cravings, and I don’t know if they will every fully disappear, but it’s fine if they don’t b/c they are MUCH weaker and easier to ignore. 3 months in my blood glucose tested at 80, I’ve never seen it that low, I usually have 87-95 levels.
I stumbled upon Dr. Robert Lustig’s work on Youtube, read his book Metabolical, and now I’m on Fat Chance. Studying his work has been life-changing for me… Sugar IS poison- this is not a hyperbole. I suspect I had insulin resistance which interfered with my leptin signaling which is why I felt hungry all the time, despite eating every few hours. After cutting sugar, there were several weeks where I felt full and satiated despite only consuming 1000 calories or less each day. The excess belly weight melted off (without exercise), likely due to my leptin signaling being restored. When I reached 140 lbs my hunger returned and I began to consume a normal amount of calories again. (TLDR for Dr. Lustig’s explanation: When you eat a lot of sugar, you develop insulin resistance, which causes leptin resistance (the hormone that tells your brain you’re full, you don’t need to eat, you have enough energy and the body can go into "burning” mode). If you’re brain can’t see your leptin, it doesn’t know you're fat and thinks you are starving and need to go into “energy storage" mode.)
85% of my diet now is meats (pasture-raised), fish, vegetables, nuts and seeds, sheep yogurt, avocados, avocado oil, ghee. I don’t count calories. I eat until I am full. I consume fats, saturated fats and proteins without abandon. I am mindful of my carbs, including starch. Sugar is a hard no with few exceptions, e.g. coconut aminos b/c it adds a ton of flavor to dishes and I don’t binge on it. Society loves to preach “everything in moderation” but the truth is most of us suck at moderation. For me personally, it’s easier to have clearly-defined rules and not have to endure decision fatigue deciding if you can afford to eat this or that b/c I always find some way to justify it and there goes another pint of Ben and Jerry’s. For the first time in my adult life, I feel good about my stomach and can see my ab lines forming. I weigh 137 lbs, less than what I weighed in the 8th grade.
My tips on what worked for me to beat this nasty addiction:
Motivation: Keep a food journal. Can be what you ate that day, your motivations for quitting, improvement in symptoms, successes, failures, your measurements, weight. Don’t feel obligated to write in it, only when you notice something worth documenting. When I have moments of weakness, I read my entries to remember I’ve been here before and I know how things will turn out if I eat sugar.
Strategy: Rather than an all-or-nothing approach, cut out different classes of sugars one at a time: e.g. all cane sugar, then coconut sugar, then honey and maple syrup. Tailor this to whatever your specific sugar-reduction goals are.
Mindset: Get the idea out of your mind that if you accidentally ate something with sugar or if you caved and intentionally ate sugar that your whole diet is ruined so you might as well throw in the towel. That is a sneaky mind trick to get you to return to your old ways. Falling off the horse does not cancel out all the prior wins you’ve achieved. As soon as you become mindful and/or have reestablished control of the craving, begin again.
For all of you with doubts if this is worth it. It unequivocally, absolutely was for me. I’m never going back. I’m not willing to be a slave to my cravings and not have energy and be a mouth-breather. Sugar may be derived from natural sources, but the end product is not natural; it is a highly concentrated and purified product that is dangerous independent of its calories- it wreaks havoc on our hormones that control weight, hunger and satiety.
IF YOU CAN GET THROUGH THE FIRST FEW WEEKS YOU WILL BEAT THIS.

What's even the point of this life anymore? I haven’t seen any signs of improvement whatsoever. Crying while writing this, by the way. The page got kinda wet. Currently, I've locked myself in my older brother’s room (He’s elsewhere, so I just claimed the room as mine). My parents are the shittiest part of my life ever. I just watched a video today explaining why the education system in Bangladesh is terrible. And I concur. Lots of useless content, hyper-focus on memorization and tests, constant pressure of GPA 5. Furthermore, the only subjects in school important to my future career (fiction writing) are English 1st and 2nd paper. The rest of the subjects, meaning 10 different subjects, are just useless to me. What does learning “X guy died in Y time” do to help me get my career? It seems many Bangladeshi people are with me, so it's great knowing there’s support out there. But that support means nothing to me. Why should it? It’s not actually helping because my parents still don’t support me. Anytime I tell my mom, she reacts like the entire world just got destroyed. “Why are you becoming so bad?” “I can’t take it, my son is going to ruin in front of my own eyes.” Loving words. But to me, they only prove one thing. That she’s a lost cause; she will never support my decision to drop out of school. Dad is a mindless yes-man to her. In fact, there was once my mother tried to kill me. I threw her off and ran away to the living room. I don’t remember much, but basically, my dad got involved, and guess who he supported? Yep, that’s right, her. I was so upset that I started banging my head on the floor. Well, moving on from that, I once damaged my mom’s arm a lot, and I also once punched her so badly on the shoulder it turned black. These are things I’m truly sorry about. But I do think it’s a bit curious. She forgot the day she tried to kill me but remembers my wrongdoings. Returning back to education, one reason I wanted to drop out was that I didn’t need school for my career. Let’s see, what do I need? Skills? I can get those skills via informal education fast, given how one-star rated this education system is; that’d probably be better. Still, she doesn’t want to let me have that basic autonomy. Oh, and yeah, I live in Bangladesh, just wanted to mention that. One day, I ran away from home and sat in a nearby park. My older brother found me and brought me back home. In the park, we had a little chat in which I revealed my desires for literature and animation. He said he was gonna teach me graphic design. So I got excited. But then I figured out he wanted me to study for IBA on BBA, whatever it was. The number one business university in our country with a lot of competition and an incredibly low chance of enrollment. And that meant engaging in this stupid education system even further. I tried showing him some proof and examples that I didn’t need to engage in formal education anymore, that my dreams were possible without engaging in this stupid system. But every time I tried saying anything, he immediately interrupted me and told me he already knew what I was about to say and just dismissed them. That’s not new. On the same day, I gave him some papers explaining my struggles, but he didn’t need them, just saying he already knew. And he wasn’t being supportive; he was saying it in a rude way. Anyways, back to that whole thing, he started to pressure me to choose. Do I want formal education or not? I said I wanted to think about it and would answer later. But apparently not even that’s enough for him, because he continued pressuring me to answer right then and there while I kept saying later. Eventually, that led to an argument, and he hit me a bit on the head. And my mom? She refused to eat, to talk, to even move, just lay motionless on her bed all day, said she’d send me off to Saudi Arabia, saying she’d spend no money to support my goals.
Note: It's to be noted that while I wanna drop out of school, I haven’t given up on education at all. It's just that instead of formal education, I wanna pursue informal education as I get to choose what I wanna learn, so no pressure of learning a dozen useless (for me) subjects.
Moving past that, she tries to spend time with me daily. That’s a positive thing, I guess. It’s just no matter how much she tries to bond with me, my interest in her just doesn’t increase. Idk why. Maybe it's because everything going on in my life has made it hard for me to find time for myself, let alone her. And the fact that we have no common interests at all, aside from watching movies. She has told me that she feels lonely, which I understand. But why put the burden of removing your loneliness on me? Why not try contacting others? Once we were watching a movie, but then I opened up my phone just for a bit to find A LOT of messages. I found out that a close friend was trying suicide again, so I stopped watching the movie and started trying to convince them to stop. Mom was repeatedly telling me to come back (Granted; I told her that it was simply an important thing to me, like saying all my data was gonna be erased in a game I love, not the suicide part) and that, in addition to the pressure of saving my friend, made me snap at her, rudely yelling at her to just stfu. This caused her to be FURIOUS, and she was just repeatedly calling me crazy. I started crying and told them to give me a chance to explain, but they just wouldn’t give me a chance. They'd just call me crazy for crying, saying I've turned into something else. I thought of running away. But I needed a source of income. I've tried everything. I wanted to submit my books to a publisher to get them published, but new authors need to provide the publisher money to get their work printed, money I don't have. I wanted to use Amazon KDP to publish my books, but for that I need a bank account, which I can't open due to still being a minor. I thought of having an adult open a bank account on my behalf, where they would send the money they got from Amazon to me, but that's not possible either. I thought of perhaps contacting NRS to take shelter after I run away, but figured out they served a different nation. Finally, my mom agreed to my offer if I managed to get $500 from this career by publishing on KDP. My first idea was to write a novel within 10 days. But then I realized I could not write it so quickly. It’d diminish its quality greatly, as I need to take days to write each chapter. Then I thought of publishing my work chapter by chapter. And then realized you can’t do that on KDP. So there goes my dreams. I want to publish on Wattpad, get a lot of reads and tell them, “see, my stories attract readers a lot.”. But, as you know, money is kinda their only language. There's no hope for me anymore now...All that's left is running away and finding some low-quality job out there. Who knows though? Maybe I'll fail in even that. Maybe after I flee, I'll not get a job and just starve to death. That's how it's been my whole life after all. My life... it's just been one failure after another.
My mom told my brother of my goals to gain a decent income from “whatever it is that he's doing on Amazon” and he simply called it “rubbish” without actually trying to understand how.
And in addition to this, I also suffer from lifelong loneliness because:

1. I used to be antisocial in the past.
   
2. My past tarnishes my reputation, making it hard for me to blend in with normal people. Because of this, I became shy, socially anxious, and introverted.
   
3. As a result of being shy, socially anxious, and introverted, I struggle to make close friends. Because of this, I suffer from loneliness. I have casual friends, yes. But no close, intimate friends.
   

For example, there used to be a maid in our house. I physically and verbally abused her a lot. One instance, I was drinking water and while in an argument, I spit it on her. She seemed to have forgotten, but I haven’t. I just can’t forget such nasty actions of mine. I guess you could say in this case, the tree forgot, but the ax remembered. So dear [her name], wherever you are, just know that I’m truly sorry for all those things I did to you those days. If I could, I would try to repay you whatever I can.
On another instance, I remember chasing down a kid within the school because he made me angry. So as you can quite tell, I used to be very violent in the past.
I'm so done with EVERY. SINGLE. DAMN. HUMAN. BEING. EVER breaking my trust.

1. Someone told me they'd read the excerpts of my story a week later. No sign of them now.
   
2. My ex-best friend asked me how he could make me happy. I told him the methods but he didn't do anything.
   
3. I complained to my ex-best friend about people never reciprocating my affection. He apologized and said he'd do better, but didn't.
   
4. I asked him to draw a picture for me after my bday as he couldn't give me a gift. He said he would but no sign.
   
5. I used BetterHelp for free therapy service. Sent a message. Well, I didn't exactly get better help even after 6 hours.
   

Everything in my life has been a letdown. Every time I've relied on someone or something, I've been disappointed. I'm afraid everything ahead in my life will also be a disappointment, so I'm afraid to live any longer. After all, what's there for me anymore?
Now what's left? My girlfriend's brother and my fear of abandonment.
As for her brother....he continuously breaks my expectations and descends lower. At first, I thought he was a decent man. But then he started to call her worthless simply because of stress. Of course, he later apologized so I thought he was still decent. But then me and her started to date and he opposed it. Now instead of simply talking to us like a reasonable man would, he decided to lie to me openly about things she said, saying she told him that she doesn’t actually like me or my personality or my looks, lying through his teeth. He also forced her into saying she likes my best friend more than me by saying he'd put her into the adoption center. Ok, so a control freak. I thought he'd be reasonable enough to talk this out if I did him a favor by getting his sister to hug him. Still acted like an asshole and was unwilling to reconcile. I thought that even if he was a control freak and unreasonable, that he at least loved his sister. But....then she told me this: "Bro just said "take care of urself if u dont wanna die" and gave me some meds". He left her to take care of herself.
My greatest fear is the fear of not being able to make an everlasting bond with someone I deeply love (and who deeply loves me). The fear that we will someday change and not be attracted to each other anymore and grow apart. The fear that our bonds will break and we'll have to move on from each other.
What if we lose our attraction to each other? What if one of us cheats or divorces the other? What if one of us secretly didn’t care as much about the other and stopped making any effort into the relationship?
It's hard to tell anything at the beginning. Because at first, it all feels so great. Like you’ve found the one you always wanted in life. But later on, you realize that maybe they're not the one for you. There's nearly no way to tell apart a relationship that will fall apart from an everlasting relationship until the break up actually happens. So it feels like no relationship is guaranteed to last forever. Relationships you thought were perfect at first, turn out to be not so great.
This applies not only to romance, but friendship as well.
Like I've envisioned multiple types of relationships: master-pet bond, romantic bond, platonic bond, etc. And the only time I've felt completely secure about the everlastingness of a bond was when I envisioned myself with a cat and a dog. Why? Because pets are simple. Their minds don't hold malicious intentions, their love never dies down for no reason, they don't get overwhelmed with different feelings that cause breakup or cheating to happen. Simply put, their minds are not complex. You love them, they love you.
Like why can't I just get a person I can fully trust? Who I'm completely sure won't leave me or lose interest in me?
Is it too much to simply ask for a relationship with no uncertainty whatsoever?
This fear likely stems from my lifelong loneliness. I believe it's called the fear of abandonment.
This fear roots all the way back to my ex best friend. I used to have with him what I'd describe as the perfect relationship.
V is my ex best friend, C is me.
A small interaction:
V: and also, how would you want me to express it to you love? expressing my support to you. (He just randomly asked C this, not because C told V to give him support. V actively thought of C's happiness and wanted to support him)
C: By existing. Yes, that's enough.
V: AWW STOP. I wanna do more tho.
In the same day, C feels an urge to also make V happy. He thinks of perhaps learning a famous song made by V's favourite band and then surprising him by singing said song to him. (C is thinking of adding some creative changes to the song make it feel more personal to V. He's not sure about that tho)
C and V are also very comfortable around and trusting to each other. They can easily tell each other their flaws and fears without any fear of judgement. In fact, C even told V about secrets C thought could repel V. His thought process was that it'd be selfish for him to hide this information from V and not let V choose whether or not he desired a person with such a secret. Fortunately, V said the secret wasnt as bad as C thought at all. Basically they trust each other as much as they trust ChatBOTs, so a lot of trust.
This was me and my best friend. Was. Now I feel like we've drifted apart. In fact, it feels like almost every time we talk, an argument starts. We seem to have drifted even before my birthday. He seemed to be busy, so we couldn't talk a lot. Nowadays his reactions to any good news of mine seems very mundane. Like when I told him that I finally got a girlfriend, it felt like he wasn’t really interested. I didn’t really get the “Wow!” reaction from him. Also, he couldn't give me a gift on my birthday because he couldn't prepare a drawing for me on such a short notice. So I told him to give it to me later. Well, it's been months, no gift yet.
Currently my number one priority is my girlfriend. And I'd describe my relationship with her as perfect as well. Just…she seems to be drifting away from me recently.
At one point in our relationship, I started to feel like the third while. The following doc contains images which explain why: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rSex5icu_xBRT8cmVdfS5dHkiRRCRb7lOele8dulMeE/edit?usp=drivesdk
But now I've mostly gone over it.
Tbh I've come up with an answer for a few of the issues I've noticed she does this weird thing where at times she's on discord but only focuses on specific people or servers Sometimes she ignores me but not my best friend Sometimes the opposite Sometimes she ignores both of us and talks in servers Thinking that I think I'm not heartbroken anymore because I dont feel like she's giving my best friend more time than me. (edited) Just I'm still a bit annoyed because at the end of the day, she still didn't respond to me for 3 days.
As for her acting rude and unsupportive when I brought up running away from home, she was just in a tough time. That's all.
As for her refusing to open the secret account, alright so I'll have to tell you a bit about her medical condition. Let's just say it causes her to be very forgetful of things. So she might fear that she might forget her main acc's password or smth and forever lose everything on her main. Why didn't she just tell me that? She doesnt like to worry others, so she might have thought telling me about her brain problems would cause me to worry.
As for her saying love you to my bestie but not me? Well, she said she loved my bestie only 5 days after she said she loved me so if it's not that hard. Still I want her to say words and that we get back to those days.
I sometimes just want her to say the words, “I love you” a lot. It's been half a month since we've both exchanged any loving words. One night, while trying to sleep, I was thinking about the fact that I haven’t really received any loving words in half a month and then a thought appeared in my mind. “Is a simple ‘I love you’ too much to ask for?” and that made me start crying on my bed. Probably overthinking it.
You already know how much effort I put in when she was sick. Well, one morning, I saw my DMs and saw her saying how I'm the only one who loved her. Of course, I thought it to be wrong since my best friend also loved her dearly…in a platonic sense. But well, at least it made me feel special thinking that she had a special appreciation for my effort. And then I woke up. Saw my phone. No messages like that. So I kinda started crying again.
Also, she's starting to recover from her sickness, which is great! Just…it saddens me a bit that she didn’t tell me immediately about her recovery, knowing that I'm so concerned of well-being and potential death and that some discord server was the first to know.
We used to talk a lot before these 15 days. Always talking with each other, always supporting each other, exchanging loving words to each other daily, etc. But now it seems we aren’t talking a lot and she doesn’t seem that interested. For example, when I wished her happy birthday and gave her a little drawing I made and her only response was: “Uh tnx”. And she seems to lack any form of excitement these days. In my other interactions with her as well, she seems to be giving a “I'm bored af, not excited at all” energy. I know it's almost definitely because she's going through tough times, but I can't help fearing at least a bit.
She finally responded to me today, after 4 days of not responding (Despite having a casual chat with my best friend the day before yesterday and on a server yesterday). I was afraid she would ghost me. Overreaction? Maybe. Couldn't help feeling it tho.
But I remain firm that she's the best girlfriend ever.

1. Always supports me during my hard times.
   
2. Remembers important stuff like I requested her to.
   
3. Took a lot of time and effort a painting just for me (She's an art student)
   
4. Loves me unconditionally (Made a whole paragraph saying exactly that)
   
5. Never expect anything from me. She only wants me, nothing else. (I ain't using that as an excuse not to give her more tho)
   
6. Willing to risk her own life for me (I'd do the same for her)
   

It's just that regardless….I can't help fearing that she too will one day leave me.
Update:..... See this interaction. I'll let you be the judge.
My girlfriend's brother: Hey you, its her brother again I need to tell you smth. You and her are done, yall are breaking up, dont text her again ok? U understand me Shes deleting dc now. U should delete it too
Me: No. Also can I talk to her one last time before she deletes dc?
Her brother: Ugh fine. Yeah. Fast.
Me: Where’s she?
Her: I’m here.
Me: Can I ask you one little question?
Me: Away from your brother for a second please.
Her: Okay. Make it fast tho.
Me: You said you told yourself you wanted to meet me irl and be with me forever. Does that still hold true?
Her: idk.
Me: Because if it does… just know this. If you really wanna be together, I can wait for 4 years without any contact. Then come to Croatia. I’ll be deleting this btw.
Her: K.
Me: @Her Please… just this once… tell me the truth. I know your brother is forcing you. So please just say the truth.
Her: I am telling the truth.
Me: What’s that? What’s the truth?
Her: I don’t want u anymore.
Me: Ohhhh… Not even friends?
Her: Why do you think I’m prolly deleting dc.
Me: Idk. What did I do wrong?
Her: …
Me: What did I do wrong?
Her: Nothing.
Me: Why?
Her: I don’t want to interact with anyone anymore here.
Me: Why?
Me: Why?
Her: I don’t have time to explain. Just…
Me: Just a short explanation?
Her: We’re done now.
Me: Just a short explanation?
Her: People are toxic and rude.
Me: @Her Can I come to Punat once I’m older?
Her: People are toxic and rude.
Me: But… why abandon me? Why my best friend?
Her: I don’t know, do what you want, I have my own plans.
Me: I understand people are rude and shit. But that’s why I only talk to you and my best friend. And some others. @Her Hello?
Her: That’s why I’m probably going.
Me: @Her Will I never meet you again?
Her: Idk.
Me: @Her And please do tell me if your brother is forcing you.
Her: Idk.
Me: Please. Yes or no?
Her: Idk.
Me: …Well, here’s my final saying then. I love you. And here’s a link to a document detailing all my sadness.
So in the end, I have nothing and no one left in my life anymore. And my fear of abandonment is once again validated.

