Today I had to put down my little chihuahua/yorkie Charlie at age 11 due to chf. I did it preemptively to prevent him dying from chf.
He has been in heart failure for 2 years and his heart takes up over half of his chest cavity. His respiratory issues stopped (we are guessing he just stopped fighting it), he stopped using the stairs and couldn’t get comfortable laying down. He was so tired from not being able to rest properly.
I wanted him to have more time so badly, and to take him camping this summer. But I didn’t want to let him suffer. He was still eating, drinking, wagging his tail and part of me feels so guilty that I let him go while he still had life in him. But we could tell he was declining and I’d never forgive myself if he died suffering. It was very peaceful and he did not seem scared.
I’ve had him since I was 10. He’s my best friend, my soul dog, he saved me from suicidal thoughts multiple times and kept me going when I was bullied and isolated for years in school. He is everything to me. I don’t know how I’m going to go on without him.

The Hanging Tree By John Westrick

The ball streaked towards little Jimmy Hanson, covering the distance uncomfortably fast. The scrawny boy two sizes too small with the aviator glasses, cringed out of the way. It landed directly where he had been standing, and like that the game ended.
“Damnit Jimmy, you're supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried.
A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher's mound to look at Jimmy disdain clearly visible on his face, “This is the third run you’ve allowed, and you wonder why we never let you play with us. You’re dog shit! Actually, I apologize to all loads of shit out there, you’re even more useless. I’d prefer to have Roger Morris on our team and he can’t see a damn thing with those bug eyes.”
An easy-going boy with blonde shaggy hair and a confident smile strolled up to Jimmy, extending his hand to assist, and said, “Here let me help you up. After all, you're the best player on our team. MVP hands down. Come on boys, give him a cheer!”
The boys chanted Jimmy’s name in a mocking parade of triumph.
“I don’t need your help, David,” said Jimmy.
Dirt smeared and face growing hot, the embarrassed boy attempted to climb to his feet. The hand extended to help, struck lightning-fast, catching the smaller boy squarely in the chest. With a groan of pain, the dirty boy hit the ground for the second time that afternoon.
“Well, if I knew you liked to eat dirt so much, I never would’ve offered to help,” said David, a wolfish smile forming on the landscape of his face.
A chorus of cruel laughter echoed all around.
“I hate you David Baxly,” said the wheezing boy.
David looked at Jimmy with disgust, giving him a savage kick to his left kidney. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and die. I doubt even your family would miss you.”
The rest of the boys walked away leaving the bleeding Jimmy whimpering on the ground.
No longer crying from pain but seething anger, slowly he began to crawl to his feet. “I wish I could go somewhere else. Just pick up and move and never have to see those shitheads ever again,” said Jimmy speaking to no one in particular.
It was thoughts of revenge that occupied his mind, half-baked plans, he didn't have the courage to act upon. No matter, it wasn’t revenge he truly sought, but a friend. The idea of having people look at him and truly see him. Humiliation for David Baxly was just an added bonus.
The bloody boy was still fantasizing about these things, when he found himself staring at the intersection of Jackson and main street in the sleepy town of Brookhollow, Tennessee. Brookhollow is like many rural towns, so tiny that it doesn’t even appear on the map. There are 876 residents in the tight-knit community, according to the 2008 census. Main street boasts one general store, a gas station, the town hall, and Debbie’s Diner.
It was on the outside of the later building that he saw the missing sign of Jack Dunkin, a 12-year-old boy from a neighboring town a few miles to the west. Jack was from Polk, a slightly larger town and known rival to Brookhollow. Even though Jack was in the same grade as Jimmy, they had never met.
Jimmy looked at the picture and saw that the boy had been missing for nearly 3 months. He wondered how his mom would react if he was missing that long; he reached the conclusion that she probably wouldn’t even notice. Ever since she took that job at Debbie’s to pay for the remainder of her husband’s gambling debts, she was hardly even home.
She was gone when he woke and didn't come back too well after he was asleep. The only time Jimmy had any communication with Laura Hanson was on Sundays. Even this small exposure was tainted by the bone deep exhaustion. She may have been present, even so, she wasn't there. Laura wakes, eats, drinks, uses the bathroom; yet she isn't really living. She reminded the boy of those cheesy horror movies they sometimes play late at night. The walking dead.
As little as his interaction with Laura, at least she still lived in the ramshackle motorhome right off the main highway. His dad, if he even still qualified to be called that, left some time back, draining the joint bank account and leaving the two of them penniless. Jimmy didn’t even know where he stayed, let alone had a phone number for the bastard. A few years back he received a postcard from him. He was shelled up in some two-bit motel in the thriving city of Las Vegas. On the back of the card was a charming little note, it said, “Jimmy, I wish you could see the city. Maybe you could come out and visit. I’d love for you to come and hang with my friends. Ps. Could you have your mom send me some money, I’m in a little bit of trouble here.
