It is a man, old and scraggy. He wears a jacket that lays over the red plaid button shirt and blue jeans. He wears an old baseball cap and a pair of glasses. He yelled something to Dad, holding his hands up like he was pleading, although we couldn’t hear it over the truck engine. They talked, but we couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Hey, what are they saying”, I asked, while petting Matt’s hair, calming him. The old man then put his hands down and came close to Dad in a cautious way. They seem to start having some kind of conversation.
“I don’t really know, hopefully, something good”, Mom answered. They talked for a little while, with daylight beginning to disappear, giving us a sense of dread, and making me more worried about what weird creature was going to show up. Eventually, the old man turned and pointed toward what I think is the northeast. They then shook hands and walked back to their respective vehicles. “What’s going on”, Mom asked as Dad got into the truck.
“Well, our new friend here invited us to dinner at his farm”, Dad replied.
“Does he have supplies?”
“Well, he says has supplies for us to make the journey.”
“Should we even trust him? We just met h-”
“Relax, he’s just an old man, living alone at his farm, feeding his cows. What could go wrong”, Dad countered. The old man then entered the truck that was running and drove slowly, expecting us to follow him.
“Alrighty then, but we have to be cautious”, Mom said, with her suspicions of the old man. We then followed the old truck along the dark, frozen road. It just feels like something is going to show up along the road, but nothing happened. Matt did eventually stop crying, but he is still upset about the Joe escape thing.
“Where are we going”, Matt lamented, with the prior series of events in mind.
“I guess somebody is offering us dinner”, I answered.
“Why can’t we just go home?”
“It’s only going to be a stop, like a hotel. After that, we go to our new home, I guess”, I said, taking another look at Matt and cradling to comfort him. “It’s going to be okay.” I stared out into the darkness. I looked to the sky from the window and I faintly saw something in the clear, dark sky, lit up by the waning moon. They were brilliant, green auroras that defy the bright moon, dancing across the sky like ribbons in the wind. The truck eventually took a right-hand turn into another road, with us following suit. I can see a bright, orange light emerging from a patch of tree. When we passed by, it seemed it was a house, at a farm, burning in a massive flame.
“I guess those people aren’t so, uh, lucky”, Dad said, taking a quick look at it before looking at the road. Passing by, we went on and continued to follow the old man’s truck. We passed onto another intersection until he turned into a driveway to what I believe to be his farm. Going into the driveway, I can see an old house, along with a dilapidated farm further away, barely visible by the headlights. The old man parked by the house, where there were a few other trucks there. We parked alongside the truck and we got out into the cold, near-silent night.
“Welcome to sanctuary, where all are welcome”, the old man bellowed. This is the first time I’ve heard his voice. Matt was the last to get out of the truck, slowly and clumsily climbing out of the truck.
“What’s your name”, my Mom politely asked the old man.
“Oh, I guess your husband didn’t tell ya. My name is Steven, but you can call me Steve”, the old man said, with some crackling in his voice. “I am very proud to host a dinner for you and your family”, he continued. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Oh, my name is Janice”, Mom replied, quite pleased at his politeness.
“Hello, Janice, and what are their names”, Steven asked, pointing to me and Matt.
“That’s my daughter Kate and my son Matt”, Dad said to Mom.
“Oh, what wonderful names for a couple of beautiful children you have”, Steve grinned. “Come, it is dangerous out here.” We followed him to the house, which looked like it had seen better days. He entered through the double-set door, the first a solid door and a screen door behind. Entering the house, it smelled like what you’d expect, old man. Looking onto the floor is made of glossy wood and walls with cracks, likely caused by the earthquake. It is dark in there, lit by candlelight from many candles, yet it’s fairly warm here. I don’t know why we went into the house, but Dad was right, Steve is just a lonely, old man. Matter of fact, there seems to be nothing wrong here, other than the cracks in the walls. “Sorry, the power went out. Had to resort to the candles. I knew my wife would come in handy”, Steve explained as he took his coat off. “Oh, supper will be ready right away. Had to use the fireplace to cook. Also, can you take your boots off?” We took our boots and set them aside. We went into what seemed to be a living room, with dusty old-style furniture.
“So, where do we sit”, Mom asked.
“Oh, well, follow me”, Steve commanded, leading us to the dining room, with a long, wooden table and six wooden chairs, along with their corresponding old-fashioned plates, glasses and cutlery, lit up in the candlelight. We noticed that everything on the table was covered in a thin veil of dust. “My apologies, the recent shocks dropped a bit of dust on the table”, he explained as he noticed us looking at the plates and moved into another room nearby. “Take your seats if you like.” We all settled onto the chairs, and blew off our plates of the dust settled there.
“When will we eat”, Matt impatiently said.
“Once Steve comes out with the food”, Mom answered. Matt sat there with a tired look on his face. Dad seemed to be in a better mood than before and it looked like he wanted to start a conversation.
“Hey, should we talk about something”, Dad asked. I then see Steve with a bowl and a silver plate.
“Here we go, may not be much, but at least it’ll fulfil the soul”, Steve said, smiling when he served us mashed potatoes and meatloaf. “So, shall we pray?” That came unexpectedly, as we are not too religious, but we were in his house and gave us shelter and food.
“Sure, we can do that”, Mom said and we all bowed our heads and put our hands together. Steve cleared his throat
“Thank you, Lord, for this good food to feed the soul in these hard times. I shall pray, in the name of the Lord and Jesus Christ, that these hard times shall be over, so we can get on with our lives. Amen.” We raised our heads and grabbed whatever food there was onto our plates. “Oh, there’s no gravy, so we have to deal with bare potaters and meatloaf.”
“Oh, not to worry. Thank you for the food”, Dad thanked Steve. We began to eat the food once we got it sorted.
“So, what brings you here”, Steve asked.
“Well, there is an evacuation order in effect for this area, so we had to go to Regina”, Dad explained, with Steve taking in every word. “So, we came from Strasbourg, we tried going south towards Regina, but we hit an obstacle in the way and we had to take another route, leading us here.”
“And we encountered a few odd things along the way”, Mom added.
“Huh, interesting. What do you guys think is going on”, Steve inquired.
“By the things we saw, we have no idea. Dinosaurs, devil dogs, hell pigs, the whole deal. I shouldn’t forget the earthquake. They told us a pipeline leak caused by the earthquake”, Dad clarified to Steve.
“Hmm… is that so”, Steve wondered. “Wonder what I think is happening? The Rapture is happening. Do you know how the Bible tells us of the end times? Good people sent to be with God and his kingdom, the rest here to suffer the Hell unleashed by Satan.” By this point, he was beginning to rant, but we couldn't stop it as we all began to feel tired and powerless. “So, the Devil will send his demons in the form of these illusions so that they can torment the sinners. It is happening, it is-” Steve manically continued as I drew towards blackness and his voice becoming less coherent. My vision is now all black.
I saw those same lights, but more rapidly than before. I then emerged onto the same clear sky, but something felt different. I can smell something in the air. I can smell what seems to be chemicals in the air. Looking down, I was terrified. Dark, grey rock in the shape of ropes and folds, similar to those I saw of lava flows on a volcano in pictures. This went on as far as the eye could see. I can see no tree this time, just the cooled lava everywhere. I then walked, feeling every bump and crag. I thought I walked forever until I heard a rumbling sound and woke up.
I am in total darkness. It is cold and it smells like cow manure. I tried to move my hand, but it seemed to be bonded behind my back by a rope. I tried to move my feet, but they were also bound by rope to the legs I tried to speak, only to realise my mouth was agape by a cloth in my mouth. I heard shuffling nearby but I could not see. It was then shone in light when Steve entered the door, holding a candle, revealing all of us in the same situation. I then can see what we are in. We are in that same wooden dilapidated barn we saw earlier and seems to be more damaged than the house, wood creaking can be heard.
“These sedatives are more effective than I thought. Maybe I should use them more often”, Steve smoothly explained, like he’s some kind of agent and began pacing. “Wonder why you are here? Well, I wondered the same thing to myself, why didn’t God take me to his heaven? When I first heard of the government telling us of those evacuation plans, I thought it was that, a leaking pipe. I began to notice things I couldn’t believe myself, at least at first. Earthquakes, weird creatures showing up, people disappearing, the whole spiel. I connected the dots. The Rapture is happening, for sure, but why me? Why was I the one left here on this Earth”, Steve calmly ranted, pacing around the barn, but it seemed to sound crazier and angrier the more he paced. “I thought I had lost my way. I’ve been unfaithful to God and his son. But, I realised that God always has a plan and he left me on this Earth to serve a purpose. I wondered what my purpose was until I had a moment.” He then stopped in place and calmed down. He turned to look at Mom with accusing yet crazed eyes.
“I’m supposed to keep the sinners here in line, to earn a place in God’s kingdom, or suffer in Hell. I know you are a sweet woman, Janice, but your treachery with Satan is over and I am going to do what’s right.” Mom then looked at all of us, with assuring eyes like that of an innocent yet caring mother we all know knew. I began crying and trying to speak through the cloth, but I was helpless to watch by. “Forgive me, Father, for what I am going to do.” He then pulled a knife from his pocket and plunged it into Mom’s neck with no mercy. I looked away once he did that, trembling, with tears pouring out and my vision glazed and I fell limp. I could see my brother tearing up, but he did not look away. I can hear Dad behind me, with his screams of agony and anger covered by the cloth. It felt like I was in slow motion, taking in every moment.
I then heard the chair, screeching as Steve dragged the chair containing Mom’s lifeless body towards the door, leaving behind a trail of blood. I couldn’t bear to see my mother like this. I shut my eyes very hard and hoped it would go away. The door then shut, leaving us alone with a candle, fearing what would come next. I stared at the candle, seeing it dance in the flames like a woman dancing in the darkness. Is this how it’ll end, I thought. End up dying to this sick man? My Mom was killed in front of me. I sobbed with that thought, then I began to think about the inevitable death of me. I hope there’s something after I die. Maybe I’ll see Mom again.
It was silent for a while, nearly no sound other than our moans. Dad seems to be fidgeting at the back of his chair, rocking it slowly. Looking past him, I shuddered at the glistening pool of blood, where Mom was last alive, could be my fate. I then see Dad release his arms from the back of the chair and remove the cloth from his mouth. He silently stood up and bent down to untie his legs from the chair legs. He then went to me and removed my cloth.
“H-h-how did you do that”, I silently wept, fearing that Steve would show up at the door and kill us all.
“My binding is loose. The old man probably took a liking to me”, Dad whispered. “I should remove your binds.” He untied them, releasing me, doing the same for Matt. “Now, we need to be quiet.” We then walked, quietly, along the painfully creaking wood in the near dark, following the blood trail, glistening in the candlelight. We cringed and dreaded each sound we made and watched the door in case it began to creak open. A few silent steps later, we made it to the door and we slowly opened it so as not to make any noise. What was revealed to us is nothing new, other than the blood trail continuing in the snow directing towards the back of the barn. “Okay, Kate, Matt, you guys run to the truck.”
“What about you”, I sobbed.
“Don’t worry about me”, Dad responded, giving me his keys and forcing them into my hand. “If I’m not back in a few minutes, leave. Don’t look back, take care of your brother, okay? I love you, no matter what happens.” He then kissed me on the head and ran to follow the blood trail. We quickly walked towards the black truck, stranded there for maybe hours. Getting closer, freedom is getting closer. When we got to a fair distance to the truck, I heard footsteps behind me and, the next thing I knew, I was knocked over to the ground into the hard snow on my face. A hand turned me over to give me a glimpse of a crazed Steve, his eyes wilder than before.
“Oh, yes, trying to escape”, he bragged. I looked at him, frozen in fear, like a deer in headlights and he caressed my face with his bloodied blade. “You do have a pretty face, but I’m afraid you are just one of Satan's creations, made to pull me to lust.” He then raised his knife in the air when a familiar side emerged, out of the blue.
Joe came and bit him in the arm that was holding the knife. Steve screamed in agony the moment he realised what happened. He shook Joe off and stood up to stand his ground. I stood up as Joe hissed and walked around the crazed being he wounded, not in fear but in aggressiveness. “Is this one of your pets, demon”, Steve screamed as Joe came in for another attack, but Steve countered that with a slash to the snout. Joe then ran away, whining, into the darkness. This sequence of events gave me the chance to enter the truck on the driver’s side. I had some trouble starting it, besides this is my first time driving a truck.
Steve menacelily walked towards the when Dad came barreling and tackled him to the ground. Dad was on top when he went limp. I finally put the keys in the engine turned it on and backed out, with memory serving me the instructions on such a vehicle. Steve pushed Dad’s body and stood up, but by that time, we left the farm.
“Turn back, we have to get Dad”, Matt cried, but I was very emotional, accepting what happened. I felt that, without my parents, I feel… useless.
“Dad’s dead”, I screamed at Matt and he began gagging uncontrollably in tears. I began to feel sorry for him. “Sorry, I, I don’t know.”
“It’s okay”, Matt sniffled. “I guess Mom and Dad are dead anyways.” It was silence for a few more minutes, tears welling in our eyes.
“Hey, our parents are in a better place”, I said, trying to make the situation positive.
“But we are stuck here, without them? Don’t we deserve to go to a better place?”
“Don’t say that”, I huffed and I paused for a bit. “I know we are in the, uh, right place now. Let me tell you something, once we get to Regina, I will take care of you, no matter what life throws at us.”
“What about Joe”, Matt asked.
“He’ll be fine. He probably found his girlfriend already.”
“Hey, don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“I, uh, I don’t have one. That I know of”, I spoke, bringing me back to Sam, remembering that she’s the only friend that I ever knew, and I left her. Without her, I felt alone, no one would ever relate. I began to tear up. “I don’t have any friends. I am alone,” I sobbed.
“What do you mean? I’m your brother!” I looked at Matt, and smiled, happy that he acknowledged that we were in this together.
“Thank you”, I thanked him. I slowly stopped on the road, just to hug Matt hard, crying my eyes out. We then heard what sounded like an elephant in front of us. We looked up to see a walking snow-covered brown fur wall with four pillar-like legs in front of us. Its curved tusks gleaned in the light and the eyes reflected in the light. The furry trunk waved around like a searching snake from a tree. We both knew what it was.
“Hey, look at that, a woolly mammoth”, Matt said, excitement running through him. At this point, we weren’t surprised.
“Yep, that is a woolly mammoth”, I added. The mammoth turned to us on the road, seemingly confused about where it was. It looked at our truck and seemed to growl, like an elephant. We are starting to realise this thing is becoming aggressive.
“Uh, should we move”, Matt asked. I remembered hearing something about standing your ground in case of an encounter with an elephant. I hoped it would work for a bigger, furrier version of one.
“No, we have to stand our ground.”
“But, it’ll attack u-”
“Trust me!” I then honked my horn and it backed up. It then rushed, then stopped, a mock charge. Eventually, it moved out of the road, disappearing into the darkness. We sighed in relief.
“That was close”, Matt sighed. I then continued to drive in the night, headlights leading the way. The road is bumpy, as noticed by every ditch and peak we hit, but surprisingly, Matt was fast asleep. I began to get comfortable driving and used to the road by that point. It was silent for a while until we hit a smaller intersection. That is when the truck shut down, completely and stopped. I tried the gas many times but with no effect. There is no light, nothing. It is near-darkness here, shone only by the moonlight.
“Shit”, I yelled, desperate to turn the truck on without much success. Matt woke up, confused.
“What happened”, he yawned.
“The truck turned itself off. I can’t get it back on”, I fretted and at that moment, Matt was just as panicked as I am.
“Why?”
“I-I don’t know. One moment, we were driving, another it just-”, I quavered, when I heard something rustle in the distance. We stood still, hoping whatever it was didn’t find us. I looked around, hoping to see something in the moonlight. I then see a long, walking animal. It looked like some sort of alligator at first, except for a dinosaur-like head. Once I strained my eyes to the darkness, my fear levels rose as I could see it walk on its hind limbs, with its forelimbs dangling nearly touching the ground.
It was wandering around on the road when I heard a near-crocodilian growl at Matt’s side of the truck. Another of those creatures appeared, seemingly looking into the window like a hungry bear, giving us a chance to see its scaly head. Its exposed alligator teeth gleaned in the light like knives, but more terrifying was the eye. Its serpentine pupil shone brilliantly in the light like eyes in the dark. It then ducked down, gave a hiss, and moved towards the other one. A few more showed up and formed a group.
“What should we do”, Matt asked. “Should we stay?” I looked around, hoping for another way to escape them without them noticing. I further strained my eyes and mentally mapped out the area. There is a cemetery on my right-hand side, a grain bin storage yard on my left and a series of trailers on the other side of the highway, which is ahead of us, from the storage area. There, I see a series of white, storage buildings, something we can go to and wait it out inside.
“Okay, so slowly open the door”, I instructed Matt. The click of the doors opening cringed us. We looked at the group, but there was no response from them. We then, as slowly as we could, opened the door and stepped out. Still no response. Matt then quietly ran to the other side, towards me. “Okay, we are going into the storage yard and go to the other entrance”, I said, pointing to the other right-hand corner. I wanted to get as far away from these things as possible before making a safe crossing. “Then, we cross the highway on the other side, run into the buildings and stay there for the night. Are you ready?”
“I guess”, he whispered, looking at me in fearful doubt.
“We are going to do this”, I whispered back. We then silently ran over, having to rely on our night-adapted eyes, to the corner, walking past the bins. We made it and nothing behind us so far. “We’re good so far.” We then crossed the road and noticed nothing. We noticed a tanker truck, leaking some sort of fluid across the road. I easily recognized it as fuel, based on its distinctive, sickly smell. I wouldn’t be worried about it if it weren’t for a collapsed light pole that is somehow still flickering with electricity near the area where the fuel would be flowing. We quickly avoided the fluid when I froze to see the group of the walking alligators, running towards us. “Run!” Matt tried to run, but one of those things appeared and clamped its jaws at the back of his neck. He yelped in pain and it took him down to the ground. “Matt”, I yelled, helplessly watching as the creature tore into him.
Matt reached out his arm before the others came to him, then a flash of fire came. At this point, I knew what happened, but I couldn’t even think before it exploded. It blew me towards the building, far away. I was knocked out for a few seconds before I regained consciousness, groaning in pain on the ice. I noticed something especially painful just below my chest. I reached towards the area with my hand. I pressed on it, more painful than ever and raised my hand, only to see blood, brightened by the fire. I realised I was wounded, maybe by shrapnel made by the explosion.
I looked toward where the truck was and all I saw was a blaze. Those things weren’t there, at least. I also noticed something else, too, there’s no Matt. I tried to look around for something, some sort of sign of my brother within the fire, but I saw none. I then wept, realising I had failed. I have failed to keep him safe. I have failed to give him a better life. I failed him as a sister. I could’ve done better. The thoughts poured in as tears glazed my eyes. At that moment, I failed to look around me.
I noticed a dark thing beside the blaze. I thought it was Matt, preparing to greet him back, even though I knew he couldn’t survive the explosion. The image became clearer and clearer as I noticed it was one of the walking crocs that, glazed by the fire, was coming towards me.
“Just kill me”, I screamed, preparing to painfully die to meet my maker. The creature was about to attack me when something large, silent as the wind, came charging and clamped down its massive jaws, filled with conical teeth on the hapless creature and raised it. The crocodile struggled before going limp with a crunch within its strong jaws. The big, dark and scaly monster that it is towered over me and is as long as a bus, possibly longer. Its large legs are a contradiction to its small arms that hide beneath its scarred, bulky body.
It turned to look at me with an oddly bird-like expression, revealing in the firelight numerous scars from battles I could never know and looked at me with its beady bird-like eyes, breathing out wisps from its nostrils like a dragon in the cool air. I recognized it as a creature I know too well, a T. Rex. I breathed heavily and sickly, looking at the thing, nearly expecting me to drop the body and go after me. Instead, it simply walked away, carrying its bloody prize with it, and steadily retreated into the darkness.
I then lay down in agonizing exhaustion on my back, thinking of the next step of action like I'm on a suicide mission I would never come back from. I looked in the direction of the graveyard and had one thought. I guess I am dying. a graveyard will do. I struggled to stand up, noticing my blood-soaked clothes and felt a broken left leg. I grasped my wound, limping step by step and enduring the sharp pain while shaking in the cold. Every step I took, I remembered all the memories, good or bad, that I had with my parents. My brother. My friends. My family. I eventually reached the cemetery and slouched at a tree.
“Guess I’m joining you, guys”, I said, speaking to the snow-covered gravestones, only to hear something. A familiar sound of chirping emerged and, lit by the blaze, it was a sight I can hope for. “Joe, what are you doing here”, I depressingly cheered as Joe went to me and curled up in my lap as if he were a cat. I noticed the new-found scar he had on his little snout, but I paid no mind as I petted him. “I guess you came back. Thank you so much for what you did”, I thanked him, not expecting such a loyal creature would be with me, comforting me, to the end, like what my mother used to do when I was a newborn. I heard another noise, this time a deep rumble.
I thought it was another earthquake coming, but it got louder the closer it got to me, becoming more animalistic only felt small vibrations I barely felt. Joe stayed put, oddly enough, as T. Rex, different from the first one, came. It walked towards us until it stopped short of us. It began to produce a low-pitched, bird-like purring, attracting Joe. I realised something, that this T. Rex is Joe’s parent. He joined the rest like him, whom they showed up and all chirped around.
The grown Rex then brought its snout closer to me, not to kill me, but to look at me. It did not reveal its teeth and was still purring. I put my hand out and its nose came close to it. It rubbed it against my hand and started to pet its cold, scaly skin as it breathed through its nose and put it on my chest. I rested my head on it before it pulled away. It gave out a hiss, but I knew it wasn’t that of a threat, but more of a thank you for bringing its small, sometimes immature, child home.
That gave me relief, as it felt like I at least did something for once. They walked away, along with Joe, towards the darkness amongst the gravestones in the cemetery. I glimpsed one last desperate look at Joe before walking beside his parent. I looked up at the sky and I could see all the stars, twinkling, and the dancing green auroras. I began to feel limp and felt the cold embrace of death coming over me, tears pouring out of my eyes. The sky then grew brighter and brighter, the stars faded into the light and I could see my family welcoming me to a new home. It then slowly went black, darker than a cave.
You would think this is the end of me. It wasn’t, or else I wouldn’t be writing this right now. I eventually woke up in a hospital in Regina. I was told I was rescued by a team that transported me while I was in a coma. The doctors said I was very lucky to be alive, as the shrapnel narrowly avoided my vital organs. After that, I was adopted into a new family, but I was only with them for a couple of years before finding a new job and moving out.
As for Sam, I don’t know what happened to her. I would like to think she is safe, somewhere else. As for my family, I think of them all the time. I was in a depressive period right after that. Eventually, over the years, I accepted that they were gone and went to a better place. For Joe, I would like to think he is all grown up, like his parents, and becoming the king of the jungle. I hope we meet again.
As for the evacuated area, it wasn’t some pipeline rupture that caused an evaluation, but an anomaly, with the exact reason not known. There are excuses for the claims of weird stuff going on in there, from disease to chemicals, to eventually a previously unknown geological event, but I saw through it all.
You may ask how, it's because I've been there. Take it or leave it, this is the story I have. As the decade came by, cover-ups were made to hide it, even walls were put around it. Since the incident, the exclusion zone grew from a mere 80 kilometers in diameter to 460 kilometers in diameter, emptying entire cities of the likes of Regina and Saskatoon. I had to move to North Battleford, by the recommendation from the same government covering it up, making me think that time will tell before the floodgates of truth open.
The anomaly didn’t have a name initially, however, over the years, everyone agreed on one name in particular: The Saskatchewan Anomaly.

I’m a 20 year old male resident of Vancouver, BC. I work in the trades and make good money for myself. I’m financially independent from my parents.
I recently received notice that my insurance provided by Canada Life through my employer DENIED most of my coverage (Health, Life Insurance, Accidental Death or Dismemberment, and Weekly Indemnity). They do however still cover my Dental.
Their stated reasons stated are:

A past prescription of Lexapro, which I took for 2 months when I was 16 to treat depression. I was clear with my insurer over the phone that I have not been “medically depressed” in years.
“Weekly Cannabis Use,” despite my telling the insurer that I haven’t smoked weed in months. I used to smoke near daily in my teens, but I’ve since stopped entirely, except for rare instances.
A pre existing condition called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which is a genetic condition related to my skin muscles and joints. It hasn’t caused me any serious problems in my life, though I recalled over the phone with my insurer that I had unexplained wrist pain for about a week roughly 2 years ago.