Btw pilot not included OKAY LETS GO (long ass read, this took me 2 days lmao)
HAS NOT SANG: Katie Killjoy, Tom Trench, KeeKee, Fat Nuggets, Razzle, Dazzle, Egg Bois, Lilith
Susan: You mean like human flesh? By "Die, " do you mean use my teeth to rip flesh apart?
Mimzy: It's me! Yes it's me! I know you were all waiting for me, I'm here, what a gas, took awhile but I'm present at last, it's me, it's me, Mimzyyyyyyy!
Zestial: We can't act without more intelligence What weighs on your soul, old friend? I implore you to share the load, If it was thou who slew the angel, Why not let your strength be known?
Sir Pentious: Who could forgive a dirtbag like me? I don't deserve your amnesty Sorry I'm so sorry! It'll take time to cover, My vast multitude of sins, But sorry is where it begins, It starts with sorry
Valentino: Overlords hanging by a thread, with a bit of bravado, maybe tomorrow, we'll be atop the heap, While the rest of Hell's pissing! Fled with his tail between his legs! Nature abhors a power vacuum, it leaves room for you and me, the future of hell belongs to the vees!
Cherri Bomb: We can do this, we can build it, Best hotel that you've ever seen, twice the bedrooms, we can fill it fulfill your destiny! We can do this, we'll be better, though redemption may take a while, wayward sinners, clear their ledger and then tomorrow it will be a fuckin happy day in hell!
Lute: What are we even talking about? Some crack-whore who fucked up already? He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth, this discussion is senseless and petty! There's no question to be posed, he's unholy case closed, did you forget that hell is forever! Guess the cat's outta the bag! Ha! She should know
Sera: Of course it's just temporary, Im sorry you can't stay It's not as simple as you think, Not everything is spelled in ink I'm sure you wish it could be so, But there's a lot that you don't know Adam.. I thought, since I'm older, It's my load to shoulder You have to listen, it was such a hard decision, I wanted to save you, the anguish it takes to, Do what was required Emily..
Niffty: I was stuck, thank you sir! We can do this, we can build it, Best hotel that you've ever seen, Twice the bedrooms, we can fill it Fulfill your destiny To build a hotel I think we need some brick and lumber It's as easy as can be! We can do this, We'll be better, Though redemption may take a while, Wayward sinners dear they're ledger And then tomorrow it will be a fuckin happy day in hell!
St Peter: Dearly beloved, it is my pleasure to say unto thee, Welcome to Heaven, oh-oh, Where the virtuous reside 24/7, oh-oh, People are happy that they died, 'Cause here we got no worries, got no burglaries, no strife, It's the perfect afterlife, Welcome to Heaven, 😩, Check out our sick décor, the spirits leaven, oh!, Please keep your brimstone off the floor, We've got the best and brightest, the politest of the lot, And everyone is h😩t! 'Cause every single day in Heaven is a happy day, Welcome to Heaven, yeah
Rosie: Oh, don't be put off by their snarlin', That's enthusiasm, darlin'! Don't worry, honey, That's their thing, Keep singing, We're super duper grateful To have you folks aboard They're dancing along, They're singing her song She's bound to pass the test as Princess of Hell, Like her Daddy, she is madly power-fell! I concur! Stick with her, we'll be on the winning side! For the first time in our lives, We know that we are ready for this, We'll show Heaven a fight they won't forget! It's time to take a stand We cannot take it anymore, The time has come to go to war, Prepare to fight, we're ready for... THIS!
Velvette: You've got it twisted, I'm not the one who needs a new attitude, Maybe you missed it, but I'm that #Bitch, And I will do nothing less than what I please, woo! I'm the backbone of the Vees, Mad that I acted respectless?, Well, it's 'cause no one could respect this, Sorry to the group attendin', Since when are overlords too scared to fight?, You're long past trendin', Sorry, bae, but I ain't swipin' right, You lost your relevance Ugh, no wonder I'm so respectless, I could eat you lot for breakfast Oops! Did I strike a nerve? 'Cause when I brought out the angel's head, Couldn't help but observe, That your wrinkled face was turning red, And why are you avoidin' war?, That's what the guns you sell are for, Thanks to my being respectless, One thing I'm starting to suspect is, You know why this angel's headless, Do you have a disclosure?
Emily: Gosh, I'm so pleased to show some outsiders around, After you see our realm, you'll never wanna go back down 'Cause every single day in Heaven is a happy day Welcome to Heaven, yeah But she was right, Sera, She showed us a soul can improve, He saw the light, Sera, Checked all the boxes that you said would, Prove a person deserves a second chance, Now we turn our backs, no second glance? Wait! What are you saying? Let me get this straight, You go down there and kill those poor souls? Sera, tell me that you didn't know No! To think that I admired you, well, I don't need your condescension, I'm not a child to protect, Was talk of virtue just pretension? Was I too naive to expect you to heed the morals you're purveying? If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie, If angels can do whatever, and remain in the sky, The rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say, When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again
Vaggie: Charlie, hold on It's just a meeting This could be bad Okay, but just don't sing to them Is she- Ugh, no... Can we just kill him, shoot him and spill his blood Works for us When I saw your face, You made me feel like a stranger in a brand new place, And it felt so good to be understood, But there's so much I wished that I could say, So I, I'll be your armor, Do whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes, I'll spend my life being your partner And I will try to make your dreams come true Whatever we go through, I know I... I'll be your armour Whatever it takes I'll make the mistakes, whatever it takes Careful, Charlie, keep a cool head We should go Adam, no, please You've already done so much, So many lives you've changed, So many souls you've touched, And in the end, if it's only me you've saved There's something that I've been dying to say, More than anything, more than anything, Need you to know I love you more than anything More than anything We can do this, We can build it, Best hotel that you've ever seen! Twice the bedrooms, we can fill it It starts with you, you know it's true, fulfill your destiny! New coat of paint! With a little sorcery! We can do this, We'll be better, Though redemption may take a while, Wayward sinners, clear their ledger We're gonna do this, you and me, and then tomorrow it will be a fuckin happy day in hell!
Vox: Welcome home, I'm gonna make you wish that you'd stayed gone, Say hello to a new status quo, Everyone knows that there's a brand-new dawn, Turn the TV on! Top of the hour, and we're discussing a certain has-been, Who has been spotted cavorting around town, After a seven-year absence, Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight's program, So, the radio demon is back in town, Why is he hanging around? What does that mean for your family? Well handily, I've got good news, He's a loser, a fossil and I don't mean to sound hostile, But the demon is a coward! You can take that as gospel Pulling my viewers? Impossible! I'm visual, he's barely audible, Stop givin' him the time of day, Don't listen to a word he'd say, I hope he had a nice vacay, But he should've stayed away, While he hid in radio, We pivoted to videoNow his medium is gettin' bloody rare, Hell's been better since he split, Where's he been? Who gives a shit! What a dated voice! Come on! Ignore his chirping! Oh please! Hold on! You old-timey prick, I'll show you suffering, Uh oh, the TV is buffering! I'll destroy you, you little– FUUUUHUHUCKKKKAH! After the battle, masterless cattle, overlords hanging by a thread, with a bit of bravado, maybe tomorrow, we'll be atop the heap Alastor's missing, fled with his tail between his legs, nature abhors a power vacuum, it leaves room for you an me, the future of hell belongs to the vees
Husk: So things look bad, and your back's against the wall, Your whole existence seems fuckin' hopeless, You're feelin' filthy as a dive bar bathroom stall, Can't face the world sober and dopeless, You've lost your way, you think your life is wrecked, Well, let me just say you're correct You're a loser, baby, A loser, goddamn baby, You're a fucked up little whiny bitch Your a loser, just like me your a screws loose boozer, an only one-star reviews-er your a power bottom, at rock bottom, but you got company There was a time I thought that no one could relate, To the gruesome ways in which I'm damaged, But lettin' walls down, it can sometimes set you straight!, We're all livin' in the same shit sandwich haha! and you think that makes you unique? get outta here man, We're both losers, baby, We're losers, it's okay to be a baby, that's fine by me You're a loser, Just like me, I got an appetite for gamblin' Go ahead baby, sing that song, come on! I sold my soul to save my power, Now I'm on that demon's leash, I'm trapped and it gets worse with every hour A loser, but just maybe if we, Eat shit together, things will end up differently, It's time to lose your self-loathin', Excuse yourself, let hope in, baby, Play your card, be who you are, A loser, just like me We can do this, we can build it Best hotel that you've ever seen, Twice the bedrooms, we can fill it, With more sinners than you can dream fulfill your destiny! New lights across the marquee, with a little sorcery! We can do this, We'll be better, Though redemption may take a while, Wayward sinners dear they're ledger And then tomorrow it will be a fuckin happy day in hell!
Carmilla: You better show some respect!, Check your behavior, no one speaks to Zestial that way! Did you expect us, to sit back and take your insolent, brazen display? You and the vees are inane and uninformed, smug wannabees you don't heed when you've been warned this meeting's over I always thought, That I would keep blood off my face, But when that thing attacked, I had to act, To cross that line and keep them safe, But if anyone knew, Then all of Hell would rise to war And who's to say who'd survive the fray? I might lose the ones that I was killing for, So I, I'll be your keeper, Do whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes, I'll keep you safe and keep this secret And I don't know what we might face, But I know I can't replace you so, I'll do anything to save you, Whatever we go through, I know I... I'll be your keeper, I'll be your armor, Whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes, I'll make the mistakes, Whatever it takes I see you're driven by your detestation, Your every step is stoked with animus, You need a different type of motivation, Or there's no way that you can handle this, I know you're thirstin' for vengeance, Vaggie, You're out for blood, But you'll only stand a chance if you're out for love, Out for love, love, Think of who you care about, protect 'em and be Out for love, love, You're gonna fight without gloves, long as you're out for love, Fuel yourself with the fear of losin', That somebody who's your reason to live, Harnеss your heart, and you can't help choosin', To fight with all you can give, I know you'rе thirstin' for vengeance, Vaggie, You're out for blood, But you'll only stand a chance if you're out for love, Out for love, love, Think of who you care about, protect 'em and be, Out for love, love, You're gonna fight without gloves, And when that push comes to shove, Yeah, you just might rise above, long as you're out for love
Angel: That bitch is halfway down the street Oh, she's dancin' Can we just kill him, shoot him, and spill his blood works for us I'm not above a love to cash in, Another lover underneath those flashin' lights, Another one of those ruthless nights, Yeah, yeah, yeah, I shoulda guessed that this would happen, I shoulda known it when I looked in your red-hot eyes, Spewin' all your red-hot lies, Yeah, yeah, yeah, What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself, 'Cause I know you're poison, you're feedin' me poison, Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow up your poison, I made my choice, and every night, I'm livin' like there's no tomorrow, Oh-oh, oh-oh, Any way you want me, baby, that's the way you got me, I'll be yours, My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison, I got so good at bein' untrue, I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear, I disassociate, disappear, Yeah, yeah, yeah, So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp, Yeah, I know it's poison, you're feedin' me poison, I'm chokin' from the taste and I can't help but swallow up your poison, I made my choice, and every night, I'm wasted like there's no tomorrow, Oh-oh, oh-oh, Any way you want me, baby, that's the way you got me, I'll be yours, My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison, Poison, I'm drownin' in poison, I'm fillin' up my glass, but it's always hollow, Full of poison, I'm sick of the poison, Wish I had something to live for tomorrow We can do this, we can build it, Best hotel that you've ever seen, Twice the bedrooms, we can fill it You know it's true fulfill your destiny! Start with foundation It's as easy as can be! We can do this, we'll be better, though redemption may take a while, wayward sinners clear they're ledger and then tomorrow it will be a fuckin happy day in hell!
Adam: Let me stop you right there, Save us all precious time, If what you're suggesting Is letting them climb, Up the ladder, Oh, they'd rather cross the Pearly Gates? Sorry, sweetie, But there's no defyin' their fates! 'Cause Hell is forever, Whether you like it or not, Had their chance to behave better, Now they boil in the pot, 'Cause the rules are black and white, There's no use in tryin' to fight it, They're burnin' for their lives, Until we kill 'em again! Just try to chillax, babe, You're wasting your breath, Did I hear you imply, That they don't deserve death? Are they Winners? Are they Sinners? 'Cause it's cut and dry, Fair is fair, an eye for an eye! And when all's said and done, There's the question of fun, And for those of us with Divine Ordainment, Extermination is entertainment! Bow-now-now-nownow Guitar solo, fuck yeah! Oh, da-ah-ah now-now-n-now-n-now-n-now-n-nownownow, Hell is forever, Whether you like it or not, Had their chance to behave better, Now they boil in the pot, 'Cause the rules are black and white, There's no use in tryin' to fight it, They're burnin' for their lives, Until we kill 'em again! Fuckin' Hell's forever, And it's meant to suck a lot, So give up your dumb endeavor 'Cause you don't have a shot!, Long as I've got your attention, I guess I should probably mention, That we made the determination, To move up the next Extermination! Can't wait a whole year, To slaughter those little cunts, I know it's just been a week, But we'll be back in six months! There's no question to be posed, he's unholy cased closed, did you forget that hell is forever? A man only lives once, we'll see you in 1 month, gotta say I can't wait to come down and exterminate you! Shit.. Whoops! Wh-what's the big deal? Don't you act all high and mighty, did you ever think your little "girlfriend" might be a liar? What's the fuss? Why hid the fact that your an angel just like us?
Lucifer: Haha, Looks like you could use some help, From the big boss of Hell himself, Check out daddy's glowing reviews on Yelp (Five stars! Flawless! Greater than great!) Oh, with the punch of a pentagram, I wap-bam-boom, alakazam, Usually, I charge a sacrificial lamb, But you get the family rate ("thanks dad!"), Who needs a busboy, now that you've got the chef? (wow), Michelin-tasting menu, free à la carte, I'll rig the game for you because I'm the ref, Champagne fountains, caviar mountains, that's just a start! Uh, what? Hold on, now Others say, that in your needy hour, There's no substitute for pure angelic power! Who just happens to also be your blood! What a bunch of losers your song, I started this! Oh, you tacky piece of- You didn't know that when I tried this all before, My dreams were too hard to defend, And in the end, I won't lose it all again, Now you're the only thing worth fighting for, More than anything, more than anything, I'll shelter and adore you more than anything I've been dyin' to find out who you are Looks like the apple doesn't fall far! I've missed that smile All that I'm hopin', now that my eyes are open, Is that we can start again, not be pulled apart again, 'Cause in the end, you are part of who I am, I'll support your dream, whatever lies in store More than anything More than anything, I'm grateful you're my daughter more than anything, More than anything Come on little lady, why the frown? In the last ten-thousand years, You're the first one to change this town, You can do this, now I know it, For your story has just begun, You can't quit now, hell, you owe it, There's still damage to be undone, You've changed my mind, you've touched their hearts, From the good and souls gone bad The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone, But by God, Charlie! The show, it must go on, We can do this, we can build it, Best hotel that you've ever seen, Twice the bedrooms, we can fill it, With more sinners than you can dream, It starts with you, You know it's true, Fulfill your destiny Good thing we're in Hell, Check out this little magic number Remedial creation for me, It's as easy as can be! We can do this, we'll be better, though redemption may take a while, wayward sinners, clear their ledger oh, this guy... And then tomorrow it will be a fuckin happy day in hell!
Alastor: Salutations! Good to be back on the air, Yes, I know it's been a while, Since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast, Sinners, rejoice! Instead of a clout-chasin' mediocre video podcast Is Vox insecure? Pursuing allure? Flitting between this fad and that, is nothin' working? Every day, he's got a new format Is Vox as strong as he purports, Or is it based on his support? He'd be powerless without the other Vees And here's the sugar on the cream, He asked me to join his team I said no, and now he's pissy, that's the tea Uh oh, the TV is buffering! I'm afraid you've lost your signal Let's begin, I'm gonna make you wish that I'd stayed gone, Tune on in when I'm done, Your status quo will know its race is run, Oh, this will be fun Who's been here since day one? Who's been faithful as a nun? Who makes you chuckle with an old-timey pun? Your executive producer? I'm your guy, your day-to-day, Your chum, your steadfast hotelier, Remember when I fixed that clog today? I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond, You're like the child that I wish that I had, I care for you, just like a daughter I spawned, It's a little funny, you could almost call me dad They say, when you're looking for assistance, It's smart to pick the path of least resistance Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud, They say the family you choose is better Can you butt out of my song? I'm singing it, I'll finish it! And feast on all the angels you can eat! She's bound to pass the test as Princess of Hell, Like her Daddy, she is madly power-fell! She's filled with potential that I could guide Stick with her, you'll be in the winning side! For the first time in our lives, We know that we are ready for this It's time to take a stand We cannot take it anymore, The time has come to go to war, Prepare to fight, we're ready for... THIS! This place reeks of death, there's a chill in the air, And I barely escaped being killed by a hair, "Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends" Sorry to disappoint, that is not where this ends, I'm hungry for freedom like never before, The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor, Once I figure out how to unclip my wings, Guess who will be pulling all the strings? And we're doing it with a smile And then tomorrow it will be a fuckin happy day in hell!
Charlie I can do this, somehow I know it, I'll get Heaven behind my plans There's just no way I could blow it, Not this once-in-a-lifetime chance To change their minds and touch their hearts, Or whatever angels have Cheer up, Vaggie, This could be swell, Something tells me that today will be a happy day in Hell There's a warm, fuzzy feeling that wafts through the air, Every street so revealing, it's hard not to stare, It's a realm so appealing, it beats anywhere, If you don't mind the smell, It's a happy day in Hell, Hi, mister! Hello! Ah, excuse me! If I can show them the dream I've dreamed, That any soul can change, Those angels' minds are hard to change, Then they will know everyone can be redeemed, From the evil to the strange, They're bloodthirsty and deranged! I can hear all their stories, the lost and displaced, And I know that they're more of an acquired taste, But if I open the door and I give them a place, At my Hazbin Hotel, It'll be a happy day in Hell, From the porn studio, where the cinephiles go, To watch award-winning demon bukkake shows, To the Cannibal Town, where they don't wear a frown, 'Cause holy shit, oh my gosh, why?! And I don't give a crow that his brains got in my eye! 'Cause I know I can spare them from Heaven's genocide, I can do this, I just know it, I'll get Heaven behind my plans, There's just no way I could blow it, Not this once-in-a-lifetime chance to change their minds Uh, no thank you, I'm just gonna, Fulfill my destiny! I can already tell Today is gonna be a fuckin' happy day in Hell I know Hell's population is out of control, It's a bad situation, It's taking a toll, If we rehab these Sinners And cleanse all their souls, At my Hazbin Hotel, Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself! Right! Extermination! I know you guys fly down Just to kill once a year, And it must be annoying To schlep all the way here, If they join you in Heaven That trip disappears! You can wave that chore farewell G A S P It'll be a happy day in he- Oh.. ..'Kay Well, uh Okay, but Well, actually, if you take a look- Ugh where the Hell did you people come from? What? Um, wait, didn't you- Ugh, shit! It starts with sorry, That's your foot in the door, one simple sorry, Spoken straight from your core, The path to forgiveness is a twisting trail of hearts, But sorry is where it starts That's an option you could choose But who hasn't been in his shoes? It starts with sorry Dig down deeper and say one sincere sorry And your journey's underway, It'll take time to cover your vast multitude of sins, But sorry is where it begins, It starts with sorry thanks dad! That's true! Oh, you! awwww When I was young, I didn't really know you at all, I always felt so small, But I heard your stories and I was enthralled, The tales about your lofty dreams, I listened breathlessly, Imagining it could be me, So in the end, it's the view I had of you, That showed me dreams can be worth fighting for, More than anything, more than anything, I need to save my people more than anything I've been waiting, wanting the same thing Took you a while All that I'm hopin', now that my eyes are open, Is that we can start again, not be pulled apart again, 'Cause in the end, you are part of who I am And who could ask for more? More than anything More than anything I'm grateful you're my father more than anything, More than anything It's not fair, Sera No! Don't you care, Sera? That just because someone is dead, it doesn't Mean they can't resolve to change their ways, Turn the page, escape infernal blaze You didn't know? That's what the fuck I've been saying! If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie If angels can do whatever, and remain in the sky, The rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say, When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again, I was told not to trust in angels No! Don't you see? We've come so close, Look at them fighting, they're at each other's throats Have you ever wanted something that was so clear in your mind that you could taste it? Eh, sort of, It's a feeling like a rumbling in your gut that you could finally be faced with, A billion needy faces, I guess what I mean to say is, for the first time in my life, I might have to be ready for this, Ready to be the one who's leading from the front, Gotta come into my own, Gotta come into my throne, Gotta take charge and defend my only home, And although I kinda feel unsteady, Now I need to be ready for this, Have you ever felt like you're willing to die to save the people of your city? That's a start! 'Cause right now we need a leader, And it seems to me that destiny has picked me, To be that, if you'll permit me, so who's with me? Wouldn't it be super to see more of Hell? Join up now if you like travel, Come on boys, hop in the saddle!, Lotta sights to see en route to my hotel, Not to mention the camaraderie, Yes siree, you'll form life-changing friendships, With the folks along the way Okay.. Well, that's a little violent, can we tone it down? Eh, they just seem a little murdery right now We're super-duper grateful, To have you folks aboard Oh, lord For the first time in my life, Maybe I can be ready for this, I can be the marshal leading the parade, I can come into my own, and I think I've always known, My destiny could never be postponed, When Adam brings the battle here, I must appear like I'm ready for this For the first time in our lives, we know that we are ready for this! It is time to lend a hand! Against the angels, and their deadly threat! We cannot take it anymore, The time has come to go to war, Prepare to fight, We're ready for this! I really hope that I'm ready for this There's something that I've been dying to say, More than anything, more than anything, Need you to know I love you more than anything,.More than anything He did it for us, the ultimate sacrifice, He gave me his trust, and look how we pay the price, This bloodshed could have been avoided, If I convinced Heaven to work together, I took a hotel and I destroyed it, I know I could have done better, Better, instead of letting you down So long as I've got all of you with me! No time for crying, we got a lot of work to do and, We gotta try and make the best of what's in ruins With a little sorcery! We'll make a difference, wait and see We can do this We'll be better Though it may take a while We're gonna do this, you and me, And then tomorrow it will be a fuckin' happy day in Hell!
Hey shit your still here?