This led to his first real fight with his mom. He was adamant on going and meeting his father, thinking that if he got to know him he could change him. Bring him back. His mom wanted nothing to do with the man, nor did she want her son to be hurt again. The argument got heated and words were exchanged. In the end, he stayed, but some things chafe over time. Things were never quite the same.
If the boy was honest with himself, he would have to admit there is no one in his life. He has no friends in school, there is no one waiting for him at home, and he is not a part of any extracurricular activities. He goes to school, comes home, does his homework, makes dinner for his mom, and goes to bed. It has never occurred to him that he is lonely, the fact is he has never known anything else.
Jimmy doesn’t actually live in Brookhollow, his house is about two miles north up highway 29. He lives outside of the school’s jurisdiction, so he is unable to take the bus. He walks to school every day. The walk is peaceful and he actually looks forward to it. The boy possesses an overactive imagination and gets lost in his fantasies. A little less today, his ribs ache with every step. But not even this inconvenience can ruin the solitary 2-mile trek back home. He makes no turns, highway 29 is main street. All he needs to do is walk straight and he will arrive at his house.
But he is not walking in rural Tennessee anymore. He is a pioneer exploring the Great Frontier. Native Americans and wolves stalk him at night, he must be aware of the dangers that lie beyond every turn. He can see his way through any situation with the help of his trusty companion and best friend, One-eyed Pete. Pete used to be an outlaw that robbed and cheated people, but changed his ways when Jimmy saved him from being hung on the hanging tree.
A shutter runs through his body every time he remembers the hanging tree. It’s the largest oak he had ever seen. He loves to climb trees but would never dream of climbing that one. It is twisted, not a single leaf on its branches. If evil was ever a location, it would be at the heart of that gnarled tree. Jimmy doesn’t like to think about it. It always seems to ruin his mood. Poison his mind. His fantasies always turn darker when he thinks of the oak.
Suddenly he is aware of exactly how alone he is. A full mile out from the safety of the town. No one is nearby. It’s just him, the trees, and his own tormented imagination. He wishes he wouldn’t have thought of that tree. He wishes he had a dad to pick him up from school, but there is no rescue for him. In Jimmy’s experience, heroes only exist in the story books.
“The hanging tree is in your mind, Jimmy, it isn't real,” he tells himself over and over as if to ward away evil. And why not? For that tree is most definitely evil, the hideous villain in an insidious plot.
In the primal portion of his mind, he senses danger. The same skittish feeling the antelope experiences shortly before the concealed lion pounces and feasts on flesh.
“Trees don’t eat little boys,” murmurs the frightened boy.
“Maybe so, yet that oak could hardly be classified in the same league as other trees,” responds his own treasonous thoughts.
The boy's mind splinters; warring factions jockeying for supremacy. Paranoia seizes him, inky black hands clawing the air out of his lungs. A young boy unaware of the inward mutiny happening amidst his own wits, completely left to his own demented imagination. Yet, the stakes of this adventure are a great deal higher than any he has yet to experience.
His mother was fond of telling him, “What you think, you become.”
A truly awful thought slinks into his mind unbidden. What if the stories his mind conjures could gain reality too? The thought overwhelms the boy. His eyes shift back and forth searching for threats. Jimmy’s senses are keen to his surroundings. Every twig snapping, a creature stalking. Every bush rustling, a hungry beast ready to devour. Yet, the petty fears of a child's tormented mind pales to the unearthly wrongness of the hanging tree.
“What if mom is right?” says the concerned boy to the emptiness. At this unwelcome thought the boy slams his eyes closed in a futile attempt to banish the horrific idea.
“The hanging tree isn’t real,” says Jimmy, knowing in his heart this isn’t true. In the back of his mind, the boy is certain that the moment he opens his eyes, he will see it. He will see the strands of rope dangling from the gnarled branches. He will smell the smell of decaying bodies. He will hear the creak of rope swaying gently in the cool breeze.
The boy doubles his efforts in a vain attempt to keep his eyes closed. He sees red due to the strain he is putting on his muscles. He hears the steady pulse of his blood rushing in his head. The boy also understands that all this effort is for naught. He must open his eyes at some point. Jealousy creeps into the boy’s heart. Envy for the man born without sight. For the boy understands the moment he sees, there will be no coming back.
The moment has come.
Jimmy can no longer keep his eyes shut. Seconds before his eyes fling open, he feels the gentle touch of someone's hand on his shoulder. This touch startles him, and the boy throws wide his eyes.
Sure enough a few hundred yards in front of him, stands the abomination. A lone tree on the top of a bald, scarred hill. Not a living thing to be seen. No vegetation growing on the hill, no squirrels scuttling about, just a great oak, standing; an obscene gesture to the god of this world. The only fruit of this tree the decaying flesh of dead men, and likewise, the only cup the curdled blood of those hanging. A final meal set for the boy, an unholy communion.