For all these reasons, they denied most of my coverage. I still pay my company $40.28 biweekly for my benefits ($1047.28).
I’m considering asking my company to cancel all my benefits, and instead I’d put that cash into an Individual Plan with Pacific Blue Cross (estimates on their site ranging from $1000-1500/yr)
Does anybody have any advice regarding this idea, or any experience with a similar situation? I’m worried about getting seriously injured outside of work and being unable to take care of myself without decent insurance.
Thanks in advance.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to be dead in the next 24 hours.
Whether that's the Costella family, or whatever this is, I'm not sure.
The police are taking forever, and part of me knows they're either refusing to believe me, or RC got them too.
I'm holed up on our school bus, so I've got nothing better to do.
I want to tell you about my team.
We met in our sophomore year.
Strangers standing outside the club room.
Levi was the freckled brunette who wouldn't stop talking about Game of Thrones.
Sunny, a pretty redhead, told him to shut up.
Tom, a sandy blonde, nodding his head to music corked in his ears.
I just wanted to be part of a club, and get away from my overbearing mother.
I won't say it was a perfect start. Our school was lacking in funding, so anyone could join, which made us more of a Quiz Club. I had some serious anxiety, so I stayed on the sidelines for a while, watching, rather than taking part.
It's not like we actually talked to each other initially. The first few weeks, we played Jeopardy, and attempted to find more members to cement us as an official Academic Decathlon club.
Unfortunately, though, it was just the four of us.
Which made it extremely hard for us to be taken seriously.
According to Google, Academic Decathlon teams were made up of nine members, placed by their GPA.
Our principal laughed at us, but he did let us become official.
Which was out of pity, I assumed.
The club was assembled, and we started meeting up after school.
Sort of.
Sunny barely showed up, and Levi didn't take anything seriously, preferring to spend the time telling us about his weird family turf-war.
Our principal dumped us in a tiny classroom with a resident rat living under the floorboards.
There was barely enough room to move, and the four of us crammed together for three hours was less than appealing.
Still, though, I wanted to be part of a club.
I had grown up with parents who were obsessed with board games, so I was pretty good at general knowledge questions. Our club room was too small for anything else but three desks (Sunny and I shared one) and a whiteboard we had to shove through the door.
But, again, we didn't start as an Academic club.
It was more akin to Story Time Club.
Arriving late on my third day, armed with quiz cards from home, I found Tom and Sunny completely mesmerised by Levi’s storytelling skills, drowned in shadow.
They didn't even turn the lights on.
I strictly remember squeezing next to Sunny, and hearing the words, “But there was so much blood all over the floor, and my Mom told me to go upstairs and hide under the bed…”
Sitting in front of them was Levi, perched on a desk, his legs swinging, a whiteboard marker between his teeth.
Sometimes he'd get up, and illustrate parts of his story.
It sucked that his drawings were all stick people.
I won't go into full details of his life, but Levi grew up as part of a family who had… interesting methods of making a living. I had seen the guy’s father multiple times when we hung out at his place, and, yeah, my friend’s family definitely had Soprano vibes.
Levi’s Draw My Life was nothing to do with the club, but it did bring us closer.
Even if, at that point, I was considering leaving.
But it's not like it was easy to walk away from these guys. It's like finding your soulmates. Levi wasn't the only one with an interesting life. Sunny Lang was an ex kpop trainee, who was kicked out for being too fat, which led her to develop a severe eating disorder, and a hatred for her own body.
Sunny explained her family were originally from Boston, her mother growing up in Korea.
She signed up for an idol agency focusing on creating a new girl group, and had gotten all the way to the final stages, before being kicked for her weight. Sunny told us her story with a smile, though there was a hollowness in her eyes I couldn't ignore. The other girls were judgemental bullies, and the idol diet and brutal regime almost killed her.
Sunny lived in a tiny apartment with 9 girls, who would tear each other apart for a chance to debut. Sunny said all the other girls debuted, and when we (not so patiently) asked for names, she shrugged, admitting she signed an NDA that prevented her spilling the beans.
What she did say, was the K-pop idol is a product, not a person– and are made and moulded into a product.
She had zero interest in throwing her humanity away to become a manufactured doll.
So, one of us was the son of an underground family, and the other was an ex idol.
Tom was an aspiring horror writer with a famous older step-brother.
His story times were usually, That one time I went to the Met Gala.
When it was my turn to reveal my story, I told them the only interesting thing about me.
I could smell when something bad was going to happen.
They laughed, but I was being serious.
When I was a kid, I smelled my mother’s brain tumor.
I remember it smelled like curdled milk.
I asked Mom why her head smelled of mouldy milk, and Mom laughed and said it was her shampoo.
It was actually a grade two tumor growing inside her brain.
Thankfully, the tumour was found quickly and removed.
Growing older, I became sensitive to smell. The little girl choking on the bus smelled of singed wood, and the old man crossing the road stunk of gasoline.
In the fourth grade, my classmate Alex Castor smelled of lemons all morning.
I sat behind him, choking on the stink all the way through class.
Ever since I met him, Alex had always smelled… off.
It was a distinct smell I could never understand, and as the days and months and years went by, that smell morphed into a subtle orangey musk that was so strong I had to cover my mouth and nose. Then, he smelled like lemons.
During Recess, I watched Alex fall off of the jungle gym, straight onto his head.
Alex Castor was dead before the paramedics arrived, my panicked teacher attempting CPR when his brains were leaking out of his ears.
The school claimed it was an accident, but Alex would have been fine if the jungle gym wasn't built on solid concrete.
I told my team members this, and Levi was sceptical.
“You can smell bad things?” He said, his lips curved around his milkshake straw. In the early days, we hung out in the local bar. It's not like we were allowed inside, but Levi could get us in anywhere.
I was squeezed between Tom and Sunny, while Levi took the seat opposite us. I couldn't help noticing our waitress was insisting on free milkshake refills, her frantic eyes glued to Levi.
I had zero idea why. Levi Costella was about as intimidating as a fruit fly.
Wearing a white shirt with a popped collar, a leather jacket thrown over the top, Levi was giving rebellious Harvard student, rather than son of a crime family.
Leaning forward, he raised a brow, clearly not believing me.
“So, you're like a stink psychic?”
I shrugged, sipping my own shake.
“Sure.”
I wasn't planning on telling him the club room smelled off on our first day.
Once we actually started the club, Levi surprised us as the smartest member, and getting to know him further, I came to the realization his family were infamous in our town.
However, his parents hid it well. Lucy and Michael Costella were the owners of a popular ramen store in our town, hiding under the facade of two successful business owners. The Costella’s were an attractive family.
Lucy was a sophisticated brunette with a lipstick smile, Michael, a handsome fluffy haired man who looked like he modelled glasses.
The two were fiercely protective over their youngest son, not so casually reminding us behind grinning smiles, that if anything happened to Levi, we would automatically be involved in the family.
I mean, they did laugh and say, “We’re joking! Look at your little faces!” when Sunny went deathly pale. But there was definitely truth behind their words.
Being Levi’s friend was… challenging at first.
Tom and I were in his room studying for finals, and an alarm went off, flooding Levi’s room in red light.
I had zero idea where it was coming from, but it locked all the doors and windows, forcing the Costella residence into temporary lockdown. Levi didn't seem fazed, casually mentioning his parents were taking care of it.
He had a whiteboard set up in his room, and was standing in front of it, cramming all of our textbook notes into one easily digestible drawing.
Levi wasn't just smart.
He was Ivy League smart, so we had struck gold with him.
His family were questionable, and yes, sometimes I did fear for my life, but as the more time we spent at his house, the Costella household became a second home. We got used to the alarms.
I just brought along ear plugs.
I wish I was writing this post about Levi’s family, and sure, they are a factor in what is going on right now, but I want to preface this by saying the events below involve the 2024 scholastic decathlon final in our town with the school’s listed:
Starbrook High School.
Ratcliffe High School.
Please note, the incident that took place last night was immediately covered up, and all phone footage was destroyed. Our town is mostly out of the way, and does not show up on Google searches.
We also have our own version of the academic decathlon, which is a more town-level competition, due to lacking funds. The four of us were desperate to start competing with our schools.
So, we started taking things a little more seriously.
We got a coach.
Mr Hanes, who was hesitant at first.
In his words, “You will hate me as your coach.”
He started by recruiting more members, announcing, “If you want to be taken seriously as an actual club, then I'll be taking the reins from now on.”
He did, and with our teachers guidance (and sometimes brutal honesty), we reached a level where we could start competing with other school’s in town. Now, none of us knew this, but Mr Hanes was obsessed with winning.
So, club meetings were twisted into two hour study sessions with no talking, followed by Mr Hanes Jeaprody, which was Jeaprody, without the actual fun.
We were quizzed multiple times, answer cards and practise questions quite literally thrown directly in our faces.
I hate to admit this (I really hate to admit this) but Mr Hanes’s tactics worked. Sure, we had been mildly brainwashed by our slightly unhinged coach, but with Levi Costella, we destroyed our competitors. Like I said, our town held their own version of the academic scholastic decathlon, but it was pretty much the same, with some changes.
Ten subjects. Language and Literature, Math, Social Science, Economics, Art, Music, Interview, Speech, and Essay.
Unlike the official Decathlon, ours was more like a game show, with the ability to be knocked out if a team member answers a question wrong. Whoever answers the most questions correctly wins. Team meet ups were either tests, study sessions, or quizzing each other.
Which leads me to last night.
The finals were held in the reigning champions, Ratcliffe High School’s, auditorium.
And we were about to win our town’s Scholastic Decathlon 2024 Championships.
Well…I was knocked out in the music section. Standing next to my coach who I was sure was going to asphyxiate from excitement, I could smell the sudden potent stink of lemon. I tried to ignore it at first, but the more questions my team were answering correctly, the smell got worse, suffocating my senses.
This wasn't just lemon. The stink was like a burning, singing smell trickling into my nose and the back of my throat.
It was stronger than what Alex smelled like.
This was suffocating, drowning my thoughts.
“Are you okay, Cassandra?”
Mr Hanes nudged me when a Ratcliffe girl was struggling to answer a question, only for Sunny to jump in with the answer. “You look quite pale.”
I nodded, forcing a smile.
My gaze was on the Ratcliffe coach, a scary looking blonde woman, whispering in one of her student’s ears.
The Ratcliffe kid freaked me out. He was way too tall, dark blonde hair, and bulging eyes I swear were not blinking.
His gaze was glued to Levi, who wore a smug grin.
There was a smaller girl next to the Ratcliffe kid, a Macbook balanced on her knee. Every so often, he leaned into her, the two of them in deep conversation.
“I'm just nervous.”
I jumped when Ratcliffe scored a point, their side erupting into cheers.
During the break, we had a mini team meeting.
Sunny rushed to the bathroom to freshen up, and I noticed a Ratcliffe girl with a bouncing ponytail following her.
Ignoring our coach’s speech, I joined the two girls in the corridor, that lemony scent hanging thick in the air.
I caught them in an awkward position.
The Ratcliffe girl had her fingers pinched between the material of Sunny’s dark blue shirt bearing our school’s name.
Sunny looked confused, her lips parted like she was going to yell.
Ponytail dropped her hand, suddenly, with a nervous laugh. “Oh! I'm so, so, sorry,” she gushed. “You had, like, the biggest spider crawling on your back.”
Sunny caught my eye, shooting me a reassuring smile.
“Thanks.” She made sure to keep her distance. “Uh, where's your bathroom?”
The Ratcliffe girl nodded down the hallway. “It's just down there. I'm going there too if you want me to show you?”
Sunny motioned for me to go back to the auditorium. “Uh, sure! That'd be great!”
I did try to follow them, only for Sunny to cough loudly.
I took the hint, reluctantly heading back into the auditorium.
My team was hyping each other up, Levi in the centre, sweating through his team shirt. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “I can't do this,” He groaned. “Ratcliffe High is known to play dirty, man. They're unbeatable.”
“In what way do they play dirty?” I asked, joining them.
Levi gulped down water, shrugging.
“I dunno! They're already trying to distract me with the stink eye.” The boy narrowed his eyes at a grinning Ratcliffe kid who, after noticing our stares, jumped to his feet, waving at us.
“Hey guys!”
“That's Harry Cartwright, the son of the Cartwright family who tried to kill my parents in the third grade.” Levi mockingly waved back. “As you can see, their kid is a fucking sociopath.”
Huh. I wasn't expecting the smiley kid to be the mobster’s son.
Harry Cartwright was not what I expected.
Unlike his team members, he was the only one in casual clothing, a short sleeved white shirt and jeans, a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head.
Tom went pale.
“Fuck.” He hissed. “He’s one of you? Then those bastards will have a reason to play dirty, right?”
Levi shrugged, averting his gaze. It was the first time I saw his eyes darken, like he was subtly telling the boy to back off.
“The Cartwright’s have been trying to buy our land for a while,” he muttered. “I wouldn't put it past them to use the Decathlon as a way to attack.”
“Attack?!” April, another member of our team, hissed. “Like, attack attack?”
Mr Hanes grabbed the boy, resting his hands on Levi’s shoulders. “Ignore them,” he said. “Hey. Look at me.”
Levi did, raising a brow.
“You're losing that spark in your eye, young man.”
“Spark?”
Our coach nodded. “Look at me, kid.”
Levi rolled his eyes. “I am looking at you, Mr Hanes.”
The man was shaking. I was guessing his whole career (or coaching career) was on the line.
“They know they're losing, Mr Costella.”
Hanes shook the boy, squeezing his shoulders. “You are being positive and Ratcliffe doesn't like that. They want you to be nervous. They want to make you second guess yourself and lose confidence. Don't let them get into your head.” he smiled, giving the boy a playful shove. “Kick their asses.”
“Exactly!”
I didn't realize Sunny was back from the bathroom.
The faint smell of lemons had followed her. I noticed a wet patch on her shirt collar, though she was quick to smile at me, admitting she'd spilled water down herself. Sunny wrapped her arms around Levi, squeezing him into a hug.
She hung on for a little too long, Tom dragging her away with a laugh. “Good luck, all right?” she backed away, ruffling his hair. “We’ve got this!”
When I hugged Levi good luck too, I had to resist covering my nose.
The smell of lemon was unbearable, just like fourth grade Alex.
But it wasn't as potent as earlier.
I vaguely remembered the smell starting to fade once Alex’s body was being carted away on a stretcher.
Following my captain through the crowd, I was right. The smell was less suffocating. Before he went back to the stage, I grabbed the back of his shirt.
The material was soaking wet.
“How are you so wet?” I said, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“Huh?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. Do you remember what I told you in sophomore year?”
Levi settled me with a confident, but nervous smile. “Thaaaat you're scared of clowns?”
“No. I mean the boy who smelled of lemons.” I gritted out.
Levi surprised me with a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
Something ice cold trickled down my spine.
Levi did know what I was talking about. He brought up my stink sense a day earlier in front of his parents, and I had to cover his mouth to shut him up.
Leaning close, I whispered in his ear. “You stink of rotten lemons.”
He nodded slowly, pulling away. “Uh… thanks?”
I bit back a hiss of frustration. “No, you don't understand what I'm saying–”
“Starbrooke High School,” The host announced. “Can all members please return to the stage.”
Levi held up his hand for a high five.
“Can we do this later?” He winked. “I'm kinda busy carrying this spelling-bee on my back right now.”
I nodded shakily, high fiving him, and letting him jump back onto the stage.
Before his words hit like a tidal wave, ice cold water slammed into me.
Spelling Bee?
Slowly making my way back to the stands, Levi’s mistake was circling around my head. He did win a spelling bee, but that was in middle school.
Thankfully, the smell of lemons was gone when I returned to my seat.
Mr Hanes handed me a soda. “Chill out, Cassandera, it's just a game.”
He could talk. The guy was on his fifth coffee.
Mr Hanes was not chilled out in the slightest.
Surprisingly, the event went well. I was half expecting my team to be crushed by the rafters, or caught in a blaze started in the crowd. But we were doing well. No, we were winning.
Reaching the climaxing round, Sunny choked against a smug Ratcliffe boy, joining me on the sidelines.
Levi answered the next question with a confident smile.
We were winning, but Ratcliffe could still catch up with a miracle.
The second to last question was to Ratcliffe, and it was general knowledge.
”Where on the human body would one find the *orbit?*
I knew the answer, and so did Levi, his lips breaking out into a smile when the Ratcliffe boy was hesitating, eyes wide.
Our school’s buzzer went off, Levi slamming his hand down.
Bzzz!
The host turned to our team. “Starbrooke, can I have your answer?”
Levi nodded, shooting our team a victory grin.
“It's…!“ He opened his mouth to answer, his jaw slackening suddenly.
The boy’s shoulders slumped.
“Uh… “
“Um…”
“Huhhhhh…”
Levi inclined his head, blinking, his eyes glazing over. There was a sudden, hollow vacancy that sent chills down my spine. It was like someone had reached into his skull, and yanked out his brain, leaving a shell in his place.
To my confusion, our team captain frowned at his buzzer like he'd never seen one before. He pressed it, exploding into child-like giggles.
Bzzz!
The audience laughed along nervously.
Tom nudged me. “What the fuck is he doing?”
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz!
Levi’s entire body was slumped, his hand slamming down on the buzzer.
I caught something pooling down his chin.
“Is he… drooling?” I whispered.
Mr Hanes looked mildly horrified. “Has he been drinking?
“Levi?” Tom spluttered. “Drinking?!"
Whatever we were watching, however, was definitely influenced by… something.
Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz!
“Young man, that is not a toy!”
The host wasn't amused. “Starbrooke High School, I need an answer from you,” He nodded to Levi, who was pressing the buzzer, his smile growing.
“Once again,” The host backed away, like Levi was contagious. “Where on the human body would one find the Orbit?”
Levi cocked his head, lips parted.
His gaze found the overhead lights, and he winced, his lips curling into a frown.
“Starbrooke High School!”
Levi jumped, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry. “Palm tree?”
The audience laughed, and I started feeling nauseous.
Across from us, I could see the twist of a smirk on the Ratcliffe coach’s lips.
Bzzz! Levi slammed the buzzer again giggling.
“Starbrooke High School, if your team member continues to act like this, I will be forced to disqualify all members.”
Our captain stopped, gaze glued to the host, his hand creeping towards the buzzer, like it was a big red button.
The audience loved it, laughing like they were watching a sitcom.
“He wouldn't.” Tom whisper-shrieked.
The auditorium was silent for a moment, awaiting Starbrooke’s response.
Levi stuck out his tongue, slamming his hand down.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz–
When Tom dragged Levi away from his podium, a Ratcliffe girl hit her buzzer.
“Starbrooke High School, you are disqualified,” the host announced. “Ratcliffe High School, do you have an answer?”
It was Ponytail who nodded with a grin.
“The answer is the eye socket! The Orbit is part of the eye socket!”
“That is the correct answer.” The host was distracted, his eyes glued to Levi.
“Ratcliffe High School wins.”
Levi jumped when the Ratcliffe wide erupted into cheers.
His eyes were wide, clinging onto the buzzer for comfort.
Next to me, our coach looked like he was going to faint.
I barely noticed Ratcliffe’s victory, too busy watching our team captain, who was Harvard bound, tipping his head back and smiling at the ceiling like a new-born baby. Tom dragged the stumbling boy over to me, his mouth twisted.
“This was Ratcliffe, right?” He hissed, shaking our captain, who was struggling, squirming in his grip.
“Did they put something in his drink?!” He prodded Levi. “Hey! What did they do to you?!”
Still, though, drugging his drink didn't make sense.
Levi never left the auditorium, and kept his water bottle with him the whole time.
How did they even manage to slip something into his drink in the first place?
Did I smell our competitors drugging him?
Sure, intentionally inebriating my teammate was morally wrong and illegal, but why could I smell lemon?
“I doubt it was Ratcliffe.” Sunny squeezed next to me. “I've been watching them. They're harmless.”
“Then how the fuck do we explain this to his parents?!” Tom whispered, grappling with Levi, who was fighting to get back to the buzzer.
When Tom let go of him, he dropped onto the floor, crawling over to his podium. It was like watching a child.
Who was determined to piss off the adults.
Levi jumped back to instead feet, his gaze was glued to the host, a smile curved on his lips, when he slammed the buzzer again.
Bzzz!
“Someone, please remove the Starbrooke boy from the stage!”
I was embarrassed, our whole team ducking our heads as our captain was forcibly removed from the podium.
Mr Hanes grabbed Levi, pulling him off of the stage.
I expected our coach to be mad at him, but I think the teacher was more worried, a phone pressed to his ear while he forced the boy into a sitting position.
No, I don't think it's influence from alcohol, I could hear his conversation.
Levi kept trying to get up, mesmerised by the buzzer. The teacher was firm but gentle. “Hey. Sit down, all right? Keep still.” He went back to his phone call, gently prying Levi’s eyes open.
From what I can see, there's nothing wrong. He's just kind of…
Mr Hanes swiped his own hands on his jeans. ... wet?
Team Ratcliffe came over to rub it in our faces, though I was still tuned into our coach’s hissed whispering.
Water? No, I don't think it's water. It smells… no, I haven't told his parents…
“You guys did awesome!” Ponytail's voice was sugary sweet. Too sugary.
She held the 2024 trophy, bearing a satisfied smile. I noticed the Ratcliffe members were surrounding Harry, like guards.
“Better luck next time, okay?” She held out her hand, her eyes twinkling.
“No hard feelings?”
“Control your dog.” Harry said, amused eyes flicking to Levi, who was once again sprinting back to the fucking buzzer. His eyes had visibly darkened, lips curled into a triumphant smile.
Harry Cartwright was watching Mr Hanes chase our team captain like it was his own personal entertainment.
I had to look away before I died of second hand embarrassment.
“What did you put in his drink?” Tom demanded. “Weed? Edibles?” the boy attempted to shove Harry, only to be pushed back. “What the fuck did you do to him?”
Harry’s smile didn't waver. “Like I said. Control your mut.”
When the Ratcliffe team walked away, our red faced coach struggling with Levi, who was behaving progressively more erratically, informed us we were longer welcome inside the school.
Tom suggested calling an ambulance, but our coach was hesitant.
We all knew who Levi’s family were.
On the way out, Tom matched my stride. He was frowning at our team captain struggling to walk.
The way he was acting was already eyebrow raising.
But walking at an angle and being unable to stand up straight was worrying.
“I don't think they drugged his drink.” Tom muttered.
We pushed through the doors out of the school, and I revelled in the cool night air grazing my cheek. “If they did, he would be acting out of it, right? So, what's the deal with him acting like–”
“A child.” I finished for him.
“Yeah.” Tom leaned closer. “Do you think this has something to do with their turf war?”
I slapped at a bug creeping across my cheek.
Levi fell over again, this time bursting into giggles.
“Almost definitely.”
Levi was right about Ratcliffe playing dirty. I didn't realize how dirty until we were on the losers bus home. Levi was in the seat next to me, and the kid hadn't moved since we left Ratcliffe, his eyes wide, lips pulled into a dazed grin.
Bzzz!
The noise startled me from slumber. I was drooling, my head pressed against the window. Outside, the sky was pitch dark, and squinting through the glass, I couldn't get a bearing on where we were. I thought I was hearing things, but when I sat up, I heard it again.
Bzzz!
It was close.
Leaning over the boy, I glimpsed a smear of scarlet on his headrest.
I choked on my next words.
“Tom.”
Tom was in front of me, listening to music.
He didn't reply, his head of dark blonde curls nodding to the beat.
“Levi.” I managed to get out. I prodded him, and his head lolled into his shoulder. “Hey. Can you… sit up?”
Bzzz! Bzzz!
When the boy didn't move, I gently grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward myself, something contracting in my stomach.
I don't know how long it takes for your mind to fully register something, but my body was already reacting.
Levi’s seat was infested with bugs, eating their way through the upholstery. I was aware of my body moving back. I threw up, instantly, screaming into my hand.
The back of my best friend's skull resembled a deflated soccer ball, what was left of his brain leaking from his skull where a swarm of skittering bugs chewed their way through brain tissue, metallic legs scratching the curved, pearly white of the base if his skull.
Levi’s head hung, his body flopping into mine.
But his eyes were still open, lips still stretched into a smile.
Blood ran in thick rivulets from his nose and ears.
Bzzz!
I could see them, black writhing dots alive in his eyes, wriggling movement under his skin.
“Tom!”
I jumped up, stumbling into the aisle, my stomach heaving.
And it was only when I was on my knees, swiping bile from my lips, when I realized the others weren't reacting.
Tom wasn't moving.
I pulled an Airpod out of his ear, a long, slithering string of pink attached to the end.
There was a stray bug skittering across his hand, his face starting to twitch and writhe.
Moving back, I checked myself over, my hands shaking.
Head.
Shoulders.
Hair.
Clawing through it, my breath was stuck in my throat.
Arms.
Legs.
Feet.
Mr Hanes was slumped against the window, a reddish froth bubbling from his mouth.
Sunny.
I started towards the back of the bus, but all I had to see was her bowed head, half of her skull chewed through.
Sunny was in a far more deteriorated state, her face had been ripped through, a skeletal smile glinting in the dim.
The thick black smear on the window next to her was moving.
When I screamed for the driver to stop the bus, he ignored me.
If anything, he stamped on the gas.
I moved forward to shake him, before glimpsing a bug creeping down his face.
Calling 911, the operator laughed at me.
“Bugs are eating your friends.” He said. “Do you know the penalty for calling with bullshit pranks?”
The bus didn't stop, so I stayed at the front, while the bugs took over the back, eating through my teammates.
After four hours, I risked leaning over the seat next to Tom to check on Levi.
They were eating him.
Chewing all the way through skin, muscle and bone.
I tried to stop the bus, but the driver’s hands were tightly wrapped around the wheel.
Another hour, and blood was seeping down the aisle, crawling with bugs.
Levi was gone, and in his place, a buzzing skittering pile of bugs, that I thought were going to move to a second victim, maybe burrowing into the seats.
But, no.
These things began to tremble, replicating.
Building.
Slowly, nothing became static, and static became muscle.
Then bone.
Then flesh.
When a body began to slowly form, moulded from the dead boy, I stumbled back.
These things weren't eating Levi Costella.
They were rewriting him.
…
Edit: I'm still on the bus. I'm 99.9% sure that I'm infected with whatever this thing is. I can't stop fucking itching.
I keep picking them off me but they won't stop. This bus isn't going to stop until I'm like the others.
…
Edit 2:
I can feel them chewing into my skull. They're in my ears. I keep spitting them out. Please, someone get them off of me. Help me. I don't want to die at 17.
Edit 3:
Still alive. Still breathing. Maybe they're leaving me alone????? I think I'm okay. There is a pile of bugs at my feet, but they're crawling off of me.
Edit 4:
Levi really wants to go home. Like, he just told me he REALLY wants to go home. He's got a gift for his parents.
~~Edit 5 :) ~~
Levi is next to me right now, an odd smile on his face.
The bugs are not finished building him yet, but he'll be ready soon.
We will be ready soon.
Your son says hello! He is a wonderful boy, is he not?
Mr and Mrs Costella, I cannot wait for you to meet him.
He is our greatest achievement, and rest assured, you will give us what we want.
Warm regards.
The Cartwright's.

"Children learn to correlate consequences with their own actions. This is true of all of us, no matter what species we are. Adulthood is universally defined by maturity, and maturity is defined by nature as appropriate behavior to ensure your species' survival. If we apply this wisdom to the stage of evolution of a species, the culture and conservative capacity of intelligent creatures, then we can see it on that scale also. A species is like a child while they liberally explore their surroundings, learning the best behavior by trying everything, through the Trial of Errors. Then they mature and adopt appropriate behavior, avoiding doing things that work against their species, as individuals and as a whole. We can apply this pattern to the history of all alien races among us here today. This also includes the humans. I testify to this, as one who remains traveling alongside them and seeing each era of their ascended history. As the representative of the will of the Frendsikeel, as attorney to the cause of human endeavors and as their one follower in this galaxy, I say the humans are very cool." The alien sea otter with the boney shells covering her body spoke somehow in a human voice, having perfected the use of her translator so that it was indistinguishable from human speech.
There was applause among the limited audience of aliens at the application hearing for membership, each in their own way of signaling immediate approval. If the Cave Gods agreed, the Combine would be added to the councils of the Cave Gods And Friends Association. It was the dawn of a new and wonderful age for the humans.
The alien attorney visibly shuddered as an equally smoothly articulated translation started, and in a voice all-too-familiar. Osowl Fitten, Attorney-to-the-Humans, heard her nemesis from across the vast distances of both space and time. She was the Sunder representative, Supreme Prosecutor (of the humans) Eshka Layenna. The reptilian alien slithered out with a stylized collar to hide her frill and colorful paint on her face to look more appealing to the human eye. Indeed, the humans felt their eyes drawn to the masterful and ancient alien, who specialized in charm and glamor.
"Beautiful denizens of Rhema, world of art and music, esteemed guru, priests and patrons of the arts, lend to me your native attention. I will speak for you, and worry not what decision is made behind my back, by our wise leaders, the benevolent Cave Gods. They have heard the song of human laughter, recognized the absolution of human mistakes, graced the humans with thousands of years of benefits and gifts simply because they admire the beauty of the human soul. Is beauty not important? I would not stand in the way of beauty. We all know it is the first component of harmony, and we all know harmony is the first component of peace and we also know that peacefulness is necessary for love. And what meaning is there, that is greater than love?" Eshka Layenna spoke with passion in her human sounding voice, translated from a skillful use of her own vowels in order to inflect such sincere emotion. The attorney for the humans worried, for she had sparred with this particular individual alien half a dozen times throughout the centuries, and clearly they were both on the same course through the stars, sleeping for decades at a time in order to extend the usefulness of their respective careers.
The prosecutor skillfully explained that humans were beautiful in the ears of the blind leadership who had overlooked the capacity that humans had for, in their own word: violence.
Osowl Fitten sat quiet during her turn to speak in rebuttal. She could not quickly speak without thinking, it was not the way of her species and she was especially slow to decide what she wanted to say. In the silence one of the humans coughed expectantly, it was meant to prompt her, and she knew so. It was in all things, their little violences, and she had started to find it beautiful.
"Violence is the appropriate behavior when humans utilize it. They are equally capable of restraint and sometimes their violence is directed purely against the storm. Humans respond to all violence, they endure it and survive, they fight back, they commit violence for gain, even sometimes because they want to commit violence, with no further motivation. The Sunder administration has long sought to prosecute the humans because of this, and they are here today, to do this. I approve of this because it is the appropriate behavior. I would like to point out that the Sunder have invented many consequences to inflict on humans, and I must point out that to the human, those are called weapons and the Sunder have become hypocrites. On this day the Sunder are here to prevent the humans from becoming their equal, which is the appropriate behavior for the Sunder, because they anticipate that humans are dangerous, a known threat. They would list off all the times they have tried to blame humans for tragic events, or simply point out that humans were involved in a disproportionate amount of such tragic events, at the very least. And yes, humans are dangerous. Does not each new member bring a gift to the association? The Blue Light Watchers brought the gift of honest music, such as nobody had ever heard. Who among us was not moved by their music? The humans have brought a gift, and I foresee, the Dream Time, that this gift shall prove to be the greatest gift of all."
"What gift would that be?" Eshka Layenna spoke out of turn, amid gasps and gestures of outrageous surprise. Osowl refused to engage her opponent informally and ceased speaking until the Cave Gods had politely reminded the respected and venerable serpent of the absolute procedure of the courtroom, and begged her to behave appropriately. Then Osowl spoke, carefully avoiding addressing the question, while answering it anyway:
"When the Dream Time goes into darkness, and the galaxy can be crossed in an instant by the mere thought of terror, and there is no trade besides violence with this spreading nightmare from outside, that is when the greatest gift of all shall shine upon the threshold." Osowl Fitten turned off her translator and captions and spoke only in her own language. For a moment the court felt confused by this deliberate action, before the significance of it began to sink in. Even the scarred and brutal human Admiral Jinar they had allowed into the proceedings looked deeply moved, her eyes watering, as though she personally understood both the words and the power behind them.
"I have no further arguments, Wise Ones. The prosecution rests." Eshka Layenna said with strange reverence, abandoning her entire cause suddenly.
"This then, is the final enactment of all our discussions, and there are no further actors. Let the humans say then, what is decided here today." The Cave Gods spoke in rehearsed unison.
The humans cheered. They had just become members of the Cave Gods And Friends Association, and the humans were now officially equal to all the coolest aliens throughout the galaxy.
When the courtroom had emptied there were still two creatures sitting there. Osowl Fitten stared for a moment at the human, gradually recognizing her.
"You are Jinar. How so? Humans do not use Star Sleep or live such profoundly long life spans. But I am sure, somehow you are she." Osowl Fitten said at last.
"I am now Admiral Jinar, of the Combine Unified Forces. We are currently disbanded, but I still think they are coming, and we should be preparing for them. Now that we have a say in things, I'd like to get started on that." Admiral Jinar told Osowl Fitten, coldly speaking business.
"Are you not pleased that humans are now recognized as equals to the Cave Gods themselves? In the association, all species have an equal vote." Osowl Fitten twitched her whiskers in a personal greeting, hoping to see Jinar's mood change.
Jinar relaxed and smiled just a little bit. Somehow sitting there trying to interpret the whisker twitches of the Frendsikeel made her feel like a little girl again. It was just a moment, but it reminded her of her own resolve of character. She had felt a kind of personal hell for most of her life, regretting something she had done while she was very young, but worried it somehow defined her. When she had defeated the scout, something had changed, she had realized she was merely playing a role, and the universe was calling the shots.
"Maybe it was better to have gods. The thought that we are responsible for the course is somehow terrifying." Jinar said in plain, soldier-like way of speaking.
"This is humor." Osowl gestured that she found it mildly amusing.
"Do you think they are out there? You're my attorney, I kinda care what you think." Jinar grinned a little, realizing she could communicate very easily with the alien. It was like Osowl just understood everything. It was reassuring to be fully understood and also approved of at the same time.
"It is not a coincidence that I chose this world for Summoning. Allow me to show you what inspires so much art, why this world is a melting pot of artists from seven alien species who all come here for inspiration." Osowl Fitten paused and found a small box held for her by a servo.
"What is it?" Jinar wondered.
"It is a gift." Osowl seemed perplexed. She was trying to assess the correct way to receive such a gift. It was meant as a statement of many different meanings, what was known as a cruciform. Osowl realized it was in the form of clothing, a colorful sash. She wrapped it over one shoulder, wearing it as a kind of toga.
"What for?" Jinar asked.
"It is complicated. I will wear this, to show my admiration and to accept the insult. It is a sign of deep friendship, but one forged through a necessary rivalry, for we are not without the other. My opponent, perhaps she says farewell."
"No, she says she wishes to be your companion still - to continue to argue with you. We shall Star Sleep beside each other and visit the same places. I do not want to be alone and I do not want this to end. It is what is best for each. Ave." The Sunder spoke from the shaded curtains, slithering out dramatically.
"I accept this. I would not wish to be without you. I understand the duality of our arguments the same way you do. Come with me, and we shall visit distant stars and foreign worlds." Osowl Fitten said without hesitation.
From there, the three women went to the attraction of Rhema that Osowl had chosen as a backdrop for the human inclusion in the association.
"Of this moment, we suspend ourselves, for the brace, my dears." Osowl hissed in Sunder and made her new friend laugh with an emote.
Eshka Layenna stopped and suddenly slithered around Jinar with serpentine swiftness. "Is she with us, equal one?" In plain English, another idiom but this as a joke of some kind by Eshka Layenna. She donned a purple garland and wrapped part of it gently around Jinar, the exact movement dancelike and affectionate. She flicked out her snake tongue absently in her self-satisfaction and then turned and wrapped part of the boa around Osowl, who groaned in mock reluctance to the amicable game.
"So we walk together?" Jinar asked.
"Precisely. Unless there is a place we must do something else?" Eshka gestured to the colonial canteen.
"They serve alcohol here?" Jinar felt no resistance as she walked towards the bar with her old lady alien friends in tow, the fragile feathered tether wrapped loosely around all of them.
"Drinks. You may take your toxic beverage." Osowl complained.
"I insist. I know you got something you'll imbibe." Jinar grinned.
At the bar the servo identified them and guessed they wanted alcohol. Osowl was served a thimble of it and a proper shotglass with the colonial guard stamp half scratched off of it was put down for the lady in uniform.
"That's pretty strong. Can I have more?"
"No." The servo said, and took the shotglass and wiped it out with a wash towel.
"Actually, I'm good. That's a pretty nice buzz." Jinar grinned.
"It is precise, madam." The servo said with a little bit of an attitude.
"I'll have mine - not." Osowl said.
"Is that right, are you afraid you'll seem ridiculous? I assure you your friends won't notice your inability to change your eye color while intoxicated. If it helps, you can wear a mood medallion. Would her Gentleness wish her mood medallion?" The servo had split personalities, and was suddenly all cool while talking to Osowl.
"Very much so, Jehosephet." Osowl accepted the medallion with a quickness that conveyed a gleeful shift in her feelings about the bar. Once her medallion was worn and shining, looking exactly like flax colored eyes, she gladly accepted the drink with no further inhibitions. She took the thimble and insufflated it and exhaled what sounded like a drunken wheezing.
"You party hard." Jinar complimented Osowl.
"Yes, this is the celebration I am in for." Osowl seemed to be gagging in her translator and took it off to fumble with the delicate settings.
Jinar laughed, noting that her eyes were flaxen with tints of green and yellow while her medallion showed bright red frustration and embarrassment.
"I cannot drink alcohol, so I shall wear the hat." Eshka Layenna leaned on the bar and the servo placed a massive crown of supreme derpiness on her, some kind of cartoon creature vaguely resembling a Sunder. It looked insane. Jinar laughed so hard she fell over and landed on her butt.
"Okay, so now that none of us may have her pride before the others, now what?" Osowl sounded normal, but her medallion was a glimmering pink, showing she was aware she was being deceptive in some way, as her voice betrayed none of her sloppiness in communicating. It somehow made her seem more hilarious to Jinar, as she could tell Osowl was drunk.
"I am worried that if we stay we'll be seen this way by those who admire and respect us and it will somehow diminish our reputations." Eshka Layenna stated.
"That's part of the fun. But anyhow, we're on a mission. Let's go to this place." Jinar agreed.
"I am afraid our jovial antics won't last beyond the threshold." Osowl cringed as she realized she had spoke a word that meant the same as Threshold, the prophecy of her people.
"What's the matter?" Jinar's voice drained of laughter and she adopted gradual concern, as Osowl hesitated to answer.
"Let us go first, and bid this moment to memory." Osowl insisted.
They departed, leaving their festive garments behind.
There was no landscape to explore, but rather spires of habitats above radiated pools of slag. They flew in a saucer, hovering at different speeds and angles against the natural gravity of Rhema. After a while the saucer had found a break in the low gray-orange clouds that obscured the world below the observational habitats.
"What is the significance of this wasteland?" Jinar asked slowly, not really wanting to hear the answer - already knowing what such an answer would be. The rhetorical nature of her voice was greeted by merciful silence.
The three sisters, each from a distant corner of the galaxy, born in different ages, and different species, stared out at the desolation and they each recognized the same measure of it, for it was the limit of suffering.
Osowl knew her friends understood. She herself had adjusted to her existence, the last of her people. It still hurt to come home.