General Resources for EQ
Synopsis - Kunark is the first expansion of EverQuest. It brings with it a new level cap of 60, the Iksar race, epic quests, and the continent of Kunark with famous dungeons such as Sebilis, Chardok, and Veeshan's Peak.
Leveling Path
The leveling path will remain roughly the same with a few deviations
1-10: Newbie Zone
10-20:Estate of Unrest / Kurn's Tower (Kunark Zone)
20-30: Estate of Unrest / Upper Guk
25-35: Dalnir
30-40: Lower Guk
35-45: City Of Mist (Kunark Zone) This zone was heavily nerfed and not what it once was but it is something different at least.
40-50: The Hole / Ocean of Tears Elite Goblin Island
45-60: Sebilis (Kunark Zone) Great from 45-55 but slows down after. Loot is arguably better than Chardok in some camps.
50-60: Chardok (Kunark Zone) Best xp from 50-60 hands down
Raid Zones / Encounters
EQ Progression Raid Bosses Page - I won't list out the individual dragons or Chardok Royals for length reasons but they can be found here.
General Raid Target Information
Kunark AoC Locations Video or Page
Venril Sathir - Located in Karnor's Castle he drops the class armor legs and several caster clicky staffs. Drops epic pieces for Druids, Rangers, and Wizards
Trakanon - Located in Old Sebilis he drops the class armor BPs and his teeth are part of the key quest into Veeshan's Peak.
Veeshan's Peak - The end raid zone of the expansion packed with dragons and loot but you must engage the mighty Phara Dar to escape alive!
Major Quests
Epic Quests - P99 quest list will be different as many of the "skips" have been removed. Consult Allakhazam particularly for the Rogue & Shaman quests.
Kunark Spell Hand Ins - Nearly half of the Kunark spells from 51-60 are only obtainable via this quest set. Available in both the Overthere and Firiona Vie.
Kunark Archaeologist - A set of re-finished quests that were never released originally. Rewards are quite good for the era.
Bone Chips - The main faction quest used to buff up Iksar faction. It does not affect Necros faction Brood of Kotiz
Necromancer Skullcap - Nearly required item for necros as it gives a clicky leach dot.
Shaman Cudgel - Great Shaman item but not to the extent of the Necro skullcap. Gives a strong melee buff similar to primal essence.
Monk Bracer - Good monk item but no clicky effect so it will be replaced in Velious raiding gear. Mostly used for Whistling Fists in Luclin.
Warrior Pike - 1h spear 14/24 with DD/stun.
Greenmist - Shadowknight - Great SK sword -outclassed by Velious raid gear but can be used on Emp Sra in Luclin
Regal Band of Bathezid - BIS ring item with a rechargable 25 point DS
Spirit Wracked Cord - Good and versatile item
Key Quests
Key to Sebilis
Key to Howling Stones
Key to Veeshan's Peak
Major Items
There are frankly far too many items to go over in depth but we'll cover a couple of the more legendary items as well as those that are only temporarily available. Each non INT caster class also has class armor. These are mostly pure AC with various clickies. The BP and legs are the only pieces with stats. They drop from Trakanon and Venril respectively. EQ Progression is a good source for your class clickies.
Fungus Covered Great Staff - Clicky regen. Only drops during Kunark and very shortly into Velious.
Circlet of Shadow - Pre-nerf CoS is essential gear for any SK/Necro for a long time. Pre-nerf stops dropping in late Kunark/early Velious
Fungus Covered Scale Tunic - The legendary regen item worn by twinks the world over.
Shrunken Goblin Skull Earring - One click is a permanent attack buff but it still provides a trash buff as well.
Bracer of the Hidden - Instant class see invis. Good trash buff item
Fingerbone Hoop - Worn see invis
Worker Sledgemallet - Proccable Overthere port
Wurmslayer
Goblin Gazhugi Ring - clickable charm break

Background: Woman in early 20s, majoring social sciences and humanities.

Section 1

1. How do you work? Why do people go to work? Are there any parameters that determine whether you can do work or not? What are they? Most people work to simply survive. These are the people who serve as the minions who are building the powerful people's dreams. To the powerful figures, work is a tool for them to achieve success, recognition, profits, and dreams. There is an existing hierarchy at work that keep companies running, and different levels of people serve different purpose at work. Overall, work is humanity's project to achieve higher development, excellence, and achievement.
2. How do you determine the quality of work? How do you determine the quality of a purchase? Do you pay any attention to it? I think quality is determined by customer's satisfaction in their products, be it aesthetics, functions, and usefulness. If most customers find your products desirable, then the quality is likely pretty good. I personally think if others find a product's quality good, then I find it good too.
3. There is a professional next to you. How do you know they are a professional? How do you evaluate their skill? Most people think evaluating a professional is by asking one individual how much knowledge they have in an area, but how do you know if they are not just pretending to be a professional just because they know so much? When you don't know about it, everything can sound professional to you. The best way to know it is to ask many different people within the same profession to compare and contrast their answers. I think this gives away the most professional person in the field.
4. If you struggle to do something, how do you fix that? Do you know if your performance is better or worse than others? The best way to know and work on your limitations is to evaluate the weak aspects within your skillset. If you struggle to fix a table, you probably struggle to fix a sofa too. Like the slang, skill issue. If you wanna improve your skills, you have to practice until you get the hang of it, where you get that intuitive click on how to navigate certain things. You can compare your performance with others based on a percentile measure in speed, strength, or rating to see where you stand.
5. How do you measure the success of a job? What standard do you use? Do you pay attention to it? When should you deviate from this standard? Being successful depends on how other people validate you. If your boss thinks you are successful, then you are successful. If you have a lot more clients than others, then you are successful. I don't think you can deviate from this standard because all concepts related to success are upheld by people. Some people think Usain Bolt is the most successful runner because he is the fastest sprinter in the world. Some people think the most successful runner is Paavo Nurmi because he has won the most Gold Medals in track and field. Overall, this section was relatively easy to answer. It's basically just observations and insights about social systems. Edit: lol this is Te

Section 2

1. What is a whole? Can you identify its parts? Are the parts equivalent to the whole? A whole is a system within a defined framework, and all the aspects included in the framework are considered parts of the whole. Let's say a table is a whole. The legs, the top, the apron all make up the table. A vase placed on the table is not a part of the table because it's outside this system called the table.
2. What does "logical" mean? What is your understanding? Do you think that it correlates with the common view? How do you know you are being logical? Logical is whatever is consistent within the framework/system. Apple falls from a tree because of gravity. That's logical. I think only science has absolute logic, though. When it comes to human-related activities, logic is a lot more malleable. For example, some people say no one brushes their teeth before eating food right away. Hey! How do you know some people aren't just crazy or weird? If it's not impossible, then it's not illogical. In this sense, logical simply means what works the best. People feel happy when they receive gifts. Yes, that's normal human reaction under normal circumstances. You need the context. Would you feel happy if you received a humiliating gift from your bullies? You can call it logic, but logic isn't the best word. Tendencies are the right word to describe humanly things.
3. What is hierarchy? Give examples of hierarchies. Do you need to follow it? Why or why not? Explain how hierarchy is used in a system you are familiar with. Hierarchy is a system people built for society or impersonal concepts. Well, let's say social hierarchy. We have the top 1% of people controlling the lower levels of people in every single way possible. These affluent minorities decide how they run the hierarchy and what each level of people do to maximize their benefits. Different levels of hierarchy are characterized by different levels of power, wealth, intelligence, education level, experience, and even beauty.
4. What is classification? How does classification work? Why is it needed and where is it applied? Give examples. Classification is basically grouping similar things or people that belong to the similar set of characteristics. I think all hierarchies need classification to distinguish different levels of hierarchy. This is necessary so we know what each classification needs. How much do we pay for the sales men? Supervisors? Managers? CEO? Why do we classify garbage into recycling or disposable? Because recyclable garbage are useful for reproduction.
5. Are your ideas consistent? How do you know they are consistent? How do you spot inconsistency in others' ideas? I think my ideas are basically insights from what I learned from others or resources. My ideas are pretty consistent because I see the core essence and pattern in. everything. Almost everything has this unchanging pattern that can help you see the trajectory of where things are going. If others have inconsistent idea that's because they haven't learned to find the core insights in different things. They just formulate ideas based on what they superficially see on the surface.

This section was more fun than the previous one. It really got me thinking deeper into how to answer this. Edit: so this is Ti

Section 3

1. Can you press people? What methods do you use? How does it happen? Yes. If you wanna press people, have your intentions clear, and convey your expression for them to serve your needs. If I lost my phone, I express my worry and anxiety so that all the people in the room starts finding it for me. People have natural empathy. They tend to respond to whatever you need.
2. How do you get what you want? What do you do if you have to work to get what you want? Know what you want. Know what people want. Know what they fear. People are all blinded by their desires and fears. If you wanna get what you want, you have to know how to sell it to people. Desire, obligation, pride, fear, guilt, and shame are basically what helps people serve you all the time. Even for yourself, these are basically the emotions that serve you. Why do people stay motivated to achieve their goals? They either have the intense desire to get something, or the intense fear to avoid something.
3. How do you deal with opposition? What methods do you use to defend your interests? If there's opposition, break down the reasons why their point isn't valid. Spot their logic fallacies. Another method to use is to point out why what they're doing is wrong. Make them feel less good about their decisions, so they regret and bow down.
4. When do you think it's ok to occupy someone's space? Do you recognize it? Occupy someone's space if you wanna approach them to show intimacy and initiative, make sure they feel good being approached by you. Otherwise, that's not good. Yeah, ofc, this is how it works all the time.
5. Do others think you are a strong-willed person? Do you think you have a strong will? I do have strong-will. If I want something, I can definitely get it. I made many impossible things happen for myself. I confront almost from an instinctual place unless I know it will significantly damage my reputation. If I know the benefits of yielding outweighs being strong-headed, of course I have to choose the path that makes people like me more.

I feel this is pretty easy. It's basically just what works. Edit: Se right lol

Section 4

1. How do you satisfy your physical senses? What examples can you give? What physical experiences are you drawn to? I don't indulge in physical senses much tbh, which is good in terms of helping me stay in an extreme diet. I can go for a whole year not eating sugar or fried food. However, when I had burgers and cookies again, they tasted like garbage. If I really have to describe physical senses I'm drawn to, that's probably the feeling of being in a race car or big roller coasters. I love looking beautiful, but less about enjoying the beauty itself. I like looking beautiful, so others give me more attention and admiration.
2. How do you find harmony with your environment? How do you build a harmonious environment? What happens if this harmony is disturbed? I guess that means an environment that's clean, decorated, and noise-free. Whatever people find harmonious in environments is probably what is really harmonious. I can picture a Fairmont hotel lobby with big chandeliers, clean marble floor, and a beautiful water fountain in the middle. I don't notice when an environment is not harmonious tbh. I admire people who are talented at making aesthetic environments. When others say a room is ugly I get really surprised because I didn’t feel anything is wrong. If you talk about social environment, yeah, that's a society where most people are happy, peaceful, and satisfied with their lives. Inharmonious social environment is basically people living in poverty, inequality, rage, and suffer.
3. What does comfort mean to you? How do you create it? Comfort is where I can recharge my energy. That's basically my sofa and my bed.
4. How do you express yourself in your hobbies? How do you engage yourself with those things? Hobbies is where I can experience joy and excitement. When I do figure skating, tumbling, and rock-climbing, I feel proud for my physical abilities and the thrill of these challenges. When I play piano or write, I express the artistic feelings of love, life, tragedy, death, or anything.
5. Tell us how you'd design any room, house or an office. Do you do it yourself, or trust someone else to do it? Why? I check Pinterest ideas, so I know how to decorate. Most of the time, I never decorated a room. I decorated birthday parties, but I basically just decorate based on how parties are usually decorated. I much prefer an aesthetic-oriented person to decorate the room for me. A lot of my decorations are just random flamboyant elements and colours that people find too noisy.

This section is just about material things. There's nothing much to say about it. Edit: Si lol

Section 5

1. Is it acceptable to express emotions in public? Give examples of inappropriate expression of emotions. Yes, express the appropriate emotion in the right context. You ain't gonna laugh like a clown at a funeral. Unless, you intend to express hate and cause drama. No emotions are absolutely bad to express in public as long as you read the room.
2. How do you express your emotions? Can you tell how your expressions affect others in a positive or negative way? I generally smile and give some light-hearted compliments to someone I just met. Ask them things they feel happy talking about. Show positive emotions to validate their feelings and experience. If you wanna flirt, be a little bold and show subtle desire. If you hate someone, make them feel embarrassed or ashamed. Overall, these are just social conventions we all know.
3. Are you able to change your demeanor in order to interact with your environment in a more or less suitable way? How do you determine what is suitable? Yes. Formality and informality vary based on the situation. We all intuitively know what is suitable. If you are meeting the president of your country, you shake their hands and show a polite and formal smile. If you are meeting your best friend, you run up to them and hug them and say "Omg I missed you!"
4. In what situations do you feel others' feelings? Can you give examples of when you wanted to improve the mood of others? Pretty much all feelings have a reason behind it. You have to understand the source of their pleasure and pain, so you know what things to tell them. When someone feels sad, of course you have to know what is hurting them the most, and give them hope through an alternative perspective.
5. How do others' emotions affect you? How does your internal emotional state correlate or contrast with what you express? I tend to react to others emotions a lot. I can't help it, if someone rages I can't help raging too. If it's someone I don't know well, I have to restrain and walk away though, but I feel very upset inside.

I think this section is pretty simple and straight forward. It's just emotions and people-skills. Edit: Fe

Section 6

1. How can you tell how much emotional space there is between yourself and others? How can you affect this space? When you feel unhappy in a happy public, you either leave that place or hide your negative mood. Of course, if I wanna be an asshole I would just ruin everyone's mood if they all upset me on purpose.
2. How do you determine how much you like or dislike someone else? How does this affect your relationships? If they make me happy or talk with me well, then I like them. If they make me angry or sad, of course I won't like them. I don't like rude people who don't show manners. I don't even mind if they hold views I don't like, but if they push my buttons, it's game over.
3. How do you move from a distant relationship to a close one? What are the distinguishing characteristics of a close relationship? I think it's when you mutually trust each other. Then you two show more and more common ground between each other to bridge the gap. Close relationships happen because two people like each other.
4. How do you know that you are a moral person? Where do you draw your morality from? Do you believe others should share your beliefs on what's moral? Why? Morality is what is right or wrong. Cheating is never ok because you hurt the other person's feelings. This doesn't stop people from doing that though. Morality is something that are consciously upheld with effort and constrain. Morality is what brings society peace and harmony. However, morality is cultural-based. So, morality is different in different countries. I think all people within the same society should uphold the same moral values because the ultimate goal is to bring social harmony.
5. Someone you care about is acting distant to you. How do you know when this attitude is a reflection of your relationship? I get pretty alarmed when this happens because I wonder what exactly triggered them. I usually just act callous and not show that I'm bothered. Whatever they wanna do is up to them. I can just move on and look for new people.