The hand, whose was it? Was it even human? The little boy left visibly shaking at the touch of the unknown. Is this death? The icy grip of the Reaper himself here to harvest with his scythe. No marriage, no children, not knowing the pleasures of true friendship. Life cut short, a lamentable state of affairs.
It was in this line of thought, where true courage was mustered. A strength measured not by the size of his muscles or the amount one could lift, but the more impressive type, the type quantified in the amount of shit one can wade. Identified in the amount of crap hands dealt without bowing out altogether. Young Jimmy Hanson did the unthinkable, he turned and faced death looking it in the eyes.
Eyes, yes, but death perhaps not. It was no titan of horror, nor was it the poster child of demented evil. Child it was, but this boy was familiar. Not anyone from his class, yet he knew the boy. In a moment of clarity, he recognized him. It was the missing kid, Jack Dunkin.
He looked identical to the poster on the side of Debbie’s Diner. He wore the same black and white Van’s tee shirt, ripped blue jeans, and some tattered Nike tennis shoes. The thoroughly terrified Jimmy stood staring at the missing boy, mouth ajar.
Jack with an easy-going grin plastered on his face, said, “It's about time, someone comes looking for me. I've been waiting for you Jimmy, far too long.”
With an audible click the boy shut his gaping mouth and responded, “Ja- Jack, you've been missing for nearly three months. Have you been out here all along? Are you alone? Are you hurt?” Jimmy fired these questions in rapid succession, growing more suspicious with each word.
“I’ve been right here, waiting for you to come and play with me. You see, I am like you. I never had anyone to play with either. Now you are here, and you must stay with me,” said the bigger boy with a smile on his face.
Jimmy’s mind quieted, for the first time in his life he saw himself clearly. A boy with no friends, no father, hardly a mother, bullied every day, and no way of escape. Clarity revealed the harsh truth. A day had not gone by that he wasn’t lonely. There was no one in his life. There was no life for him.
The undersized boy looked at the other with longing in his eyes. He thirsted for a friend, like a man lost at sea. He hungered for companionship, like a man stuck in the wilderness. It wasn’t just a desire; he was desperate for a friend. If the bigger boy would leave, Jimmy felt as if his soul would tear in half. His heart would shatter into a thousand pieces unable to be put back together. The boys' eyes were a mirror reflecting the same sad truth, they understood each other. Both had lived, and neither had anyone to share it with.
The boys bound by shared hardships grasped onto each other refusing to let go. The combined burden of loneliness lessened by two backs, instead of one.
With few words exchanged, the two of them created soul ties. Not the ties of lovers, but of lifelong friends. The type one dies for. The rare type of friendship that most people never form in their entire life. It was rich. It was wholesome. Jimmy felt as if his life was complete. The one thing he always desired truly fulfilled.
Jack grabbed the smaller boy’s hand and guided him towards the tree.
Jimmy, not wanting to get anywhere near that monstrosity, tried to pull back.
“Don’t worry. The tree is a good place. It will take us to a new land filled with boys and girls just like you and I. No David’s or bullies like him,” said a smiling Jack.
“How did you know about David? You’ve been missing all this time,” said a concerned looking Jimmy.
“Jimmy, I hear whispers. My friends tell me things. They will tell you secrets too. If you want to be friends with me, that is.” The bigger boy looked down at his ragged shoes. He looked so pitiful and Jimmy was so starved for companionship, how could he not follow the boy.
Jack led the two of them to the scarred trunk of the tree. Here he let go of Jimmy’s hand, telling the boy, “Do exactly what I do.”
Jimmy’s fear bottled up deep in his guts. He felt as if he was going to explode. The tree was sinister and twisted. Evil through and through. Yet, the little boy had never had a friend. He was not willing to throw that away so easily.
Jack walked to the lowest hanging branch. He reached up and grabbed one of the dangling nooses. He wrapped it around his neck and looked at Jimmy. “Don’t worry, no pain is felt. The hanging tree is magic. You’ll close your eyes on this world, and wake up in a better place with me and all of my friends,” said a smiling Jack.
“Ja-Jack, I don’t think I can do this. It seems dangerous. I need to go back home soon. My mom will be waiting for me,” said a terrified Jimmy.
A heartbroken Jack looked at the smaller boy and said, “Jimmy, I can’t believe you would lie to me. Your mom isn’t home and she wouldn’t even notice that you are missing. Come with me. I am the only one who cares for you.”
Tears streaming down the smaller boy’s face, he responded, “Please don’t make me do it! This place frightens me. Can’t you just come home with me?”
“No! This world despises people like you and me. We weren’t made for it. We were made for the hanging tree. This is where you belong,” snarled the bigger boy.
Jimmy, eyes still running, reached with trembling hands for the dangling noose. He seized it. With one final glance at his friend, the little boy placed the loop around his neck. Immediately the noose drew tight. It felt as if the tree was hauling him up by it. The boy kicked and squirmed. Trying to shout for help, but his airflow was cut off. He managed to make a choking noise, then with one final twitch all was still. Still as the glassy surface of a lake on a spring day.
Little Jimmy Hanson had finally made a friend.
The two boys remained dangling together, gently swaying in the stale autumn breeze.