Does anyone have blue cross blue shield? If so does your insurance cover Wegovy?

I got two fillings from my dentist. I was expecting to pay between $100-200 after insurance. I called Blue Cross prior to the procedure, and they confirmed my dentist is in network.
Got a letter from Blue Cross and it said I owe close to $809 since she’s out of network…I called Blue Cross, was told she is billing under an NPI number that is not on file with them. Thus, she coming up as an out of network provider.
I thought this would be an easy enough fix. I’d call the office and have them bill under the NPI number that is listed under her name on the Blue Cross website.
I called the office, and was told this dentist does not accept ANY insurance (wtf?!) This change occurred a few years ago. Her office has hygienists that work with blue cross, and this is why her name comes up as an in network provider when you search for her on the blue cross of MA website. This is also when my cleaning was billed and covered under insurance as an in network provider.
I can see how this works, but I’m left feeling uneasy. This seems like a sketchy setup and I’m frustrated no one in the office told me she is an out of network provider. But what I’m wondering is, is there a case I can make with my insurance company for reimbursement, given their misleading webpage listing her as in network? I tried speaking with the office to see if anything can be done, and was flatly told no…

What is Looking-Glass Self? This is concept in sociology, discovered in 1902 by Cooley - and his theory states that we form our own identity based on what we think other people think who we are. In fact, the whole sociology is based on social anxiety- the very same social anxiety that psychiatry (CBT and DSM) are pathologizing and trying to cure and destroy and present as mental illness.
Without social anxiety, without ability to worry what other people think about us - we would lose social skills, empathy and civilization norms - such as not eating others.
"If it weren't for the nervous people in the world, we'd all still be eating each other." The Misfits (1961) https://youtu.be/h56iL7vK5Y0
When people consume chicken - they eat the flesh of animals because there is no ability to connect with the slaughtered animals as conscious beings who are able to think and perceive us. So when we destroy social anxiety- our ability to worry what other people think - we will become psychopaths, sociopaths and narcissists. This also provide us with important information of self expression and holding toxic people accountable - by stating the facts and truth. Toxic people learn to suppress social anxiety - and this gives them ability to be cruel. And the only way to probe their delusions is to speak the truth to them. And that is why toxic people mock and go into hysteria mode - because their suppressed conscience and morality and ethics are eating them from inside.
Dolphins are not caught with smiles but cruelly with hooks, Michele. One day you will learn to be cruel. Caravaggio (1986) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GF12uM_GK74
Sociology is based on social anxiety - that we form our own identity based on society. We need other people to provide us information who we are and how to express ourselves. The language is the very first thing that society gives us to define who we are - by using the very words that society is using.
Theories of the Self
William James (1890): A person has "as many social selves as there are individuals who recognize him and carry and image of him in their minds"
Charles Cooley (1902): Views of self reflect the standpoints of significant others in our lives ("looking-glass self")
George Herbert Mead (1934): We imagine the perspectives of others and incorporate these into our self views - and that this occurs continuously as we interact with others on an ongoing, moment to moment basis.

Having a distorted looking glass (incorrectly imagining others’ opinions of us) can cause bad feelings, or a negative self-image. https://wa01001786.schoolwires.net/cms/lib/WA01001786/Centricity/Domain/70/Socialization%20Notes.pdf
What happens when we are around toxic people - is that our identity is deformed as well. CBT claims, along with DSM, that our worry what other people think - is personality disorder, called Borderline:
Reality testing is ability to perceive reality properly. Without too much deviation from facts. Borderline refer to you if want to know anything about reality. “Do you think so too?” Narcissist will tell you "am I not genius". YT Richard Grannon & Prof. Sam Vaknin about Fantasy
Borderline personality disorder is a mental health condition that affects the way people feel about themselves and others, making it hard to function in everyday life. It includes a pattern of unstable, intense relationships, as well as impulsiveness and an unhealthy way of seeing themselves. (Mayo Clinic)
The truth is - if we are around toxic people, their criticism will affect our self worth. Their constant nagging, constant nitpicking, constant error finding and constant drama about anything that moves - will have an effect on our sense of stability and security in the world. This is not disorder. This is simply how society works. In order to heal our mental health issues - we need to repair connections with other people - which may include minimizing exposure to toxic people or cutting toxic people completely off from our lives.
We will never feel secure, confident, worthy - if there are toxic people around us who are criticizing us and others all the time.
Improving our relationships is improving our mental health. William Glasser
Interpersonal strife with those close to us leads to rifts and resentments that produce symptoms of mental illness; these problems are, in fact, the logical consequence of troubled relationships. Glasser emphasizes that lasting psychological problems are usually caused by problems in our personal relationships (rather than signifying a biochemical abnormality in the brain), and distress can be remedied through repairing these relationships without recourse to psych drugs. DK psychology book, WILLIAM GLASSER
Being able to feel safe with other people is probably the single most important aspect of mental health; safe connections are fundamental to meaningful and satisfying lives. Dr. Bessel van der Kolk
In another words: feel safe with other people = mental health
The single most important issue for traumatized people is to find a sense of safety in their own bodies. 🟦 Bessel A. van der Kolk
Toxic people cause social anxiety. That is why social anxiety is called social+anxiety. There is social element that is causing the anxiety. There is social factor contributing to anxiety. It is not called self-anxiety. We did not catch social anxiety by walking randomly in the street when it was rainy, so we caught a common cold. It is not like we felt bored in our lives so we invented neuroticism to keep us active and occupied. Social anxiety must start in childhood with ACE and ACoA where we learned from early on - that life is dangerous, that people are not safe, that we must worry to be hyper-vigilant and that we are unworthy if we make any kind of mistakes. We learned that our flaws, imperfections and mistakes are our core personality - abnormal and inept.
Society attacks early, when the individual is helpless. B. F. Skinner
This is how we end up with Broken Looking Glass Self. Distorted Looking Glass Self. We end up with operant conditioning - to worry what other people think in such way that we attempt to think for the other person ahead of time, so that they do not get mad of us - and then attempt, we try hard not to make other people mad. And how we execute this operant conditioning - depends on our background, people around us and punishments to which we were exposed as kids. Most socially anxious learn to keep quiet. To shut up. To self censor. And to self blame. If the other person is angry or hysterical - we will feel responsible for their mood swings and we will try hard to fix their emotions and their problems. Soon - we spread this fixing on other people, who are not angry - and we create fake social mask that is always pleasant and nice and helpful to anyone, especially if they are angry and rude and intrusive. We learned to interpret their anger as our fault and our abnormality. Looking glass self is broken - because it does not reflect any more - now we imagine how to please other people without using looking glass (mirror) - as all people use it.
Other people are there as information post. They broadcast who they are, many of them mask their true Self and present fake version of themselves, their social mask. Our brain will naturally form opinion about us through the words and opinions and non-verbal gestures from other people, strangers or our acquaintances. This part is totally normal. This is not disorder. This is not illness. The disorder starts when we try hard to fix other people's conclusions about us by making ourselves small and by changing our routine so that we soothe the other person. Instead of CBT techniques - all that we need to do here is to allow other people to think whatever they choose to think about us. Simply allow other people to hate us and leave it at that.
We really have to work very hard at changing our programming because we don't understand we're upset because someone else has a perception of us that we're uncomfortable with. And we challenge this person's perception of us. We're upset that people think this about us. Something amazing happens when you begin to accept that other people are allowed to have their own faulty perception of you. 🟥 Lisa A. Romano Breakthrough Life coach Inc.
For the next step, sociology will also help us. CBT and DSM, psychiatry is telling us concrete steps which we must take - and morally and ethically speaking - this is illegal. When someone orders us what we must do - this is called manipulation and coercive control. This way anyone who is psychopathic and narcissistic can climb, grab and push their way to powerful position of ordering others what to do - and then evil people can easily manipulate and control the masses. This is what happens with psychiatry. Psychology on the other hand explains concepts - psychology does not order us what to do in life and how to react. That is why Humanistic psychology is healthy.
It is the client who knows what hurts, what directions to go, what problems are crucial, what experiences have been deeply buried. Carl Rogers
In the same manner as Humanistic Psychology and IFS Model - sociology also has the similar term that allows clients freedom in own choices - which is called Thomas theorem.
The Thomas theorem is a theory of sociology which was formulated in 1928 by William Isaac Thomas and Dorothy Swaine Thomas: If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences. In other words, the interpretation of a situation causes the action. This interpretation is not objective. (wiki)
If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences. - formulated in 1928 by William Isaac Thomas and Dorothy Swaine Thomas
This means - that no other person can objectively tell us what is the best way to go in life. We need our inner GPS, our intuition, our common sense, other people as well - to form our reality and our construct of the future where we are headed. With CBT and DSM - we do not have this freedom. With CBT and DSM - we are pathologized instead - and all our focus is spent on fixing our symptoms - we are literally self consuming ourselves with CBT.
In real life- real life situations will not allow us to form rigid mindset. Any other person, any other situation in life - good or bad - is always unique and different. Sometimes it is great that we shut up and that we self censor ourselves - especially if we are tired and we don't want to harm other people with our nagging and complaints that will go off as soon as we get to sleep and rest. On the other hand - many situations in life that are triggering our social anxiety require from us to self express, that we talk out our truth - no matter how much manipulative people attempt to shut us up with mocking and shaming.
So when we allow other people to form toxic conclusions about us - we need to know that we can rely on our brain, on our intuition to tell us how to react and what to do and how to behave. We have this mechanism inside us. We do not need to pathologize ourselves with CBT. CBT will tell us that we must be assertive in order to handle toxic people. This is horrible advice because:
"If you have been the scapegoat in a narcissistic family system, the concept of setting a boundary is laughable. You would be telling them exactly how to hurt you, and they would happily oblige. Also, trying to set a boundary in a calm and tactful way would be met by resistance in the form of mocking and ridicule, attempting to bait the scapegoat into anger, which would prove you are the problem." YT kingbee9778
"I feel gaslighted by the therapy mantras of “ you have to teach people how to treat you “ ,(setting boundaries). No you don’t and no you can’t. First of all, it’s not my job to teach an adult how to behave like one and quite frankly, it’s a trap and a drain hole. Secondly, I DON’T CONTROL OTHER PEOPLE. They will do what they want, especially if they have the tiniest ounce of power over you." YT gertrudewest4535
When we follow CBT - we will repeat the broken Looking Glass Self when we exposure ourselves to social situations - and social anxiety will not go away - because we will continually process the same ways reality and other people in a manner that is toxic to us - through seeking approval from other people, through self flagellation, through harsh inner critic and internalized toxic shame.
To fix broken Looking-Glass Self means fixing social anxiety: when we are afraid of what other people think about us. With CBT we self pathologize our normal reaction to worry what other people think about us. This is not disorder, it is totally normal to have awareness that other people are thinking about us.
Many social anxiety coaches will use "Spotlight effect" as proof that other people do not worry about us:
"The spotlight effect is the psychological phenomenon by which people tend to believe they are being noticed more than they really are."
In toxic contact - toxic people - those same ones who trigger our social anxiety - do notice anything about us. In normal population - other people will think about us and we will define each other - through the process called The Michelangelo phenomenon - where we chisel each other into better version, where we change our toxic habits that hurt us as much as they hurt other people. In unhealthy, toxic social dynamics there will be the opposite: Golem Effect and Crab mentality. Where there is competition and where other person is perceived as threat and someone to pull down.
A lot of content on mental health in mainstream media does not cover the unique corner that survivors of narcissistic abuse live in. Not one mention of being in any kind of toxic relationship. “Avoid your triggers” is not easy in narcissistic relationships. When the discomfort is living in your house or down the street or in the next office. It was not even rumination, but reality. And the constant exposure means you don't get a break. 🟥 DoctorRamani https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uusKWmjUk6k
I'm not setting boundary with these people. “Don't do this with me”. “Don't say this with me”. It's all internal. Because if you try to set a boundary with someone who's narcissistic or antagonistic – it's never going to work. And I think it's unsafe guidance to give.
With this dangerous person no. But what are you willing to tolerate. How can you protect yourself emotionally. What access can you remove. Move these people from VIP section.
🟥 Dr. Ramani - Terri Cole
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSHI5N-w5sk
With broken Looking-Glass Self - we end up being trapped in toxic people's minds. Similar to horror movie / book The Cell from 2000. Even when we develop Who cares attitude, and when we consciously try to block and build walls away from toxic people, when we try hard to push down and suppress toxic people - we are still trapped in their reality of what they potentially might think about us. This is why CBT is not working - because CBT tries hard to convince us to use suppression as method to block social anxiety. And we cannot block other people - we need other people for our identity and our self worth - where there is healthy interaction called Interdependence. Toxic people behave in codependent way - they see other people as competition and this creates codependency. They need other people like vampires need blood - to exploit someone's attention, someone's focus, money, time and or resources of any kind. It is like give me, give me, give me - and provide nothing in return. With social anxiety we end up giving others without observing if the other person is emotionally invested in us at all. It ends up and one side interaction, exploitation really. Social anxiety means suppress anger as well. We learned to push our anger away - and this attracts toxic people who count on our silence and understanding and toxic empathy - knowing that they can cross boundaries of social interaction in their favor and we won't make any kind of protest. Then our own only protection - is avoidance. Therefore - social anxiety is natural defense mechanism against dangerous criminally insane psychopaths who are abusing their power position against ourselves.
In our teen years we experiences bully experience - after years of exposure to ACoA and ACE (constant criticism and constant drama at home) - so we generalized the belief that we cannot trust other people - and we learned that we process reality through broken Looking Glass Self - where we appease other people with our decisions - by being afraid what other people may think badly of us - since we were pressed and pushed into equating social rejection and our self worth as if they are one of the same. And psychiatry - instead of explaining us that it is totally normal to worry what other people think - CBT explains us that this is abnormality. This faulty explanation from medical industry is adding more trauma and more toxic shame and it gives our inner critic free reign to self abuse us - because we believe we are abnormal and ill if we worry what other people thin about us. In reality - all people worry about others. Even psychopaths worry what other people will think, along with narcissists - because they know that they need to form fake social mask of charm in order to seduce new victims into their agenda of exploiting and manipulating others.
Looking-Glass Self tells us - that we simply allow toxic people to form bad opinion about us in their heads - and that we absolutely do nothing to change this image that toxic people freely choose to believe about us in their heads.
You're no longer going to play the game of what can I do differently to get them to behave differently – because the answer is to that is nothing. That's radical acceptance. It takes long time. And it's not just accepting their behavior is not going to change, it's also the way it affects you is also not going to change. Just because you radically accept doesn't mean that somebody screaming at you is going to hurt any less- it does,it hurts a lot 🟥 Dr. Ramani - Terri Cole https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSHI5N-w5sk
Other people will hurt us. They will say mean and untrue things about us. They will attack us - this has nothing to do with who we are. Their choice to harm and hurt other person - is abnormality in their brain. Normal healthy sane people do not attack others. Normal healthy sane people have ability to emotionally regulate themselves. Person who does not have this ability - is sick and mentally ill. And this has nothing to do with us. We are not the ones who can cure them by changing our behavior.
Lundy Bancroft: "Abuse is NOT caused by bad relationship dynamics. You can't manage your partner's abusiveness by changing your behaviour. But he wants you to think you can."
The pain that we feel when toxic people attack us, verbally or physically - is normal pain, we need this pain as the instruction for us what to do with severely damaged people around us.
If you are not feeling pain, anger and sadness while you are taking in psychological abuse or something similar – you are going to end up in those situations over and over again –because you are not logging information that your body telling 🟥Heidi Priebe https://youtube.com/watch?v=GTQohPaGnSY
People say it bothers me when they say these things. I say, because they say bothersome things. I don't want you to lose that part of you. That part is good index what is okay, what's not. From that point – excavation. A person pulling their true self out of their relationships. If you grew up with narcissistic parent, it was a true self that never even got to develop. It's how much your identity got co-opted. What do I like, what do I stand for. 🟥 Dr. Ramani - Terri Cole https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSHI5N-w5sk
The core of narcissistic person is very fragile. That's why they lose it when you critique them. Or give them feedback. Or don't read their mind. Or don't do exactly what they want. And that's why they use all kinds of tactics like manipulation, gaslighting, invalidation, dismissiveness, competitiveness, betrayal. Some of them are tactics, some are unemphatic behavior. And it gives them the upper hand in relationship. Control, power gives them supply. 🟥 Dr. Ramani - Cole https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSHI5N-w5sk
With social anxiety - we do not need psychiatry. Socially anxious need sociology. It is after all social issue. Social anxiety is anxiety that is connected to society - the name itself reveals this crucial aspect: society, social, societal. Psychiatry will only leave us lacking and with belief that something is horribly wrong with us, when we are around toxic people:
DSM doesn't explain anything. So many therapies and particularly CBT and others are just so focused on extinguishing symptoms which were once strategies of survival. And it doesn't make sense that you want to extinguish – we want eventually to move away from these symptoms and these strategies but I certainly don't want to pathologize them or look at them as somehow defective because they have saved our lives. 🟥 Transforming Trauma Episode 21 IFS & NARM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRTHacVAwdk
When we stop self pathologizing our social anxiety - we will unburden ourselves with toxic idea that feeling pain is abnormal and sick. And it will give us energy to start looking what is causing this pain - instead of focusing ourselves on chasing the symptoms. Without the stigma and labels - we will have much more resources at our disposal to handle difficult people in life who are causing our social anxiety in the first place.
With social anxiety - we need to learn about the Cooley's concept Looking-Glass Self and other terms from sociology. Instead of pathologizing our social reactions - we simply need information to confirm us that we are not abnormal and inept as CBT paints the socially anxious. We need information to learn what our rights are.
Five themes of microaggression against people with mental illnesses
1. Invalidation
When other people dismiss their illness or symptoms through minimizing their experience, symptomizing their normal experiences, and patronizing
2. Assumption of inferiority
When other people assume that people with mental illness have lower intelligence, are incompetent, and that they do not have control
3. Fear of mental illness
When other people fear them because they believe that they may be dangerous or unpredictable
4. Shaming of mental illness
When other people tell them that they shouldn't let others know about their mental illness
5. Second class citizen attitudes
When other people treat them as if they don't have the same rights as the dominant group of society.
Mental Health Forum, 2016

Diagnosis is not an excuse to be selective about their rights. Autistic not weird
Healing the Broken Looking-Glass Self means learning about the mentality - which we never had chance to learn in our developmental years. Other children learned this concept via keeping connections with other people. We - started to avoid people. Even when we were around other people - we pulled our investment emotionally with other people - and this way we never learned that other people are safe. We developed the stump growth - that is being stuck in age 12, when we started to avoid people. Similar to the plant that cannot grow roots in small basin or tree/plant that is stumped in growing due to some kind of obstacle to grow upright. Our growth was shaped from the perspective of not trusting other people - because they harmed us. Other people learned to develop certain amount of trust. They learned to filter out the bad people. And they learned that they are safe to express themselves - without being punished for it. This is why their social anxiety is in normal threshold. They will experience stress and then behave in anti-social manner, they will express their anger without problems - because they were never pushed into forming their self worth through worry what their tormentors might think about them. So it is not like social anxiety is abnormality or sickness - it is simply that non-socially anxious people were lucky enough to grow in healthy ambient, and that is their secret. They were not stronger. They were not more competent. They were not better or superior to the socially anxious. They simply had privilege and entitlement that helped them over-pass developmental years without fearing other people. Their mechanisms how to handle triggers - are mostly unhealthy (lacking empathy) - but their Looking glass self was not broken. With interaction with other people, with other children, they learned naturally to allow difficult people to hate them. Instead of worry - that is found in social anxiety - they simply turned their focus onto other people. With social anxiety - we do not have other people, we have no one to turn to, since we learned that other people are painful and traumatic. We never learned that hanging around with other people is enjoyable experience - and if someone is rude, toxic and abnormal - that we are allowed to focus and place our attention to better, healthier people around us.
In shame culture ambient - we will learn that other people criticism is reflection of our worth - and that is Broken Looking-Glass Self. That we cannot feel good about ourselves until other person reflects positive words about us to us:
Young American explained why she left Croatia:
"In Croatia people constantly express intrusive opinion about matters which are none of their business. The most irritating things were rude people."
https://www.poslovni.hlifestyle/amerikanka-napusta-hrvatsku-neucinkovitost-i-birokracija-te-ljudi-koji-nemaju-motiva-za-napredovanjem-u-poslu-358422
Young American explained why she escaped from Croatia:
"Often I heard Croats intruding why am I eating something, or commenting about what I wore. There is no such thing in America, we allow people to be what they want to be. People here are strange as if I am inside toxic relationship."
https://www.vecernji.hshowbiz/amerikanka-u-hrvatskoj-iznenadila-objavom-ljudi-su-ovdje-cudni-kao-da-sam-u-losoj-vezi-1351757
Don't look to the approval of others for your mental stability. 🟦 Karl Lagerfeld
We will heal social anxiety trauma with healing our choice to stay stuck around toxic people. We can cut toxic people - even when we are unable to leave them physically - by severing the trauma bonding in our mind - that is broken Looking-Glass Self.
No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. Eleanor Roosevelt
Yes, toxic people are pathological liars, They spread gossip. They create drama and hysteria. Toxic people do not have word toxic stuck on their forehead. Toxic people will not behave toxically in front of others - because they depend to look good in the eyes of other people - so they also have Looking-Glass Self no matter how much they said that they do not care what other people think about them. Therefore - social anxiety is clear indication that we are around toxic people. Toxic people do not allow us to express ourselves - and they use various methods of coercive control to manipulate their targets. The first step is to sever this trauma bonding - by allowing them to hate us.
That we basically stop impressing others.
Don't try to impress others. ✝️ Bible, Philippians 2-3
Cooley said our sense of Self comes from how we think other people see us. “I am not what I think I am. I am not what you think I am; I am what I think you think I am.” Other people's reflections of us and how we think about those images they have of us help create our sense of Self. Grades from teachers can reflect back to us an image of ourselves that we then internalize and becomes our self-perception. They effect self-image. 🟥 The Looking glass self https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1X1wwTCuZBo
We imagine we are seen by others. And that imagination forms our identity. Our identity is being shaped by others. Others is agent which influences who we are in society. You begin to believe that and you begin to see as your identity, what other people think of you. Intelligent, high self esteem, outgoing – you believe what people say about you, it becomes your identity. Our identity is formed through the way we imagine people see us.
🟥 Looking-glass Self https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_UWOflUXKUQ
That imagination comes from interaction with these people. In the process of interaction they tell you this is what we think about you. And then you go off believe in that. You don't control what people think about you. Front Stage Behavior: Familiarity breeds content-With front stage they behave nicely. It's in subconsciousness of individuals that they have to behave a certain way in public. At interview- they smile, but is this who they are?
🟥 Looking-glass Self https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_UWOflUXKUQ
It is often said that American Beauty is a film about identity. Each character seems to go through a very personal identity crisis. But I would argue that this crisis are not personal at all. They are products of wider social forces. We may define ourselves based on prevailing attitudes towards sexuality, beauty and material success. Sense of self strongly influences by social world.
🟥 American Beauty Film Analysis: The Sociology of Identity https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6youJFbEgQ
Ricky shows Jane that he likes her as she is. Eventually this leads her abandoning the idea of surgery and gain enough confidence and self-esteem to tell Angela what she really thinks of her. Freed from idea that everyone looks down on he because of her physical appearance, Jane's sense of self is no longer defined how she looks, how she looks to others.
🟥 American Beauty Film Analysis: The Sociology of Identity https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6youJFbEgQ
An individual realize its self by reflecting others' perceptions about him. They use social interactions as a mirror. A Person grows and develop due to interpersonal interactions of the Society. When one interacts socially, one completely considers how one looks in the eyes of others. Negative response leads to depression and anxiety.
🟥 Looking Glass Self Theory https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vAzsBj6yTpw
Looking Glass Self where you see yourself the way you think others see you. You can't see the way others truly see you. So you're seeing yourself they way you think others think they see you. You can see how much is lost in the translation. You're much more beautiful than you think. You attract so much more than you know. There's more going on with you than you care to acknowledge. Beauty is not about what you see. It's about what you reflect. 🟥 Looking Glass Self https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NFEkq8uDiJU
Mirror in front of you, and you are looking at yourself in the mirror, the way it is – is mirror in reality. As Masha labels you, tells you, comments on you, provides you all kinds of feedback, your self continues to develop. The way society perceives you and gives feedback about you. It is considered important to yourself and you have that impression that is how I should be. Their significance or importance makes you proud.
🟥 Looking Glass Self https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xa-PD1YVxj4
There is something you have never understood, Joe. These people at the top, they are the same as anybody else. But you had it inside of you to be so much bigger than any of them. You just had to be yourself. That was all. With me you were yourself. Only with me. Room at the Top (1958) https://youtu.be/Cs1C_Tu2crI