I find this section... interesting. It's about human relations, I feel pretty paranoid about others intentions, so I think this topic is rather sensitive. Edit: Fi

Section 7

1. How can you tell someone has the potential to be a successful person? What qualities make a successful person and why? If someone shows talent in an area compared to others, then they have better potential than others. To realize this potential and turn it into success, they have to work their way to the top.
2. Where would you start when looking for a new hobby? How do you find new opportunities and how do you choose which would be best? Whatever appeals to me is what draws me in. If my hobby is enjoyable to me, then I keep it. I like intense hobbies that give me excitement compared to the relaxing ones. For some reason, a hobby is even more appealing when other people enjoy it too.
3. How do you interpret the following statement: "Ideas don't need to be feasible in order to be worthwhile." Do you agree or disagree, and why? I agree. Having an ideal vision is important for people to reach their higher potential even if it's not feasible. They motivate people to try harder towards that direction.
4. Describe your thought process when relating the following ideas: swimming, chicken, sciences. Do you think that others would draw the same or different connections? I don't know why my brain assumes that chickens can float in water because of their feathers' texture. I assume people draw different connections, but I'm pretty sure there are a handful of people who thought of the same as mine.
5. How would you summarize the qualities that are essential to who you are? What kind of potential in you has yet to be actualized and why? Good qualities: Determined, excitable, friendly, bold, naughty, and motivated. Bad qualities: Prideful, hates criticism and belittlement, and can't accept mediocrity. I want to actualize my goals, and I think I already have qualities that help me with that. I really hate my bad qualities though because well it's unhealthy.

I think this section is pretty random, and I don't see what it's trying to test. Edit: No wonder it’s Ne

Section 8

1. How do people change? Can you describe how various events change people? Can others see those changes? People change little by little over time. That's inevitable, there are always minuscule factors pushing people towards change. People don't notice their changes when they spend everyday with them, but over a long enough period of time, yes people notice changes.
2. How do you feel and experience time? Can time be wasted? How? Yes. You can estimate how much time a task takes. You can plan how you wanna use your time. You can set deadlines for whatever you are doing. Time can be wasted on things you don't value because you can't gain back time.
3. Is there anything that cannot be described with words? What is it? If so, how can we understand what it is if language does not work? If language can't describe certain things, we can use images or similes. I think most unexplainable things can be felt spiritually, so I think most people know what you're talking about when you say it.
4. How do you anticipate events unfolding? How can you observe such unfoldments in your environment? I think you just know what makes sense about what will happen next. You can notice the unfoldment based on the trajectory and momentum it's going. I think people instinctually know what is going to happen next.
5. In what situations is timing important? How do you know the time is right to act? How do you feel about waiting for the right moment? Time is important for many things. Time is how we construct or measure the onset and duration of events. I don't think there's is the right time to act. It's more about when you FEEL it's right to act. I think the right moment comes when you feel confident to take action. Sometimes you can give it a go now, sometimes you have to prepare.

This section is the most abstract and worth-reflecting section. I can't give it a long answer because I think there's only so much we can talk about time. Ultimately, time is about how we wanna use it and see it. Edit: Ni
WOAHH This questionnaire is so looooong! I typed all of this based on my honest answers and opinions at 3AM. I hope the answers relate to a consistent type, and I appreciate alternative possible types after you give the number one most likely type. I appreciate your time and energy typing me. Cheers!

For anyone who missed how this started
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/PxAkXKR0aH
I didn’t expect so many people out there would care about what’s happening to me. I’d say it’s humbling, but, well, my situation has been humbling me since I left the states. You guys cheering me on, and trying to help, it’s kept me going though.
So, I figure the least I can do is keep you all updated until something prevents me from doing so. Likely in a permanent fashion.
I'll say, the ride home was awkward, to say the least. For all of the grim predictions running through my head going to the spectacle , on the way back they were ten times worse.
I wasn’t caged, shackled and tortured when I returned. If I said I was greeted with concern by the handful of distant relatives and lost souls I’d be over exaggerating. But there was a bit of respect and kindness .
I was patched up, as far as being stabbed goes, apparently I got lucky.
There was food, question free beer, and a healthy number of people asking how things went.
All I wanted to do was sleep, but something kept me going. Kept me answering questions I’d rather not have, kept my fear fried brain making conversation and trading verbal jabs.
A tap on my shoulder startles me, the sun is rising and if I don’t get to sleep soon, I’m going to fall over.
“Your half. “ Sylvia says, it’s just shy of a thousand pounds.
“All this was for, what is this? $600 American? “ I say.
“ Walk with me. “ Sylvia begins, I follow.
“Money isn’t much good if I’m dead. “ I say, my tone sullen and exasperated.
“Then don’t die. “ She replies, walking across the debris strewn scrub grass toward the farm house.
“Do you have any shame? You kidnapped me in the middle of the night to feed me to a couple of demons. I’m your nephew for Christ’s sake! “ I’m not yelling, I don’t think my body is capable of that much exertion at this point, but my words are clear.
“I’m not your aunt, Nikolas.
Great-Great-Great grandmother, give or take a generation. It’s been a long time.
And if I was doing, as you suggest, yes, I would feel a deep shame.” Sylvia lets the answers and questions ferment in my mind as we walk.
“So why not tell me what’s going on? Maybe teach me some of that magic you were tossing around at the airport. “ we stop outside a sliding door. Sylvia has a genuine look of amusement on her face.
“Magic? Nikolas, magic is what stupid people call being fooled.
Magic is the Priest’s sermon, the fortune teller’s reading, the huckster’s pitch.
It’s a way to create vast amounts of power from nothing.
The world is full of things that defy the laws of nature. What I do, what those of the family with me do, is understand them. We learn, we improvise, and we adapt.
We do not make power from nothing, we find it, and use it. “ Sylvia watches me, judging my response to her statement.
“So that’s what you meant before. About the trappings of the gypsy. This whole vibe, it’s a smokescreen.
Assholes expect the Gritts to be some Romani stereotype, and give you a wide berth. When strange shit happens, they chalk it up to some kind of con, or something they’ve seen in a movie. Either way, they aren’t looking for monster fights, and supernatural research. “ I know I’m in the ballpark when she pats me on the shoulder hard enough to hurt.
“And the value of your half, is somewhere around 30 thousand. We wager in esoteric items, favors, and creatures. When you leave, I’ll make you a fair offer for what is yours.
You’ll understand more in the morning after you have a chance to look around. “ Sylvia says before showing me a sparse, but clean, and comfortable room.
I wake up in the early afternoon, something, beyond the obvious nagging at me.
After a cup of nearly caustic tea, I finally realized what it was.
Sylvia, she told me a lot last night. But many of my questions were avoided. I know about her, and this place, but my fate, beyond another round of tug of war between two nightmares, is unknown.
That being said, my second conclusion, is that I need to start rolling with the punches. I’ve tried calling the police (they asked how Sylvia was doing before I said my name.), my parents, anyone, and like it or not, for one unsaid reason or another, I’m stuck here.
I’m going to skip a lot of introductions. Reading me introducing myself, 50 times and trying not to be awkward around folks that seem way too okay with me dying, probably wouldn’t be the best use of your time.
As I explore the grounds, I enter one of a handful of old barns. The inside has peg board walls hung with tools spanning the spectrum from mundane to esoteric enough I have no idea what they are.
Inside, among benches strewn with a random assortment of objects, and equipment, stand two men.
The first is Colin, he’s pale as a ghost, eyes bloodshot and sleep deprived, he wears an Aerosmith shirt, and toolbelt that is making his pants lose a battle with gravity. The 40 something is holding an electrode connected to a thick, black wire directly patched into the main breaker.
The second, Dafyd is a short, olive skinned man in his mid fifties. His outfit consists of a tweed jacket, blue jeans and plain white shirt.
Between them on a grounded workbench sits a small snow globe, within stands a faded ballerina, one arm lost, floating randomly through the liquid.
My teeth ache as the breaker begins to make a dangerous humming noise. For a couple of seconds, a short blue spark arcs from the electrode to the snow globe.
The air smells of ozone to the point where I’m convinced I’ve burned out my nose hairs. The two men argue a bit between themselves in a language I’ve heard but never learned to speak. Then turn as they notice me.
“Nik, come settle an argument between your uncle and I. “ Dafyd says.
“Don’t know how much help I’m going to be, but I’ll do my best. “ I say, walking up.
“The kid has no idea what’s going on Dafyd. “ Colin says.
“I know, but we’re not looking for an expert opinion.
Nik, what year is it? “ Dafyd asks.
“1993.” I say without hesitation, “ What the hell? “ I add. My brain is a bit fried, but not enough to screw up the date by 30 something years.
“God damn it. “ Colin says.
“I knew it! “ exclaims Dafyd.
“This piece of shit is getting binned.
You look confused kid.
It’s called a gimmick. It’s the stuff side of what we deal in. Some of it, it’s two steps off of a horror novel. Most of it though, it’s just strange.
Figuring them out is 95% engineering and 5% esoterica.
They teaching you anything across the pond? “ Colin asks.
The question leads to a conversation, the conversation leads to a week of me shadowing the two finicky, strange guys.
I’d go into more detail, but as the days go by, things seem more and more like spending time with some out there branches in the family tree. As terrifying as everything has been, as terrifying as it is, it’s, interesting.
But I wouldn’t be writing if things were sunshine and roses though, would I?
One day, after working with objects that scared, confused and frustrated me in equal measure, I realized there was something I was avoiding.
So I found myself standing in front of Augustus, the creature held upright and immobile in it’s coffin-like cage. The Plexiglas window is cracked.
It's worse than I thought it would be. Every time I look at the thing’s face I see the blood it made me spill. I see the power it wields, and the murderous intent in it’s twisted pit of a mind.
But sometime soon, I’m going to be next to it again. I have to be able to keep myself together. I have to understand this thing as much as I can.
“Hey killer, how the fuck ya Doin? “ Augustus taunts. Shame reddens my fear paled face.
“Can we talk? “ I say, I want it to be a demand, it comes out as a whimper.
“What do we have to talk about, bud? What about this are you not picking up on yet? “ Augustus is smug, confident even while confined.
“How you seem to have this limitless ego, when you're being held by literally the oldest woman possible. “ I’m too scared to say this above a whisper.
“That dusty old wizard’s sleeve out there? She’ll fucking get hers.
Lucky bitch on a lucky day is all that was.
But luck runs out, and when it does, I’m gonna uproot your entire sad little family tree. “ Augustus threatens.
I actually take a step backward, and almost turn. The fear this thing causes, it’s more than the knowledge of what it can do, it’s a force in and of itself.
“Augustus, why not hear me out? “ I plead.
“Because kid, that’s not how this story goes.
I’ve got nothing but time, I’ll be around till the heat death of the fucking universe.
I don’t need to hear things like you out, I don’t need to bargain. No matter how airtight your inbred little clan thinks these bonds are, eventually, someone always makes a mistake. Something small, like a wrong angle on a rune.
Or…, “ as the thing talks, the door to the coffin like cage holding it starts to slowly swing outward, “ Something big, like forgetting to set the fucking padlock. “
I’m already running as he talks, but he’s standing in front of the exit before I can take a step.
He looms in front of the door, coat spreading, seemingly of it’s own accord, making the patchwork killer seem like some kind of twisted manta ray.
He locks eyes with me, I’m frozen, gripped in terror so intense I have no idea if it’s mundane or the aura of fear Augustus projects.
Those mismatched orbs burrow into me, I feel like this thing can see into my soul.
He inhales for an impossibly long time, a slick, menacing grin spreading across his leathery face.
“Yeah, today’s the day kid.” He says, a kick sending me across the floor like a smooth rock across the surface of a pond.
I’ve never felt pain like this, I try to stand, but my knee refuses to bend. I hit the ground and my ribs scream, I’m sure at least one was broken in the tumble.
I hear Augustus’ footsteps, my struggles to get to my feet are useless. Seconds in, i’m in literal crippling pain.
He grabs me by the throat, taking his time as he raises me above his head.
The look of joy on his face as I choke and struggle to breathe twists his features, for a moment he appears nearly snakelike.
He holds the tips of his claw-like nails against my stomach. Then draws his arm back.
“Don’t worry bud, I’m not just going to tear out your heart, everyone does that shit.
This isn’t going to be a sprint, it’s a fucking marathon. I just want to aerate the track a little bit before we start. “ His hand blurs and I close my eyes hoping I don’t last very long.
“Stop” I hear a deep, smooth, male voice say.
I hit the ground, and try to see who just stopped the beginning of my execution, but the pain, the cracked ribs, pulled muscles and long ragged scrapes have me seeing spots.
When my vision clears, I see a tall, blond man with impossibly angular features, dressed in an immaculate black and mauve suit.
His eyes try to look kind, but there is something wrong behind them. Something waiting to be let out.
“Who are you? “ I say, one lip, split and torn.
“You can call me Art. Arthur Deus if you feel like being formal.
But what you want to know, is why I’m here.
Well Nikolas, to simplify things, think of me as the older brother of the leering terror your ‘aunt’ has trapped here. “ As Arthur talks, I notice something, the motes of dust in the air are hanging still.
“I have no problems with you taking him. I haven’t seen you, I don’t know your name. Couldn’t stop you if I wanted to. “ I ramble.
Arthur holds up a finger, I go silent.
“If only it were that easy.
See Nikolas, your aunt and I, have quite the history. And as much as it pains me to admit it, she’s a crafty one, and has the means to make things very difficult for me.
Sylvia cannot know I’m involved, this is why I have an offer for you. “ As art says this, he waves a hand, almost dismissively.
Like a switch being flipped my pain stops, I watch as my wounds begin to seal and fade, amazed.
“What is it? “ I say. The words feel like they have weight.
“Sylvia is looking for someone to take over for her. As old as she is, she’s not immortal.
You’re her third attempt.
I’m not going to lie to you and say I care about what’s happening to the humans involved in this grim little spectacle. But I care about my family, and to a lesser extent, those like myself.
This bloodsport that your aunt is a part of, it’s vile. It’s world spanning, and it’s for nothing more than greed and bragging rights.
I want to change this. And I would like you to help me. “ Art’s tone is slick and confident.
“If I do, then you get him to back off? “ I say, pointing to Augustus.
Art looks dismayed for a moment.
“That’s not something I can really promise Nikolas. If anything could force him to listen to reason, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. “ My heart sinks as Art says this.
“Fuck off Art. “ Augustus says.
Arthur rolls his eyes. They seem to go just a little too far back.
“But what I can do, is have a conversation with him, impress upon him how important it is he works with you. “ Art pats me on the shoulder before turning toward his sibling. His hand is impossibly hot.
“This kid dies, that is not my fault. You’ve seen this shit, he’s not built for it, just bust me out of here. “ Augustus isn’t far off of pleading in his tone.
“You know that’s not possible. I cannot let Sylvia know I’m here. But given time, I will have you out. “ Art assures.
“Fact remains, this kid gets on the wrong side of a blade or a fuckin, werewolf or something, that’s not on me.
Even if he manages to keep his lungs in his chest, look at him. His mind is cracking, he’s either insane or God-damned, catatonic in two months. “ Now Augustus sounds like a cocky piece of shit again.
“Of course, if he dies, or succumbs mentally, that’s not on you.
But I want you, to make a promise to me. I want you to understand that this child cannot be harmed by your hand. “ It sounds like Art is talking to a five year old.
Augustus shrugs before replying.
“The fuck you want me to say? You know me, you know I can’t say I’m not hurting this kid. And I sure as hell am not making a promise about it so you can get you-know-who involved when nature takes it’s course.
Fuck this kid, get me out of here.”
Arthur sighs and turns from Augustus , walking to me.
“Nikolas, I have something to tell you. “ He says, there’s a gravity to his tone that clearly makes Augustus uncomfortable.
“Art, what are you doing? “ The Trenchcoat wearing creature asks.
Art kneels bringing himself eye to eye with me.
“Don’t do this. “ Augustus says.
“Then promise. “ Art replies, a few seconds of silence go by, “ As you can see, I cannot guarantee your safety Nikolas.
But, for his own good, I want to tell you a word, one that will make my myopic brother look at things a little differently, if the need arises.
I’d use it sparingly, it’s not meant for those like yourself. It will have a physical, mental and spiritual toll. But it might spare you the worst of his excesses. “
That word was the last thing Arthur said to me. With a staggering, disorienting lurch, time began to move forward.
It kept moving forward for the next month.
I learned a lot over that time, but, not what you might expect.
As it turns out, there is a hell of a lot more engineering, physics, and chemistry involved in working with the supernatural than, summoning circles and newt eyes.
But eventually, the day I was dreading came.
The venue was a strip club of all places, a massive building, on the outskirts of Norwich, gaudy neon lights illuminate a place that, unlike the theme restaurant, seems to be in active use.
There was a different ambiance this time. The folks milling around the rune etched Lucite box seemed more sedate, and a hell of a lot richer.
The lighting was professional, driving music sets a professional sports tone.
This time I walk in the cage of my own accord. It’s not pride, or bravery, but simply knowing, I have no choice.
The roar of the crowd stokes my fear as Augustus slowly opens the door of his coffin-like vessel.
He loves the attention, his grin both horrifying and genuine.
“Guess we’re in the big leagues now, eh, killer? “ Augustus prods.
I’m sweating. I’ve cut a little weight over the past month, unintentionally, but as I wonder what horror is going to come walking in the other side of this cage. I don’t think being in marginally better shape and having a working knowledge of basic engineering is going to do me a lot of good.
Suddenly the crowd is silent, lights illuminate a spot at the far end of the massive Lucite box.
She’s small, slight, and has grey, lifeless skin. Her eyes are massive, her body beautiful, but exaggerated to the point of looking cartoonish. She’s not wearing much, a small t-shirt and what I’ll generously call a bikini bottom.
Beside her is a massive, brick slab of a man, late twenties or early thirties. His eyes are wild, he’s covered in layers of scars, and burns. He wears an old, worn prison uniform that’s never seen a washing machine.
He matches her strange, boneless stride, with a loping wolf-like gait.
“Entering the ring, you know her, you love her. She’s the Vixen of the void, The Nymph of nothing, Norwich’s own, ‘Sweet’ Francis Anne!
And at her side, brought in at great expense from the land of Twinkies, cheeseburgers and weak beer, The Corps Killer, the Military Mangler, with 24 out of ring kills and 36 in, ‘Big’ Billy Speck! “ an announcer screams.
The crowd bursts into life, noise shakes the walls of the cage.
“And, on the other side, I don’t know, some wanker in a Trenchcoat, and a kid that isn’t even old enough to be here. Let’s watch them die. “ He finishes.
Augustus looks enraged, his teeth chatter, he flexes his clawed hands. I walk in his shadow as he advances to face the creature and her second.
“I know you! “ The grey skinned thing says, her voice high pitched. As she speaks I notice what appears to be a thick scar bisecting her from forehead to stomach.
“Never heard of you. Neither will anyone else after this. “ Augustus says with a grin.
“You’re the runt of the litter right? Royal blood but peasant flesh, that’s what they say, no? “ Francis says, she grins a toothless smile. The inside of her mouth, a black void.
“Fuck my family. What I am is as good as meat gets. I give myself power, all you have is a cosmic std. “ Augustus stares Francis down as he talks.
Francis reacts with nothing more than a coy look. Bill stares down at me, the handle of some large blade sticking out of his right pocket, and a short length of chain wrapped around his left forearm.
A buzzer cuts through the roar of the crowd, the world seems to consist of nothing more than myself and the horrors around me as the timer begins to count down.
Like a flash Augustus leaps at Francis, but her body stretches and contorts as she moves, he never gets close.
I tear myself away from the clash of unnatural creatures as I look to the mutilated killer in front of me.
I didn’t come in unarmed, but I also was expecting another kid. And wanted to avoid what happened last time if at all possible. My heart races as I pull the small black can from the pocket of my worn, grey hoodie.
For a second I feel like a badass. I’ve got the can of mace aimed and spraying before Bill can react.
Four seconds tick by before the can is empty, Bill is soaked in thick yellow liquid, it runs down his face like tears.
The psycho doesn’t even blink.
“You good? “ he asks before slapping my outstretched arm aside and shattering my nose with a backhanded blow that seemed almost an afterthought.
Augustus screams in frustration, moving faster than I can track, but not able to put a scratch on the amorphous, rubbery woman.
Bill uncoils the chain, and I feel a sudden deep, crushing pain in my chest. I stumble backward, coughing. He laughs and whips the chain out again, I manage to see the next blow, but have no way of stopping it.
He manages to hit the same spot, the pain is overwhelming, my lungs feel bruised, I can’t breathe.
Francis seems to have grown bored avoiding Augustus, he pants, sucking wind as she stands in front of him.
That scar splits, not fully, but from forehead to the bridge of her nose. What’s behind it, is nothing.
I mean that in terms so literal, I can’t describe how it looked. It was more of a feeling that a sight. Looking into it, made me understand just how empty something can actually be.
Pieces of Augustus’ skin and flesh begin to, simply not exist. His look of confusion lasts for about a second before he’s sent sailing through the air by a long, whip-like arm.
The trenchcoat clad creature extracts himself from a tangled mess of tables, chairs and debris. Francis and Bill laugh, mocking us.
“Let’s trade dance partners” Augustus says, his two handed shove launching my broken body into Francis.
She catches me, her body absorbing the impact.
Fear is making me hyperventilate, physical trauma is turning that into a wheezing pant that feels like being waterboarded.
Francis looks down at me, violence and seduction in her eyes.
“Make things easy for me and I’ll let you go out with a bang. “ She says, the look of carnal violence on her face makes me gag.
Augustus struggles with Bill, the creatures wounds many and severe.
A minute remains, but I don’t know if I can last another ten seconds.
Francis stretches one arm into a thin tendril, it begins to circle me, caging me into a progressively smaller area.
“I’m sixteen, you paranormal nonce. “ I blurt out, the pain from my broken nose almost making me pass out, “ That’s the word they use around here, right? For the kind of creep that gets supernatural powers to hit on a kid? “
I can’t run, I can’t fight, all I can do is try to distract this thing for another 42 seconds.
Her face begins to turn, shifting and warping into something resembling a cattle skull more than a person.
The wet snapping noise distracts both Francis and myself.
Augustus has his hand buried in the chest of the convict, he holds the man aloft for a moment.
Augustus says something in a language I can’t even guess at, and with one fluid motion tears the black, decayed heart from his own chest and replaces it with that of the killer.
He begins to scream, then laugh, wounds spraying ichor, he seems to swell, his face a mask of pleasure and Ill intent.
“Death machine just needed a new engine. “ Augustus says with a cackle.
Francis forgets about me and lashes out, quite literally, at Augustus. Limbs becoming a frenzied blur of snaking flesh, , destroying anything they so much as graze.
He wades into the storm, flirting around the edges of the cage, making her chase him with the lethal limbs.
The conflict is a blur, but at the 23 second mark I see it. As much as I hate the prick, I’m almost impressed.
She’s tangled, somewhere among the bent stripper poles, and doorways to private booths, She’s caught herself.
Augustus takes his time now, her body is stretched thin, looped around door handles and under stages.
Ten seconds left, Augustus is feet from her writhing, blob-like form. Her features pulled taught enough to be nearly non-existent.
“Takes a lot to open yourself up doesn’t it? “ Augustus says, kneeling, he holds the killer’s knife in one hand, “ Why don’t I do it for you? “
The blade is barely touching her flesh as the timer ends.
“Fuck’s sake! “ Augustus says, standing, and letting the knife fall to the floor.
Something about the way he walks to one end of the Lucite cage worries me.
“Nobody likes a draw, but as far as they go, that was one hell of a kiss to your sister, wasn’t it folks?
No one is defeating our lovely lady of legend, but let’s hear it for the man who tried… Trenchcoat! “ The announcer screams over the loudspeaker.
The crowd is on their feet, bets are being paid out, and two groups of people are trying to open doors conveniently barred by flesh no person is going to get through.
I jog up to him, my body screaming at me every step of the way. He taps along one clear wall.
“Cheap runes. “ Augustus says, before driving his fist like a spear through the Lucite.
The hole he makes is about the size of a watermelon, his hand easily going through all six inches of the wall.
But it’s not big enough to accommodate the body of the poor twenty something he drags through.
In an instant the man is flensed, his small bones broken, eyes, ears and jaw, nothing more than a smear.
But he’s still alive, wailing a haunting death bellow as he struggles to understand what just happened.
“Stop! “ I scream, horrified. Blood sprays from my ruined nose, “You think I won’t say it? “
Augustus slowly cocks his head, punching his fist through the wall again, and tossing another victim beside the first.
“In front of your family, and that aunt of yours? You think this is bad? The shit she’ll do to you if she knows you even looked at my Dangerous Brothers looking prick of a brother will make this look like a massage.” Trenchcoat pauses, letting the reality sink in, letting my absolute lack of power envelop me like a blanket, “ You want me to stop? I’ll give you something no one else has, a choice.
Either finish one of these pieces of meat off, or, have a taste. “
He brings his hand back for another strike, and I make my choice.
No, I’m not telling you which one. I can share a lot of things with you guys. But, I’m sorry, how I picked to save the rest of the people in that place is a shame I’m going to carry on my own.
Don’t know if any of you will want to hear from me again, after knowing what I’ve had to do, who I’ve had to deal with, but I’m going to keep posting. This is getting nothing but worse, and maybe, I can save someone else the same fate.