For context I still live with my parents, I move out in a month for college and I’m gay; I was openly gay and my mom didn’t seem to have a problem because she’s known my girlfriend the full 12 months we’ve been together and she’s always been supportive of us up until recently. My mother has been watching a lot videos called: “I died and went to hell videos” and that’s how this whole craziness started.
I was on my computer when my mother called me into her room and she began to tell me, “how God intended for men and women to be together” and me knowing where this was going was

1. Absolutely shocked she would say this to me

And

1. Angered by this decision to tell me some bullshit like that now.

So I obviously reacted negatively and I tried to leave and she forced me to stay and got all in my face, backing me into a corner forcing me to listen to her words. After she’s done I say “okay” and I head to my room pissed off by what she said. She come back for round 2 and continue to bother me, I actually don’t know what she said here because I blocked it out of my memory but, she basically said the same thing and she wouldn’t leave the fuck alone, which is a common theme with her she loves to come and bother me even further.
Flash Forward to Mother’s Day and I’m still pissed about what she said to me so I tell her about it and she takes it all the way to the edge no more dog whistling. In short, she continuously says “the devil is making you like girls”, “it’s against god”, and the kicker “your soul is in jeopardy. And all those words basically mean, “you’re gonna go to hell because you like women.” And she continues to get all in my face and I argue back with her and I honestly tell her that I’m probably not going to have a relationship with her. The argument got so bad while I was sitting on the bed she literally stood up on it to scream in my face. When she got down she threatened to hit me for “being disrespectful” so I got up and did the same thing to her and out of anger I bawled my fist and she hit my stomach and called me a bitch. Ironic that this all happened on Mother’s Day right? Anyways she then gets really in her feelings about me calling her a homophobe and continuously says she not a homophobe because she has gay friends or because she also had crushes on women and made out with one. (which is honestly beyond me) She kept telling me over and over again how the devil was making me like girls and she said if she was in my shoes she wouldn’t date at all, it would be her and Jesus alone if it meant her “soul was in jeopardy”. She tried to tell me that she loves me but I just don’t believe her because I personally don’t think if you love someone you love all parts of them all parts of their identity so what she said to me basically was, “I love you but… conditionally.” After the screaming match she told me to let it go and left and come back several times to bother me more.
I immediately called my older cousin who’s also a gay woman and she picked me up from the house and girls me how sorry was about the situation and I went to also visit my Uncle who’s a Pastor and he told me : “Regardless of all that religious crap I love you no less and God made no mistakes.”
Fast Forward to today, before school my older brother tells me that I have “let go of that small shit, and that she’s trying to help you” and after school, my dad talks to me about the situation and he says to me, “Do you think I like you being gay? No.” And he continued to talk about shit he went through in his life and how some people don’t have both parents and that my mom suturing her best and that I need to apologize to her for saying “I’m not going to talk to her again.” And he tells me again that I’m the Bible it says that being homosexual is wrong but you’re gonna do what you wanna do? Which I don’t even know what that means because they all apparently think being gay is a choice and I fully decided to make my life harder so I go through shit like this. And when I get to my dad’s house he tells me that I need to call my mother and apologize but I fully refuse to do so.
Anyways, Am I The Asshole like everyone is trying to make it seem?