Salem County John Doe (New Jersey, 1979) – Genetic Genealogy Testing after Forty-Five Year Mystery
Sometime during the winter of 1978 to 1979, along a rural dirt road, a young man was shot in the face and partially buried in the woods in Quinton Township, New Jersey. Though his body was covered with brush and logs, his left arm and left hip remained exposed, waiting to be discovered. Approximately six months after his death, police were called to the scene by a local resident on the afternoon of June 3, 1979. The man’s body underwent an autopsy, and newspapers featured descriptions of his unfortunate demise and deserted belongings. A facial reconstruction was painstakingly created and distributed, but the man’s identity has remained a mystery for nearly 45 years. Researchers and students at the Ramapo College of New Jersey’s Investigative Genetic Genealogy department have begun analysis of the man’s DNA in the hopes of bringing answers.
Sources differ on the level of trauma inflicted on this John Doe. Some papers indicate that he was shot in the left eye with a “small caliber” or “.22 caliber” bullet, while another suggests that his face was “completed obliterated, apparently by a shotgun blast”. Despite the undeniably poor condition of the remains, police determined the man to be between white, 18-22 years of age, approximately 5’8” tall, and 150 pounds prior to his death. He had straight, medium brown hair, that was 4-6 inches long. He had the following clothing and accessories with him:
• White Madewell brand painters’ pants (without bib) • Brief underwear • Dark blue Lee brand jacker (size small), adorned with a 1” gold colored metal letter ‘R’ on the right and a quarter-inch gold colored cross on the left jacket breast pockets • Michelangelo brand heavy knit V-neck sweater, dark blue or black yoke and sleeves with white body and large buttons no • Red plaid Cotton Poppy brand Indian style print shirt • T-shirt (size 34/36S) • Black Pro Ked brand sneakers (size 8) • Yellow metal 17-inch spiral twist chain necklace • Gray metal 14½-inch chain necklace with decorative gray metal horn ornament (possibly an Italian good luck charm) • Pack of Marlboro cigarettes with the words “Meth” and “Weed” written along one side with some artwork, and the words “Joints” and “Pot” written on the other side • A matchbook decorated with a gold Tolz Realty Co. advertisement
Sources: No 1. Unidentified Wiki: Salem County John Doe (1979) ) 2. NamUS: Unidentified Person/NamUS #UP1526 3. June 3, 1979, Press of Atlantic City (New Jersey): “Shotgun Murder is Probed” 4. June 15, 1979: Courier-Post (Camden, New Jersey): “Police request help to identify victim” 5. June 22, 1979, Press of Atlantic City (New Jersey): “ID on Body Of Slain Man Sought” 6. Ramapo College of New Jersey: Cases in Progress

I pulled up to the Lake Mart gas station convenience store and parked near the entrance in front of the ice machine. It wasn’t a parking spot but I have a small car, a Miata, so I figured no one would mind, plus I would just be in and out real quick - all I needed was a pack of smokes and two white Monster energy drinks. I flung open the door and got out with ease since I had the top down(when the top is up it’s like crawling into a coffin which is kinda cozy in its own way but still hard to get in and out of). I was wearing cheap, black Amazon sweatpants and crocs and a very expensive beige long sleeve V cut sweater. It was a mismatch of the highest order but I didn’t give a shit. “That ain’t a parking spot buddy!” I hear coming from the Ford F-250 filling up with poor-grade 87 unleaded at the pump, the truck isn’t even a manly diesel. I glare at him and yell back: “How’s the ride in that thing? Probably bounces you around a lot on these roads and reminds you of riding your boyfriend.” A very overweight shit kicker type of fella walks around from the side of the F-250. His boots were covered in dried mud along with his Carrhart overalls. It wasn’t fresh mud but definitely from the previous week’s worth of laboring somewhere horrible. “What did you say to me!?” He bellowed. There was some sort of food stain on the front of his T-shirt, possibly mayonnaise or some other condiment. Strange tho since it was only 7:00AM so he clearly wore the shirt the day or days before. “Oh, sorry.” I said to him after seeing his size. “I didn’t realize you were so big, you must be more of a doggy style power bottom type.” “What the fuck does that mean?” he said to me. “It means you’re too fucking fat to be on top of your boyfriend. He rails you from behind.” “Oh that’s it you fuck!” he yelled and started to run at me. Oh shit I thought, I really let my mouth get me into a situation for no real reason. But actually, no fuck this guy, he started it by telling me I can’t park in front of the ice machine. That’s clearly a violation of the Bill of Rights and flagrant treading on me. He was fairly fast for a fat guy but I knew I was faster and had more endurance. I stood there at first near the front of my Miata and he was running full speed and as he closed the distance he stretched his arms out with the intention of grabbing me(to probably try and make out with me). At the last second I strafed to the right behind the safety of the front left panel of my car. Him being inertia laden, was unable to change direction in time to grab me. His arms flailed to his left at me but missed by a wide margin, He contorted his body in trying to grab me in such a way it forced his legs to cross with the next stride and he tripped over his own feet, took two awkward stumbles and ate shit on the asphalt parking lot, landing on his right shoulder before tumbling over himself and into the ice machine. “Dude you just ate shit!” I said to him pointing and laughing. “You’re probably used to it though when you eat your boyfriend’s ass every night.” “You fucking goddamn…” He said as he got to one knee. “Oh no, don’t propose to me, I’m already in a committed relationship…with your mom.” I replied. He finally got to his feet and despite it being only 50 feet that he ran, he was already wheezing. He reached to his right pocket and pulled out a small pocket knife, maybe 3 inches long only but long enough to do some serious damage, then charged at me again. I ran to the rear of my car and put the car between me and him, he tried to slash at me across the trunk but I easily dodged it as he came up feet short. He started chasing me again and I ran to the front of my car and as he ran up to me again, I ran to the rear of my car like a toddler playing “you can’t catch me”. I started laughing at this thought and each time he ran a pass at me I said that to him. “You can’t catch me big fella! You can’t catch me!” I didn’t have to put forth too much effort but I could tell it was taking its toll on him. He had the stubbornness of a retarded mule and refused to give up to save some sense of pride and honor. We played this game for maybe five complete laps around my car before he realized he had no chance of getting to me. He paused for a moment to decide what to do next to save face and not look like such a fat bitch then it donned on him. “You little fuck.” The sweat was pouring down his forehead. “You got a spare tire in the trunk of this shitbox rice burning beanermobile?” He said and eye’d up my right front tire and pulled his arm back. There wasn’t much I could do so as he began to lunge his arm forward to puncture my tire, I let out the loudest and highest pitch rape scream I could make. It was an ear piercing banshee scream and it must have startled him because he missed the tire and hit the fender causing his sweaty hand to slip from the grip and violently slide down the grip and onto the blade of his knife cutting a large gash in his fingers and palm. “FUCKKKKK!” he screamed, still clutching the knife. The Indian clerk that owned and operated the store must have been alerted by my banshee scream and came rushing out the door. “What going on here!?” he yelled, looking concerned and confused. He saw I was standing there and recognized me immediately. I had to be one of the biggest spenders at the store, buying at least a pack of smokes a day and two energy drinks like clockwork and very often getting food for lunch and always paid cash which they loved. They liked me and knew me as well as you’d know a frequent customer. He saw the fat fella was holding a knife but also bleeding. “He chased me and tried to slash my tire.” I said and the clerk nodded and believed me. “That’s not a parking spot!” the big fella said. “He park there every day, never cause any problem. You buddy, you not welcome here. Go now, leave or I call the police!” The big fella glared at me holding his bleeding palm with his other hand now to apply pressure. I didn’t say a word, I just grinned at the big fella and he turned around and went back to his truck, got in and drove off, peeling out with one wheel as he left. I went inside and the clerk apologized to me for the behavior of the big fella even though it wasn’t his fault obviously. I assured him it wasn’t an issue and got my normal supplies and left. I got in my car and hit the vape(I won’t smoke in the car), started the engine and put on some Tool. My adrenaline was still high so I took a deep breath, hit the vape again, and started the engine then pulled out of my personal parking spot. I pulled out onto the road, looking both ways first but not paying attention to the vehicle far down the road and started my short drive home. It was one complete Tool song for the round trip if I drove like a sane person and I causally accelerated. I hadn’t made it a mile before I noticed a F-250 in my rear view mirror growing in size rapidly. It was the big fella and he was going to run me down in a way that wouldn’t exhaust or embarrass him. “Oh fuck” I said and took another vape hit then downshifted into 3rd gear and put the pedal to the floor. The Miata’s engine woke from its slumber and quickly ran the RPM’s up to 6000, putting me back in my seat the entire time. I shifted into 4th and floored it again. The road was awful and full of potholes but the sporty nimbleness of the Miata made avoiding the major potholes and bumps a fun exercise in technical driving. The big fella had a huge run up on me however and was still closing the distance on me even though I was speeding along at close to 90 miles per hour. Either he was an idiot or didn’t know the roads or likely both but as I glanced in the rearview mirror I could see the truck take hit after hit from the potholes. It lurched and bounced each time but the venerable American truck took each hit in stride and held its ground with me. I was doing 105 MPH now on a shitty backcountry road in a 45MPH zone and the F-250’s speed limiter likely kicked in at that speed so I maintained 105 as we approached the curves. I was nervous because I had only one option and that was to navigate a downhill S-turn meant for 35MPH at 105MPH while avoiding potholes that would tear off one of my tires. If I slowed down any, this maniac behind me could plow into me or give me the Pitt Maneuver and spin me out which would inevitably lead to a rollover where I definitely would die. “Fuck it” I said, grabbed another gear and started pulling away from the F-250. There was another option that just came to me ¼ mile from the S-turn and immediately opted for it. Despite the pain of sacrificing it, I lobbed a full 16oz can of white Monster out of the top of my car like a hand grenade. It crashed into the truck’s grill and penetrated through the grill and into the radiator like an armor piercing anti-tank cannon shell. A plume of steam erupted from the truck and I let off the throttle only to see him start gaining ground. I put it to the floor again and clenched my asshole as I was seconds away from barreling down upon the S-turn. I could see far enough ahead that there was no oncoming traffic so I steered as far left as I could to get the best angle entering the turn. The car’s lane detection warning system beeped at me and I told it to fuck off, I was racing for my life here. I tracked into the turn, apexed in the corner and tracked back out into the next turn. I felt myself get lighter when I entered the turn because it was downhill but the Miata stayed true and glued to the road like a Formula 1 car. In the first part of the S-turn, I had to keep the center line in the center of my car because of the massive canyons in the asphalt on the right tire track that Penn Dot hadn’t addressed in several years. There were more potholes but they were minor and at this speed the car glided over them. I had made it halfway through the S-turn and now steered left again and apexed perfectly in the outward curve and accelerated out of it. The next stretch had mild curves that I wasn’t worried about and I got back in my proper lane, now about to check my mirror to see what the big fella’s fate was. I heard the tires squeal as he tried to slow down to make the first curve of the S-turn. He knew nothing of racing despite having decals on his back window of some local hayseed race car driver. When he braked in the middle of the turn, all the weight shifted forward and he lost all rear grip. Combining that with trying to steer right, caused the rear end of the truck to slide out from behind him and he spun 90 degrees. The left front tire caught the canyon pothole and sent the truck into a barrel roll down the hill. I watched it all in my mirror and I slammed on my breaks. The truck barrel rolled at least a half dozen times before hitting the left side guard rail and bounced into the middle of the road. Steam was billowing from the front of the truck and I could see all the airbags had deployed. I pulled the e-brake, did a half turn to slow down and stop, smoke seethed from my tires and when the car came to a halt in the middle of the road, I put on my 4-ways. I then heard a woman yell to me from the nearby house. “Oh my god!” She yelled. “Are you okay!” She saw the smoke and must have thought there was a fire or something coming from my car. “Yeah I’m fine, but that fella probably isn’t” I said motioning to the heap of metal that used to be a F-250. “I saw the whole thing! I was getting my mail when I heard an engine revving”, the woman said, “Why were you going so fast!? Racing?” She was accusatory and slightly distressed or even angry. I turned my head away from the wreck and looked at her. She was in her late 20s, blonde hair, large and possibly fake breasts, blue eyes and wearing the cutest and most sensual peach colored sundress. If she had makeup on it was minor at most and her face held the natural beauty of an entire Miss Universe contest. “I was racing for my life. The guy is a lunatic, he tried to stab me at the gas station then started chasing me. I knew he couldn’t handle that turn but I knew my car could. Looks like I was right.” I said to her. She looked at me seemingly satisfied with my response but asked, “Why did he try to stab you?” “Because I called him gay.” She laughed and smiled thinking I was joking and was about to say something else when we both heard the big fella yell for help. “We prob should check on him” I said and took a deep hit from my vape exhaling more white vapor than was coming from the wrecked truck. A car pulled up and the driver asked if anyone called 911, I said no and he started dialing. “I’m Michelle”, she said and extended her left hand to me to help me out of the car. She presented her left hand palm down so I could clearly see that she didn’t have a wedding ring. I took her hand and got out of the car then released her hand. It was just a short moment but it lasted for decades. I felt an electricity in her touch, the softness of her skin but the strength and firmness of an unyielding woman who was not unsure of herself. She was breeding stock and with each step she took, her breasts bounced slightly and jiggled revealing that they were indeed real and without a doubt perfect. “I’ve never seen anyone drive that fast through that turn before.” she continued. There’s at least a dozen wrecks here a year from people doing the speed limit and you were going how fast?” “105” I replied. “Maybe 110 when I finally hit the brakes.” “You’re insane.” She said and smiled, then adjusted her sundress, undoing one of her buttons revealing a little bit more cleavage. Her nipples were perky and nearly penetrated the fabric. “Its hot this morning…What kind of car is that? It looks German.” “It’s a Miata. Its basically a super car. It has 180hp but don’t let that fool you, the car only weighs a little more than 2200 pounds. Okay, so you've got to understand why the Mazda Miata is such a big deal—it's not just a car; it's a whole vibe! Picture this: It's super lightweight, right? That makes it incredibly fun to drive; it’s like it's practically gliding along the road. And it's got this perfectly balanced rear-wheel drive, so it handles like a dream, especially on curves. Seriously, it's like dancing... but with a car!” I paused for a few moments to catch my breath then added “Plus, it’s affordable, which is crazy considering how sporty it is. It’s like the everyman’s sports car. You can actually own a roadster without breaking the bank!” “Oh well, that’s nice I guess.” She said and continued, “I have to go now actually, I need to…like do some…chores…I mean get ready for work. Bye.” She buttoned up her sundress then ran off back to her driveway. “Are you a fucking idiot?” I heard the big fella yell. I watched as Michelle sprinted up her driveway, not looking back once even though sirens were blaring and the firetrucks and ambulances had arrived. “You had her melting in your hand and you sperged out like a retard about your car? What the hell is wrong with you? I don’t even want to kick your ass anymore, that was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Today is my C&P for GERD. I submitted it as a Secondary to Asthma (60%).
The funny thing is that after I submitted it, I found a reference to GERD in my in-service medical records (1996). I decided not to muddy the waters and wait for a denial to present new evidence of direct service connection if needed.
I think I have it covered, but I would appreciate your experiences with claims for conditions mainly controlled (kept at bay) by medication.
I was diagnosed by the VA in 2003. Since then, I have lived with it mostly under control thanks to 20mg of Omeprazole.
Before it was diagnosed, I had all the classic symptoms:

• Extreme Heartburn
• Chest Pain (but no arm pain)
• Trouble Swallowing (like a tight grip around my esophagus)
• Vomited in Mouth While Asleep (leading to an asthma attack most times)
• Bloating - It is almost comical watching my stomach grow
• Nausea
• Bad Breath and Bad Taste in Mouth

It got so bad that they put me under and did a biopsy of tissues in my esophagus, stomach and small intestine.
During that procedure, they wrote the following (I don't know if it is good or bad):

1. Detailed distortion of the superficial gastric mucosa
2. Foveolar hyperplasia
3. Oxyntic mucosa with PPI effect
4. Squamous mucosa with congestion
5. Focal basal cell hyperplasia and
6. Many eosinophils suggestive of reflux esophagitis

I guess my question is:
When you have had a condition this long that is primarily controlled by medication, how do I approach my answers to the C&P examiner?
Should I refer to everything as what happens if I don't have the medication? The conditions quickly return if I forget my medication or I am separated from the meds (such as on a cruise).
With Prilosec now being OTC, it isn't quite as scary as it once was because I can run to most stores and buy it.
P.S. This is the claim for which I paid for a Nexus letter and a DBQ from a "known and mostly respected" medical company in Central Texas. I know we aren't supposed to mention names if not questioned first.
Meaning I am going to have 2 competing DBQs. One was paid for after researching my Blue Dot Records, and the other DBQ, for which I have no idea of her due diligence regarding a records search.
I'm bringing:
(1) Form with questions, but I filled in the answers on separate paper, giving me more room to answer. She asks for comments on the following:

• Symptoms when Began
• Treatments, Medications and Surgeries
• Current Symptoms without medication
• How does GERD affect your life

(2) Medical Record Highlights about GERD at the VA
(3) A mini personal statement describing how GERD affects my life without medication.

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An old desk phone stands on a marble pedestal, lost in the middle of a dark room. A perfectly circular, dark room, dug deeply into the bedrock of a city far, far away from anywhere important to our story. Silence reigns in this room… until the phone starts ringing. It rings for such a long time, uninterrupted, insistent, inconsiderate even! It rings for longer than any person should be willing to wait, longer than anyone would stomach. A sane person would simply give up and call later… But this caller? No. This caller refuses to be ignored.

So it rings, even while a set of long, skeletal fingers stretch from the shadows. Knuckles and joints crack as the hand does a few stretches, taking the time to caress the nasty, annoying phone for a moment without picking it up.

“Oh bother… I wonder who that could be…?”

The voice was raspy, nasal and grumbly. It loved to complain, and it had done so for so long that even when it wasn’t complaining, it sounded annoyed and legitimately upset. The hand stopped uncomfortably caressing the vibrating phone for a moment to grab the caller ID. Its dim green light was perfectly reflected on the hand’s glossy white skin.

“Ah… G again, huh…?”

Understanding that it couldn’t simply ignore this annoying sound forever, and that the call may actually mean something important (and lucrative), the hand returned to the phone and finally picked it up.

“You interrupted my nap.” The raspy voice said.

“You shouldn’t sleep for so long. It’s bad for you.” The young boy’s voice answered, legitimately concerned.

“Oh yeah? You suggest I should go out instead? Take a shower, get dolled up, and then bask under the full concentrated power of the Sun?”

“Come on now, don’t be like that. You know what I mean.”

“You better mean something important, to interrupt my nap like that, you old bastard.”

The white, skeletal hand made a few sassy snaps, loud enough to be heard over the phone.

“Alright alright, I am done beating around the bush. Sorry.” The calm, youthful voice sighed over the phone, these conversations were enough to exhaust him.

“Yeah that’s right, bitch.”

“It’s just… we have a new visitor in The Forum, and I’d like you to give us a little check on who or what.”

“What, are you afraid of a few gremlins and jinxes finally finding their way over your precious forum? Or is this a troll hunt?” The raspy voice finally got up from the sea of cushions and empty bags, and with another snapping of his fingers, he activated the widescreens that covered every single spot of his walls with the exception of a single metal door. The lights were warm and orangey, designed to avoid straining the eyes.

The room had returned to life! It was an absolute disaster, pillows and empty bloodbags laid scattered around without a care, and the whole place had a disgusting aura of filth to it.

Blanco was fully illuminated now. His figure was enough to cause nightmares to a few children: a tall, lanky and wide-shouldered man, skin white as marble and cracked as an old dry cookie, full of darker spots and nasty scars. His arms were long enough for the knuckles of his free hand to feel the floor.

But what was worst of all was his face: a perfectly round, perfectly smooth face, lacking hair, eyes and ears, only showing a few dark veins underneath the glossy skin. His mouth was another crack in this otherwise flawless surface, showing myriads of sharp, black teeth.

“Now let’s see…”

The screens all showed the same picture of Blanco’s face, a toothy smile covering his visage. With a mere gesture of his hand, a wireless keyboard came floating to the creature, big and wide enough for his disproportionate hands. The keys were shining in beautiful purple, producing a hypnotic wave effect across its length.

After cracking his knuckles, the creature began typing and accessing one of the many screens, the one permanently connected to Dejima 08. Blanco stretched again, sitting in the air and crossing his lanky legs as he checked the analytics.

“Yep. You have a new visitor, and they immediately registered. ‘Tav’, huh? Too generic.”

“Can you give me a bit more info on them?” The young man asked.

“Are you officially commissioning me now? Because this is as far as our friendship will get me without pay.” Blanco smirked, a purple tongue licking his nonexistent lips.

“...I’ll have the payment sent immediately. I want an hour of your time.” There was hesitation on the old voice. He clearly didn’t feel good about this, but one could never be too careful.

“Oh boy!” The creature clapped rapidly, and before he knew it, there was a notification on another screen. Ka-ching! The sound of money going straight into his PayBud. “Ohhh Giovanni, you gotta be my best client, really. Most people whine about my prices.”

“You probably tell that to every client you get.” G chuckled, taking it like a good sport.

“I do!” Blanco admitted with a bright, big smile, and then slid over to face a cluster of 9 screens on a wall. “This will take just a moment…”

The screens would go to black at the same time, before glyphs of many sizes, shapes and forms began flooding them, spiraling to the center of each display. The lines that draw them were a pale, regular blue at first, before suddenly taking a bright octarine hue. Blanco’s fingers tapped wildly on his keyboard, while his mind focused on the seeking runes that took him straight into the second layer of reality.

Mages didn’t usually deal with the technology of the Sleepers. Not because they felt it was below them (even though many of them would certainly take that posture to protect their fragile egos), but for protection: Technology born out of the mundane rules of the natural world did not meddle well with magic, and even in a world that had lost 95% of its magical population, infusing magic on mechanisms and electrical circuits was a great way to attract pesky fairies.

Blanco, however, was not just any mage. After several lifetimes of work and study, he had mastered the art of using magic in conjunction with the power of the Internet itself, turning him into one of the most prolific hackers and trackers in the whole world of Jericho. Perhaps even the single most requested man in the business!

He, of course, didn’t accept just any job. He only took the work that interested him, that made him think outside of the box, or that paid particularly well. But Giovanni here? The old man was an exception. Giovanni had been good to Blanco in a time where no one else would even look at the creature, and as much as he hated showing gratitude for things, Blanco was a man of honor… to a certain extent.

He at least appreciated a friend when he had one.

The screens began changing one by one as the creature found information. A national registry page, a Vapor gaming profile, a VirtualZone profile…

“This one’s not dumb. They keep good opsec, rarely sharing personal information. That’s good.” Blanco smirked. “Sadly, that’s not enough to stop me.”

Soon a picture appeared on one of the screens, the face of a smiling, bright child. An honor student with many dreams and possibilities in the future.

Then, on a fifth screen, a grainy image stolen from an unsecured webcam. A burnout stares at the screen with dead eyes and no spirit in their posture.

“Oof. Growth has been rough on this one.” The creature commented sarcastically, taking a moment to stop and crack their knuckles. “This is your guy, G. Real name: Santino Belnades. A random kid from Wohl.”

“Wohl?” Giovanni was beyond surprised.

“Yeah, you know. The country in the north. The one that looks like a pen–”

“Yes yes, I know Wohl. I just… didn’t expect to hear from the mages of the north. It’s been a while.”

“Ah, no this is not a born mage. This is a sleeper.”

“Impossible. They passed the Le Guin test and made an account in the Forum.”

“Alright then, a Bastard Mage for sure.”

There was a moment of silence as Giovanni meditated on the implications of this… only broken by the camera feed’s catching Tav screaming.

“Spy Medic, Spy Medic! Kill that motherfucker!”

“Ahhh… TS2. I really should get back into it one of these days.” Blanco commented with a bit of nostalgia. “So? What do we do? You still have some minutes of my time, G! I could scare them real good if you want them out of the forum.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. It’s just another mage in the world…they’ll probably benefit from learning a few things.”

“Eighty Two will get really, really mad if she finds out you allowed a Bastard Mage in her precious project.”

“Mustafá will get angry no matter what, but she rarely shows up in the Forum anyways.”

“Hah. Old bastard.”

There was another moment of silence, interrupted by the heavy clicking and intense gaming from the webcam feed.

“... So.” Blanco finally spoke up. “What now?”

“I’ll just say hi to them and let them be.” Giovanni said, probably smiling. “They are probably scared and insecure, after all.”

“Are you serious? I mean, this is a Bastard Mage. They shouldn’t have had the means to find your forum and yet, here they are. Don’t you find that suspicious in the slightest?”

“Hmmmn…”

“And this is happening just as we had that Temporal Displacement alarm, remember? I really doubt that’s a coincidence.”

“Keep an eye on them, please. Just to make sure they don’t get in trouble.”

“That will cost you extra.”

“Fiiiine.”

“Yes, excellent.” Blanco rubbed his hands together, before stretching lazily and tapping a few keys. He would start a file on this ‘Tav’ person now.

“Whatever the case may be… I really hope this doesn’t get them in trouble. I mean, more trouble than they already are in.” With a heavy sigh, Giovanni finally decided that enough was enough. “I’ll leave you to it. I trust that you’ll inform me if anything happens.”

“If I can trust you to keep paying me, of course!”

Giovanni sighed again before finally hanging up. Blanco, now with something to do with his day, stretched in his invisible chair and looked at the webcam feed for another moment before turning it off. If he kept it on for too long, he risked Tav realizing that the webcam was suddenly on, and he really didn’t want to scare them.

For now, at least.

He wanted to pretend he wasn’t interested, and that this would just be another boring, fruitless job with nothing to show for it but a few factoids about a random mage’s life… but he had a strange feeling about this one. There was an odd trinkle in the dead, depressed eyes of that bastard.

“Let’s hope you know what you’re doing, kid…”

For context: 22F, no physical health conditions, I enjoy eating healthy, active job 3x week, shit immune system (I got Covid a week after I stopped wearing a mask at work, partly why I want health insurance because I get sick more than anyone I know and I feel like I'll probably suffer the health consequences for that at some point)
I'm looking at Southern Cross as they seem to be best value for the price. I was thinking about their Wellbeing One plan but I noticed that for things like diagnostic test, there's a 6 month rule about how it must be related to a procedure. It kind of puts me off it because what if I need that but it isn't going to be related to a surgery? I can't afford the higher tiers and don't think I'd need that level of coverage at the moment (though at some point, I want the Ultracare due to the sterilisation policy but I won't get approved for it by anybody at my age so it's on the back-burner but a large reason why I want Southern Cross so I can stay with them).
I'm thinking of the Regular Care plan because of the lack of the 6 month rule despite not having more $ coverage. It says it is shared care. I assume that means they'll cover what they say they will and any extra will be on me? For example, $45 for GP visits. I pay $60 so I'll pay $15 for each visit? I go to the doctor probably every 2 months on average now, previously every month basically (due to medication consults).
In regards to the pre-existing conditions, I notice their policy includes symptoms/signs of a condition. If I've mentioned something like pain to a doctor in the past and then it gets worse or if there's a different, new symptom but it turns out that initial pain mentioned is involved with the worsening/different/new symptom, then does that mean there's no cover? Or if there's results done and it shows that initial pain was involved, can they decline their coverage of those results/subsequent treatment? Like stomach pain, for example, since it's quite ubiquitous. Like next time I get sick, I'd like to explore why I get sick more and sicker for longer but I don't know if I can? Is that pre-existing?
Also thinking of getting the Critical Illness coverage just for peace of mind.
Any help/advice would be so appreciated