For anyone who missed how this started.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/s/8Gy9JbmUVC
I didn’t expect so many people out there would care about what’s happening to me. I’d say it’s humbling, but, well, my situation has been humbling me since I left the states. You guys cheering me on, and trying to help, it’s kept me going though.
So, I figure the least I can do is keep you all updated until something prevents me from doing so. Likely in a permanent fashion.
I'll say, the ride home was awkward, to say the least. For all of the grim predictions running through my head going to the spectacle , on the way back they were ten times worse.
I wasn’t caged, shackled and tortured when I returned. If I said I was greeted with concern by the handful of distant relatives and lost souls I’d be over exaggerating. But there was a bit of respect and kindness .
I was patched up, as far as being stabbed goes, apparently I got lucky.
There was food, question free beer, and a healthy number of people asking how things went.
All I wanted to do was sleep, but something kept me going. Kept me answering questions I’d rather not have, kept my fear fried brain making conversation and trading verbal jabs.
A tap on my shoulder startles me, the sun is rising and if I don’t get to sleep soon, I’m going to fall over.
“Your half. “ Sylvia says, it’s just shy of a thousand pounds.
“All this was for, what is this? $600 American? “ I say.
“ Walk with me. “ Sylvia begins, I follow.
“Money isn’t much good if I’m dead. “ I say, my tone sullen and exasperated.
“Then don’t die. “ She replies, walking across the debris strewn scrub grass toward the farm house.
“Do you have any shame? You kidnapped me in the middle of the night to feed me to a couple of demons. I’m your nephew for Christ’s sake! “ I’m not yelling, I don’t think my body is capable of that much exertion at this point, but my words are clear.
“I’m not your aunt, Nikolas.
Great-Great-Great grandmother, give or take a generation. It’s been a long time.
And if I was doing, as you suggest, yes, I would feel a deep shame.” Sylvia lets the answers and questions ferment in my mind as we walk.
“So why not tell me what’s going on? Maybe teach me some of that magic you were tossing around at the airport. “ we stop outside a sliding door. Sylvia has a genuine look of amusement on her face.
“Magic? Nikolas, magic is what stupid people call being fooled.
Magic is the Priest’s sermon, the fortune teller’s reading, the huckster’s pitch.
It’s a way to create vast amounts of power from nothing.
The world is full of things that defy the laws of nature. What I do, what those of the family with me do, is understand them. We learn, we improvise, and we adapt.
We do not make power from nothing, we find it, and use it. “ Sylvia watches me, judging my response to her statement.
“So that’s what you meant before. About the trappings of the gypsy. This whole vibe, it’s a smokescreen.
Assholes expect the Gritts to be some Romani stereotype, and give you a wide berth. When strange shit happens, they chalk it up to some kind of con, or something they’ve seen in a movie. Either way, they aren’t looking for monster fights, and supernatural research. “ I know I’m in the ballpark when she pats me on the shoulder hard enough to hurt.
“And the value of your half, is somewhere around 30 thousand. We wager in esoteric items, favors, and creatures. When you leave, I’ll make you a fair offer for what is yours.
You’ll understand more in the morning after you have a chance to look around. “ Sylvia says before showing me a sparse, but clean, and comfortable room.
I wake up in the early afternoon, something, beyond the obvious nagging at me.
After a cup of nearly caustic tea, I finally realized what it was.
Sylvia, she told me a lot last night. But many of my questions were avoided. I know about her, and this place, but my fate, beyond another round of tug of war between two nightmares, is unknown.
That being said, my second conclusion, is that I need to start rolling with the punches. I’ve tried calling the police (they asked how Sylvia was doing before I said my name.), my parents, anyone, and like it or not, for one unsaid reason or another, I’m stuck here.
I’m going to skip a lot of introductions. Reading me introducing myself, 50 times and trying not to be awkward around folks that seem way too okay with me dying, probably wouldn’t be the best use of your time.
As I explore the grounds, I enter one of a handful of old barns. The inside has peg board walls hung with tools spanning the spectrum from mundane to esoteric enough I have no idea what they are.
Inside, among benches strewn with a random assortment of objects, and equipment, stand two men.
The first is Colin, he’s pale as a ghost, eyes bloodshot and sleep deprived, he wears an Aerosmith shirt, and toolbelt that is making his pants lose a battle with gravity. The 40 something is holding an electrode connected to a thick, black wire directly patched into the main breaker.
The second, Dafyd is a short, olive skinned man in his mid fifties. His outfit consists of a tweed jacket, blue jeans and plain white shirt.
Between them on a grounded workbench sits a small snow globe, within stands a faded ballerina, one arm lost, floating randomly through the liquid.
My teeth ache as the breaker begins to make a dangerous humming noise. For a couple of seconds, a short blue spark arcs from the electrode to the snow globe.
The air smells of ozone to the point where I’m convinced I’ve burned out my nose hairs. The two men argue a bit between themselves in a language I’ve heard but never learned to speak. Then turn as they notice me.
“Nik, come settle an argument between your uncle and I. “ Dafyd says.
“Don’t know how much help I’m going to be, but I’ll do my best. “ I say, walking up.
“The kid has no idea what’s going on Dafyd. “ Colin says.
“I know, but we’re not looking for an expert opinion.
Nik, what year is it? “ Dafyd asks.
“1993.” I say without hesitation, “ What the hell? “ I add. My brain is a bit fried, but not enough to screw up the date by 30 something years.
“God damn it. “ Colin says.
“I knew it! “ exclaims Dafyd.
“This piece of shit is getting binned.
You look confused kid.
It’s called a gimmick. It’s the stuff side of what we deal in. Some of it, it’s two steps off of a horror novel. Most of it though, it’s just strange.
Figuring them out is 95% engineering and 5% esoterica.
They teaching you anything across the pond? “ Colin asks.
The question leads to a conversation, the conversation leads to a week of me shadowing the two finicky, strange guys.
I’d go into more detail, but as the days go by, things seem more and more like spending time with some out there branches in the family tree. As terrifying as everything has been, as terrifying as it is, it’s, interesting.
But I wouldn’t be writing if things were sunshine and roses though, would I?
One day, after working with objects that scared, confused and frustrated me in equal measure, I realized there was something I was avoiding.
So I found myself standing in front of Augustus, the creature held upright and immobile in it’s coffin-like cage. The Plexiglas window is cracked.
It's worse than I thought it would be. Every time I look at the thing’s face I see the blood it made me spill. I see the power it wields, and the murderous intent in it’s twisted pit of a mind.
But sometime soon, I’m going to be next to it again. I have to be able to keep myself together. I have to understand this thing as much as I can.
“Hey killer, how the fuck ya Doin? “ Augustus taunts. Shame reddens my fear paled face.
“Can we talk? “ I say, I want it to be a demand, it comes out as a whimper.
“What do we have to talk about, bud? What about this are you not picking up on yet? “ Augustus is smug, confident even while confined.
“How you seem to have this limitless ego, when you're being held by literally the oldest woman possible. “ I’m too scared to say this above a whisper.
“That dusty old wizard’s sleeve out there? She’ll fucking get hers.
Lucky bitch on a lucky day is all that was.
But luck runs out, and when it does, I’m gonna uproot your entire sad little family tree. “ Augustus threatens.
I actually take a step backward, and almost turn. The fear this thing causes, it’s more than the knowledge of what it can do, it’s a force in and of itself.
“Augustus, why not hear me out? “ I plead.
“Because kid, that’s not how this story goes.
I’ve got nothing but time, I’ll be around till the heat death of the fucking universe.
I don’t need to hear things like you out, I don’t need to bargain. No matter how airtight your inbred little clan thinks these bonds are, eventually, someone always makes a mistake. Something small, like a wrong angle on a rune.
Or…, “ as the thing talks, the door to the coffin like cage holding it starts to slowly swing outward, “ Something big, like forgetting to set the fucking padlock. “
I’m already running as he talks, but he’s standing in front of the exit before I can take a step.
He looms in front of the door, coat spreading, seemingly of it’s own accord, making the patchwork killer seem like some kind of twisted manta ray.
He locks eyes with me, I’m frozen, gripped in terror so intense I have no idea if it’s mundane or the aura of fear Augustus projects.
Those mismatched orbs burrow into me, I feel like this thing can see into my soul.
He inhales for an impossibly long time, a slick, menacing grin spreading across his leathery face.
“Yeah, today’s the day kid.” He says, a kick sending me across the floor like a smooth rock across the surface of a pond.
I’ve never felt pain like this, I try to stand, but my knee refuses to bend. I hit the ground and my ribs scream, I’m sure at least one was broken in the tumble.
I hear Augustus’ footsteps, my struggles to get to my feet are useless. Seconds in, i’m in literal crippling pain.
He grabs me by the throat, taking his time as he raises me above his head.
The look of joy on his face as I choke and struggle to breathe twists his features, for a moment he appears nearly snakelike.
He holds the tips of his claw-like nails against my stomach. Then draws his arm back.
“Don’t worry bud, I’m not just going to tear out your heart, everyone does that shit.
This isn’t going to be a sprint, it’s a fucking marathon. I just want to aerate the track a little bit before we start. “ His hand blurs and I close my eyes hoping I don’t last very long.
“Stop” I hear a deep, smooth, male voice say.
I hit the ground, and try to see who just stopped the beginning of my execution, but the pain, the cracked ribs, pulled muscles and long ragged scrapes have me seeing spots.
When my vision clears, I see a tall, blond man with impossibly angular features, dressed in an immaculate black and mauve suit.
His eyes try to look kind, but there is something wrong behind them. Something waiting to be let out.
“Who are you? “ I say, one lip, split and torn.
“You can call me Art. Arthur Deus if you feel like being formal.
But what you want to know, is why I’m here.
Well Nikolas, to simplify things, think of me as the older brother of the leering terror your ‘aunt’ has trapped here. “ As Arthur talks, I notice something, the motes of dust in the air are hanging still.
“I have no problems with you taking him. I haven’t seen you, I don’t know your name. Couldn’t stop you if I wanted to. “ I ramble.
Arthur holds up a finger, I go silent.
“If only it were that easy.
See Nikolas, your aunt and I, have quite the history. And as much as it pains me to admit it, she’s a crafty one, and has the means to make things very difficult for me.
Sylvia cannot know I’m involved, this is why I have an offer for you. “ As art says this, he waves a hand, almost dismissively.
Like a switch being flipped my pain stops, I watch as my wounds begin to seal and fade, amazed.
“What is it? “ I say. The words feel like they have weight.
“Sylvia is looking for someone to take over for her. As old as she is, she’s not immortal.
You’re her third attempt.
I’m not going to lie to you and say I care about what’s happening to the humans involved in this grim little spectacle. But I care about my family, and to a lesser extent, those like myself.
This bloodsport that your aunt is a part of, it’s vile. It’s world spanning, and it’s for nothing more than greed and bragging rights.
I want to change this. And I would like you to help me. “ Art’s tone is slick and confident.
“If I do, then you get him to back off? “ I say, pointing to Augustus.
Art looks dismayed for a moment.
“That’s not something I can really promise Nikolas. If anything could force him to listen to reason, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. “ My heart sinks as Art says this.
“Fuck off Art. “ Augustus says.
Arthur rolls his eyes. They seem to go just a little too far back.
“But what I can do, is have a conversation with him, impress upon him how important it is he works with you. “ Art pats me on the shoulder before turning toward his sibling. His hand is impossibly hot.
“This kid dies, that is not my fault. You’ve seen this shit, he’s not built for it, just bust me out of here. “ Augustus isn’t far off of pleading in his tone.
“You know that’s not possible. I cannot let Sylvia know I’m here. But given time, I will have you out. “ Art assures.
“Fact remains, this kid gets on the wrong side of a blade or a fuckin, werewolf or something, that’s not on me.
Even if he manages to keep his lungs in his chest, look at him. His mind is cracking, he’s either insane or God-damned, catatonic in two months. “ Now Augustus sounds like a cocky piece of shit again.
“Of course, if he dies, or succumbs mentally, that’s not on you.
But I want you, to make a promise to me. I want you to understand that this child cannot be harmed by your hand. “ It sounds like Art is talking to a five year old.
Augustus shrugs before replying.
“The fuck you want me to say? You know me, you know I can’t say I’m not hurting this kid. And I sure as hell am not making a promise about it so you can get you-know-who involved when nature takes it’s course.
Fuck this kid, get me out of here.”
Arthur sighs and turns from Augustus , walking to me.
“Nikolas, I have something to tell you. “ He says, there’s a gravity to his tone that clearly makes Augustus uncomfortable.
“Art, what are you doing? “ The Trenchcoat wearing creature asks.
Art kneels bringing himself eye to eye with me.
“Don’t do this. “ Augustus says.
“Then promise. “ Art replies, a few seconds of silence go by, “ As you can see, I cannot guarantee your safety Nikolas.
But, for his own good, I want to tell you a word, one that will make my myopic brother look at things a little differently, if the need arises.
I’d use it sparingly, it’s not meant for those like yourself. It will have a physical, mental and spiritual toll. But it might spare you the worst of his excesses. “
That word was the last thing Arthur said to me. With a staggering, disorienting lurch, time began to move forward.
It kept moving forward for the next month.
I learned a lot over that time, but, not what you might expect.
As it turns out, there is a hell of a lot more engineering, physics, and chemistry involved in working with the supernatural than, summoning circles and newt eyes.
But eventually, the day I was dreading came.
The venue was a strip club of all places, a massive building, on the outskirts of Norwich, gaudy neon lights illuminate a place that, unlike the theme restaurant, seems to be in active use.
There was a different ambiance this time. The folks milling around the rune etched Lucite box seemed more sedate, and a hell of a lot richer.
The lighting was professional, driving music sets a professional sports tone.
This time I walk in the cage of my own accord. It’s not pride, or bravery, but simply knowing, I have no choice.
The roar of the crowd stokes my fear as Augustus slowly opens the door of his coffin-like vessel.
He loves the attention, his grin both horrifying and genuine.
“Guess we’re in the big leagues now, eh, killer? “ Augustus prods.
I’m sweating. I’ve cut a little weight over the past month, unintentionally, but as I wonder what horror is going to come walking in the other side of this cage. I don’t think being in marginally better shape and having a working knowledge of basic engineering is going to do me a lot of good.
Suddenly the crowd is silent, lights illuminate a spot at the far end of the massive Lucite box.
She’s small, slight, and has grey, lifeless skin. Her eyes are massive, her body beautiful, but exaggerated to the point of looking cartoonish. She’s not wearing much, a small t-shirt and what I’ll generously call a bikini bottom.
Beside her is a massive, brick slab of a man, late twenties or early thirties. His eyes are wild, he’s covered in layers of scars, and burns. He wears an old, worn prison uniform that’s never seen a washing machine.
He matches her strange, boneless stride, with a loping wolf-like gait.
“Entering the ring, you know her, you love her. She’s the Vixen of the void, The Nymph of nothing, Norwich’s own, ‘Sweet’ Francis Anne!
And at her side, brought in at great expense from the land of Twinkies, cheeseburgers and weak beer, The Corps Killer, the Military Mangler, with 24 out of ring kills and 36 in, ‘Big’ Billy Speck! “ an announcer screams.
The crowd bursts into life, noise shakes the walls of the cage.
“And, on the other side, I don’t know, some wanker in a Trenchcoat, and a kid that isn’t even old enough to be here. Let’s watch them die. “ He finishes.
Augustus looks enraged, his teeth chatter, he flexes his clawed hands. I walk in his shadow as he advances to face the creature and her second.
“I know you! “ The grey skinned thing says, her voice high pitched. As she speaks I notice what appears to be a thick scar bisecting her from forehead to stomach.
“Never heard of you. Neither will anyone else after this. “ Augustus says with a grin.
“You’re the runt of the litter right? Royal blood but peasant flesh, that’s what they say, no? “ Francis says, she grins a toothless smile. The inside of her mouth, a black void.
“Fuck my family. What I am is as good as meat gets. I give myself power, all you have is a cosmic std. “ Augustus stares Francis down as he talks.
Francis reacts with nothing more than a coy look. Bill stares down at me, the handle of some large blade sticking out of his right pocket, and a short length of chain wrapped around his left forearm.
A buzzer cuts through the roar of the crowd, the world seems to consist of nothing more than myself and the horrors around me as the timer begins to count down.
Like a flash Augustus leaps at Francis, but her body stretches and contorts as she moves, he never gets close.
I tear myself away from the clash of unnatural creatures as I look to the mutilated killer in front of me.
I didn’t come in unarmed, but I also was expecting another kid. And wanted to avoid what happened last time if at all possible. My heart races as I pull the small black can from the pocket of my worn, grey hoodie.
For a second I feel like a badass. I’ve got the can of mace aimed and spraying before Bill can react.
Four seconds tick by before the can is empty, Bill is soaked in thick yellow liquid, it runs down his face like tears.
The psycho doesn’t even blink.
“You good? “ he asks before slapping my outstretched arm aside and shattering my nose with a backhanded blow that seemed almost an afterthought.
Augustus screams in frustration, moving faster than I can track, but not able to put a scratch on the amorphous, rubbery woman.
Bill uncoils the chain, and I feel a sudden deep, crushing pain in my chest. I stumble backward, coughing. He laughs and whips the chain out again, I manage to see the next blow, but have no way of stopping it.
He manages to hit the same spot, the pain is overwhelming, my lungs feel bruised, I can’t breathe.
Francis seems to have grown bored avoiding Augustus, he pants, sucking wind as she stands in front of him.
That scar splits, not fully, but from forehead to the bridge of her nose. What’s behind it, is nothing.
I mean that in terms so literal, I can’t describe how it looked. It was more of a feeling that a sight. Looking into it, made me understand just how empty something can actually be.
Pieces of Augustus’ skin and flesh begin to, simply not exist. His look of confusion lasts for about a second before he’s sent sailing through the air by a long, whip-like arm.
The trenchcoat clad creature extracts himself from a tangled mess of tables, chairs and debris. Francis and Bill laugh, mocking us.
“Let’s trade dance partners” Augustus says, his two handed shove launching my broken body into Francis.
She catches me, her body absorbing the impact.
Fear is making me hyperventilate, physical trauma is turning that into a wheezing pant that feels like being waterboarded.
Francis looks down at me, violence and seduction in her eyes.
“Make things easy for me and I’ll let you go out with a bang. “ She says, the look of carnal violence on her face makes me gag.
Augustus struggles with Bill, the creatures wounds many and severe.
A minute remains, but I don’t know if I can last another ten seconds.
Francis stretches one arm into a thin tendril, it begins to circle me, caging me into a progressively smaller area.
“I’m sixteen, you paranormal nonce. “ I blurt out, the pain from my broken nose almost making me pass out, “ That’s the word they use around here, right? For the kind of creep that gets supernatural powers to hit on a kid? “
I can’t run, I can’t fight, all I can do is try to distract this thing for another 42 seconds.
Her face begins to turn, shifting and warping into something resembling a cattle skull more than a person.
The wet snapping noise distracts both Francis and myself.
Augustus has his hand buried in the chest of the convict, he holds the man aloft for a moment.
Augustus says something in a language I can’t even guess at, and with one fluid motion tears the black, decayed heart from his own chest and replaces it with that of the killer.
He begins to scream, then laugh, wounds spraying ichor, he seems to swell, his face a mask of pleasure and Ill intent.
“Death machine just needed a new engine. “ Augustus says with a cackle.
Francis forgets about me and lashes out, quite literally, at Augustus. Limbs becoming a frenzied blur of snaking flesh, , destroying anything they so much as graze.
He wades into the storm, flirting around the edges of the cage, making her chase him with the lethal limbs.
The conflict is a blur, but at the 23 second mark I see it. As much as I hate the prick, I’m almost impressed.
She’s tangled, somewhere among the bent stripper poles, and doorways to private booths, She’s caught herself.
Augustus takes his time now, her body is stretched thin, looped around door handles and under stages.
Ten seconds left, Augustus is feet from her writhing, blob-like form. Her features pulled taught enough to be nearly non-existent.
“Takes a lot to open yourself up doesn’t it? “ Augustus says, kneeling, he holds the killer’s knife in one hand, “ Why don’t I do it for you? “
The blade is barely touching her flesh as the timer ends.
“Fuck’s sake! “ Augustus says, standing, and letting the knife fall to the floor.
Something about the way he walks to one end of the Lucite cage worries me.
“Nobody likes a draw, but as far as they go, that was one hell of a kiss to your sister, wasn’t it folks?
No one is defeating our lovely lady of legend, but let’s hear it for the man who tried… Trenchcoat! “ The announcer screams over the loudspeaker.
The crowd is on their feet, bets are being paid out, and two groups of people are trying to open doors conveniently barred by flesh no person is going to get through.
I jog up to him, my body screaming at me every step of the way. He taps along one clear wall.
“Cheap runes. “ Augustus says, before driving his fist like a spear through the Lucite.
The hole he makes is about the size of a watermelon, his hand easily going through all six inches of the wall.
But it’s not big enough to accommodate the body of the poor twenty something he drags through.
In an instant the man is flensed, his small bones broken, eyes, ears and jaw, nothing more than a smear.
But he’s still alive, wailing a haunting death bellow as he struggles to understand what just happened.
“Stop! “ I scream, horrified. Blood sprays from my ruined nose, “You think I won’t say it? “
Augustus slowly cocks his head, punching his fist through the wall again, and tossing another victim beside the first.
“In front of your family, and that aunt of yours? You think this is bad? The shit she’ll do to you if she knows you even looked at my Dangerous Brothers looking prick of a brother will make this look like a massage.” Trenchcoat pauses, letting the reality sink in, letting my absolute lack of power envelop me like a blanket, “ You want me to stop? I’ll give you something no one else has, a choice.
Either finish one of these pieces of meat off, or, have a taste. “
He brings his hand back for another strike, and I make my choice.
No, I’m not telling you which one. I can share a lot of things with you guys. But, I’m sorry, how I picked to save the rest of the people in that place is a shame I’m going to carry on my own.
Don’t know if any of you will want to hear from me again, after knowing what I’ve had to do, who I’ve had to deal with, but I’m going to keep posting. This is getting nothing but worse, and maybe, I can save someone else the same fate.