I (F) have a best friend (F), basically wayyyy before me and my female girl best friend met I had a guy best friend.
When I met my gbsf (we’re gonna call her Lana and we’re gonna call her ex Alex) when I met Lana I was already best friends with Alex eventually Lana and Alex liked each other and ofc they told me they liked the other.
Lana told me she liked Alex and Alex told me he liked Lana so without selling the other out to them I got them together everything was perfect for 8 months until they started arguing, they would ask for my opinion and I opted to stay out of it. (Cause they’re both my bsfs tf I supposed to help you w?)
When they broke up it was so messy, tears, fighting,screaming, petty remarks , rumors, Lana threw milk on Alex at one point (just acting like children)
Anyways, recently it was Alex’s birthday I posted on my Snapchat “Happy birthday ”Alex” you’re a good friend and I’m grateful for you “ I said happy birthday because for my birthday he got me presents and said happy birthday to me I’m obviously gonna have fucking manners and be cordial?
Whatever whatever said happy birthday he said thank you, later in the day Lana swipes up Saying “crazy.” I said “I’m sorry, are you upset ?” She said “Ian even mad ts js weird you told me he was flirting with you and now you’re writing paragraphs about him?”
FIRSTLY, after they broke up he would try to flirt with me but I told him to shut it down and it makes me uncomfortable and he stopped and ofc I told her (that’s my bsf fuck?) but I’m sorry paragraphs about him? Baby I wrote 3 SENTENCE WORTH I WROTE 12 WORDS. And one of those words was tagging him.
Anyways she called me weird and said she wasn’t mad she was js finding it weird, but then Lana’s little sister texted me saying “why are you fucking writing paragraphs about him when yk how badly he hurt Lana” first of all it was 12 fucking words..I told her “it was a couple words he got me stuff and said happy birthday on my birthday all I said was happy birthday I don’t get the issue with this ?”
Lana’s little sister proceeded to ridicule me (she’s in 5th grade I’m not finna argue w a child 😂😂😂) and I js said okay, when this all started and Lana texted me she told me I sajd “I love you “ to him but I never did that was another girl so, what? Anyways our texts went like this
Me - “ Then I don’t remember saying I love you to him but on some real shit I’m sorry if I upset you n shit I would be mad too ik you deserve better n I rlly don’t wanna fight w you abt smth like this n I get where you’re coming from 100% you’re absolutely right n shi n honestly I’m sorry about making you feel like that I’m glad you told me and I’ll work to fix it At the end of the day you’re my bsf n I consider you a sister to me n you have every right to be mad I’ll give you space n shit to js think n be alone “
Lana - “okay well that’s still fucking weird”
Now here’s we’re I’m upset about, Lana is BEST FRIENDS WITH MY FUCKING EX.
My ex cheated on me, abused me, played w my feelings, barely committed to me, spread rumors about me etc. but Everytime he tries talking to her or play fighting her she play fights back or gets all giggly and laughs.
You’re mad at me for saying happy birthday but you wanna be friendly to someone who genuinely hurt me, I’m not saying he didn’t hurt her but I know everything that happened and I’m not finna put my homegirls business out there cause she still my day 1 idgaf but the beef was miscommunication over him play fighting girls.
I get you could be going through it but you not finna sit in my face and say I’m fucked up when you over here having Kumbaya moments.
Anyways sorry this js long but I genuinely love this girl I’ll take any advice or opinions you guys can give me I don’t wanna loose this girl I just can’t loose her she was with me when a loved one committed suicide she was with me when my dog died she’s been through it all with me
AITAH?

So joined up with this group in t3 . Only had like 8 mins left. Noticed that one of the players had 99999999999 essence .. like ok. Weird. And killed zombies and bosses in seconds .. so I comp a few contracts s with them. . they all spoke Spanish. I don't .. so I'm with them in the car . And there is less than one min left . Headed towards a exfill. We stop at the edge of the map and olthe one guy starts pouring out essence .. I mean pouring to the other player and then then asked "what do u got " the one guy said a wrench and key card . I dropped them and the guy dropped like 3 golden. Items and a flawless crystal. And proceeds to do the tombstone glitch. . by this time it's 8 mins left in the overtime clock .. so the next guy starts doing it and I step in and start collecting essance the guys get mad and say hold on hold on here and laugh because there is about 3 mins left in the clock and I could understand a little .. them saying "he will die anyways " . So they drop like a bunch of golditems Gold plate Gold dog bone Flawless crystals and ultra rare upgrades I fill up my stuff and head for the exfill .
OMG THE MOST AWSOME ROUND. I HEAD FOR. A EXFIL I think I can make it to. But but the time I get there it's being consumed .
Im running and I see a redeployment drone. In the void soni start taking damage to get to it. And hit it. And as I'm head to the exfill . I see another so I drop and hit that one . Long story short I made it to the last exfil with 15 seconds to spear and all the gold items .
Question. Wth was going on ? How did they make it rain essance and items it looked crazy. ....