Disclaimer: I have to shorten the words on this one because the chapter had gone on for to long and stole the word count limit. Every person in this section has my deepest and most sincere thanks for the art, memes, and love they have shown my series.
Thank you to: for proofreading, editing, and this art. Check his fic here!
u/Talentlessfurry for this art.
u/Roddcherry for adding Novel to the charismas party he drew.
u/everyveryever for this art.
u/Emotion-Senior for the meme.
u/Orphandestroyer99 for the comic and art.
u/abrachoo for the meme.
u/guaiwutongzhi for the art.
u/United_Patriots for the art.
u/migulehove for the art(s).
u/aMANTEIGAdo for the art.
u/SlimyRage for the art.
Thank you to each and every one of these amazing people!
CW: Accidental Substance Abuse
Memory Transcription Subject: Novel, Kolshian Scientist and Self-Proclaimed “Gamer God”
Date {standardized human time}: October 19th, 2136
The elevator ride took a lot longer than I would have liked, my excitement and anticipation making it difficult to stand still. Ada’s room was almost at the top floor of the building — along with those of the other members of my herd — making it take a bit longer to get to than most of the other Humans’ I’ve visited while here.
Seems they are keeping the various tribes in their own groups. The fourth floor has the Germans, French, Polish, and Austrians, with a few Danes and Swedes mixed in. I wonder if they did that to keep the different tribes from fighting with ones they don’t like? Doubtful really, everyone seems to get along well enough, disregarding a couple jabs here and there. Probably just makes geographical sense to put them together.
My pondering was broken with a soft ding of the old elevator doors opening. I stepped out of the elevator quickly and took in my surroundings. There were very few humans milling about the quiet halls as they went about their business. One human with comfy-looking pelts had noticed me step out of the elevator and had frozen where they stood. After a short, yet still uncomfortably awkward moment, I gave a wave with one of my upper appendages and walked down a different hall.
A few moments later, I pulled out my pad to look at the message Sindre sent me.
Room 441, hailey and i went to get some stuff for the sesh. ada will be there in a bit. see you soon, {censored}
From: Sindre(Human)
I quickly typed out my own message.
Thank you! I’ll meet you there!
From: Me
Stowing the pad, I made my way there. Along the way I encountered several more Humans, each of which having some sort of reaction to my presence. Mostly just freezing in place or casting glances at me as I walked by. Some of them recognized me, either from when we baked together, or when I was in the rec room when the news dropped and gave me a wave in return. There was one case though when a Terran exited their room, saw me, and let out a noise I can only describe as a squeal before diving back into their room.
That last one confused me to no end, as I had never seen that reaction from a human before. I considered knocking on the door before thinking better of it and continuing down the hall to my destination.
How curious… I'll have to ask Ada about that human and why they ran away from me... Heh, prey scaring predators. Not so long ago, such a concept would’ve been seen as the ultimate goal, any real-world examples derided as only that of a dreamer’s fallacy, and yet now… I don’t think I like the idea so much…
I made a mental note to apologize to them if we ever meet again and kept walking, this time with my form hunched and my pace a little faster than before so I could avoid bothering the Terrans as much. It seemed to work, and the humans seemed to look away a little faster than they had previously.
Arriving at Ada’s door, though, I composed myself as best I could, straightening my back and taking a deep breath to calm myself. I knocked on the door a few times, only for it to open a slight amount. Cocking my head in confusion, I listened to the slight groaning of the hinges before I gently pushed it the rest of the way, the door creaking loudly in resistance.
The room smelled of wax and freshly harvested Othll bark, like I had just walked into the home improvement aisle of a store. Walking further inside showed me the source of the smell, which was a set of candles sitting on top of a nightstand in the corner… next to a fire alarm with the battery taken out.
That’s a little concerning… that can’t be safe at least. I should tell her to put it back in when I see her… wherever she is.
Looking around the room some more showed it to be quite unkempt, with pelts and other junk laying strewn haphazardly across the floor. Personal knick-knacks and picture frames sat on shelves and tables around the room, making the places feel a lot more homely than the other rooms I’d been in. A large TV sat on the other side of the room across from the bed, which had been recently used, going by the blanket on the floor and the pillows tossed about. Against the wall next to the bed was a large couch that had clearly seen better paws, the top layer peeling heavily and scattering the little bits of plastic covering everywhere.
Sitting next to the TV appeared to be some sort of Terran gaming console, complete with bright colors plastered across its many faces and with several different wires coming out of it. Far more than there should be, since part of the case it was in had been smashed to fit more cabling into. Tools, used wires, and broken plastic laid scattered next to the patchwork job.
Seems they really did modify it. Makes sense, since I doubt it would normally work on our systems at all… we should really put that fire alarm back in…
Just as I started walking over to inspect it, my lower tentacle caught something soft on one of the suckers. Looking down showed it to be one of the chest pelts Ada had been wearing the paw I met her. Closer inspection showed the whole floor was covered in discarded pelts, including some I had never seen before!
I let out a sigh as I looked around at the mess… I hope she doesn't mind if I cleaned up a bit.
And that's exactly what I did as I waited for my host to return. It did not take long for me to find the garbage can and hamper she used for her used pelts. While I worked though the piles, I took note of the stranger clothes I saw. Most of them were the regular chest pelts that I’d seen every human wear, but others were completely unique or otherwise somehow unusual.
One such example was what I can only describe as some sort of winter gear? It had a very intricate design on the front made of lace and a very soft interior made of a kind of purple fabric. What made it even more strange was that I found several of these scattered around the room, meaning that she was wearing these pretty regularly too!
Hmmm… perhaps it is meant to keep their ears warm? That would explain the strap on the back, as it would be meant to go under their chin. That doesn’t explain why she would be using it though, and to have so many! It must get cold in here when the A/C kicks in, I guess. This place is really old after all.
Either way, they went into the hamper. I left the tools where they were, in case they belonged to different people, but everything else went straight into the trash. The whole process was pretty exhausting, but the room ended up looking much nicer than it had before!
Just as I finished bagging up the garbage can, the door gave a loud creak as Ada stepped in wearing some pretty comfortable-looking pelts similar to the ones she had been wearing a few paws ago, pink prey head slippers and all.
A few {seconds} pass as she starts pulling out clear totes full of what I assume to be her things before I break out of my confusion and flick her a tail wave.
“Hey Ada! Whe-”
“AAAAHHH!!!”
She screamed as she stumbled onto her back, causing me to drop the bag and jump in fright. We stared at each other for a moment before Ada spoke up.
“Nov’?! What the fuck are you doing in here?! You weren't… ya Allah, you scared the crap out of me!”
My arms and tentacles raised up in a pleading gesture after I realized what I did. “S-sorry! I-I thought you would see me! And Sindre said to meet you here? F-for the games?”
Ada took a few more moments to calm down on the floor, but eventually, she stood up and took a few breaths. “You’re fine, squiddie… Sindre didn’t mention how close you were so… oh well, doesn't matter I guess. Uh, what’s in the bag you got there? Also… where are all of my clothes?”
At her observation, I picked up the trash bag and held it up for her to see. “Well… your room was a bit of a mess, a-and you were gone, so I did a bit of… cleaning? Nothing major, just throwing away some trash and putting the pelts in the hamper.”
“Oh, well, thanks Nov. I was gonna get to that befor-” Suddenly she stops herself mid-sentence. Her eyes widen as she casts her forward-facing gaze over to the pelts’ bin.
For some reason, the human's usual light brown features darken considerably with a crimson bloom. Ada turned to look at me, and I gave my best happy expression I could muster to put her at ease. This time, the human's face twisted into an obvious forced snarl before she gave up, running a hand down her face.
“Novel, j-just a heads up for the future, it’s considered rude to go through someone's room and touch their… pelts without permission. They are, um, quite personal belongings, and we don’t let other people touch certain ones. Fuck, uh, don’t tell the other two about this either. It would be, eugh…” Ada’s snarl gets larger as she looks back to the hamper, the crimson still blooming across her face. My tail flicked curiously as I looked between her and the pelt basket.
How peculiar… Hailey seemed just fine with dumping all sorts of pelts on me when she was showing them off. Perhaps that's because she studies it, so in that case it’s seen as okay? Maybe it has more to deal with how I came in here without her supervision? Predators are known to be territorial in the wild, and the Humans seem to be that way as well with their many borders. Letting someone into your ‘territory’ must be a pretty personal thing in the first place. Which would mean that she must be upset that I just walked in here and started messing with things! Speh!
A tentacle reached out, or up I suppose, to Ada’s shoulder while my tail signaled my sincerest apologies. “I-I am so sorry, Ada. If I knew, I would have never touched anything! Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone! Do you want me to… put it back the way I found it?”
The human seemed to find my appeasement worthy as she let out a quiet laugh. “No, Nov’, you’re just fine. Thanks for cleaning up too, I guess; I was gonna do it myself, but oh well… not something we need to talk about.” She lets out another laugh as she walks over to the modified console and grabs a controller.
Yet, before she could get a word out, there was a sharp knock on the door, followed by it swinging open to reveal the last two members of our herd. Sindre came in first, carrying several different bags filled to the brim with snacks of all varieties. He gave a simple head nod and rushed over to the table by the TV to deposit his haul, dropping a few on the floor in his haste.
Hailey walked in right behind him with a plastic grocery bag over her shoulder filled with many different colored bottles of drink and a tray of small dark-brown squares covered in plastic wrap. Her free hand gave us both a wave while she walked to the table in a much calmer manner, at least when compared to her compatriot.
We both gave our own wave in return while I spoke up. “Hey guys! Welcome! What did you get from the kitchen?”
Hailey set her things down on the table. “Not much. Some dried fruit, chips, cookies, soda, juice, and even some fresh brownies someone made! I assumed they were for the taking since they had a few trays sitting out to cool down, but we didn’t really have time to ask since we kinda rushed up here. Oh, and the kitchen stinks to high hell for some reason. Might have to tell Emmanual about that.”
My head tilted curiously at the information as Ada and Sindre moved the couch over to where I was standing. Once it was in place, I took a seat at the opposite end from Hailey. “Well, I’m glad you got what you wanted! Do you mind if I take one of those, uh, brownies?”
She gave me a hand wave as I reached over and undid the plastic wrap around the treats. They were still quite warm from the kitchen! I took a small bite out of the corner to get a taste of it, only to then gobble up the whole thing in one bite.
This is amazing! It’s like strayu but… richer? With an almost cough medicine aftertaste mixed with that strange spice? Such a strange and yet fascinating combination!
“Such a weird taste… but definitely a good one! Are there any more downstairs?” I asked while covering my mouth as best I could for the sake of manners.
She took one herself and took a small bite. “Yep, at least a couple more trays from what we saw. Though I bet most of those will be gone once word gets around.”
My head nodded solemnly as I picked up another.
Might as well enjoy them while we can!
Ada walked over to me and flicked the space in between my eyes with her fingers. Her other hand passed me a human game controller before taking a seat right next to me. “Save some for us, ya green goblin! Pretty sure we’re meant to share those!”
The humans let out a soft chuckle while my face warmed in embarrassment. Luckily, they didn’t stay focused on it for long before she pointed to the controller. “So, do you need help with that? It’s not exactly built for you.”
Moving it around in my appendages was more than enough to prove that fact, but I tried to give her a dismissive tail wave while sitting down. “Don’t worry… I should be able to make this work…” I said while using all four of my limbs to hold the piece of plastic. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it’ll do the job for now.
“Not the first time I had to do this. There are a lot of different species on Aafa, and some of them have very strange, uh, manipulators… you just have to get used to it.”
There may not have been a lot, or really any other species in my home town, but that college certainly did. Me and Cloyta used to hang out with a few different herds whenever we had the time. That Tilfish remote was an interesting experience to use. Having to use smells to figure out a puzzle in a game like it was normal was really something else.
The TV and console suddenly turned on with a bright flash as Sindre held out a remote towards them both. He used his controller to navigate to a menu on the system to reveal a vast collection of Human games. I grabbed my pad out of my pack to translate some of the games as Sindre scrolled by.
Doom of Kevsar, Helldivers: Super Dating Simulator, Papa’s Pizzeria, Skyrim 2… all these seem fine, I guess. At least not super violent like I thought… A good sign!
Sindre spoke up first as he continued to look through the archive. “Anyway, we were talking the other day about which game to show you first, but we couldn’t agree on what would be the best showcase. So instead of one game voted in from all of us, we are each going to show you a game we think you’ll like best. Sounds good?”
My tail thumped against the back of the couch in acceptance. “Yup! That actually sounds really great! Get to see a wider spectrum of human ‘entertainment!’ Who’s going first?”
“Sindre is…” Hailey speaks up in between bites of her confection, “His system, his pick… still think it’s a dumb fucking game though.” He says as he stops his scrolling and arrives at a very brightly colored preview with several… Humans? Human-like creatures in what look like Dossur vehicles?
He presses a button to select the game as a grin grows on his face. “Hey, Mario Kart Galaxy 3 is a classic! You’re just mad because you’re bad at it.” Sindre turns his head to me while Hailey leans forward. “You’ll love it, I swear. Really shows off the real Humanity we have to hide from you guys.”
“That's for a good reason, you dolt. But it’s your choice…” Hailey said while wiping her hands on a napkin.
I hoped he was right as some cheerful music started playing.
{Memory Transcription Time Advancement: 19 Terran standard minutes…}
Sindre was right! This is fun!
The upbeat music continues to play as I make another turn around a corner, drifting a little to build up some momentum. The ‘Birdo’ creature in my ‘Kart’ does a little dance as I time it right and get a small speed boost, sending me further down the multi-colored track.
“Hmmhmmmhm, hmhmhmm~.” I tried my best to hum along to the music as I continued with the race.
I never would have thought that a racing game could be interesting. Cloyta and I played a few when we were much younger, but they seemed slow in comparison. Usually had a goal at the end as well, like delivering some fruits to a market, or maybe trading on spacefaring merchant vessels in the more complex ones.
It was super fun though! Competing against each other felt a little off, but I wrote it off as a Human cultural thing. A way of bonding, as with most things for them it seems. Other than that, I found the racing to be a lot of fun! There was so much going on, and yet it somehow managed to really keep you aware of everything going on at all times.
A projectile here, a fruit peel trap there, there was so much to think about that I almost forgot to pay attention to the humans! Which, if I weren’t here to study them, might have been a good thing. There were times the competitive nature of the game seemed to draw something else out of them, something I hadn’t expected.
It was… well…
“If I run into one more fucking banana, I will kick you down a flight of stairs and jump on your head from the top step!”
“How the hell did that hit ME!? Broken fucking hitboxes in this shitty ass game!”
“GET YOUR CRUSTY TOAD ASS OFF ME BEFORE I RIP YOU ASSHOLE TO ASSHOLE!!!”
…intense.
My enjoyment of the game seemed to be pretty one-sided unfortunately. Even by the already high standards of the Humans’ previous banter, this was truly something else. While I was still learning the game and slowly climbed up the leaderboard, the Humans all led the herd by taking the top 3 spots every time. They were so close together in some of the races that it was nearly impossible to tell who would win until the last moment, making their yelling even more vicious and bloodthirsty.
There were times I thought they were about to get physically violent with each other once it got to the final lap, but thankfully, it never came to that, aside from maybe some light pushing. Their… banter? Fighting? Uh… verbal abuse towards each other made learning the game a lot harder too since every time I tried to ask a question, my voice would get drowned out in all the yelling. They did show me the basic controls before we started, but it’s a little hard to ask for pointers when your coaches are threatening severe bodily harm against each other.
As I drifted around another sharp turn, my mind wandered back to what Sindre said when we’d first started:
‘Really shows off the real Humanity we have to hide from you guys.’
Was this supposed to be the ‘real Humanity’? I sure hope not… I think I’d prefer if they actually came to blows instead of continuing this barrage of foulness they are constantly spewing. They don’t even seem to be enjoying it! They have to be doing it for a reason… right?
I continued to think as I continued down the track and finished my second lap. The argument was starting to build up again as the stakes started to rise.
“Oh, yeah, of course you get a red shell in 2nd and I get fucking bananas in 3RD! Gotta love this piece of shit game!!” Hailey shouted, leaning forward like she was about to pounce on the TV.
“Not my fault you can’t aim for shit, dumbass! Just throw better!” Sindre quipped back.
“How about I throw you out a five story window?! I mean, I would if your fatass wouldn't snap the floorboards if I tried!” Ada finished it as he gave her an aggressive shove with his shoulder.
Yet, unlike how I expected, she didn’t push back. That's what makes this all so confusing! Each time they antagonize each other, the other person does it back, and they just stop! Their words sound like they mean it to hurt, and their actions reflect that… but they aren’t acting on it.
Hmm… the ‘real Humanity’, huh… Maybe I’m approaching this the wrong way? Something less about who the Humans are, so to speak, but more how they feel? They’ve been awfully emotional in every interaction I’ve ever had with them… Aggressive, too, admittedly. Maybe… maybe this is a way for them to vent some of that aggression safely? Around people they really trust with a game you can complain about, but demands too much attention to leave them to do more than yell at each other? Things have been rather… stressful, lately.
My tail thumped a few more times against the dilapidated couch, sending a few more puffs of stuffing into the air. The theory kind of lined up with what I knew, but I was here with the primary source for a reason, after all. I would just ask them, but…
“I am going to FUCKING DEEPFRY THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM {Ass Violin}!!!”
They were busy.
They seem pretty angry… but if it helps them deal with their stress, then I am just fine with it. I’m glad they are getting through it in their own… ‘special’ Human way.
In any case, it was still better than damming it all up until it overflowed and someone really got hurt. Safe in the knowledge that the Humans (probably) wouldn’t actually attack each other, I just resolved to focus on the game instead. The third and final lap was coming around, and things were starting to ramp up even further. The Humans’ false violence got even louder, and coupled with the occasional and really rather distracting limb shooting out and the rapidly intensifying music, my poor heart was not in the best condition as our racers closed in on the finish line.
But then, all of a sudden, something very strange happened. The Humans simultaneously began to curse louder than ever before, screaming and wailing as an odd blue indicator flashed along the top of the screen, indicating some kind of blue spiky ball rapidly approaching us from behind. All three of them illogically slammed on the brakes, clearly trying to dodge the oncoming projectile, but it was to no avail. The ball flew right past my ‘Kart’ and struck the center of the tightly crowded humans, unleashing an explosion of blue fire that stunned all three.
Allowing my Kart, driving at maximum speed in hopes of any shot at outrunning the projectile, to shoot right past them and cross the finish line first.
Wait… what?
A brief silence hung in the air at what just happened until my arms went up in the air
“Hey, look! I won! Hehehe! I didn’t know I would get so lucky on my first try! Is that sort of thing… common…?”
I stopped my celebration as all the Humans were giving me very intense looks with their stares. They lacked the familiar friendliness most Humans looked at me with, but instead seemed much… angrier.
Speh, right. They are still mad from before, and now I just beat them at their own race… O-okay, they don’t mean it, they are upset and need to let it out. Just have to get through it.
Seeing what was about to happen, I curled in on myself and braced myself for the barrage of verbal slurry coming my way. A moment passed as I waited for the insults to fly but… they never came? Opening an eye revealed the Human’s expressions had changed from fury to…
Amusement?
“You alright there Nov’? You’re shaking pretty bad… Was that too much?” Ada asked in a quiet voice while patting me on the back roughly. It took a moment for my brain to catch up before I could speak again.
“O-oh, uh, sorry, I thought you all were going to… yell at me? Like you did with each other?” My voice was a little shaky as I unfurled myself.
All of the Germans seemed to wince a little at that. “Yeah… fuck, sorry about that. Mario Kart is a pretty rage-inducing game. Shoulda thought about that beforehand.”
My tail attempted to signal calm while trapped behind me. “N-no, it’s fine… I did learn a lot actually. It was fun too, besides the yelling part. Um, can we move on though? I think I’ve got enough out of this one.”
Sindre exits the game with a nod while the others let out deep sighs. “Yeah, sorry Nov’. It’s one of the most popular party games Humanity ever made, so I figured it would be a good one to show you. Next is… Ada’s pick… we sure we should do this one?”
The woman turned her head to look at Sindre. “Positive. They have a vegan option in the settings, so it’s not going to get us arrested or anything. Plus, it's a cooperative party game! Feds seem to love that whole ‘herd’ thing, and Nov’ liked the last one so I’m sure it’ll be fine!”
She gave a dismissive hand wave before turning back to me. “It’ll be fine, really. I played this game as a kid all the time, no need to panic, right?” She seemed a little worried at the end of that sentence, so I tried to put on a brave face.
“S-sounds great! What’s it about?” I mentally chastised myself for my stutter and reached towards the table to grab another pastry. “Ahem. There’s nothing predatory in it, right?”
She grabs one herself and a glass of an orange fizzy drink. “Nope, none at all! Just some harmless cooking with your friends! You’ll love it!” Her enthusiasm helped me calm down as the game started booting up on screen.
Overcooked 5: Season of Seasoning.
Looks cheerful at least. Cooking is fun too… It’ll be fine, yeah.
I took a bite out of my brownie as the game's main menu music started to play.
{Memory Transcription Time Advancement: 23 Standard Terran Minutes…}
You know… I think I get it.
A soft relaxing track played in the background as the four little chefs on screen ran around doing various tasks needed to keep the kitchen functioning, like preparing vegetables, or washing dishes. A timer at the top of the screen was slowly counting down while a little ‘onion’ next to it with a Human face rambled on about something or other.
Orders start coming in quick, and all of us get to work in a flash… or at least, all of us SHOULD be.
“Can you three stop licking the dust clouds in the vents and actually do something to help me, PLEASE?!”
A trio of Human giggles was my only response as I leaned forward in concentration.
This game. This brahking game. They should use this for testing for intelligence like those quizzes we took back home, since clearly some people go brain dead trying to do literally anything that isn’t getting in my stars-damned way, or otherwise waste valuable time by huffing the gas coming off the stove!
Finishing up one order of seaweed wraps and lettuce salad, I tried to get back to the kitchen, but was immediately blocked by… a plate on the floor.
“WHO-!! Why is there a plate on the floor?! The counter is literally right there! It’s such a simple job to-” A ding rings out, showing several new orders that needed to be filled. The timer started flashing red as we reached the one ‘minute’ mark.
A deep, frustrated growl builds in my throat, causing my Humans to laugh for some reason, incensing me even further! We all get to work in completing the last orders, however. Things were going well as the Terrans seemed to (finally) get it together to actually make some good food. Sindre had just finished cooking the rice while Ada chopped the carrots. Me and Hailey were putting everything together on the other side and sending it through until—
“Is, oh my stars, did you guys really send over raw rice?! It’s not even partially cooked!! Are you all a bunch of mountain dwellers? Do you eat your dry grass with a side of brahking pebbles and pond scum?! Cook it again!” I threw the rice back, hitting Sindre in the back of the head with the pile of rice, causing his character to fall over with a cartoonish thunk sound effect.
The Germans laughed loudly at the scene, which made my face heat up in frustration. The timer was running short as we waited for the rice to actually be cooked this time.
“Nov’, I, haha, I’m sorry. I’ll get it done this time, have mercy! I thought the last one was done so I-”
My head turned just enough for my eye to be focused solely on the pale Human. “IT WAS BRAHKING RAW!! There's a bar at the top that tells you! Do you need eye surgery?? Can you even pass a driving test??”
More laughter.
“AND STOP LAUGHING AT ME!! IT’S NOT FUNNY!!”
A ding came from the pot to signify it was done. Ada immediately took it out and walked over to the counter to pass it.
“Perfect, now just- what are you doing?”
She wasn’t passing it over. Instead, she was charging up her throw way more than she needed to. I was just about to say something as the clock flashed brightly ‘till she threw the rice at full force.
Directly at my little chef. The rice beamed directly off the side of my character's head, sending me flying away from the plate and sprawled across the kitchen floor as the rice landed gently on the ground.
“ADA!!!!!”
The countdown is drowned out by the humans erupting into laughter as I desperately try and recover. Yet, just as I make it to my feet, the countdown reaches zero, and the mission ends. Defeat fills my chest while the onion man does a little dance to tally up our points.
49600… only two out of three stars…
It’s over…
I slumped against the back of the couch, fury and betrayal stirring in my chest while the predators laughed to each other for several moments. Their raucous, howling laughter eventually started dying down, at least enough for them to actually say something to me.
“Nov’, come on. It’s just a game. I’m, hehehe, I’m sorry okay? We were just having a little fun is all.” She ran her treacherous hands down my back in an effort to calm me, to little effect.
“Dumb game. Stupid… start the next mission…”
She chuckled a bit. “Maybe we should play a different game. You don’t seem real happy playing this one.”
That made my tail flick in light amusement though the frustration. “Now you sound like my Dad…” My anger at the game started to fade more and more, replaced with a growing sensation of guilt. ”I-I think that’s a good idea. Um, sorry about that.”
She removed her hand, but kept her eyes on me and the gooey trail now stringing from her hand. “Eugh… hey, you’re fine. If you can deal with us screaming at each other, then we can handle your little squeaks.”
The other two smiled and nodded in agreement while I looked at her in confusion, feeling a little offended. “My… squeaks? But, um, thank you... W-what's the next game? Hailey’s turn, right?”
On cue, she brushes her mane to the side and starts scrolling down. “Yes, actually! Unlike these two walnuts, I actually picked a relaxing game. A classic. An art piece~” Her hands did a slight flair, yet I remained unmoved.
“Hailey, that's what the other two said too. While those games were… fine, I wouldn’t call them ‘masterpieces.’ Are you sure about this one?” I asked while grabbing another brownie.
I keep eating these things, but I just feel more and more hungry… weird…
The Humans chucked as she selected her game. “Hey, have a little faith in me. I haven't met a Human alive that can say this game is bad. Just watch!”
A flash came from the TV as the game's title came into view.
Minecraft: Anniversary Edition.
“We’ll use one of the worlds we were playing on back on Earth so you can get an idea of what it’s really like. And, uh, make sure it's peaceful too, just in case.”
I took a bite of the treat and settled into my spot, preparing myself for whatever was to come.
{CONTINUED INTO THE COMMENTS}