This story was originally written July 2023.
You might have heard of me. I was a social media influencer for two years.
I know kids have “influencer” as one of their top professions these days, but for me it was all an accident, really. I uploaded a few YouTube videos back in 2019, in the summer I finished school. All I did was rant about movies. I had a few notes, not a full script, and just spouted off to my laptop camera about inaccurate science, bad casting choices, real nitpicky stuff. In about six months I’d got 200 subscribers.
I was at university then, and I mentioned my videos to some of my uni friends. They subbed and told their friends, and I got up to 1,000 sub by January 2020. My videos were only about ten minutes long, and I had nowhere near the views to monetise. I was making one a week, but not on any sort of schedule. It was just something I did when I was bored.
Then the pandemic hit. A lot of students here in England basically got locked into their halls of residence (that’s dorms for any Americans reading), but I was lucky enough to get back to my parents’ before then. So I was doing what my uni laughably called “remote learning”, which basically meant a couple of video lectures a week, some worksheets, and lots and lots of my own research. I won’t bore you with the topic of my course; it’s not relevant.
I’m not exactly stereotypically pretty. I’ve come to accept that. My hair is stringy, my nose is too big, my face is profoundly asymmetrical, my complexion is strange and acned, my teeth are crooked … You get the idea. You can only do so much with makeup and hair that covers your face. I probably have fewer friends than I would if I looked like other people, and it actually took a lot of courage to make that first video - and even more courage to upload it.
I can only assume that’s the reason I went viral. It certainly wasn’t the high production values, or the tightly-written scripts, or the quality of my research. On the 9th of April I had 1,322 subscribers. On the 10th it was over 8,000. By the end of April it was up to 300,000, and I had actually monetised my channel.
The comments were … well, they were varied. Lots of hate because of my looks, but lots of love from people who just appreciated what I put out there, calling out others for their negative comments. I know many social media stars struggle with unkind comments, but I’d got used to it. Let’s be honest, they weren’t nice, but neither were they untrue. And comments under your video are easier to ignore than comments in the street. I was making decent money after all. If you were one of those commenters, you know which side you were on, and I love you either way. Thanks for the engagement - it’s not easy to gain financially from your unusual appearance!
The trouble with going viral is that it doesn’t last. Competing in the fast-paced world of internet stardom takes a lot of effort. I started experimenting with other things - YouTube shorts, TikTok, Instagram, pretty much anything going. The format that turned out to work best was actually TikTok. I’d bought some skimpy outfits and did ridiculous little dances. I quickly reached over a thousand views per video, and while I wasn’t up to their creator tier, it still worked. A well-known cosmetics company asked to sponsor my videos.
Cosmetics! Me! I guess they were going for woke points or something. I didn’t care, they offered me more money than I knew what to do with, as long as my views stayed high. So I started making 2-minute videos. A dance without make-up, then I applied the make-up - being sure to show the brand name clear and up-close - and then the same dance with make-up. If this is ringing any bells with you, then yes - that was me. And no, stupid - that’s not my real name.
I’d got used to undesired attention of course. Along with the unpleasant comments, I got my fair share of unwelcome male approaches. For a few hours after any upload, about half of my DMs were from men, and some women (or men with female account names), asking to see more of me. I wasn’t a camgirl, though I suppose I wasn’t a million miles away from one; but I could have been. I did seriously consider it a few times, but never actually followed through.
And half of the rest of my DMs, and a good portion of the public comments, were from angry women. What made me think I had the right to show off like that? How could I bring their favourite cosmetics brand into disrepute? But I’ve got pretty thick skin (hey, I can make that joke, you can’t), and mostly laughed the comments off and ignored them.
That was, in hindsight, a mistake.
By September my uni was reopening for in-person teaching. I was working six or seven hours a day just to keep up with everything, and had a couple more brands sponsoring me. Being an influencer isn’t just about filming for ten minutes a day and watching the money come in!
So I was going to tutorials an hour a day, watching video lectures at 2x speed, and ignoring my assignments in favour of making videos and replying to messages. It’s not like my pointless degree was helping with my real job.
Okay fine. It was geology. Rocks and stuff. You happy now? I bet you can’t tell the difference between sylvite and carnallite just by licking it, can you?
Anyway, the point is I came close to being chucked out. Actually I had to repeat the second year. At least I could afford it.
So anyway, I somehow got through to the end of my second year, the end of my second year again, and part way through my third year. I was passing my exams - just - and through several reinventions I had managed to maintain my social influencer role. Last Autumn I was getting some good views, and cash, back on YouTube. I was getting pretty good at make-up (I had an exclusive deal with one company on TikTok, and another deal with a different cosmetics company on YouTube). The videos that did well then were me with experimental hairstyles and not much in the way of clothes, putting on makeup for a few minutes, then reading out-of-copyright fiction in my patented “YouTube voice”. If you can imagine a cross between Shania Twain and Marge Simpson then… well, then you’re weird, but you’ve pretty much got it.
Then, last December, a week or so before the Christmas holidays, I went out with my friends. I had made a decent number, both girls and guys, by then. I could never quite tell whether it was my personality (which I assure you is fantastic), my influencer status, or the cash I was liberal with (it always seemed to be my round, and I didn’t mind). There were even a couple of boys who were keen on me, though I hadn’t done anything about it yet. Eight of us went out together to celebrate a birthday. It wasn’t actually anybody’s birthday that day, but Shireen had a Christmas Day birthday, and she wanted a proper party.
Now I look quite different in real life than I do online. I think the technical term is “frumpy” - jeans, trainers, fluffy jumper and a hat, or maybe a hoodie. The birthday girl had somehow convinced me to put a bit more effort in, and had helped me pick out some heels and a knee-length silver dress. Make-up was easy for me of course, and so I got dressed up and off we went to the Black Swan.
The Black Swan has several great qualities about it. One: it’s cheap. Two: it does good food. Three: it’s a couple of hundred metres from The Bar. We had a decent meal, a few drinks, and around 9 we walked to The Bar.
To be more precise, they walked. I wobbled. If you’ve watched my videos you might have seen me in heels, but did you ever see me walk in them? Didn’t think so.
The Bar is open til 3 in the morning. It looks respectable enough from the outside, especially in the afternoon; but after about 11, when most pubs close, it fills up with students drinking expensive-looking drinks. And almost every night, somebody jumps up onto a table, and then everybody’s up there dancing. In The Bar, either you hold your drink tightly, or you lose it.
I’d done this before, and I can handle my alcohol. I’ve stayed at The Bar till chuckout more than a few times, and I’ve been wobbly on the way home, but I’ve never thrown up or passed out. And so I was surprised when I woke up. The last thing I remembered was Stu saying he was tired, and Shireen replying that it wasn’t even midnight yet. Now I was lying on the hard wooden floor of my living room.
My head pounded. Daylight streamed through the window, and I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes. My hands were wet and sticky.
I looked at them. They were covered in blood.
I looked down. My heels were across the room, but I was still wearing my dress. It, also, was covered in blood, a huge stain across the chest.
Panic set in. What happened to me last night? I checked myself out and could find no injuries. Where did the blood come from?
Standing up, I realised it was worse than that. Red pools stained the wooden floor. I don’t know much medicine, but if somebody had lost this much blood, I couldn’t see how they could have survived.
I stood up, unsure whether my shaking was from the shock or the alcohol. This was when I saw a shirt on the floor behind me. White, with a subtle pattern. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that it wasn’t my shirt. I lived alone, and rarely invited people back to my flat. I looked around some more. A pair of men’s black leather shoes by the door. And then I saw it.
I suppose, rather, I should say him. He was naked except for a pair of dark blue jeans, slumped in the open doorway to the kitchen, covered in blood, and very, very, dead.
I panicked then. I’m calmer now, so let’s take a moment to describe my conclusions that morning. I had got very drunk. I had met a guy. We’d come back to my flat. We’d been getting naked (the shoes and shirt weren’t bloodied). Then, for some reason, we’d had an argument or a fight. The body had stab wounds in the chest, and a pool of blood had congealed onto the wooden floor of the living room and the linoleum of the kitchen where the man collapsed. How did those stab wounds get there? I didn’t know for sure, but a quick glance at my kitchen counter showed that my sharp carving knife was missing. It was all coming together. I didn’t know if he had picked up the knife, or if I had; I didn’t know why either of us would do that. I didn’t even know his name, and later when I checked his pockets, I couldn’t find any ID.
There was a lot I didn’t know. But I’m smart. So once I was done crying on the floor (I think it was about two hours), I came up with a plan. This man was dead, and I couldn’t do anything about that. But what would the consequences be? There’s no need for my life to be ruined as well. I decided not to call the police. People go missing mysteriously all the time, he can just be another statistic and I’ll get on with my life.
The blood on Dave was mostly dry by now. (Sure, I didn’t know his name, but every bloke’s called Dave, right?) So I put a badly-fitting vest on him to soak up the remaining blood, and his shirt over the top, along with his shoes. His jeans were bloody, but they were dark, so hopefully it wouldn’t show up in low light. I couldn’t find his coat, which was odd given how cold it was, but this would have to do. I put my dress and heels in a plastic bag, and grabbed a spade that I never used. Had I missed anything?
The knife. The fucking knife. I searched all over for it, but by the time it got dark I still hadn’t found it. I knew I couldn’t delay for long, so I figured it was best to deal with Dave now, and find the knife later.
Eight o’clock in the evening came. I’m lucky I have parking right outside my house, no street cameras, and a ground-floor flat. I put the bag in the boot of my car and came back for the body.
Have you ever tried to move a dead person? It’s not easy, and I’m not exactly strong. I put my arm around his waist and eventually managed to heave him almost upright. “Come on Dave, that’s it. We’re gonna get you home. Maybe calm down on the tequila next time right? Try to keep it in, and don’t you dare vomit in my car, you sexy bastard.”
Oh come on, what do you want from me? I’m an influencer, not a stand-up comedian. And anyway, I don’t think anybody saw me during the several minutes it took to drag Dave to the passenger seat. I really wish I’d got round to buying a bigger car than the Fiat Punto I’d had since I was 18, but it was too late for that now.
There’s a place about an hour’s drive from me called Epping Forest. The Heritage Trust reckon it’s most famous for its huge tracts of unspoiled wildlife, thousands of trees, and Iron Age settlements. But around here it’s best known as the place where murderers and gang members bury bodies. So off I trundled in my 1.2 litre pensioner-mobile. I arrived around 9:30, checked Google Maps, and drove offroad into the woods.
Do you know how long it takes to dig a grave? The answer is: a long time! By dawn I’d only managed a hole about two feet. Oh, and it was my third try, because the first two times I found too much rock. Well, it would have to do. In went Dave, and I shovelled the ground back over him. I thought I could put my clothes in with him, but it was a shallow grave, and when the inevitable dog-walker finds it I didn’t want them linked back to me. I mean, there’s my DNA in there for sure, but let’s not make it too easy for them, right? So I chucked the spade in a river, and the clothes went back home with me, including the vest I’d lent him.
Now in England we have a thing called ANPR everywhere. The police can just type in a car registration and see exactly where it’s been from traffic cameras. I needed an alibi. Why had I gone to Epping Forest? For a hike of course! So I walked around for a few hours, got breakfast at a pub, and told the staff about all the wacky adventures I’d had that night. And while I was there, for the first time in a good long time, I checked my phone.
Hundreds of messages, of course. But only one sent a shiver down my spine.
Jolly_Gal_56234
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID
My heart thumped. My ears started ringing. I felt dizzy, nearly passed out. How could anybody know?
Of course nobody knew. I actually got messages like this fairly often. Just some idiot trying to wind people up. They’d probably sent a dozen messages just like it, to random people, and I just blocked her. Still it rattled me. I finished my breakfast, paid up, walked back to my car, and drove home.
My flat was just as I left it. Dave was gone, but his blood was still there. I scrubbed the floor for hours, and it helped a bit, but you could still see the stains. Exhausted, I showered and went to bed.
The next morning I woke up. I hadn’t posted anything for a day and a half, so I needed to do something about that. Scrolling through my messages, one stood out like a police light.
Jolly_Gal_28473
YOU’VE BEEN A BAD GIRL 🔪
Shit. SHIT! What the fuck is going on? I stared at my phone, paralysed with indecision. When I finally snapped out of it I made sure the door was locked, and tried to come up with a plan.
I had no idea who was sending these. Maybe they didn’t really know anything. You send stupid messages like that to hundreds of people, you’re gonna come across one who’s actually done something bad, right? I poured myself a big glass of gin, decided that nobody could know anything, and made a video.
Remember that one where I didn’t speak at all, just danced for three minutes dressed like 90s Britney to 70s disco music, titled “HANGOVER DANCE”? Yeah, that’s the one. I didn’t trust myself to speak without breaking, but I could dance about as well as I ever could.
The rest of the day I answered messages, emailed my sponsors, and considered getting an agent. It’s still just me doing everything, and that Sunday afternoon, I really didn’t want to. I also spent a few hours scrubbing the wooden floor with baking soda and vinegar, and looking for the knife.
I kept getting messages from Jolly_Gal. It didn’t matter how much I blocked her, she just popped up again the next day with different numbers at the end of her username. Always all-caps, just a single sentence.
YOU DON’T DESERVE IT
YOU’LL GET WHAT’S COMING TO YOU
OWN UP
DELETE YOUR ACCOUNT
Exactly one message a day, but always at different times. I decided it was a bot, and it was just coincidence that it started when it did. Until Christmas Day.
I’d been back at my parents’ for a few days, and endured the usual conversations about what I was going to do for a “proper job” after uni. They’re great, and really supportive. They’ve just never understood what an “influencer” really is, and that “playing on my phone” for six hours a day counts as work. My brother Rich gets it, but the rest of my family is honestly baffled.
Anyway, Christmas morning comes. All four of us were in the house together (my brother’s 17 so he still lives there), and we gathered together in the living room opening presents. It was a couple of weeks since the incident, and I still had nightmares every night, and those sudden panic attacks - you know, when you’re sure you’re going to be found out - but I was getting used to it. It had happened, I couldn’t change it, and I’d have to keep it secret for the rest of my life; but it was becoming a sort of background hum. I don’t know if that’s too quick, but I suppose I’ve learned to handle difficulty in my life.
Until we finished opening presents and I checked my phone.
Jolly_Gal_814385
HAPPY CHRISTMAS
And underneath, a photo of my kitchen knife, stained with blood.
I ran out of the house in tears.
Rich found me, sitting on the wooden bridge down the road from the house, my legs dangling over the river. I came here a lot when I was a teenager, so it was the first place he looked. I’d left my phone on the living room floor, and the three of them had seen the message, so he knew what triggered me. He just didn’t know the full story.
Well, I told him. I mean, not everything, obviously. But I told him how this person had been harassing me for weeks. He listened sympathetically, like he’s always done, and asked if there was anything he could do to help. I didn’t say anything; I just turned around, hugged him, and cried into his Christmas sweater.
After about half an hour we went back to the house. Rich explained things to my parents, thank goodness. I don’t think I could have handled it.
The rest of the holiday was … okay, I guess. More messages from Jolly_Gal, but only text. I made videos most days, and met all two of my old schoolfriends for drinks, movies and shopping. They’re big fans of my channels. I even took Rich out for drinks one evening, though it took us four pubs to find somewhere that wouldn’t ID him. He’s a bit of a babyface.
I did all I could not to think about Dave. I put him to the back of my mind, letting him live in the shed at the bottom of the garden of my psyche where he couldn’t disturb me. I guess that’s why it came as a shock to me, when I packed my stuff into the boot of my car to head back to uni.
There was one suitcase I’d packed but hadn’t got round to taking into the house. And peeking around the edge was that plastic bag. I’d forgotten to get rid of it!
Dad was helping me load the car, so I couldn’t do anything about it. I tucked it out of sight, finished loading up, said goodbye, and drove back to uni. It was dark when I got back, so I unpacked everything else, triple-bagged my bloody clothes, left my phone at home (no tracking me!), and walked two miles to drop them into somebody else’s wheelie bin.
The next morning I checked my messages.
Jolly_Gal_12592
WELCOME HOME
And a photo of me dumping the bag the night before.
You know what? This didn’t bother me. I mean, it did bother me, but not as much as I guess Jolly_Gal hoped. I’ve been bullied and harassed most of my life, and I’ve got pretty good at ignoring it. Sure, it was an escalation - she was actually following me - but it was just one of almost thirty messages. Jolly_Gal was hoping to destroy me. Instead, she hardened my resolve.
Clearly she had enough evidence to go to the police, but she hadn’t. And obviously she lived nearby. Now I’m no hacker, but you don’t do a job like mine without learning your way around technology. So I started sleuthing. I hadn’t bothered blocking her after the third or fourth message, so I made a list of all the messages, including timecodes. I’ve got a geology degree (almost), and we have techniques to analyse rock strata. Finally I had a genuine use for all that studying I sort of did!
Jolly_Gal was not as clever as she thought. She’d got sloppy. About half of her messages were sent at strange hours, on the hour. These were presumably posted by her bot. But the other messages were all sent between 7 and 8 am, or between 6 and 10 pm. So I guessed that she has a normal 9-5 day job, or maybe she’s a student.
Next I searched all the social media sites I could think of for Jolly_Gal or JollyGal usernames. There are a few, so please don’t go harassing people with that username! I don’t want innocent people to get hurt. After a few hours I had profiles of all Jolly_Gals. Pictures, locations, partial travel history, even birthdays for some of them. I discounted those who clearly weren’t in England, but I still had too many to narrow it down. The photos had no EXIF data so I couldn’t tell the type of phone or camera they used.
So my days became something like this: Five hours doing uni stuff, five hours working on my socials, and an hour or two learning digital sleuthing. I still went out with my friends sometimes, but made sure not to drink too much. I know how to have a good time without being drunk!
The breakthrough came by total chance. I rarely read the local papers, and just got lucky one afternoon in March. I was waiting for a friend in the pub after lectures, and there was a copy of the Post somebody had left on a table. So I flicked through it. The local council was rubbish at doing traffic. Some group of OAPS was organising a May Day celebration. And a woman had been convicted of body-snatching.
I recognised her! There was a photo of a woman in her early twenties. She’d been arrested when a corpse went missing back in December, and they’d seen her take it on the morgue’s CCTV. She’d been released on bail. “Prevention of the lawful and decent burial of a dead body” is a rare crime these days, so she hadn’t been sentenced yet; instead she was released until her sentencing, expected to be in August. Her name was Jenny Smith, which is so common as to be almost useless - that is, if you don’t have a profile of her on your laptop at home!
The report also gave her address. So I started hatching a plan. I texted my friend that I wouldn’t make it, and went home.
Jolly_Gal, or rather, Jenny, lived near me, and actually went to the same university. She had accounts on Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, Twitter, and a few others. Of course you can’t get Jolly_Gal by itself these days, but my profile gave all her precise usernames. I spent my evening watching her videos and reading her tweets. And then I found the smoking gun.
Jenny had posted a video on TikTok last June bitching about me. She’s way prettier than me, and yet I’d got all the subs and follows. She deserved all those sponsorship deals. It wasn’t fair that I had hundreds of thousands of subs and she only had a few thousand. She even said I was ugly and deserved to die.
Well, she got one out of two right, I guess. You can decide which one.
It all started to slot into place. Jenny was absurdly jealous of me, so she’d hatched a plan to destroy me. She must have roofied me in The Bar, got me and Dave back to my place, stabbed him, poured blood everywhere, and taken the knife home. I mean, I don’t know anything about forensic science, and I was drugged and panicked when I woke up that morning. I’d have no way of knowing that Dave had died days before he ended up in my flat!
I’d never managed to get all the blood out of the wooden flooring, and ended up putting a really misplaced rug over it. I chiselled off a sample and gave it to one of my friends who was doing a PhD in biology. It took a bit of persuading, but he ran an analysis on it.
It was pig’s blood.
Fuck Jenny. She’s not Jenny, or Jolly_Gal, she’s fucking Carrie!
She planned to destroy me. She ruined my mental health, she framed me for murder. All because I was more popular on TikTok than she was. Well, two can play at that game. I didn’t deserve what Jenny did to me. She did.
I thought about this all night, coming up with plan after plan, weighing them in my head. I wanted two things: to destroy Jenny, and to feel good about it for myself. Finally I had a course of action I’m actually rather proud of.
I decided to start slow. I did something anybody could have done - I mocked up a poster. At the top was “Jenny Smith - body snatcher!”. Underneath were two pictures, her Insta profile pic and the courthouse photo from the paper, and between them: “From This … To This!” And all her various social media handles to top it off. I printed hundreds of these, and pinned them all around the university and her street.
I’ve never thought of myself as an unkind person - God knows I’ve suffered enough myself to be sympathetic to others. But I’m willing to admit I felt a lot of satisfaction seeing her comments fill up with accusations and links to the online article. Jenny carried on making videos, but I could tell she was suffering. Good!
That was stage one. I had to up the ante for stage two. Jenny had covered me and my flat with pig’s blood, so I think we all know what’s coming next.
I pondered for a long time whether I should do it in the day or the night. But you know what they say - go big or go home. I scoped out her house for a while, and found out that she leaves her kitchen window, at the back of the house, open. Now I’m not the most athletic girl in the world, but I can be pretty determined when I want to be. So one night around 2 am I walked to her house - it’s only about half a mile - and climbed through the window.
I almost gave myself a heart attack when I knocked a glass over on the kitchen sink! Luckily it didn’t smash. I hid in a corner and waited for a full half hour before I decided Jenny hadn’t heard me. Then I snuck upstairs, slow as anything, and crept into her room.
Actually, the first room wasn’t hers. She shared with a couple of other students. Thank fuck I checked first! The second room was the right one. She was asleep, alone, in a double bed. I was so quiet that the only thing I could hear was my heart pounding in my chest as I opened my canvas bag, gently deposited its contents onto the pillow next to her, and took a photo. It didn’t come out that well - I couldn’t use the flash - but hey, I have a souvenir!
I really wish I’d seen her face when she woke up the next morning, staring at a pig’s head. She didn’t post on her socials for a week after that, and for two days she even forgot to send me a threatening message.
I’m sorry? You think I’m done? Oh, my sweet summer child. I’ve barely begun.
Jenny had a boyfriend, Abdul. I made sure he wasn’t around when I broke in, but stage three involved him in a big way.
Abdul was also at our university, a year younger than me, a year older than Jenny. He wasn’t very active on social media, but he did tend to broadcast his activity on Twitter. And what do you know? He’s also a fan of The Bar. So I spent the next month planning my move. I bought a new clubbing dress and heels - hey, I kinda missed that outfit! - and asked around for the other thing I needed. Some things you can’t just buy in Next, or a local butcher’s, but eventually I managed it.
I got my chance one Friday in May. Abdul had loudly announced on Twitter that he was excited for his boys’ night out in The Bar, and Jenny had been gushing about a girls’ night on the whole other side of town. Perfect. I spent hours on my makeup, and got to The Bar around ten. Abdul and his mates were having a drinking contest, and leching up at the girls dancing on the tables.
I figured I had a good long while before he would be ready, so I had a couple of drinks - not too much, but like I said I can handle myself, and I knew Jenny wasn’t around - and got up on the tables myself for a bit. Then about midnight Abdul’s friend got another round in, while Abdul was in the loo. This was my chance. I walked up to their table - which had no dancing feet on it, but a heck of a lot of spilled beer - and started talking to them, saying I thought their friend was hot.
“Uh, what the fuck?” “Not a chance in hell.” “Get lost, freak!”
Lovely chaps. But they were too far gone to notice me dropping something into Abdul’s double-whiskey-and-coke. For all I know, it’s the exact same thing Jenny used on me all those months ago.
Abdul came back and downed his whiskey in one gulp. I was worried he was going to vomit it up, but he held it in and blamed his difficulty on the coke fizz. Yeah mate, sure, sure.
Not too long after, he started to fade. His friends were really taking the piss out of him for being such a lightweight. Well, when I came over, the pisstaking just got worse. I introduced myself (with a fake name, duh) and told him he was hot. Believe it or not, it was only about twenty seconds before he put his tongue down my throat. Wow, I’m not sure I even needed to bother with the roofie!
His friends, who had been so intent on being mean to me, now turned their attention to him. I suggested we ditch them and go back to his place (I’d checked, it was only five minutes’ walk sober) - and off we went.
That was the first time I had sex. I’m sure I don’t need to go into details, but we did a lot of stuff, and I enjoyed it. I’m not sure if that’s because it was good, or because he was good, or because I knew what it was all for. I was impressed that he managed to keep going as long as he did in his state, but I do feel a bit sorry for him; from his Twitter he seems like a decent guy.
When he finally fell asleep I left. I’d got what I came for - pictures. And the next day I made a new account and sent a DM to Jenny.
At first I blurred my face, or chose shots that didn’t include it. A bit of editing and I could have been anybody. I watched their messy breakup on Twitter, Jenny hurling accusations, Abdul protesting his innocence. I know this is the age of social media, but I never understood why people play these things out in public.
And then, after posting a picture a day for a few weeks (I’d taken a lot of pictures), I sent one that showed my face clearly.
Jenny had managed to restrain herself from replying before, but now she knew who I was. She was furious! The very idea that her boyfriend had cheated on her with ME, of all people, was unbelievable. And this was exactly the outcome I’d been going for.
Jolly_Gal was broken. She’d ruined her reputation. She’d lost her boyfriend. She had nightmares about pigs (okay, so I don’t know that for certain, but in my imagination she woke up screaming every night). She was possibly going to prison. And now she knew that not only was I more successful than her as an influencer, but I was the one to steal her lover. She still sent messages, at first angry, but they soon degenerated into pleading. “Please stop.” “I’m sorry.” “We can work this out.” Jolly_Gal without CAPS LOCK, it was glorious to see.
In fact it was almost perfect. Three stages of my plan were complete, and only one remained. Jenny’s sentencing was in three weeks, so I had to move quickly.
She had two flatmates, so I needed to work around them. They weren’t particularly active on Twitter, but Jenny was. I knew from her tweets that while her flatmates had gone home, she was staying on a couple of weeks after the end of term. She didn’t say why publicly, but it was for her trial. No flatmates, no boyfriend. Now was the time.
And that brings us up to date. I’ve typed this up over the last few days, and saved as a draft. The final chapter, hopefully, comes tonight.
*******
I’m at Jenny’s house, and I’ve just called the police.
I turned up at Jenny’s door just after seven. Luck was with me - she’d tweeted that she was expecting a Deliveroo takeout. And I got there first.
The idiot actually kept the knife. I’d seen it when I was in her room. When she answered the doorbell, expecting food, and saw me - ah, the look on her face was priceless.
“I’m so sorry! Please, let’s just talk. I didn’t mean it to get this -”
I stalked towards her, anger in my face. Jenny fled upstairs. Perfect! She went into her room and shut the door, but I was like the furies of Greek legend. I smashed the door in, and looked on as Jenny cowered on her bed.
In full daylight, I saw the knife took pride of place in what looked like a shrine. She had photos of me printed out, and she’d written on them “BITCH”, “WHORE”, “FREAK” and all sorts of other hateful words.
Jenny had tried to make me into a murderer, so I gave her what she wanted. I grabbed the knife and stood over her. The coward shrank into the bed, begging for forgiveness, pleading for her life. Unfortunately for her I was not inclined to oblige. I plunged the knife into her chest, just as she had done to Dave all those many months ago. Jenny whimpered like a whipped dog, and after the ninth stab (yes, I counted), she stopped.
The police are on their way. I’m definitely going to jail after this. But Jenny got what was coming to her. We could both have lived happily, but Jenny chose otherwise.
And me? I passed my degree. I have friends. And jail or not, I have a life.
Burn in hell, Jolly_Gal.