Sorry this took so long, kinda got caught up.
Don't have too much to say, other than Maple Whiskey is rapidly becoming one of my favorite drinks, and I'm sorry this took so long to come out. Real life kinda got in the way for a bit (I have one of those?), and I had to put stuff on the backburner. Sorry.
That about covers it.
Previous/Main/Discord/Next
_________________________________
Fries limped his way down the ship’s hallways, using the wall to his right to support himself. Twisted metal and debris littered the hallways, but it had clearly not come from this sector. He was in the center of the ship, far enough away that nothing was dangerously damaged yet, but they were obviously putting stuff in the wide, CEVA-rated hallways for the time being. He gritted his teeth from the pain and was forced to take short, shallow breaths as he walked. He clutched his side as he shuffled along, almost wishing that he was in one of the suits to help support him.
“Fuck me.” He muttered, pausing for a moment outside of his room to breathe. He was about to type in his code to unlock the door when he realized that it was already unlocked. Not sure why and fearing the worst, he drew his personal pistol from the back of his suit’s waistband, keeping it close in to himself to make sure that it couldn’t get pulled away from him. Exhaling sharply as he brought his arm away from his chest to hit the button that opened the door.
It quickly slid open with a sharp hiss and allowed him into the room. The lights were on, and the room didn’t seem to be different, but he distinctly remembered having locked the room prior. He slowly walked in, trying to clear as much as possible while coming in. He took note of the new bag in the room, but couldn’t see anything else new in the room.
His attention was rapidly divided by a shipwide alert that the admiral had left the vessel, causing him to turn around suddenly.
“You alright?” a voice behind him asked, causing him to rapidly turn around to aim the gun, but wound up hurting him more and causing him to drop to one knee.
“What in the fuck are you doing in my room?” the ODST whispered, barely able to speak from pain.
“Got moved down here for safety, you can ask Donahue.” she stated, helping him up and taking the gun from him.
“Got it… he just left the ship?” he asked, immediately attempting to lay himself down on the bed.
“Yeah, he’s heading to see the Tikaqick.” Firdaus stated with a slight bit of disdain in her voice.
“You got a problem with them?” the ODST muttered, barely looking at her.
“Not as many as with my own people, but certainly a fair number of problems with them.” she hissed, helping the man move towards the bathroom.
“You’re going to need to explain, but in a bit. I have like six different bandages to switch.” Fries grunted, closing the door behind him.
_____
“Sir?” the lieutenant Marine beside him asked, racking a round into her rifle’s chamber, “You alright?”
“Hmm?” The man asked, his head quickly snapping up to look at her, “Oh, yes. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?” she asked again, watching as the man sealed on his helmet.
“Yes.” He nodded, shooting a glance back at the ship they left from, “Yes… it’s not my first time doing this…”
The crew continued on in relative silence. The Marines and ODSTs were a mix of the two crews, one of each being from the old crew and one of each being the replacement crew. The Marine Lieutenant was one of the new crew, along with the ODST Sergeant. The Marine Sergeant and ODST Captain, however, were both well experienced in combat.
“We’re approaching the landing bay.” The pilot called out over radio, “Thirty seconds.”
“Copy that.” Donahue nodded, standing up and bracing himself against the roof to avoid floating around, “Well… Guess it’s that time again.”
“There’s no CIA on board and the ship isn’t a USS.” The Marine sergeant stated, unbuckling himself but not standing up, “It’ll be different this time.”
“Let’s hope not. Flu’ron’s still on board.” James Orwell, the xenobiologist muttered, attempting to raise his reflective visor, to little avail.
The Marine floated over and helped the man with his visor before floating towards the pilots’ cabin door and letting himself in, floating between the two so he could see out the front window.
“Siddown, Sergeant.” One of the pilots muttered, not looking back as he did minute adjustments to the ship’s trajectory as they approached.
“This whole damn thing could be made of gold…” The Marine muttered, magnetically locking himself to the floor and kneeling down as they approached.
“Crossing threshold, standby for turbulence.” One of the pilots radioed out, a hydraulic whine reverberating through the ship’s hull as they lowered the landing gear.
“Back and seal the hatch, Sergeant.” The other pilot snapped, barely looking back at the Marine, instead focusing on the windows and displays ahead of them.
“Copy that.” The Marine nodded, taking the time to check the two pilots’ weapons stowed behind their chairs before floating himself back into the crew compartment and sealing the hatch behind him.
“Ten seconds to landing. Artificial Gravity is off in the bay, disarming OMS.” A pilot called out, still keeping a smooth voice about him, “Threshold crossed, stand by.”
The ship seemed to do nothing for a moment before a very light shudder echoed through the hull, followed by a sharp, metallic ‘thud’.
“We have contact, maglocks engaged.” The first pilot informed.
“Gravity systems and harmonics coming online. Disengaging RCS.” the second pilot called out, likely talking to his partner over the crew in the back. After a few seconds of silence, the ship seemed to spool down and orange lights came on in the back of the crew compartment, showing up just over the CEVA-sized, round airlock doors at the sides of the craft and above the regularly-sized hexagonal door at the back of the craft. After a moment, a female robotic voice called out ‘Pressure stable’ and the lights switched to green.
“We’re down. Thank you for flying Air Peregrine, please take your bags from the overhead compartments and leave in an orderly fashion.” one of the pilots called out, putting on an extremely good and smooth ‘airline’ voice.
“You are aware that you’re talking to an Admiral, right.?” the Marine Lieutenant asked, seemingly disappointed at the pilot.
“Oh, I imagine he does.” Donahue smiled, motioning for the ODSTs to head out the door first.
The two armored figures were already moving towards the door, letting the ladder come out first before checking pressure one last time and opening the rear door. To their shock and horror, the void of space lay just outside the door, though nothing was losing pressure.
“Plasma barrier?” a Marine asked, his voice faltering slightly when he saw the smoking form of the Dracula in the distance.
“Something like that…” James muttered, waiting for the Admiral to head down the ladder after the ODSTs before following him down.
There were no aliens directly off their ship, which surprised them slightly, but gave the crew time to prepare themselves. They were supposed to form a ‘triangle’ with Donahue at the front, the two ODSTs behind him, and the two Marines on either side of James, behind the ODSTs. However, they had more than enough time to prepare, to the point of it becoming awkward. The team moved to the left side of the Ranger, and sat in waiting. The Marine Sergeant began to get skeptical and checked the chamber of his rifle while his reflective visor dropped into place, subtly preparing for a conflict.
However, before their thoughts could fester any further, a door off the left-side nose of the Ranger opened to reveal the creatures that owned the ship. They were around the same height as a Human, albeit seeming a little taller on average. They were obviously Avian-esque, with short, stubby, owl-like faces, in opposition to the long beaks of Afi’end. They had two large eyes just behind their beak, with what appeared to be two sets of closed eyelids underneath them. Their feathers were gray and black, with a small amount of crow-like iridescence in them. They had long wings which wrapped around their bodies, making a ‘cloak’ around them. Their legs were similar to that of an Afi’end’s, but seemed slightly thinner.
They wore thick, heavily stylized armor. It had gold plating with ivory and blue-diamond accents, glassy pauldrons, and other, seemingly glowing, lines and accents in it.
The rest of the ship looked similar; with gold, ivory, and blue-diamond glass seeming to come from all parts of the ship. The ship looked incredibly clean, with no smudging seeming to come from anything except the Humans. The flight deck they were on was made of some kind of ivory-esque compound as well, with the only scuffs on it being from the RCS thrusters the Ranger had used earlier. Against the gold, whites, and blues of the alien vessel, the greens, grays, and oranges of the Human suits contrasted hard;
Donahue’s suit was nothing special, nor was it too dirty, but it was not perfectly hermetic, like the rest of the ship seemed to be. James’ suit did seem to fit their criteria of cleanliness everywhere except his boots, where it was obvious that he hadn’t put hours of work into cleaning the dirt out of the fabric on the last surface mission he had done. The Marines’s suits were the most well-loved; boasting patches of stained mud, foliage, and other assorted junk all over the suit. The ODSTs were clearly battle-damaged, however: Cuts and scrapes into the plating could be seen around the arms and chest, with plasma burns etched into the metal of the helmet on the more experienced man.
Donahue almost wished he had been able to wash his suit now, but he hoped they would understand.
“Hey, we’re not the only ones to bring armed guards.” The ODST to his right stated.
“Oh thank Christ.” Donahue muttered, shifting his reflective faceplate up, “I would have felt awful if they trusted us that much.”
“Feel better, they don’t.” The ODST muttered back, standing up straighter as the aliens approached.
“Admiral Donahue?” the creature at the front of the group asked, looking at the admiral in the front of his own group.
“Captain Kinlykc?” Donahue asked, stepping towards the aliens. The creature seemed mildly amused at the Admiral’s suit, but went back to looking him in the eyes shortly after.
There was an awkward silence for a moment before the alien decided that it was likely in everyone’s best interests if something was said.
“Apologies for my awkwardness in this situation; it has been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of doing a proper first-contact scenario.” it stated, clearly motioning for his own guards behind him to be less on-guard. The Humans were taken aback a bit, as the creature didn’t move his mouth to speak, but more seemed to emanate the words from itself.
Donahue nodded, but didn’t have to motion to his own men, as they had already come to stand down themselves.
“Entertainingly enough, I was still captaining that ship out there for our true first contact.” Donahue nodded, making sure that both his hands were visible in front of him.
“Really?” the avian asked, motioning for the admiral to follow him deeper into the ship, “Is your ship the only one in your fleet?”
Donahue paused for a moment before following the alien Captain, motioning for his team to follow shortly behind him.
“Negative, we’re just lucky.” The Admiral smiled, attempting to hide his trepidation through humor. The ODSTs were just as slow to follow behind, but eventually caught back up, seemingly worried about leaving the pilots alone. They were brought into a wide hallway. It had the same stylings as the docking bay had, but seemed to have ‘tiling’ instead of the solid piece that the other room had. James slowly pushed his way through the column of armored personnel and wound up beside the Admiral.
“Umm, excuse me, Captain Kinlykc?” He asked, fiddling with his suit to attempt to make sure the external speakers were working.
“Yes?” the avian asked, looking back at the scientist.
“How… are you talking?” He asked, not sure whether the question was to be considered rude or not, “As in, your mouth isn’t moving, how are you talking to us?”
After the scientist clarified himself, the avian seemed to understand the question.
“We do not breathe through our mouth, I’m assuming like you do then.” It nodded, tapping on its beak and unfolding its wings. It raised its arms and pointed at a set of openings under the creature’s armpits, “We breathe and vocalize through these.”
James was speechless for a moment, but the Admiral was relatively sure that was because he was deciding whether or not it was entirely wrong to lean in closer for a better look.
“If you do not mind me asking a question of my own, what are the clothes you’re wearing?” The avian asked, motioning to everybody except the ODSTs, “Are they your uniforms?”
“These?” James repeated, pulling at his suit, “These are pressure suits. To keep our own atmosphere in.”
“But why?” The bird asked, continuing down the path, “We scanned your vessel as the door opened to analyze what your atmosphere was to accommodate, and they were almost identical.”
"We pressurized our vessel to the bay’s atmosphere.” Donahue stated, nodding at the two, “Our atmospheres are similar, and very breathable, but not the same.”
“Why the pressurized suits then? We can breathe the same atmosphere, no?”
“Our people are not nearly as advanced as some others, who can do bacterial scans of atmospheres before they even land to make sure that neither side will infect the other. We cannot do that, so we hermetically seal off from everybody else to avoid infecting them.” James stated, finishing Donahue’s explanation.
That was an answer that seemed to sit well with the avian, who nodded at them and continued down the hallways.
_____
Kinsey practically dive-rolled out of her vessel’s docking port and into the Dracula’s gravity field, her helmetless RHEV suit’s bulk causing her to roll erratically to the side. She quickly got back up and started jogging her way to the other side of the ship, her quickly-moving, armored figure moving everybody out of her way. She wasn’t in any actual hurry, but the message did have to be delivered relatively quickly.
She quickly dog-legged down a side hallway and towards flight bay 3, near the primary medical bay. As soon as she was at the area, she started heading back towards the outer hull of the ship again, turning only when she was directly on a course with the med bay. After a few moments of running, she turned into the medbay, where Flu’ron was inspecting a rifle another Marine had given him.
“Feathers!” she called out, skidding to a halt outside the door.
“Oh Hells.” Flu’ron muttered as he looked up at her. He handed the rifle back to the Marine and walked towards her, “What do you need, Doctor?”
“Only us Marines can call him ‘Feathers’.” the Marine muttered, putting on a fake pout for her.
“Look!” She exclaimed, ignoring the Marine’s protest and shoving a datapad into the avian’s face.
After pulling back a bit, he took the pad from her and started reading the text on it. After a moment, during which the Marine came over to see what the commotion was, Flu’ron looked up from the pad and nodded at her.
“Well… Goddamn!” He smiled, handing the pad back and pulling out his own tablet, “One-hundred. Going your way.”
“Woah, hold on, I think I missed something. What’s going on?” the Marine asked, confused as to why the Afi’end was sending the scientist money.
“Her brother, who was listed KIA a month and a half ago, is not dead.” Flu’ron explained calmly, watching as the scientist practically bounced off the walls with excitement. He wasn’t sure whether it was because of the money or that Frost was still alive.
“And the fucker made it onto Xalantun before me!” Kinsey stated, calming down enough to get the words out.
“You saw the ‘sent’ date, right?” Flu’ron stated, making sure she knew how recently she had received it.
“Three hours, forty-five minutes ago!” she stated, nodding enthusiastically.
“If the round-trip time isn’t that long, why’d it take him nearly a month to respond?” Flu’ron asked, just sitting down to enjoy the show.
“I’ve got two theories; either he’s been too busy to respond, or this is the first time he’s gotten a data dump in months.” She stated, “Where’s Firdaus, she owes me money!”
Flu’ron shrugged, but the Marine perked up, “To my knowledge, she’s down in Deck 5, section 6, subsection 3, room 156. She’s keeping hidden from the alien ships around us.”
Kinsey perked up at that knowledge, suddenly looking concerned, “Hold on, what?”
“Yeah, she’s residing in an ODST’s room, to my knowledge. Not sure why she’s hiding though. I’m not saying anything to anybody who isn’t a crewmember on board this ship though, aside from you, doc; she wants to stay hidden, we’ll keep her that way.”
“In an ODST’s room?” Kinsey asked, looking immediately at Flu’ron.
“He’s got four broken ribs, you need to go stop her.” the avian stated, rolling his eyes, “I’ll prep the machines, just in case.”
“Ok, I gotta check on two things with her then.” Kinsey stated, nodding at the two before running out of the room and yelling “Carry on!” at the pair.
_____
“Peregrine, we’re going deeper into the vessel, think you can handle yourselves?” The Marine Sergeant asked, slinging his rifle onto his back.
“Hey! Keep that thing out!” the Lieutenant snapped, motioning to his gun again.
The man rolled his eyes, but unlimbered his rifle again.
“Copy that, Praetor. We’re good for the time being.”
“Understood. Keep us apprised, yeah?” the Marine radioed back, shifting his suit around to relieve a pinch he had created in his armpit.
“Copy that, Praetor. Out.” one of the pilots responded back, killing the communications network afterwards. The Marines and ODSTs walked alongside the Admiral and xenobiologist in silence, taking intrigued glances down hallways as they passed them, and receiving intrigued glances back from aliens as they passed them in the hallways. They weren’t entirely privy to the conversation that was happening ahead of them, but they weren’t looking to be part of it either. The two veterans were far more interested in getting a good look at the ship than having to talk to anybody, and the two newer members were still too paranoid to pay attention to anything other than their duties.
They were brought into an unoccupied room with a large window that looked out into the deep space just beyond, though the Dracula and other alien vessel blocked the view. The guards from both species gave a quick visual sweep of the room as they came in. Upon watching the Tikaqick guards sit down or generally relax, the veteran ODST and Marine slung their weapons and moved towards the back of the room, motioning for the other two to do so as well. Despite obvious hesitation to do so, they eventually moved to the back with the other two soldiers.
“So what, if you are able to tell me, are your people doing out here?” Captain Kinlykc asked, glancing back at the soldiers momentarily before returning his gaze to the Human ship.
“Sadly, I am not able to give you our reasoning for being out here. That’s not exactly something I can give away freely.” Donahue sighed, not even sure why he’d actually have to explain that, “What I can tell you is that we weren’t planning to be out this far.”
“Really?” the avian asked, looking at the man with surprise, “Scans have indicated that your vessel is prepared for long-range assignments, based on compartmentalization and areas theorized to be for food.”
Donahue raised an eyebrow at the statement, realizing that they likely had a near-perfect model of the interior of the ship if they could theorize about the ship’s rooms, even if they couldn’t entirely see the contents of the rooms. He was relatively concerned at the revelation, but didn’t let it show.
“Well, that ship is a modification of our first attempt at a long-range exploration ship, but the project was canceled five years before first contact.” Donahue explained, watching as a few suited figures climbed around the hull of his vessel, “There were only ever three of the ships created, all of which got converted to combat duty."
“Really? I know they got converted, but what became of the other vessels?” the avian asked, seemingly entranced by the same men on the hull.
“Well, the Armstrong-Class exploration vessels, named the AC-00 J.T.K., AC-01 J. Harker, and AC-02 M. Reynolds, were all brought back to our home planet as soon as possible, be that from assignment or construction, for retrofit.” Donahue explained, turning away from the window so he could better look at the avian, who saw the gesture and did the same, “The J.T.K. was a prototype, and was axed shortly thereafter. The Reynolds was renamed to Serenity and moved to be part of the United States Space Force, but was destroyed on assignment after the newly-fitted reactors went on runaway and melted half the ship off.”
“And the J. Harker?” it asked, indicating towards the window, clearly already knowing the answer.
Donahue nodded and motioned out the window, “Refused the new reactors, renamed to Dracula, joined the USSF, made first contact, made first contact negotiations, made first Human-to-alien combat, limped back to our space, received the first official ship-systems AI, became the first ship in the UNITF a year later, and still remains in combat as the oldest space combat ship in our service. As a species.”
The bird looked at the vessel with a new form of respect in its eyes, though whether for the crew or the vessel was unknown. It gave a shallow nod to the vessel before turning back to the man in front of him, “How old is it?”
Donahue had to pause to think for a moment, trying to remember everything he could about his ship.
“Well… the program to make them started nearly seventy years ago, and she was the first ‘production’ model. After decades of systems upgrades and additions, she’s the embodiment of Theseus’s ship, but her original christening would have been… forty-eight years ago.” He muttered, ignoring the confused look on the alien’s head when he mentioned Theseus, “I remember her first launch. I would have been around seven at the time.”
“How… Do you keep something like that running for that long? Especially if it’s a combat device.”
“Same way we keep the grandfather clock and jukebox in the primary lounge running; good care from a good crew.” Donahue nodded, watching as the blue sparks from a plasma cutter lit up a section of hull that was surrounded by CEVAs.
_____
“Watch it! Merde!” The Marine snapped out as Kinsey sprinted past him, intent on quickly making it to the room.
“Sorry! A life is at stake!” she called back, hearing another string of words in French that she didn’t care to translate yelled back at her.
The scientist slid to a halt in front of room 156, trying the door, then knocking on it rapidly. When nobody came to the door, she looked up and down the halls, locking eyes with the Marine, who was still watching her.
While still looking at him, she grabbed a tool out of her belt and started to plug it into a receptacle below the keypad.
“Code is two-five-four-eight.” The Marine called out, shaking his head and just walking away.
“Oh.” was all she could manage, pausing for a second to put the tool away before waving back at the Marine, “Thanks, Frenchie.”
“Je m'appelle Mauvieux…” he mumbled from down the hall, turning down another hall, seemingly to get away from her and the scene of the crime.
She ignored him entirely as she punched in the code and hit the button to open the door. The door had barely slid open entirely before she slipped inside and looked around for the snake.
“Firdaus, don’t! His ribs are-” She started, pausing when she realized that the snake was not doing anything other than sitting curled up in a corner of the room, a book in her hands. She looked surprised when she saw the suited Kinsey enter the room.
A door slid open to the scientist’s right, revealing the ODST she was looking for. Unfortunately, he was covered only by a towel around his waist, was clutching at his floating ribs with one arm, and had a pistol in his other hand, pointed directly at her head. As soon he recognized who he was looking at, he lowered the sidearm and leaned against the doorframe.
“Jesus Christ, Ev. What th’ fuck yeh doin’ in here?” He hissed, letting her take the gun from his hand and put it on a nearby desk, “And who th’ fuck gave you the emergency code to my door?”
“Someone who I forgot the name of.” Kinsey shrugged, stopping the man from bending over to pick up his clothes, which had been unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. She handed them to the ODST, who nodded at her and headed back into the bathroom, leaving the door open and hoping, or simply not caring, that the two women didn’t look into the room while he was dressing.
“Ok then, better question; and one I already asked you: Why the fuck are ya barging in here?” he wheezed out from the bathroom, obviously struggling a bit as he tried to dress himself.
“Making sure the thirty-odd foot long constrictor isn’t doing anything to the poor man with the four broken ribs.” She shrugged, shooting a shit-eating grin back at the snake, who flipped off the woman as she smiled back.
“Hey, don’t worry, I drew a gun on her as well.” Fries chuckled, grunting immediately afterwards. After a moment, he came out of the bathroom far more clothed than previous. He immediately went towards the scientist and gave her a quick, one-armed hug that leaned a fair deal of his weight on her, something that took her off-guard.
“Hey… you alright?” She asked, clearly realizing that something was wrong. She knew how the ODST usually acted, and he wasn’t generally the kind to hug without a stiff drink or three in him, let alone put weight on somebody else.
“Yeah, just… didn’t like what happened out there.” He sighed, pulling his weight off of her and going to lean against a wall.
“Didn’t hear what happened. You mind filling me in?” She muttered, moving to sit in a nearby chair. It creaked in protest to the woman’s suited 6’2” frame sitting down, but didn’t break.
“Thought I was going to die stranded out in the middle of fuck-off=nowhere space.” Fries wheezed, knocking his head on the wall behind him, “Kinda… put into perspective what I was told from day one was still a possibility.”
“Well, now I’m more interested in who told you what from the start.” She chuckled, clearly attempting to lighten the mood.
“Me mum always told me that I’d die alone in space, a billion and a half miles away from home.” He muttered somberly. He thought for a moment before his face twisted into a sad grin, “First time she’d shown concern for me in years.”
“Jesus, man. I’m sorry.” the woman muttered, feeling bad about her previous attempt at humor.
“Seriously; my condolences.” Firdaus piped up, simply sitting in her coils and watching the ODST sadly.
“Ehh… Whatever. That cunt never wanted to have me to begin with.” the man shrugged, grunting slightly as he sat down, “I did her a favor when I joined the forces.”
“That’s… not how you should look at that…” Kinsey muttered, standing up slightly when the man sat down, but sat back down when he waved her down.
“Ehh. Don’t care anymore. She’s six feet under an’ can’t bitch at me anymore.” He stated callously, rolling his eyes.
Kinsey quickly snapped to look at him, an expression of horror and sadness on her face. Firdaus seemed to share the same reaction as her, but was far less expressive in her movements.
“What the hell, dude?! Your mother died?! When! How?!” she exclaimed, getting out of her chair and motioning her arms out.
“Three years ago, MDMA overdose.” he muttered, clearly wanting the subject to change.
“Fuck…” the scientist muttered, picking up on the man’s clear reluctance to continue the conversation, “You could have said something.”
Fries paused for a moment, before simply shaking his head, “Nope.”
Kinsey paused for a heartbeat before nodding and stepping back towards the door, “Well, I’m sorry that there’s no better place to leave this at, but I’m going to head out.”
“Alright. Have a good time doc.” the ODST muttered, looking down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at her and nodding again, “Check in again sometime soon, yeah?”
“Yeah. Can do.” She nodded, opening his door and stepping out.