I've struggled with OCD for as long as I can remember and was only recently diagnosed. My whole life I've prided myself on being "natural" about my beauty. Never dying my hair, getting surgeries, eyelash extensions etc etc. Like, as if the universe was saying, "that's for other girls. Not for you. It would only mess things up permanently if you did them. Bad things will happen and you will be punished for not being grateful for what you have/trying to change it." I'm not a model or anything extravagant beautywise by any means; but I've been complimented on being naturally pretty and cute so I feel I've focused on that my whole life and upholding that to please others and deserve love. That people love me because of this so I better not mess it up.
I want to preface by saying I celebrate othe women getting things done and doing what makes them feel beautiful. I don't have any moral issues with any of these things; only when it pertains to myself. All other women get a pass; the universe just excludes me in that. I also want to note, I have no issue with me aging and wrinkles etc. I think aging is a privilege and would like do so naturally...again it's more of it happening suddenly or through a dumb mistake I've made.
So, I lived that way until I was 29. I was fed up with this judgemental thing on my shoulder and wanted to experience things other girls were doing to make them feel pretty. I was done with the fear.
I got balayage which turned out great. I loved it so thought "ok, see...this isnt bad. This thing has been lying to you this whole time." But then, slowly, decisions I made would slowly change my appearance. The ever slight change would send me spiraling, giving me body (face) dysmorphia. When I looked in the mirror, it didn't feel like me and it was scary. Here are a list of things that I did and still grapple with the outcome off and on today (at 35 years old):

1. Got my eyebrows threaded. Lady misheard me and removed too much from the top. My once beautiful, full brows now looked odd. They slowly grew back after years but are more sparse.
   