A few days ago, I received a file from a journalist friend who teaches at a private university in Montevideo. I known this person for years now and the exchange with her on our countless bar nights basically made me want to try to study journalism. After I started my career we became even closer and we shared concerns about the evolution of information, social media and the infamous cerebral callosity we acquired to endure the tragedy.
My friend, let's call her Valeria, was part of a public competition to accompany a minor scientific expedition to the Uruguayan Antarctic base. Her thesis was about investigating how information reception behaves in remote and isolated areas.
I barely read it , but basically tries to show that information circulates and is received in a particular way in these circumstances by a group of unfamiliar people living under extreme climatic and isolation conditions, having as an example, life in submarines and in military bases in Siberia. The Antarctic base gave her the chance to observe some of her postulates up close.
Finally, she was chosen and traveled with this scientific group in a commercial flight Montevideo - Santiago de Chile to later arrive at Punta Arenas and fly to the Antarctic base.
The last communication I had with her before she sent me the almost 90 photographic captures of the Journal, was on March 15, 2024.
We talked over the phone about how the weather was in Montevideo, that it does not stop raining and the cars are practically floating on the streets. She told me that the transport that was going to take them back was having mechanical problems and they would probably have to order spare parts for the plane from Punta Arenas. Then She told me that it is freaking cold down there and his colleagues are all very boring. Nobody has whisky for the evenings. We laughed about that part because I told her to bring at least one bottle of Grappa in her purse.
Before saying goodbye, she told me they had spotted some old metal structures south of the base. The soldiers told her that it was safe to go near that part so she was going to explore them. It wasn't there when they first arrived and that the recent and atypical heat wave probably must have exposed it. I told her to be careful and we said goodbyes.
Three days later I received an email. “Valeria shared a file with you.” As I start to see what it was about she calls me.
“Mauro? MAURO!, can you hear me?” She said in a nervous and excited voice.
“I can barely hear you, what happened?”I asked half asleep, while still lying on my bed.
“Listen to me carefully, don't talk, just listen” I could tell by her agitation that she was walking fast or maybe running. The creaking footsteps in the snow could be heard in the background. in the distance, a catastrophe-type siren was blaring.
“Are you alright? What happened? What's that noise?” I said, now sitting on the edge of my bed.
“I sent you a file. Transfer it to a flash drive, delete history and reset your cell phone, the computer and your email address. I'll explain everything later, it'll be worth it.”
“What? What are you talking about Vale?, what for? Tell me what's going on - I started to yell at her, in slide panic.
“Listen, I found something that is not supposed to exist. In the diary he explains everything. I'm going back to the base, I think someone is following me, I set off an alarm or something. Save that file for me until I get there and remember that... “
There were two loud booms and the sound of water invading the transmission. A choked bubbling and cracking sound reminded me of ice collapsing. My friend had fallen into the water, in Antarctica.
“HEY, are you OK?! What happened?!” - I kept screaming hysterically until the call was cut off.
I looked at my cell phone for a second. My hands were shaking, I tried calling several times but the phone went dead. I looked at the compressed file. I jumped up and ran to the dining room furniture, frantically looking for a white flash drive that had to be in a drawer somewhere. I couldn't find it, so I went back to my desk. I pulled the drawer so hard that it came off the rail and fell to the floor. I started to dig through my belongings on the floor, coins, papers, cards, nothing.
I thought, I struggled to remember where I had fucking put it. Finally I saw my backpack peeking out from behind the desk chair, I jumped on it and in the second small pocket from the inside, there was a cheap white 16G flash drive. I put it in the pc, downloaded the file directly there, took it out and fabric restored the entire system on the computer. I do the same with my cell phone as Valeria said.
At the time I didn't even question if those measures really prevented me from being tracked, and the idea that that was the reason made panic run through my body like lightning. Sitting on the floor of my room next to the mess, my body was numb with tension. After a few seconds, I rebooted my cell phone to try to call Lucia, her sister.
“Hello?”
“Lucia, it's that you? I think something bad happened to Vale, I hear her over the phone as if she fell into the water, and some rumbling. I don't know what I heard, I think she got into some trouble or some place she shouldn't have been - I realized that I was mumble and not saying anything clear. For some reason, I didn't mention the file.
“It can't be Mauro, I just spoke to her on the phone. She was at the airport in Santiago de Chile at the boarding lounge, we talked for about half an hour, she told me she was bringing a fancy bourbon to share and…”
I stopped listening, it didn't make sense, how could it be? what the fuck is going on!
“Mauro, are you ok? Is something wrong? it's too early, are you sure you didn't dream it?”
“Did you talk to her? half an hour ago? But...,” I exclaimed without being able to hide my confusion.
“Are you... sure it was her?”
“Yes, of course you moron, it's my sister! Did you smoke pot again on an empty stomach?”
“No, you're right, nevermind, thanks Lucia, talk to you soon.” I ended the call without letting her say goodbye.
Had I dreamt about it? I erased everything now, how will I know if I dreamt it? I hesitated absurdly.
This is surreal, I thought to myself as I looked at the flash drive in my hand. I refocused my attention and went to the attic looking for my brother's old laptop he left me before going to live in Spain. It was practically useless, but it was enough to see the file. I turned it on, waited for the decrepit Windows XP to load, and put the flashdisk in, opened the compressed folder and found two files.
“LabNotes.pdf”
“PersonalDiary.pdf”
I decided to open the journal first. From what I interpreted from the loading order of the screenshots, after reading it, I opened the image of the last page.
I transcribe as is.
Day 243 of the 2nd mission 10: 40 am. March 12, 2019.
I am the head researcher of the Psychological Area at the UN Antarctic base; I'm currently assigned to Project Sisyphus categorized as the highest classified rank.
This is going to sound crazy, but the person living with my family is my clone.
It still surprises me when I say it out loud, but after being able to replicate the brain-muscular history (a perfect copy of our memory) of any person and having mastered replicating every cell of our bodies at any age, it was only a matter of time before the development of social biotechnology would emerge. Now and by worldwide agreement, as a complete secret.
There is absolutely no shame or a shred of ethics in what we do, there is no longer any constraint on what we can do to the subjects for the sake of research. That haunts me every day.
It all went to shit so fast, I doubt anyone will come to our rescue. The protocol says so, the base in the face of an imminent security risk will erase itself. The structure was designed to collapse methodically following a protocol of incineration and sinking. The immediate perimeter has underwater mines that make the ice collapse almost imperceptibly, but deadly to anyone who tries to leave.
No one can escape from the base, neither the research staff nor the subjects. Our place in the world is already taken.
I only hope that this journal along with my lab notes will be found at some point. I managed to construct a small insulating gasket for it so I trust it will survive in case this part of the building collapses as well.
Please use this data to let the world know what happened here and don't let perversity define us once again.
To my family: I love you and miss you every minute.
B.
At the exact moment I ended the reading I received a video call that made me jump with fright, it is...
Valeria.
With my pulse shaking, I answered the call.
“Hi you! The flight was delayed, can you believe it? This one is absolutely in my top three, worst trips of my life. I'm really hungry and everything is so expensive here. What are you up to? Tell me something, please, I'm soooo bored!”
I looked at her with confusion and I couldn't manage to pronounce words. When I was about to modulate an answer she interrupted me.
“What's the matter Mauro?, are you on pause? Is the signal OK? HELLO! Can you hear me? Can you see me?” She started to walk through the boarding lounge looking for better signal
“Yes yes, Valeria I can hear you.”
She laughed and looked at me with a face between sensual and serious, and continued.
“Do you miss me?” while raising the phone jokingly as she typically does in her selfie pose.
“Valeria, don't you remember calling me earlier today?”
“I? called you? Nop. Why? Ah! By the way, did you know there are penguins in Tierra del Fuego? I would have liked to go and see them.” She continued his verbose conversation in a carefree tone, with her typical hand gestures and playing with his hair.
“Well, at last!” She interrupted herself and shouted, jumping up from her chair.
“We are being called to board, see you in a couple hours!” She said goodbye with a smiling sonority, and began to walk towards the boarding gate.
But at the last second, before ending the call, her gesture changed. She looked directly at the camera with a hardened and emotionless face and almost mechanically, she whispered.
“(I'm going to retrieve that diary).”
My stomach dropped to the floor and I could feel as if my blood was running cold with fear. I could not shake the awful and eerie feeling that this person, who was returning, whom I had never in my life called by her full name, was not my friend.
So, the next couple of hours I put everything in to transcribe the rest of important passages of the diary. Something was compelling me to do it, i can't explain it, Some mix between moral duty, and morbid curiosity. Here is my selection of it.
Lab notes. day 96 of 1st mission 08:00 am December 22, 2016.
Subject JON X012:
First physical assessments: Normal, alert and inquisitive, exhibits some alteration to screens.
We place 100 cc of sedative in room air. The subject attentively follows the narrative of scenario B5 “The last mission”.
The subject responds positively to the premises of the story, where he is asked to address an audience threatened by a natural disaster, convincing them to choose a certain path out of the city.
He offers to collaborate but fails to articulate the message with the power to overcome the simulation.
We resort to pouring 125cc of concentrated Psilocybin into the air as stipulated in the protocol sheet.
The vocal frequency and body language reading receptors in the observation room are activated. The subject manages to formulate a series of premises articulately and with discursive power, circulating around the observation room.
Successful reaction.
We move on to the next stage.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project.”
Diary entry: Day 96 of the 1st mission 21:30 pm. December 22, 2016.
Today they transferred subject JON X0012 for psychological evaluation, several in the lab were very anxious about this arrival. I was never the religious type, but I can understand why. Truth be told,
I always imagined Jesus would be taller.
*********
Day 106 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 02, 2017
Today we received a new lab assistant for the night shift. Much needed as I was covering these shifts myself and am really burned out. The underground operates at full power at those hours, the hum of the machinery becomes unbearable. This must be why the rooms have an insulating structure.
********
Day 112 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm January 08, 2017.
The new integration is not very bright. He labeled the transcripts wrong again yesterday and doesn't seem to fully understand the importance of these. I'm going to have to go through the whole method with him again. I don't have much patience lately, it's not his fault, he seems like a nice guy and it's real that I need a second of confidence. Better train him from now on. Maybe start a sketch of a short explanatory document.
*******
Small introductory guide.
When the subjects conclude the incubation and breeding process (pages 19 to 52 of the manual), that is to say, that they have at least remembered speech and with it, depending on the time in which they lived, reading and writing, they generally begin to perceive themselves. Just before situational curiosity is when the psychology department comes into action. Either to run the “stand by” simulation or the main tests.
In each subject's file is the target of their cloning, the era in which they lived, and the recommended scenarios to trigger the desired response. If the file has X amount on the cover, this corresponds to the generation of the subject, whether it is the first or 10th time it is incubated.
Generally, it takes between 2 and 5 attempts to generate the correct simulation, and administer the appropriate drugs.
It took 5 attempts to come up with the correct amount of methamphetamine that subject AH X005 (Hitler) needed to function in the scenario, as the correct amount bordered on overdose.
Simulations are much easier since the implementation of multisensor AI. We managed to generate almost any scenario including temperature, smells, lights and sounds. We tried not to use familiar ones, as human smells are impossible to replicate. We found this out in a complicated way. We tried to recreate a conversation between RR subject X003 (Reagan) and his mother, but he recognized the fakery by the absence of body odor. His mind collapsed and we had to move him to the Underground. The people in Area C (Private Clients) almost lost a very large Chinese account.
After calibrating the subject, we ran both psychological and behavioral tests, scanned retinas, analyzed blood, as well as vocal and body language. But what has really yielded surprising results are the free interviews. It is amazing what some minds are capable of with the right environmental and chemical stimulation. That's why transcription is vital (!!)
Our area develops BC (Behavioral Algorithms) which are then bought by the private sector, and some government agencies.
To give you some examples: Twitter was an idea of subject JO X008 (Orwell).
Bots in social media and the use of big data was an idea of JG X002 (Goebbels) and KM X014`s worst nightmare (Marx) was bought by Amazon.
It is an arduous process and the success rate is low, but when we achieve the goal per subject, well, these results are a mein part of the latest revolutions of mankind.
So follow the lab rules, never refer to subjects by their actual historical name, and always remember, they are assets, not people.
***********
Day 117 of the 1st mission 16:30 am January 12, 2017.
Today is a rest day all over area D. I miss many things from the old world that I thought I would never miss, taking a bus, standing in line with strangers, and today I miss Sundays. We only have one on the month. So as usual we gather in the rest area to listen to a liberated jukebox that tries to lighten the mood. I know, right? Why I wrote about this “Saturday” photocopy, well besides the same nostalgic drunks, I was approached by a person I didn't recognize.
From what I understood he was a rehabilitated alcoholic, maybe that's why I didn't see him on “Saturdays”. He must be in his 50's, he was portly and wore thick black-rimmed glasses, he seemed to have a slight limp, I noticed it when he went to refill my beer.
I am a very reserved person and find it hard to talk to people. Truth be told, I've lost the desire to talk to people here. What can you actualy fucking talk about here, if it's not about the same thing. Everything revolves around work and some inter-area gossip, which never escalates much.
But yesterday was Clara's birthday and to hide the remorse and sadness of only having shared with her the first 3 years of her life, I had a few too many beers.
We chatted about banal aspects of life in isolation, and the things we miss. For him it was going to the stadium to watch soccer with his grandchildren. I think it was loneliness and nostalgia that brought us together that night.
His name was Sigfried, I don't know if I spelled it right, but it was clearly Nordic, i notice because of some of the words he mixed up with English. He works as the underground level security manager. We all know that it is one of the most restricted areas and what we have learned in these almost 10 years in the project, is that the more restricted, the less questions you should ask.
But that day, I think I felt the urge to hurt myself, to go off the rails, so I asked what we all suspected but no one knew for sure. I asked about the blenders. I wish I hadn't.
************
Day 126 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 21, 2017.
I almost can't express how furious I am today, but I'm going to try because if I don't, I'm going to punch the new assistant in the face. He has nothing to do with this, he's just mildly irritating.
Anyway, in Genetic Mapping or area A, they approved the incubation of another Anomaly. It seems to be an express request from a major shareholder and there is not much to say. Anomalies are very risky to reproduce, nature is wise, and for some reason it placed them in history moments where they had their limitations.
It seems that after the crisis of 2010 with “The Russian Devil” it is no longer scary enough. New school morons... If they had been there they wouldn't even dare to think about it. I AM FURIOUS.
The arguments are that this case lived longer, that the clone would be in his 70s, and that he possessed noticeably more “civilized” traits. As if the court of the last Zar had not been somewhat civilized.
Personally I think this is a big mistake. Since the discovery that some people possess unknown DNA components and with the 2010 background, they should draw the line. There are certain things, still beyond our ability to understand. But it is delusional of me to think that there are limits, someday the absence of them will consume us all.
************
Lab notes day 142 of 1st mission 08:00 am February 06, 2017.
Final free interview with JON subject X012
Scenario B-24 or “The Dinner Party” Result: Normal.
Notes: Subject is grateful, positive, docile and hopeful for the future. Offers to cook next time by asking for spices and ingredients of typical Hindu dishes.
The subject is directed to the Underground area.
Attached audio for transcription.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project”.
**********
Day 142 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 06, 2017.
Today was the last session with subject JON X012, I managed to extract the last retinal and body language readings, as usual before sending them to Underground level. We ran the dinner scenario, the truth is that is one of the best simulations we have achieved. The subjects are relaxed resulting in the best free interview environment. This one was no exception, I must say I understand the charm of the “messiah” turned out to be quite an entertaining subject. I hope his next generation will be similar.
**********
Day 152 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm February 16, 2017.
I was tasked with the continuous monitoring of subject NT X004. I am not at all happy with this transfer. First of all, I know nothing about area B of engineering and technology. Secondly, I still think this is a really bad idea.
One of the laboratories has been set up with the essential simulation equipment and personnel. Tomorrow we start with the calibration.
**********
Lab notes day 153 of the 1st mission 08:00 am February 17, 2017.
First interview with subject NT X004, we run simulation scenario 54-A, “Signal from another planet.”
Subject is observed to be receptive at first but quickly changes to paranoid. We administer 300cc of MDMA via air, according to protocol.
We introduce the reconstructed figure of a colleague in a cry for help speech.
The Subject laughs and doesn't believe a word, we move to a physical approach plane,
I volunteer myself with a room operator from the engineering area, we show him unfinished plans of an experimental vacuum propulsion engine.
He laughs again and tells us that we are not who we say we are.
We administer 50cc of DMT and move on to the next scenario.
From the screen an astronaut with non-human features sends a distress signal and intergalactic coordinates.
The subject looks thoughtful, reassesses, picks up the blueprints and begins to shout out values and what appears to be mathematical and physical formulas.
Air is charged with percentages of absolute sedation.
Audio recording is attached.
It is filed under the name “Project SpaceX.”
**********
Day 153 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 17, 2017.
I'm not sure what happened today, this is the first time in 10 years that a subject overcame the deception of 3 simulations. We had to place absolute sedation in the air, as risky as we know it is. I recommended that we restart the process from scratch, but it was a resounding no, the client is in a hurry.
I need to get more involved in this case to recalibrate the subject. I don't know if I want to. The words before full sedation still resonate with me. “are you still using DC current? interesting...”
**********
Day 154 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 18, 2017.
Something happened, I don't quite know what. The rooms have an emergency lockdown active. Outside hear security personnel mobilizing. I tried the intercom but it didn't work. The insulation prevents my screams from being heard from the outside. If this goes on another day I'm going to break the lock. I'm going to set my backpack to the bare minimum.
**********
Day 157 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 21, 2017.
Yesterday I heard explosions in the B area. I couldn't take it anymore and broke the lock. Whatever it was I had to go out and see. The corridors were dark, and the underground buzzer went on, at least that worked.
I went right to the north staircase, down the 4 floors in near darkness, the power was failing. The entrance to the underground area was barricaded but I managed to see a figure peeking out from inside as they felt me making noises.
It was Sigfried, he pointed me in the doors direction and I entered through a heavily armored side door. I was surprised by the immensity of this section, it encompassed a large hall below almost all the sectors of the base. In front of us there were 4 large industrial pipes with switches and multiple smaller pipes coming out of their bases. These were repeated like mosaics throughout the area until they disappeared into the distance in the darkness.
Leaning against one of them were 3 officers in formerly white coats and a nearly dead guard bloodied on the floor. Poor guy, his legs were crushed with his flesh in the open. He was lying in a pool of his own blood.
He had a blank stare and was panting, it seemed from the pale of his skin, that his fate was imminent. My asthma began to pound in my chest sharply, so I reached into my bag looking for my inhaler. I told them between visible gasps of bad breath to please tell me what's happened.
One of the doctors had a badge from area B and another from area E which corresponds to bio-armamentistics. The latter burst into tears and said “We deserve it, every one of us, we deserve it”.
I knew the other guy, he is an engineer in area B. I could hear him babbling almost nonsensically about, as why they never thought about it, an issue with electrical power.
He looked at me carefully as if recognizing me and grabbed me tightly by my jacket pulling me close to his face transformed for the panic.
“He let them out, all of them!” but not only that, no no no no... he told them the truth. Nikola fucking Tesla hacked us and told them the truth.”
He began to laugh frantically with a face of absurdity until he burst into a choked cry. At that moment everything went dark. The emergency lights activated, and from far away and getting closer, along with the emergency sirens that began to sound, we heard a large mass of people screaming and running through the corridors outside.
Sigfried looked at me as they started to pound on the shielded door and said.
“We're fucked.”
**************
Day xx of the second mission, month xx of 2017
“()The industrial sounds of spinning blades, the cries for mercy followed by the thunderous, liquid crack, down that big pipe, into the green barrels, with the Monsanto logo, dripped down one side an elongated drop of pink paste ending in the letter E on the chemical label. FERTILIZER.”
**********
After finishing the transcription, my whole body began to want to flee, the walls of my house were tinged with a faint blue light as the cloudy dusk came through the window, the lights turned off by my abstraction at the computer gave way to the dark corridors that began to feel alien. As I gently closed the pc my ears began to ring as if under pressure, my breathing became more present and the vibration of my cell phone interrupted my trance.
A call from the office. It was to tell me that I had a vacation week pending, that by schedule, I had to take it starting today.
Sons of bitches, now they even choose your time off - I thought at first, but at the same time I found the voice on the phone very strange, and to tell the truth, the procedure itself.
The anger turned into confusion that only added to the paranoia. The sounds in the street began to seem erratic, a chaotic and strangely familiar feeling came over me. My senses seemed increasingly acute, and they screamed:
Go away.
I grabbed the old laptop, the flash drive and headed for the bus station. The short trip from my house seemed like a long journey. People on the street looked at me with strange faces, the cell phone kept ringing with unknown numbers on the screen and a strange idea began to formulate in my head that whispered “Them, Valeria is one of Them”.
Already on the platforms I rummaged through my backpack where I confirmed that I had the key to the family beach house in San Luis, 60 km to the east of Montevideo. I turned off my cell phone, got on a bus heading to another and much far away town called Treinta y Tres. Sat near the last seat and slipped my cell phone in my front pocket of the seat in front of me, got off and commented to the driver with a clueless face, “I got confused, I'm going to the coast”.
I almost jumped onto the steps of the correct bus to where I was heading, unable to avoid the gazes of the passengers questioning me for the last minute drop in. I sat in my numbered seat and defragmented in dissociation, trying to understand what I was doing, I was running away, but from what?
The images of the last transcriptions were engraved in my mind, the last paragraph was repeated over and over again making me shake my head from time to time trying to get them away from my thoughts. The road was dark and I lost track of time, the digital clock within sight of the passengers jingling since we left, reading 10:40.
“San Luis Station!” - I heard the guard's shout in low volume.
I staggered to my feet, hurried to get off and with the same impulse I entered the dirt roads.
I zig-zagged through the dark, cold and silent beach town. The moonless night and the smell of the sea calmed me.
When I turned the corner to the gabled beach house of my family, on the steps of the front door lit by a white light, was her. Sitting, waiting for me. I stopped dead in my tracks and a chilling vertigo ran down my torso to my throat. We looked at each other for a short two seconds, until she stopped and started walking in sliding steps towards me, smiling and playing with her hands, crossing and uncrossing her arms. The growing sound of the wind through the trees covered us.
“Darling, how are you? How nice is the summer house, I don't think we ever came here, did we? Is it the one your grandmother left you?”
I felt the adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream, how could such a familiar attitude from such a familiar person transmit such panic to me? I had to answer something.
“Yes, this is it. I came to clear my head for a while, they gave me a few days at work and I wanted to take advantage of it.” I tried to excuse myself with failed dissimulation, since I stuttered in the middle of the words.
“Yes, I know! We arranged it with them, so you can be more relaxed and as a gesture for taking care of the file. Ah! and another thing. I think someone stole your cell phone at the bus station.” She looked at me with a smart-ass smile.
“Anyway, don't worry, they already found it on a bus on the way to “Treinta y tres”. You can get it back later.”
At this point I opened my mouth to ask for explanations, but as terrified as I was I only mumbled a “thank you”.
All this dialogue let us half a body length away, Valeria looked at me now a little more serious and stood at my side. She took my arm petrified and I could feel how a strong smell of neutral soap invaded me, as if she had rubbed herself in it too much.
“Shall we go inside? it's getting cold,” She said, finishing the sentence with a sweet gesture of pleading.
“Emm, shure.” I said.
My trembling hands managed to hit the lock on the 3rd attempt, we entered, turned on the lights and from his backpack she took out a red wine. Our favorite.
“Bring me some glasses, Mauro”. - She said to me as she sat down on the armchair against the window overlooking the gentle hills outside.
She poured wine until he almost filled the ex-cottage cheese glass, looked at me and in a toast gesture said.
“To... Dr. B?”
I slid a little smile and raised my eyebrows. Then I took half a glass in one sip.
“Well!” - She exclaimed, leaning over and resting the glass on the coffee table, and continued.
"You must be very confused, I understand, I saw it many times, the mind trying to adapt to a new, unsuspected reality and in your case all at once. It is not easy. First, make sure that no one is going to hurt you or anyone you know, second, what you read in that file, as you may have noticed, is not intended for public knowledge. Also to tell you”. I couldn't take the stress anymore, I exploded.
“You're not Vale. Who are you?! You're almost identical, but....”
“Ah yes, that one it's a tricky one to explain. Let's try, let's see:
“I'm a version of Valeria that she accidentally gendered when entered the lab. In one of the incubation rooms she touched a scan button that photographs her mind for 48 hours. It contains a micro needle that took her blood and thus generated me.”
“The thing is that we were in a situation of self-destruction of the systems, and that part of the programming code of the protocol was also copied in Valeria's mind.”
“And Valeria? She 's... dead?”
“Well, yes and no. If she tried to leave the base she's probably dead. if she's still there, she's probably frozen to death or killed by the cleanup command, but basically, if I'm here, she's not anymore.”
the coldness with which she answered me made me lose the little calm I had, I got up from the armchair and started to back away with my hands on my head, I couldn't stop repeating,
“this can't be happening, this can't be happening”.
“Hey! Mauro, calm down, it's going to be alright. I'm Valeria too. In every way, I'm still your friend, I know who you are and everything we went through, really, it's me, and when I finish managing the leak, the code, it won't work anymore, it will be erased from my mind and I'll be me. So don't worry. You only have to give me the flash disc and this issue ends here. We go back to normal life and nobody will know about anything.
“I'm not going to pretend that my friend didn't die! Alone, fucking freezing to death, I'm not going to let you take her place, I'm not going to let you!” - She interrupted me.
“Mauro, listen to me” - She came closer to me and grabbed my hands, her big, lined eyes looking at me with sweetness, like so many times before.
“I AM Valeria, I have the same fingerprints, the same blood, the same DNA, the same memories, the same scars, absolutely everything. Are you going to tell my mother that I died? to my sister? Are you going to report me? Nobody is going to believe you at all. If anyone even wants to believe you, how would you prove it? I am an exact copy”. - she told me, smiling with real sweetness and empathy.
I could only cry, for my friend, for the helplessness of the conclusion that she was right. I collapsed on the couch, and watched as the hills swayed in the night.
“Let's have the last glass and I'm leaving.”- she said to me.
“After I give you this, and that part of you disappears, will you remember that you are not... really Valeria?
“No, there is already a simulation on pause about Valeria's last week, she won't remember anything about this situation when she wakes up, because the memory is simply overwritten.”
“So I'm going to be the only one to know about this?”
“Take it as a gift Mauro, a glimpse behind the veil. And if you keep it that way, everything will be fine” - The threatening tone was soft but evident.
“Okay, hand me your PC and the flash drive.”
I looked at her evaluating all possible actions and if this decision was the right one, she stretched out her hand and smiled sympathetically. I gave her the old computer and the black 16G flash drive with the file. She inserted it, typed mechanically fast until the screen went black.
“Perfect, That would be all - She took out the flash drive, threw it on the floor and stepped on it violently with the heel of her shoe, put on his backpack and headed for the door.
“Stop,” I said.
“The things that Dr. B wrote... about the underground…
“Yes, they are true, it was the only way to be self-sustainable and to be able to isolate the complex from the rest of the world. Even the most morally flexible scientists would question the work if they knew where the subjects ended up, and what we were doing with their bodies... Anyway, I'm going home, Lucia called me 5 times already. Talk to you tomorrow.
“Love you,.” - She smiled at me and closed the door behind her. I felt a car slowly drive away from the house.
From my pocket I took out the white flash drive and looked at it. Now I had a decision to make.

This is the weekly recap of the 102 monetized posts from Kylea and Joseph "Joe" Gomez of Kylea G Weight loss Journey from 05/05/24-05/11/24.
They have made 609+ monetized posts in 5 weeks.
Disclaimers: I am not a physician, influencer, or paid content creator. I am not affiliated with WW. I am semi-retired from the healthcare field with multiple college degrees. These opinions are my own based on social media content. I wish no harm to Kylea or Joe Gomez.
☎️ If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, please call or text 988 for assistance.
📢 To the perfectionists, Kylea has a habit of heavily editing posts 3+ times and archiving/hiding and deleting posts. I do not have a burner account for Facebook and have not viewed every comment made. She does not post receipts and is secretive about her purchases.
The tagline of Kylea G Weight loss Journey is, "I changed my life with prayer and a playlist of songs. No surgery, no meds. Just Jesus."
Of the 102 monetized posts last week on the topic of faith:
0/102 discussed which version of the Bible she prefers
0/102 revealed her church home, a service she attended online/in person, or how she worships when traveling
0/102 discussed a personal/group Bible study she completes/attends
0/102 were a favorite scripture or Bible verse
Of the 102 monetized posts last week on the topic of music:
2/102 referenced music Kylea prefers= an unnamed Taylor Swift song as a clapback to a comment about pizza crust and a drinking buddy anthem duet with Morgan Wallen + Post Malone
Of the 102 monetized posts last week on the topic of health:
0/102 were about intentional exercise
0/102 shared a food, water, or exercise log
0/102 discussed meditation, deep breathing, attending grief group, or therapy for her mental health. (There were references to a mental health care provider that gave her a letter recommending an emotional support animal.)
0/102 shared reputable medical sources for nutrition or weight loss content. (She mentions WW points but does not list a website or how to access their app.)
0/102 shared a recommendation for another weight loss influencer to follow
1/102 shared a source for her recipe (Joe's deceased mother)
13/102 shared a recipe. Shared recipes below.

1. Frozen Pancake Breakfast Sandwiches;
2. Banana Puddin' Protein Overnight Oats,
3. Smothered Crockpot Pork Chops;
4. Trader Joe's Protein Pancakes;
5. Snapple Zero Sugar Peach Tea & Splenda Brown Sugar Marinated Chicken;
6. Dirty Dr. Pepper Protein Ice Cream,
7. Joseph's Lavash Bread Pizza;
8. Lemon Blueberry "Muffin" Cupcakes;
9. Blueberry Sugar-free Oatmeal Waffles;
10. KFC Inspired Bowl;
11. Sara Lee 45 cal French Toast;
12. G Hughes Smoky Mesquite Raspberry Jam Chicken;
13. Lemon Blueberry Greek Baked Yogurt;

⚠️ Disordered Eating- Daily WW Points Consumed (based on monetized content):
Sun 05/05: 10 WW points; Mon 05/06: 11 WW points; Tue 05/07: 7 WW points; Wed 05/08: 7-9 WW points; Thu 05/09: 10-11 WW points; Fri 05/10: 1 WW point; Sat 05/11: 8 WW points;
📢 To our friends at Meta, Kylea can consume up to 30 WW points per day, roll over 4 unused daily points, and consume 28 weekly points. She is clearly underutilizing her daily points and used zero weekly points. This is dangerous and potentially deadly messaging for those on a weight loss journey. 🚨
So what was Kylea's "weight loss content" about? Let's dive into her purchases to find out.
Her subtotal from 05/05/24-05/11/24= $2489.80 est + all applicable taxes, tips, and fees
Her 5-week subtotal from 04/07/24-05/11/24 was $17,133.54 est + all applicable taxes, tips, and fees
🚨 Per Missouri public court records, Kylea Gomez has not satisfied her current medical judgment and is only able to pay $25 per month.
This next section is long due to the volume of purchases. You've been warned...
Weekly Takeout Purchases= $71.73 est + tips;
Sunday 05/05/24 Mexican Takeout Salad with chips/salsa= $15 est + tip (no proof she went with friends);
Monday 05/06/24 Iced/Blended coffee: $8 est + tip (no proof she went with a friend);
Tuesday 05/07/24 Carafe of coffee at unknown restaurant= $5 est + tip (no food shown or proof sister was present); Blended Coffee= $8 est + tip;
Wednesday 05/08/24 Htea0 Happy Hour Drink for 2 + fruit upcharge for 1= $3.25 est;
Thursday 05/09/24 Pineapple Bliss for 2= $6.98 est + tip;
Friday 05/10/24 Blended coffee= $8 est + tip; Wendy's Large Sprite Zero= $2.50 est,
Saturday 05/11/24 Unknown breakfast for Joe= $15 est + tip;
🚨 These additional shopping/travel expenses do NOT reflect her rent, utilities, phone, 2 car payments, etc.
Additional shopping/travel expenses= $2418.07 + all applicable taxes, tips, and fees
⚠️ CBD aka Shopping Addiction: Most of the purchases were for a future puppy.
Monday 05/06/24 Breeder fee for female Cavapoo puppy= $1000 est + fees (breeder unknown); Outward Hound Multi-color Squeaker Ballz Fetch Toy 4-pack= $4.99 est; Outward Hound Blue Whale Big Mouthz Interactive Plush Toy with Treat Ball= $9.99 est, Outward Hound Chicken Roperz Plush Squeak Dog Toy= $11.81 est; Silicone Collapsible Food & Water Bowl= $8.99 est; Plush Oyster Shell with Pearl Dog Toy= $6.99 est; Peppa Pig Squeak & Crinkle Plush Dog Toy= $19.99 est; Pally Paws Butterfly Squeaker & Crinkle Dog Toy= $14.99 est; Woven Dog Bone-shaped mat= $9.99 est; Woven beach bag with pawprints= $19.99 est; Grey fleece blanket= $19.99 est;
Tuesday 05/07/24 *Possible Target Women's Cowgirl Boot Grid Graphic T-shirt= $12.99; Chaco ZX/2 Women's Cloud Sandal in Candy Sorbet= $105 est; Vibrant Life Playful Buddy Emoticon XS 5 count Dog toys= $5.12; Nylabone Puppy Starter Pack-up to 25lbs= $7.57; Nylabone Power Chew Textured Dental Chew Toy Chicken Medium/Wolf-up to 35lbs= $4.97; Vibrant Life Tug Buddy Rope Multi-color= $1.98; Custom Dog Tag for Birdie= $5.99 est; Two Jessica Simpson Pet Dresses= $30 est; Personalized baby blanket for Birdie (Amazon)= $19.99 est;
Wednesday 05/08/24 Roundtrip Gas Joplin, MO to Tulsa, OK= (224mi/33mpg) x $3.85 est = $26.13 est; Costco Skinny Dipped PB Cups= $25.94 est; Costco Deebee's Freezie Pops= $22.75 est; Trader Joe's Frozen Roasted Corn x 8 bags= $40 est; Additional Costco & Trader Joe's purchases= unknown; *Pawdre T-shirt for Joe= $10.99 est; Dog Treat container= $25 est; Patchwork Pet Snuggler White Claw themed plush dog toys= $9.99 est; Smoochy Pet Pals Cheeseburger & French Fry themed plush dog toys= $15 est; Armor All Hammock Style Back Seat Cover= $10 est; Black Dog Bone Mat= $5.99 est; 3 Dog bath towels= $14 est;
Thursday 05/09/24 Alani Nu 12oz Energy Drink Pink Slush for 2= $4.96 est;
Friday 05/10/24 Approx. 72 cupcakes= $41.91 est (Walmart online price used); Mani/Pedi= $75 est + tip;
Saturday 05/11/24 Coleman SaluSpa Air Jet Inflatable Hot Tub in Grey= $609.00 (Amazon price); iCrate 2-door folding black crate= $36.79 est; Kong Blue Puppy Binkie Pacifier Dog Toy= $8.99 est; Kong Pink Puppy Natural Teething Rubber Toy= $7.49 est; Lamb Chop Puppy Plush Regular 10"= $15.90 est; Remy+Roo Small Spring Dog Bandana 4-pack Kathrine Set= $23.95 est; Hubulk Pink Pet Dog Bowl Set with food scoop and Non-Skid Silicone Mat= $9.99 est; MidWest Homes for Pets Deluxe Dog Bed in Grey= $16.99 est; Beirui Cute Little Girl Dog Collar, Harness, and Leash Set= $27.99 est; 3 pack of Blankets Super Soft Fluffy Premium Fleece= $11.99
🤔 Final Thoughts 🤔
Kylea showed her narcissistic greed posting triggering content all week without disclaimers or warnings in clear violation of Meta policy on explicit content and tragedy & conflict. If that is not enough to demonetize and deplatform her, her obvious signs of disordered eating should. Her messaging is dangerous, potentially deadly, and I, for one, ask our friends at Meta to review her content and take action.
All info from Reddit. ✌️

I'm waiting for my consultancy appointment for a top surgeon and I want to make sure I have the diagnosis. I specifically asked directly for Anthem's policy in writing about coverage for gender affirming surgeries and one of the requirements was a gender dysphoria diagnosis. So I check what I have on file and saw multiple times.
Dual role transvestism
Transsexualism
Transsexualism I get it may be an older system but dual role transvestism??? Looking it up to see what it meant I'm.... not a fan like at all. I'm too boring to be that anyway. I keep seeing it pop up multiple times by multiple different services Ive went to. I get its most likely not the providers fault since one outright noted gender dysphoria on my letter for HRT in the past.
I'm just wondering if it would affect me getting coverage? So far my HRT's have been covered no problem but I'm just want to know if anyone else who had that kind of thing with insurance. I got two contradictory diagnosis, a transsexual transvestite legally.
Im with Anthem Blue cross in Georgia at a federal job for context

I was woken up by the sounds of helplesness as my grandma called my name and pounded on my door. The room was blackened by blackout curtains and the sound was muffled by the tv that was still on from when I fell asleep. I heard my mom’s blood curling scream and cries as she called my brother’s name and I was instantly awake and went into action. It was lucky I woke up. My door was locked and I was in a dead sleep. I am a deep sleeper and I am not an early riser. It was very early. I run out of my room and I already know what it probably is. My mom tells me to come quick and I run to the bathroom and I see my brother sitting down cross cross apple sauce on the bathroom floor with his head on the ground as his upper body is slumped over himself. He is blue and not breathing. My mother is besides herself and I am the only one capable of helping my brother.
That thought scares me because I never thought that someone else (in my family) would NEED me for this situation before. Narcan is easy to administer, but the way he was positioned made it impossible to administer narcan unless they physically picked up his upper body. My mom just had surgery on Monday (this was Friday) and she had a big incision on her tummy. She couldn’t lift over 5 pounds. The other person who was home was my grandma and she was too old and weak to lift him. Even though they were trained on what to do, they couldn’t do it. Even if they could physically lift and administer the narcan, I realized that they were panicking and they wouldn’t be able to mentally do it. They panicked so badly that my mom called her husband to come home from work for the day bc she needs to lean on him. Then she called her friend and asked what to do. She did this as I was in the bathroom with my brother.
As I entered the bathroom, I just immediately knew what to do and I went into action without thinking too much. I’ve never done this before as an EMT. I was relying on my training but even in training, I’ve never physically touched or saw the narcan bottle or even practiced on a dummy. All we did was read about it. Luckily I took it upon myself to get familiar with what it looked like on my own time. My mind was going a million miles per hour but I constantly calmed myself by narrating the steps I had to take with my body to help him. My mind was full of adrenalin and when I went to open the package of narcan, my hands were shaking but I couldn’t control it. I was surprised to see my hands shaking so much but I ignored it and pushed through. I felt like it took me eternity to get the package opened but in reality it was instantaneous. When I saw my hands shaking, I told myself I need to calm my body so that I can get this thing opened. So I went slower than my primal brain wanted to so I could focus on the task of opening the box. It just felt like a long time and a struggle to open but it was fast as hell as my mom said. She said she didn’t even know it was in a package. I just ripped it right out immediately according to her. my mom was standing in the bathroom with me watching, and after I got the narcan opened, I sat down with my brother and I hauled his upper half into my arms with me and I leaned us against the wall. But I had to keep holding onto him so he wouldn’t fall forward. He was dead weight. I immediately stuck the nasal tip into his nose and then I stopped and turned to my mom and told her to leave the bathroom Incase he wakes up combative or throws up etc. she left right away and I pushed the narcan. I was surprised at how fast it plummeted up into his brain. It felt as though it had a spring in it and I felt a huge sense of relief yet fear at the same time. I didn’t know what to expect after this.
He didn’t wake up instantaneously as my EMS friends have told me would happen. I went to get another dose. This time I knew I couldn’t mess it up so I actually took the instructions out. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to read instructions on how to save a loved ones life when they aren’t breathing, but it is probably one of the most physically and mentally challenging things one can ever do. Adrenaline doesn’t care about reading. I skipped over all the parts I already knew and I don’t even remember reading them. I just somehow knew the words. Ive never read so fast in my entire life and the pictures helped a ton. I had to slow my mind and again, I forced myself to go slower than I thought I should and just then, I saw what I needed to do- I had to lay him down before administering the narcan. I tried to figure out what I did wrong and what I could do better this time now that a dose was administered and I had more time. And I figured out the one thing I could have done better. So I go to position his body in the supine position and just then, he wakes up. I have narcan in my hand and he has heroin in tin foil in his. He looks confused and groggy. His color returned. I ask if he knows where he is and he said yes. I ask where. He can’t answer. I tell him he overdosed. He says no. I say you weren’t breathing. He just stares at the ground in disbelief. I tell him I love him and I’m so glad he’s alive and he tells me he loves me too. He keeps repeating “I’m fine” my mom is still on the phone with her friend and I tell her to call 911 right now and get off the phone with her friend. She does so. I tell everyone that the narcan won’t last forever and he needs to get to a hospital.
911 shows up and he goes to the hospital. He is okay now but still using. One of the cops randomly accused me of using drugs as well. I was sitting on the couch and he singled me out and asked “when is the last time you used as well?!” I said “I don’t use drugs” Barely giving him attention as all the other officers and firefighter are focused on my brother. he replies back with an attitude. “Well your pupils are pinpoint” keep in mind I am an EMT and this officer is 20 feet away from me. Not to mention the door is opened and the sunlight is coming in the house and I JUST woke up from a dark room. And I have dark eyes. I know he is bullshitting. I look at my eyes and I say they are normal. I say “you’re really going to accuse me of using drugs right now in this situation? Help my brother” and then he said “I wasn’t accusing I was asking” I said “no you accusing because you asked me when the last time I used was. I don’t use drugs. I am a first responder. Now do your job and take care of my brother” I say it sternly but appropriately as he stepped out of line and started and carried on an argument that should have never happened. I know what a cop should and should not act like on a scene like this and I don’ t look like an addict at all. He should know what they look like. Then he just EXPLODES in emotion and anger and says “I AM DOING MY FUCKING JOB—“ my mom cuts him off and yells at him “my daughter just saved my son’s life! a lot more than could be said for you, she is a straight A student in premed, not to mention an EMT. get out of my house. GET HIM OUT. I WANT HIM OUT GET HIM OUT NOW” and he was kicked off the scene by other officers and firefighters/medics and forced out of our house.
In the end, the cop being a jackass made everything so much worse in this traumatic experience. I got his badge number and took a picture. Still haven reported him but I will. He may have given me ptsd bc when I look back, the officer was the worst part.

Buckle in, guys - this is going to be a long one. Also, I come out of the closet...as a Swiftie. HMU if you want me to bring friendship bracelets to Brooklyn.
Any resemblance to real people is...not coincidental, actually.

Race Information

• Name: Boston Marathon
• Date: April 15, 2024
• Distance: 26.2 miles
• Location: Boston, MA
• Website: https://www.baa.org/
• Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11188906240/overview
• Time: 3:04:31

Goals

Goal	Description	Completed?
A	Don't totally kill my legs	Sorta
B	Get the finish	Yes
C	2:55	No
D	3:00	No

Splits

Kilometer	Time	Pace (min/mi)
5	20:25	6:35
10	20:50 (41:15)	6:43
15	20:39 (1:01:54)	6:40
20	20:44 (1:22:38)	6:41
Half	4:31 (1:27:09)	6:38
25	16:20/20:51 (1:43:29)	6:45
30	21:43 (2:05:16)	7:01
Heartbreak Start (20M/32K)	10:03 (2:15:19)	7:24
Heartbreak End (21M/33.6K)	6:56 (2:22:15)	6:57 (lmao)
35	5:30/22:29 (2:27:45)	7:22
40	27:03 (2:54:48)	8:42*
Finish	9:43	7:08*

(Boston does intermediate splits late-race starting 35k (35K, 23M, 24M, 40K, 1 mile out), so so the last two splits are aggregates.)

Race Information

• Name: London Marathon
• Date: April 21, 2024
• Distance: 26.2 miles
• Location: London, UK
• Website: http://www.tcslondonmarathon.com
• Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11231697234/overview
• Time: 3:09:57

Goals

Goal	Description	Completed?
A	3:09:30	No
B	3:09:59	Yes

Splits

Kilometer	Time	Pace (min/mi)
5	22:25	7:12
10	22:36 (45:01)	7:16
15	22:31 (1:07:32)	7:15
20	22:23 (1:29:55)	7:13
Half	4:58 (1:34:53)	7:16
25	17:45/22:43 (1:52:38)	7:19
30	22:27 (2:14:59)	7:13
35	22:42 (2:37:41)	7:19
40	22:34 (3:00:15)	7:16
Finish	9:42	7:08

(London's app shows aggregate splits, so if you look at my official times it'll look like I was perfectly even throughout.)

Opening

Some people overthink their training programs. I overthink my race recaps.
Okay, OP. Why did you do this to yourself?
tl;dr: I'm basic.
Like a lot of people, one of my goals is to be a six-star seven-star finisher (thanks Sydney). Boston and New York were relatively easy to check off, and they've both kind of become my "regulars." I did Chicago last fall after a long delay - originally I was planning on doing it in 2020, but you know what happened. You might have heard about it!
For London, I applied to the lottery - or as they say across the pond, the ballot - last year and got rejected like everyone else does. I had a backup plan, though - I was going to apply to be a pacer. Two of my friends (David and Jazmin) had paced London last year and had a good experience, and they asked me to throw my hat in the ring this year.
...Okay, but OP, HOW did you do this to yourself? I want the deets.
Step 1: qualify for Boston again. (You can do it at Boston, but I don't recommend it because that is absolutely stressful. On the other hand, the one thing worse than trying to BQ at Boston without one in hand is trying to BQ in New York when it's 75 degrees.)
Step 2: apply to be a pacer and pray. London has open pacer applications, although I think they preference returning pacers. Also pacers that have actually paced marathons before. Neither of which applied to me at the time (I had signed up to pace Philly, but applications opened around NYC for this year). However, one thing I don't value is my bodily integrity so I just put down the fastest times I felt comfortable doing.
David, Jazmin, and I got the acceptance emails about a week later. David would be pacing 3:25, Jazmin would be pacing 3:40, and I...would be pacing 3:10, or the fastest group I put down. I remember being at work and listening to "Cornelia Street" by Taylor Swift when I read my email. The only way it could have been more on-the-nose is if it had been "London Boy."
(Also, justice for "Lover.")
Since I'd never internationally traveled before, I applied for a passport in November (just before Thanksgiving). Keep that in mind.

Training/Preparation

*starts laughing with a seamless transition into sobbing*
...ooh boy.
General training (or what SHOULD have happened)
My friend David coaches a group of us, adapting the training program that our club coach used. We're fairly heavy on the MP work, and surprisingly not so much on threshold. A typical week looks like this:

• Monday - easy 60m. Normally, this is about 7 miles.
• Tuesday - track workout; ~2 miles up, ~3 miles total on (at 5KP or faster), ~1-2 miles down
• Wednesday - easy 60m
• Thursday - tempo/MP work (because I know I'm gonna get yelled at). 1-2 miles up, up to 90 total minutes at ~MP down to ~HMP (for me, ~6:30 to ~6:00, roughly), couple of miles down.
• Friday - easy 60m
• Saturday/Sunday - easy one day, LR the other day. LR's normally easy (~8:00 pace or so), but sometimes includes MP chunks. We go up to 23 miles (or 3 hours).
• (Bonus) Doubles whenever I can fit them in during marathon blocks...and strangely enough, I'll usually double on Wednesdays regardless because our local Fleet Feet has a 3-mile group run Wednesday evenings. And yes, I know this is insane but apparently I'd rather be crazy than be alone.

Normally, most of my runs are with friends - so I'll run their easy paces (a bit slower than what I'd run on my own), and then we do our workouts at our own paces.
What ACTUALLY happened
Post-Chicago, I was pretty much unstructured, but ran a couple of more races:

• I paced a HM two weeks post-Chicago (0/10 do not recommend pacing a 1:30 HM on a course with 800 feet of elevation two weeks after your goal marathon, those first few miles hurt).
• I ran with a friend at NYC to help him get a BQ (which he ran 5 minutes under - he's 47, so we did just under 3:15).
• Philly went surprisingly well, considering I had done like two marathons in the previous month and a half.
  • On the plus side, we ended up splitting 1:34:30/1:35:20ish. So a bit hot at the start, but not overly so.
  • On the downside, I ended up taking two bathroom stops. Shout out to my co-pacer Mu for...you know...not having his bladder decide to be embarrassing. Shout out to Liz (the Philly coordinator) for having the good sense to give me adult supervision.

Meanwhile, a bunch of other things happened:

• My primary training partner from last fall tore his meniscus and still can't run.
• Jazmin decided to get a private coach, but still asked me to do some of her workouts with her.
• Another one of my friends made his comeback after being hurt last year - and he's following Daniels and his own schedule, and also asked me to run with him on occasion.
• Meanwhile, the rest of the group stuck to the same schedule I posted before.
• Also, I should mention I'm a terminal people pleaser and hate making decisions.

So by the time it was time to hop back into training, I was floating around pretty aimlessly and - because I didn't really have any performance goals this cycle - I tried to run with everyone as much as I could. I...do not recommend this. By February, I was looking at my messages and considering going into witness protection while figuring out which long run out of three I wanted to show up to.
Suffice to say, my training was disorganized as hell. I think I got a couple of 70-mile weeks in back in February, but kind of fell off in March when I was still dealing with some niggles of my own and also work things. Somehow, I managed to do a couple of races:

• I ran 1:19:5x at NYC Half (like half of this sub apparently).
• Also, I ran a sub-36 10k. A week before Boston. In retrospect, this might have been a mistake.

Meanwhile, my original passport seemingly never arrived. I ended up finally calling the passport center about a week before my London flight (I would have called earlier, but work was crazy and if I'm nothing else, I'm wildly irresponsible), and somehow managed to get an appointment before I left. In Boston (I live about 4 hours away). The day after I was supposed to come home from Boston.

Boston

Pre-Race
This was the less stressful event - on Saturday, I went up with my friend Joe who was spectating. Did the standard Boston race weekend stuff (shout out to Puma for their Sunday shakeout, the amazing panel, and for actually feeding us), met up with our other friends running Boston Sunday, and had dinner with our friends Jazmin and Janna (who were running) and Janna's husband Mark (who was not).
Also, I got my bib signed by Jenny Simpson on Saturday.
Monday, I just did my usual race prep - which is absolutely no prep whatsoever. (To wit, breakfast was "coffee and a banana loaf from Dunkin'.") I met up with Jazmin - who was planning to leave that night - and caught a shuttle to the Common with her. Funny enough, on the bus to Hopkinton we met up with our friend Cole who was getting his sixth star at Boston.
Race Day
I figured I'd go for an "easy 2:55" because Chicago gave me way too much confidence. I started from corral 3 and caught up with Cole (in corral 2) within the first mile. We mostly ran together for about 6 or 7 miles and then I lost track of him. I just assumed he'd dropped me because he's much faster than me. (The guy's currently a 2:30s marathoner. I say that because his lifetime PR is in the 2:20s.)
Gradually, it got warmer and warmer, but I was still feeling relatively good through the first half. I kissed one of the Wellesley students in the Scream Tunnel (to be fair, I was going to mind my own business, but she was standing on top of the fence holding a sign saying "Kiss me if you can reach," and I'm 6'5" and do not back down from challenges), but I mostly maintained pace into Newton.
And then I realized a few things:

1. While the temperature may have been approved by Rob Gronkowski, it was definitely not approved by me.
2. I ran a 2:47 last fall, so I had exactly zero reason to continue to try for a 2:55.
3. I also had to do this again in six days. And that was the deciding factor to just throw in the towel.

So, the last ten miles or so I mostly run-walked, which concerned my friends back home. (I contemplated posting to our WhatsApp group mid-race but that would have been weird.) It felt funny - it's only the second time I've "given up" on a marathon, and while I felt about as good as you can feel after doing 16 miles straight at MP, it was weird to just be so casual about things when I felt like I could still continue to race if I really wanted to.
Anyway, so, long story short:

• Around mile 18, I actually ended up running with a guy that I'd recognized from NYC 2022 - that day, he went down on the side of the course. At Boston, we ran together for about half a mile going back and forth...and then I just let him leave me.
• Somehow, still managed to set a Heartbreak PR. I think.
• I totally missed Joe, Mark, and the three blondes Joe and Mark recruited to cheer for me around mile 25. (I regret to inform all of them that three hot women are not quite as good at getting my attention as three hot men are. 💅🏿)

My finishing time was 3:04:31. Which was my slowest Boston to date, including 2021 where I keeled over on Boylston and ended up in the med tent. I still finished in like 3:00 high or something that day. (This is not a flex, and should not be considered a flex. That day sucked.)
Post-Race
I managed to get myself back to our hotel (also, ended up taking a selfie with an older gentleman on the Silver Line), and waited for Jazmin. And waited. Opening the tracker was pretty worrisome, as she'd slowed down a ton.
Finally, she finished, but she had a rough time. Thankfully, her coach found her at the finish and drove her over to our hotel. And one of her friends picked her up and drove her home. I'm not going to lie, I was pretty worried about her for London six days later.
(I'm intentionally being vague here, but...yeah, it was rough.)
I also found out that Cole finished about 15 minutes behind me (he said he'd been sick the week before, which I didn't know until after the race). Janna did pretty much the same thing that I did, in jogging in the back half. She still ended up on the Fast Women Instagram page (as she should).
Anyway, Janna, Mark, Joe, and I had a rather interesting dinner, and then it was back home on Tuesday. For most of us, anyway.

London

But first, Boston (again)
I did the math and - yeah - it was actually less expensive for me to go back home than to just stay an extra night. Welcome to marathon weekend. Paid through the nose for an expedited passport ($225), but...hey, I managed to get it. Shout out to FlixBus for the hook-up. Honestly, I recommend the 6:30 AM buses.
London (for real this time)
To Taylor Alison Swift: Why would you drop a double album on London Marathon weekend. Not only that, while I was taking a red-eye trans-Atlantic flight. Joe Alwyn wasn't even running it (and I'm not even sure Matty Healy could run 26.2 feet), so you don't even have that excuse. Janna suggested I buy the in-flight WiFi. I opted not to, and in retrospect that was the correct decision. (FWIW, TTPD is okay, but not worth $8 to United. That said, "So Long, London" into "But Daddy, I Love Him" is a hell of a choice.)
Anyway, for London, I flew in with Jazmin and my dad (who was also flying trans-Atlantic for the first time), and meeting David and another one of our friends (who is also named Joe) in London. If you are keeping count, we're up to three Joes in this recap already. Due to an opportune seat swap (shout out to the lady who wanted to sit with her husband, I don't care if you were telling the truth or if you just felt sorry for me), I managed to get a couple of hours of sleep on the flight.
We landed mid-day Friday at Heathrow, got into London, and my dad and I checked in to our hotel. (Right next to Waterloo Station, actually, which was nice!) Or we would have checked in, if everyone wasn't evacuating the hotel because of a fire alarm.
We did manage to get checked in after everything was sorted out, and then it was off to the expo (or the show, as London puts it). When we signed up, we had to volunteer for a 2-hour shift at the expo - and in our infinite wisdom, we chose the 3:30-5:30 shift. I spent most of that shift trying to explain why we ran out of 3:20, 3:25, 3:50, and 3:55 pace bands (god speed to the pacers for those groups).
Also, I picked up my gear for pacing - including the uniform (excuse me, kit), pacer flag, and the shoes. In my case, because I have clown feet (14 US/13.5 UK), they ended up being 1080s. And since London strongly encourages us to wear NB, I did not bring my usual shoes (Endorphin Elites).
"OP, it seems like you make a lot of poor planning decisions," you might be saying if you're still reading this. And...yes, yes, I agree. (Technically, I could wear whatever shoe, I'd just need to cover the logos. But I figured I'd be running 22 minutes slower than my PR so I'd be fine regardless.) I will say the 1080s are comfortable, though. Very loud - it's the London colorway, so imagine my size shoe in highlighter yellow, orange, and hot pink - but comfy.
Got back to the hotel, had dinner, argued with my dad about English electrical ports (despite what they look like, they are not USB ports), and tucked in for the night.
Saturday was mostly sightseeing - David, Jazmin, and I did a shakeout run around Westminster and caught the start of the Mini Marathon, and then my dad and I walked around a bit. Also did a night bus tour - shout out to Emma and Julie from Golden Tours - and had the standard pasta dinner. I went to bed around 9...only to get woken up at 10 by yet another fire alarm. After stumbling outside in 5-degree weather and back to our hotel, I somehow managed to get back to sleep.
Race Morning
Whoever labeled Waterloo East on literally every map by the platform instead of the entrance: your mum.
After having a surprisingly leisurely breakfast and a surprisingly hard time finding the entrance for the train station, I managed to hop the train out to the start of the race. Met up with David and Jazmin (apparently they were in the last car and I was in the middle of the train), and then we went out to the pacer meetup in the basement of the Clarendon Inn.
Imagine a small basement room with 140 people speaking multiple languages crammed in together, and that kind of approaches the chaos we were dealing with. You also have to add in a very assertive British guy with a whistle (shout out to Akram, the London coordinator). From past experience, David and Jazmin decided to leave for the corrals (or waves - I feel like London has its own language) around 9, and I went with them to our starts (blue for me and Jazmin, green for David).
I put on my flag (which I've never run with before - every other race has been with a hand-held sign) and immediately became one of the most popular people at the London Marathon. Most of my time was spent going, "uh I guess I'm running even 🤷🏿‍♂️," which I am sure boosted everyone's confidence in me.
The Race
London is similar to NYC where there are three separate starts that merge into one course. London's merges are a bit earlier than NYC's - Blue and Green merge in the first mile or so, and then Yellow/Red merge in around mile 3. (Not sure why they use two colors for that start!) The major difference is that there isn't one unified starting gun - in fact, the starts are pretty spread out, and it feels more like a rolling start. From big-race experience, I knew my GPS would be off, so I'd have to rely on my elapsed time and my pace band. I tried to yell out splits every mile and every 5k (so yes, I was the annoying American with the especially annoying New Jersey accent yelling out random numbers).
The first mile was relatively easy and uncongested - in fact, I was a bit concerned because I was a little fast (7:11 by my reckoning). And then we came up behind the Green 3:15 pace group. Famously, Comrades Marathon (at least - I'm not sure if this is a South Africa thing, or specific to that race) refers to their pace groups as "buses." I can see the comparison, as trying to maneuver safely around the pace group while knowing I had my own group felt like trying to parallel park a double-decker bus.
Somehow, we managed to pass them relatively safely...and then we came up behind the Yellow 3:15 group. I was pretty stressed, I'll admit. (The next largest race I've been a pacer for is Philadelphia, which is at most 1/4 the field size.) Somehow, I managed to keep people with me, although I admittedly didn't look too much.
That said, it says something when Cutty Sark feels like one of the more open places on the course.
We crossed Tower Bridge and got to halfway in 1:34:55 by my watch. Okay...but a little bit slow. My preference is to be 15 seconds under at halfway, and 30 seconds under at the finish. But hey, I was well within the window, right? The halfway window was 90 seconds under to 30 seconds over, which I was within.
Heading out to Canary Wharf, we actually got a good look at the pro men coming back - Munyao, Tola, and AdvancedRunning favorites Bekele and Cairess. I don't think I've ever been that close to the pros at a major before, so that was pretty cool. If Bekele is reading this, hi, I was the weird tall guy from London. (The one with the flag.) Please continue wrecking my age grading.
Meanwhile the chaos on the course shifted from fighting through slower groups in other starts to wading through the carnage of people blowing up. I don't know if it was especially bad, but - again - it kind of hits different when you know people are following you and also you're on English roads in a world major.
As I was going, I was keeping track of the splits. I knew it was going to be close...but when I saw 3:01:16 at 25 and checked my band (which said 3:01:10 for a 3:10 bang-on), I knew things were close. For reference, pacers' flags at London actually say "Sub [pace]" because they're expected to come in up to a minute under their time. My target was 3:09:00 to 3:09:59. We could make it, but it'd take a bit of a push.
Coming around Buckingham Palace, I was checking my watch and checking the time. I thought I'd make it. And then I crossed the line and stopped my watch.
3:10:00.
Fuck.
Post-Race
But hey, some people managed to hang with me. (Shout out to Nathan on the PR!) I gave (and got) congrats, took a couple of photos, picked up my stuff, and handed in my gear. Like hundreds of other people (my god like hundreds of us), I stopped by Waterstone's, went up to the cafe, and got a tea and scone. (Very good post-race fueling, I must admit.) Got back to the hotel, showered, and went out for pints and dinner post-race with the gang and my dad.
Also, I checked my official time. 3:09:57. I made it, but just barely. It was a bit slower than I'd like, but hey - not too shabby for doing this in 1080s.

Epilogue

So Long, London
Jazmin made it through a bit off target (like 19 seconds, I think), although it was a bit of a struggle, she said.
David...had a rougher go of it. He himself was injured going into the race, so he had to take his flag down around mile 22. He still managed to finish, though.
As for me: Got home that Tuesday. Told myself that I wouldn't do this again next year as we were going through Newark passport control (aka: Satan's butthole). Changed my mind after I got back on Eastern time, went back to work, and realized what I'd missed. Ran a trail 10k (Leatherman's Loop) the week after because (again) I do not value my bodily integrity. (Also, it was an impromptu midlife crisis.)
It took me a while to gather my thoughts - and even longer to edit this down somewhat. And yes, this is actually edited a bit from where it was.
Finally, one thing I've kept coming back to is the Boston Globe article about 26.TRUE that came out around the same time as the Boston Marathon. I highly suggest you read it - I couldn't decide whether to lead or to end with this, but at any rate it's worth it.
Made with a new race report generator created by u/herumph.

Howdy to the beautiful people of CFB! Welcome to my ranking of the 2023 uniforms for West Virginia Mountaineer Football! I thought I would rank WVU after their new uniforms were released a few weeks ago. I intend on ranking most of the Big XII teams and new PAC additions (Arizona and Utah) soon. In fact, I already covered Colorado, ASU, Oklahoma State and TCU if you want to scratch that uniform itch. If you are interested in my thoughts regarding the Big XII uniform season, check out my 2023 Season-in-Review Post or my recent 2023 Uniform Awards post, or recent 2023 rankings, which are all up top in my profile. If you want to go back further, check out these 2022 posts: 2022 Uniform Awards and Big XII Uniform Tracker 2022: Season-in-Review. (Sorry for the hyperlink inconvenience, but Reddit hates when I put links in the top paragraph, for whatever reason.) But for now, let’s check out what the Mountaineers donned in their much-improved 2023 Big 12 season, featuring some facts, stats, and history. Plus, we’ll maybe have a look at their new 2024 suits towards the end! As always, feel free to disagree with me or tell me if my rankings hit home. I’m interested in hearing what you think, or in seeing how y’all would rearrange the rankings!
Season Gallery Link: https://imgur.com/a/h4SHYPS
I’m u/matte_purple, and let's 3,2,1 go!

11. Yellow/Yellow/Yellow - Week 4 vs TTU (W, 20-13)
Link: https://imgur.com/gwCbBKT
The Gold Rush tradition in Morgantown started in 2007, and has had a pretty interesting history, including a College Gameday appearance, a 2012 heartbreaker against OU, a 2013 30-21 smash of No. 11 OSU, and several other wild finishes in WV. While I love the history and the crowd involvement, this 2019 jersey template is just too blank to properly allow gold uniforms to shine (I know I put “Yellow” in the combo, that's purely for convenience, I mean no disrespect at all). The new 2024 uniforms - which we’ll showcase at the end - do a much better job of providing a structure to the Gold Rush look, but these are, again, simply too much and too bold.
10. Yellow/Gray/Gray - Week 2 vs Duquesne (W, 56-17)
Link: https://imgur.com/pE4X5Er
Ah, the gray. We’ll see another gray example later on, but I think the gray suits just work out better when mixed with blue. The yellow creates an odd balance, and makes the suit feel top heavy. Yellow pants may have helped the look, but I’m not sure I like that idea, either. I do like the complementary yellow font outline to the helmet, and hey, it was a brand-new look! That’s got to count for something.
9. Blue/Blue/Blue - Military Appreciation Week 10 vs BYU (W, 37-7)
Link: https://imgur.com/fkLoxWr
Nothing inherently wrong with this look, I think that, again, it falls victim to the monochrome pitfalls of this 2019 update, just like the yellow/gold. The Military Edition state outline is an awesome touch, and the blue really isn't that bad compared with an all gray or all yellow, it’s just not a top pick. This same uniform and decal combo was worn in 2022 against OU, so it must be a tradition thing. The choices start getting a lot harder from here on out.
8. Blue/White/Yellow - Week 1 at Penn State (L, 15-38)
Link: https://imgur.com/11U3r4t
For some reason, this is always a WVU fan favorite. For the life of me I can’t figure it out. Anyone who has tuned in to my tracker knows I don’t really like tri-color looks, and this is another instance where it just doesn’t work for me. Maybe I need some convincing, maybe I’m wrong, who knows? It just doesn’t work for me. On another note, how did WVU select the Mountaineer as a mascot? Well, it's built into the location. West Virginia is known as the Mountain State because it is the only state entirely within the Appalachian Mountain region, out of the 13 states that the Appalachian Mountains pass through. Thus, residents are known as Mountaineers. The word is even featured on the state seal/motto - Montani Semper Liberi (English: "Mountaineers are Always Free"), which has remained steadfast since the state’s founding in 1863. This same phrase is embroidered on the inside collar of the uniforms, new and old. As far as we’re aware, WVU sports programs went by “the Mountaineers” starting in 1890, and have continued ever since!
7. Blue/White/White - Week 7 at UH (L, 39-41)
Link: https://imgur.com/YMpguqt
This was an absolutely psycho game to watch, featuring UH’s wild tip drill antics wearing their black alternates. Here, WVU wore a mostly white uniform capped off by their blue “Cue Country Roads” helmet introduced in this year’s Backyard Brawl. And yes, this look is clean. The font differentiates the white nicely, the helmet is busy enough to compensate for some of the stark white, and the suit is - of course - helped by a night game against a team wearing black. I won’t blab anymore, they're nice. The white is just a little bit too simplistic here. Pant stripes will definitely help in the new suits.
6. Blue/Gray/Blue - Week 13 at Baylor (W, 34-31)
Link: https://imgur.com/e3tfaj6
One of the more eclectic away combos I’ve ever seen, this look makes me sad that the gray has been officially put out of commission. It’s actually the first time WVU wore gray on the road and only the sixth gray game usage since 2019. It definitely works better as a road combo against the dark green of Baylor. The blue looks great sandwiching the gray suit, but the yellow outline feels a little out of place in this uniform as opposed to the white or blue majority uniforms. Lots of upside, but just enough complaints to keep it at the 6 spot.
5. White/White/White - Week 11 at OU (L, 20-59)
Link: https://imgur.com/c1pLWOM
I can’t get over these beautiful helmets. West Virginia’s helmet is a work of art. Using the decal popularized by the “Cue Country Roads” uniforms from the past two years on an otherwise clean white shell was a stroke of genius. The more detailed logo draws the eye compared to the stark white jersey and pants, while the large blue numbers help in breaking up the field. Still, this look may have looked a little bit better with some blue pants, or at least more blue accessories like shoes, belts, and gloves. The blue facemask is a start, but yeah, I like this look a lot. Still, the helmet puts these way up on my list.
4. Blue/White/Blue - Week 9 at UCF (W, 41-28)
Link: https://imgur.com/LbwU4O0
While I like the blue/gray sandwich in #6, this is definitely a more improved version. The overall flow of the uniform feels better here. No outline on the numbers helps keep things clean and matches the top and bottom nicely. How did WVU originally pick their colors? Simple. They’re featured in the state seal. These colors were adopted by the school in 1890, inspired by the West Virginia state seal, featuring a boulder that has been inscribed with the state’s founding - June 20, 1863. In front of the boulder lies two crossed rifles and a Grecian liberty cap as a symbol of the state's fight for liberty. The two men on either side of the boulder represent agriculture and industry. It’s as simple as that! This program really does represent state pride like no other. We're almost to the top spots!
3. Blue/Blue/Yellow - Week 8 vs OSU (L, 48-34) and Week 12 vs UC (W, 42-21)
Link: https://imgur.com/lU29RgY
Ah. The podium is here. These next three picks were all highly debated and could very well go either way. This look is obviously the most traditional of the wardrobe, and has been worn three times since I started tracking publicly in 2022. And of course, it’s one of the most recognizable combos for the Mountaineers in general. For me, I am especially reminded of Tavon Austin, Stedman Bailey, and Geno Smith lighting up the scoreboard against Baylor with Terrence Williams in 2012. I was just beginning to enjoy and follow college football more often, and this game really sparked an interest in me, especially as 2012 was a good KSU year AND WVU’s Big 12 opener. The yellow pants provide a great contrast to the blue. And the flying WV logo is one of the few “letter logos” that I think works really well. You just can’t beat it despite the pitfalls of the 2019 template. The 2024 version will be a sight to behold and could very well cement itself in first place next year. Beautiful, classic, and a no-brainer pick for a medal.
2. White/White/Blue - Week 5 at TCU (W, 24-21)
Link: https://imgur.com/w8cFhTK
What sets this one apart from all the other away combos? Unlike a lot of the other WVU suits, this one almost completely removes yellow while still feeling balanced in color. The only yellow on these are splashed on the helmet and hip logo. The blue may originally seem to weigh the look down, but once you add the large blue logo on the helmet and balance it with the almost all white on the rest of the suit, you get a magnificent away look. It combines the benefit of a crisp white out with the “semi-symmetry” - if you will - from a X/Y/X sandwich look. Just beautiful, and the most “modern” feeling of the year’s combos.
1. Blue/Yellow/Blue - “Cue Country Roads 2“ Week 3 vs Pitt (W, 17-6) and Mayo Bowl vs UNC (W, 30-10)
Link: https://imgur.com/prhh2wU
And finally, first place! Last year, we saw the amazing and incredible away version of this uniform. This year’s home version featured a perfect gold usage which felt balanced yet bold. The symmetrical blues, liberal use of gold, sublimated WV road map, the consistent striping on the helmet and pants, “Mountaineers” wordmark on the chest all topped off by that immaculate gold WV state outline is oh so wonderful. I mean, how is it possible to kick this much ass? It’s everything wonderful about the away uniforms added to a more traditional color scheme that, wow. Honestly, the picture itself does a great job. Creative, symmetrical, and a color scheme everyone loves, this is a grand slam design.
Bonus: Let’s check out the Mountaineer’s brand-spanking-new 2024 collection!
Main Link: https://x.com/WVUSports/status/1784264694842171731
Alternate Link: https://x.com/WVUSports/status/1786177842595729804
The 2024 suits honor the past traditions of WVU uniforms while also improving on the initial 2019 update through the new Nike F.U.S.E template. They maintain the updated 2019 color scheme and font, feature the fairly new state-outline WVU logo from the 2022 and 2023 “Cue Country Roads” alternates (both on the collar and helmet options), and add on some striping, shoulder accents, and wordmarks. The Flying WV returned to the sleeves for the first time since 2012 with wide acclaim. Also a feature of the Don Nehlen era are the pants stripes dating back to the 60s-90s. The most controversial piece of the uniform are those USC reminiscent 2007-2012 shoulder accents. My overall thoughts? It's a great update. 2019 was far too plain. The color scheme helps, but here the colors get a wonderful structure to build upon. The WV sleeves, the wordmark, and pant stripes are amazing touches, but I think the shoulder accents just add a little too much clutter to an otherwise perfect front. Overall, the helmets are mostly unchanged, the jerseys are a slight improvement, and the pants are a massive step up. I’d give the update an 8/10! Additionally, the Mountaineers released an inspired “Coal Dust” alternate honoring the storied tradition of West Virginian coal mining. They use a unique and fascinating coal pattern pulled straight off an actual coal mine tour, incorporate a black and white state-outline logo on the helmet that is to die for, and use gray/white vertical stripes in a way that tastefully mimics high visibility vests worn by miners. The center stripe on the helmet is my favorite touch, featuring the coal pattern used on the uniform, but with a white to transparent gradient mimicking the light of a miner's headlamp. I mean, this is a blackout look done right. I am so excited to see these in action. Combined together, the main and alternate looks for WVU are all very exciting and definite improvements!
If you’ve got some time, send a nice email to the athletics department design team of Kristin Coldsnow, Matt Wells, Michael Fragale, Joe Swan and Steve Uryasz, who designed the brand new 2024 look. The team worked in conjunction with football equipment managers Dan Nehlen and Austin Blake, who also deserve some praise for the fantastic job they are doing. The EQ room is a tough place to work, and these fine folks kill it day in and day out.
Well, I think that does it! I hope you enjoyed my 2023 season WVU Football uniform rankings. What a surprising and exciting building season for the Mountaineers. I’ll be slowly releasing more rankings for each of the Big XII teams as the offseason goes along. Again, feel free to comment or message me with any suggestions or changes to the rankings! Do you think WVU’s new suits are an improvement? Did your favorite suit seem properly ranked? Let me and all of CFB know! Have yourself a great Sunday and I’ll see you soon!