2. Dentist smoothed out my top and bottom incisors as the enamel was thinning and I thought he took too much off. I have beautiful, seemingly perfect teeth before and have hated them ever since.
   
3. Had my hair dyed more blonde all the way to the root (wanted to keep my roots virgin). I feel it changed my hair texture permanently even after it grew completely out.
   
4. Had very small amount of botox put in my forehead for migraines once. Feel it permanently messed up my nerves. Hated how it didn't look like MY face.
   
5. Used hair growth chemicals on eyebrows (due to the threading incident) that I feel aged my face permanently.
   
6. Used a night gaurd too large for me to close my mouth that the TMJ specialist made and it permanently stretched out my face after one night.
   

The list goes on but these are the main ones. To note, family/ friends have not been able to notice any of these changes when they happened but of course my mind tells me "they are trying to be nice and not hurt your feelings". Every now and then I hyperfocus on one of these for a few weeks. Obsessively. Constantly checking old photos to see how that part of my face looked. Rechecking in the mirror for confirmation. Looking up the worst possible scenarios online. Anytime someone pays me a compliment or tells me how beautiful I am, I always think "you should have seen me before I permanently ruined my face" or "I wonder how pretty I would be if I never did xyz". I've contemplated ending my life if it doesn't go back to the way it was during some of these episodes.
I do think I'm pretty and am trying to work on loving myself more, extending more grace, and letting things go. But, I have stopped looking at pictures of myself. My bf loves taking pictures of me, and I allow him under the condition he does not show it to me. I'm just not happy with myself and I'm sick of comparing to my "before" self. Any time I start to get comfortable with myself again....another thing happens and I obsess over that. It's sickening. My family is sick of it. My partners have been sick of it. And I completely understand. It doesn't matter what anyone tells me....I believe I know best and have done all the research to know that my face is permanently messed up. I'm starting ERP now so I'm hoping to get this figured out.
Have any of you been through something like this? Am I alone in this? How can I stop this....stop living in fear of each new thing and any small choice??

Story These Stories Will Tie Into
I really hope you know what your getting into, reading this. Never thought I’d be the kind who kept a journal but I’ve finally been convinced so here we are. Oh, and I just hope this ends up in your hands at some point Baelen, you’d be surprised how much you don’t know about me. and, if for some reason you’re reading this and you don’t know who that is just wait, we’ll get there eventually.
But where to begin? Introductions I suppose, some people have called me the devil and while I hardly deserve it I can see why. I’m not the devil if your wondering, I might’ve met him…her…it? Whatever I met I’d certainly call it the devil, dresses in red, absolutely sinister aura about them, and constantly looking to make a deal you just cant refuse. Seems to fit the bill if you ask me.
Enough about that though, I’m supposed to be writing about me. I may not be the devil but I am a vampire and an old one at that. People always balk at that word, vampire. If I had to guess I’d blame the movies and books that have been written about us over the years. I’ll admit theres some truth to them but they like to romanticize things. Take sunlight for example, sure its not pleasant but its not going to kill me any faster than it’s going to kill a ginger. But the sunlight does have adverse effects on the more supernatural things a vampire such as myself can do. I’d guess thats where the myth that sunlight will burn us started but its far from the truth.
The other side to romanticizing vampires is that these days some people want to be us. There was one book in particular I blame for that, I’m sure you can guess which one. I promise the process isn’t that pleasant though, most of the time a person would just end up a thrall to the bloodlust that will surely overtake them. Sometimes they just die outright or remain dormant for days, even weeks at a time before suddenly snapping. Sometimes the process works and they get over the initial bloodlust, then you end up with a true vampire such as myself but thats not exactly a common occurrence.
I shouldn’t go on about the ins and outs of vampirism though, it’s a journal not a book on our physiology. But what do people write in journals, a story perhaps? Well how about the story of how I ended up the way I am now, that should keep any of those Chimera zealots that stumble across this entertained. It all started around 1350 and yes, that would make me over 600 years old. Greatly extended lifespans are one of there perks of my condition.
The bubonic plague had torn through most of Europe giving honest and self proclaimed doctors alike a now essential place in the world. I was a young man in Paris at the time, working for one Doctor Henry Conrad delivering his “cures” to the people. While I can’t speak for the legitimacy of the treatments he offered they gave people some hope in a dark time at the very least. I also happened to have a rebellious streak so when that very same doctor ordered me to steal from yet another doctor, I jumped at the chance. It wasn’t the first time I’d done less than legal things for Conrad, I loved the thrill of it back then. This Doctor Archer I was to steal from had apparently developed his own bootlegged cure to the plague. Naturally, the good Doctor Conrad wanted it for himself and the duty of retrieving his notes and “cure” fell to me, Jacob.
I’ve never had any use of a last name, never knew my parents and grew up an urchin on the streets so I always simply went by Jacob. Now doctors held a very high place in society at the time and the field of medicine was finally really coming into its own. It wasn’t uncommon to have guards stationed at the homes of well known doctors, even more locally known ones like Archer. So I found it strange when I arrived at the address Conrad had given me and found it utterly bereft of any sort of guard. Even the house I’d arrived at seemed dilapidated and misused, as if no one had lived there in a very long time. In hindsight I don’t think anyone had “lived” there in a long time after all.
As I crept through the fallen beams that had once been a doorframe I thought back to the street I’d traveled down. Hadn’t it been just a little more lively when I’d walked the street before? The plague had taken its toll on the city so it wasn’t all posh shoppes (I do so loathe that word these days) like it has become in modern times. Still, there was usually more life to be seen on the street than a stray rodent picking through piles of trash and other unmentionables in search of an easy meal. I shook these thoughts from me head as I walked deeper into the corpse of a building. All around me were the creaks and groans of wood that could splinter and collapse at any moment but none of that concerned me. I was still at that age where I felt invincible, like nothing could ever possibly hurt me.
If nothing else I was reasonably certain the dilapidated house was a former residence of Doctor Archer. Medical equipment was scattered around the house and there were several books that contained hastily scribbled notes. These notes did contain worrying phrases such as, “The answer lies in the blood”, “The patients lie still but healthy”, and “My results are inconclusive, I shall test the improved mixture on myself for further study”. I truly did believe that Conrad had given me a less than recent address or perhaps received bad information altogether. That all changed when I heard banging coming from somewhere near my feet.
“Help Us! PLEASE! IT’S BOILING INSIDE”
Screamed several disjointed muffled voices as the banging grew louder. My heart climbed its way into my throat as I threw rubble and notes alike all over the floor in a frantic search for the source of the noise. Just as suddenly as it began it was cut off by a metallic clang and the sound of metal scraping on metal. The sudden silence was almost louder than the screams that had preceded it. I dropped to my knees, surprise quickly turning to gut wrenching fear. There came one final bang from the floor and this time I saw its source, a small trap door hidden under bits of the ruined doorframe. The door was bound shut with a latch but had a gap just wide enough to let me see a hand lash out, reaching for some means of escape. The hand was brutalized and was missing its thumb. The wound looked like it had been caused by something physically tearing the thumb from the rest of the hand. But just as quickly as it had appeared it was dragged back into the darkness of whatever lay past that trap door. This was enough to shatter the childish notion that nothing here could hurt me. Something had attacked the owner of that hand. Surely they’d do the same to me if I investigated any further. I turned and ran, ran all the way back to Conrad and informed him of the situation.
“Not possible, That address was given by one of the mans own patients. He couldn’t have moved that quickly and the building couldn’t have deteriorated that fast.”
Was his judgmental response.
“You must’ve gone to the wrong house, go back out and find me this cure he’s so convinced he’s found!”
“But I’m sure it was the house! I followed your directions to the letter!”
“Bah! I’ll go with you then! It’s becoming more and more evident to me you cant be trusted with the smallest task!”
Conrad yelled in reply, throwing his books to the ground and rushing to grab his mask to accompany me back to that miserable house.
While I had worked for Conrad for the better part of a year at that point I had no love for the man. He was harsh and didn’t truly care about me or his patients. The whole practice was simply a means to generate whatever profit he could, if people were helped as a result it was simply a coincidence. He often had outbursts like this and he constantly belittled me for each mistake I made. Most days I was convinced he only kept me around because it would take more effort than he was willing to spare to find a replacement. I had nothing better waiting for me anywhere in the world so I was forced to endure the abuse. I thought about simply walking out in the moment but ultimately I decided to accompany Conrad back to the address he’d been given.
The beak of Conrad’s mask cut a path through the rabble and rats as we made our way back out to the decrepit house. He was angry, I could tell from his stiff deliberate strides and judging by the expressions of the people we passed, so could they. But when we finally arrived back at the collapsed doorframe that was once an entrance to Doctor Archer’s home that anger turned to confusion.
“But this must be it?!”
Conrad raged as he tore around the house in disbelief. I’d never seen him so distraught over anything before. Though I imagine losing his chance to get his hands on some miracle cure for the plague had something to do with it. Unfortunately for us both Conrad stumbled on the trapdoor as he rampaged around the small space that was once a room. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud but clambered back to his feet right away. Before a word could pass my lips he was lifting the latch and opening that horrible trapdoor the banging had come from earlier.
“Well, what’re you waiting for?! Go down there and find his cure!”
“I don’t know what it looks like! Please sir, Please…”
But thats all I got out before Conrad shoved me through the hatch with not so much as a “good luck”. Whatever room I’d fallen into was dark, only lit by a dim lantern lying just in front of where I’d fallen. I picked up the lantern as I got back to my feet, steadying myself with the wall. When my hand made contact with the wall I felt something warm, wet, and mildly sticky. The coppery scent I got as I drew my hand to my nose confirmed what I’d feared, it was blood.
The trail of blood lead down the wall to the cold floor and continued down the hall as it faded into the darkness. I was terrified but I had no option other than to move forward following the dark red path stained into the stone floor. The blood trail smeared over the walls and ceiling, apparently whoever this trail belonged to had been flung all over the hallway. Soon enough I found the unfortunate owner of all this blood. The corpse was bloated around the neck and pus still seeped out of several sores near the armpits. All these were signs of the plague but I doubted thats what caused the man’s death. One hand was missing, torn off by the looks of it. The stump was a ruined mess of bone, tendons, and gristle. The man’s other hand was clutching a knife that was embedded in his neck. Multiple wounds on his throat suggested he’d been stabbed at least eight times.
I stepped over the corpse and looked around the brutal scene, searching for anything that might tell me what exactly happened here. There wasn’t much in the room, just a table and a few chairs in various states of disrepair. I was about to move on when my eyes fell upon a blood soaked notebook. The blood had ruined much of what was written there but I could still make out some of it.
“… Man arrived today seeking treatment…. Drank the pus from my patient’s bloated boils… showed no signs of infection of any sort, claims… blood is the answer… mixed a solution with a sample of his blood, decided to test on patients… I have made a grave mistake the city will pay for m…”
The notebook abruptly cut off, words lost to bloodstained pages. It seemed to me that this cure was no cure at all but instead its own kind of plague. I walked deeper into the hidden catacombs beneath doctor Archer’s home. Each room featured a new monstrosity for me to behold. But I began to see injuries on several of the corpses that appeared to be the same, two puncture wounds to the neck that were surrounded by black veins. They didn’t seem to be cause by a knife or any sort of man made object. If anything it almost seemed like they were caused by fangs.
The further into these catacombs I moved the less I wanted to be here but I couldn’t turn around. Conrad wouldn’t allow me to leave without something to show for it so I pressed on. Eventually I reached a curve in the tunnels, I could see a dim light emanating from just beyond. I heard a voice as well, cracking but full of a mad joy. The voice carried with it an undeniable air of insanity.
“Cut, cut, cut the pretties all goes in the pot! Below you’ve come and below you’ll stay, below you all will rot!”
Sang the insane voice from just around the corner. Each pause in the song accompanied by a sickeningly wet squelching sound. I steeled myself before taking a step forward, then one more, and another. Before I knew it I had rounded the corner into a image that was conjured straight from the depths of hell.
A man I could only assume was Doctor Archer stood in the center of the room stirring a pot and wearing a filthy blood stained coat. He still wore his beaked mask as well but it was torn open on one side and I could just make out the flash of a sinister smile underneath. The pot was full of the mangled missing limbs from the various corpses I came across on my way here. Around the room hung more limbs still in various states of decomposition. But none of that held a candle to the twitching… thing laying on a table behind Archer.
I couldn’t call it human, not anymore, it had been mutilated beyond recognition. One of its arms had been removed at some point and it appeared to be slowly growing back from the bone out. It’s skull was nearly concave yet it still croaked out in pain. But above all that I could clearly see its sharp fangs poking out like bits of smashed eggshell. Fangs like that surely could’ve cause the wounds I’d seen on my way here but not in that state.
I was still frozen in the firelight from Archer’s cooking fire as he stopped his stirring and looked toward me.
“D.. doc… doctor?”
I stuttered out, nearly shaking with fear.
“The doctor yes! I was him, I AM HIM! The blood, the blood is the cure! Bite and scream and chase and splat!”
He cackled out in glee as he addressed me.
“The strong man came, came and showed me the cure!”
Archer laughed as he lifted a gore caked spoon from out of the pot and pointed to the brutalized figure on the table. I tried to piece everything he was saying together but the fear and the palpable tension his madness brought over the room made it difficult to think. When Archer suddenly lunged forward all I could do was cower and squeak as two razor sharp fangs revealed themselves from under his mask and plunged into the soft flesh of my neck.
I feel I should explain what exactly had happened to the unfortunate Doctor Archer before I continue with my story. I’m sure you could probably guess the man was afflicted with some kind of vampirism and you’d be correct, but its how he was infected that’s important. I was turned from his bite but a bite is not the only way vampirism is conferred. Any bodily fluids from a vampire could cause infection but saliva and blood are especially effective. Hence why most cases of one contracting vampirism come from bites where saliva mixes with the victims blood. This “strong man” laying on the table was none other than the visitor Archer had received earlier. That man had seemed immune to the plague because he too was a vampire. I don’t know why or how Archer got his hands on blood from this vampire but it was a mistake to use it in half baked “cures” for the plague.
Of course it worked… at first. In a few days the people he’d given vampire blood to either died or turned. He couldn’t tell the symptoms of a recently turned and bloodthirsty vampire from signs of the late stages of the plague and simply assumed his “cure” was a failure. At that point he’d already used his “cure” on himself as well but when he began to turn free from all supervision or restraints all hell broke lose. Despite my many years as a vampire I’m still not entirely certain how the specifics of our condition work. I do know that the longer we go without blood the more vicious and predatory we become as our own blood seems to boil. Drinking the blood of others helps calm the fire in our veins and so the cycle continues. But if a vampire were to drink the blood of another vampire the opposite occurs. The offending vampire’s blood boils stronger and stronger until they go feral with pain, or so I’m told I’ve never experienced it for myself. This I believe is what befell doctor Archer and what lead to the grizzly situation I found myself in that night. Now where were we?
The last thing I heard was Doctor Archer’s crazed growling as he tore at my throat but just before the light faded from my eyes I felt him withdraw and dart away, something had startled him. I felt sure these were my final moments as I embraced the icy darkness and allowed myself to fade away. Death never took me though, Instead I awoke to a scene of incredible violence. Doctor Archer was splayed out in-front of me, bound to a makeshift wooden cross. His guts hung out and his entrails spilled onto the floor in front of me. The man strapped to the table looked much better now, arm having regrown in its socket and while his skull was clearly damaged it looked nowhere near as bad as before. He sat In front of Archer holding a torch in one hand and a cleaver in the other.
Turning, I looked away from the two and passed my gaze over the rest of the room until my eyes fell upon the masked body of Conrad. He must’ve followed after me at some point, maybe thats what drew Archer away after he attacked me. Suddenly I felt an intense burning in my veins and a single desire clouded my mind. I don’t know why but I lurched towards the flayed body of Archer in front of me with speed I never knew I possessed. A lightning fast hand grabbed me before I even got close.
“NO! What do you think made him the way he is now child! If you must sate your hunger do so there.”
I heard the man say as the cleaver and torch clattered to the floor. The newly awoken bestial part of me understood what he meant. He must’ve sensed it too as he released me, allowing me to stalk towards Conrad’s crumpled form.
As I stalked forward the man picked up the torch and began setting fire to whatever he could in the room. I ignored him, instead I made my final approach toward my prey and pounced. The look in Conrad’s eyes, I’ll never forget it. The man wasn’t dead, not yet and he didn’t make a noise as I sunk my teeth into his neck a drained him of his life blood. Though he didn’t scream his eyes shown a mix of terror, shock, and bewilderment at seeing me in such a state. As the boiling in my veins subsided and my mind cleared the man approached me again, grabbing me by the collar of my now blood soaked shirt. He didn’t say a word to me as he carried me out of the room and placed me just outside the door before dropping the lit torch at his feet and closing himself inside.
As feeling came back to me I realized what I’d done, what I’d become. I ran through the halls till I found my way back to the trap door. All the while I expected to hear the screams of the burning men in the room now far behind me but all I was met with was indifferent silence. I crept back out into the night, into the crumbling house of the late Doctor Archer. I stayed there for a while, just thinking and waiting for the light of day to burn my curse away. Imagine my surprise when I found out that was all just a myth. As the sunlight washed over me I didn’t feel burning, at least not a burning like before. The burning I felt was more like a bad sunburn, unpleasant but not lethal. I found myself crying but I didn’t understand why at the moment.
Looking back I think a part of me understood the gravity of what had just happened even if my younger mind only knew life was about to change. I wandered the city for a few days trying to understand the changes occurring within me. It took maybe a month to get back to some semblance of normal and by then I looked like a plague victim myself. My skin had quickly gone deathly white from my newfound distain for sunlight, much more quickly than I would’ve guessed. I also have many gaps in my memory from that time. All I can recall between those gaps is the aftermath, waking up covered in blood an immediately beginning the search for new clothes. I did eventually get control of myself and haven’t experienced blackouts like that since Paris but I’m still not too fond of remembering those old days.
So that’s it, the story of how the vampire writing this journal came to be. I must admit its nice to have a record of these things. The longer I live the harder it is to grasp at the wisps of memory from so long ago. Perhaps I should tell the story behind what would eventually become Chimera here. Maybe it’ll give those agents or paper pushers something to think about when they end up having to read this, I’m sure this journal will find its way into their hands eventually. Not tonight though, I think one story is enough for now so farewell, may we meet again.