She is the mother of my half big brother so that’s why she is still in the family. I hope I’m allowed to post here, if not I will delete my post.
I think she might be a narcissist because of several signs:

1. She never apologizes and has only done it once in my big brother’s life time (he is 45 years old now)
   
2. She always smokes inside despite knowing I have a heart condition and I can’t tolerate the smoke
   
3. She always blames me and my dad for using her, even though she wants to get going and sort things out
   
4. She blames her friends for using her when they literally bought her a car and said she could pay them back by doing food shopping for them every now and then and they didn’t even give her a deadline for the payback
   
5. She has a constant Mr. Jekyll & Hyde behavior, one moment she is calm and the next she wants to sort out everything and then gets angry and blames us for being lazy
   
6. She always criticizes me for being slow, I can’t walk fast due to my heart condition. If I’m not fast enough she gets angry and upset. When we are going food shopping she gets angry and very impatient and stressed if I’m just a bit too slow. I also have autism so I need time to make decisions while food shopping
   
7. My dad’s dog had to be put to sleep last week and the first thing she does is calling me to tell me I’ve never done enough for the dog, but that’s not true I’ve done more than my siblings because they are always busy, I’ve learnt him tricks and petted him a lot and gave him love this way. She also said she was angry because I was in my room and that I SHOULD stay with my dad, but I was with him when his dog was put to sleep and it was a very emotional and difficult moment. But I did it for my dad. So I needed to process what happened in my room. And my dad also said it was completely understandable
   
8. The next day she sent a love bombing message where she said she was sorry to hear about his passing but she didn’t apologize for her behavior. But she also said that “you won’t get over this pain, just like losing your mother” as if these pains can be compared wtf. These griefs can never be compared, my mum died of cancer 5 years ago and now she is using that against me too to remind me of that pain
   

It’s not only these instances that makes me feel like she might be a narcissist, she has always been like this, but only to her close family and usually not to friends or outsiders
What do you think? And how do I deal with her in a healthy way?

Hey Fellow Redditors I’m(22yr Old Male) here to talk about my bad experience with a THC Vape in hope that maybe I’m not the only one that’s gone through something like this i’ve never been a true smoker only would take a couple puffs off the homies Joints on rare Occasions & did a couple puffs off friends Carts back in Highschool . So On 4/19th / 2024 I had bought a Stizzy a “type of weed pod” the THC percentage like around 80. Something off a friend I grew up with in Highschool to enjoy for 420 I end up trying it that night I took a puff from it held it for like 5-10 secs and maybe 5 minutes later it’s hitting me hard I watch a movie for like maybe a good hour knock out watching it & wake up perfectly fine the next morning. On 4/20 i started the day doing laundry & after a few hours ate 2 chicken sandwiches with some fries anyway about maybe an hour and a half later I went out to the alleyway & Took two puffs of the pod this time off the first hit I was coughing for maybe a minute & a half so I went in for another hit after the coughing stopped I was Dying from Two puffs I didn’t feel bad instantly but I was just laying on my bed when I got hit with anxiety after walking around for a bit I literally was seeing my life flash before my eyes anxiously walking around I had convinced myself that I was dying so I tell my siblings I didn’t feel well & needed to go to the Emergency Room i told them I felt like I was gonna die , I think my dog started to catch on that I wasn’t feeling well because she would just whine at me following me around this led me to panic even more so we head out I’m not even thinking about how I’m gonna drive there but I just start the car & we head out once we get to the hospital I tell them that I don’t feel well at all & that I would have to wait and sign paperwork before anything . So I sign the paperwork and tell me to sit tight I sit with my younger sister and notice my chest full of sweat and my left hand & leg shaking like crazy after maybe five minutes of waiting like this they do an ECG / EKG and the readings show I’m fine so they tell me to wait outside so they can get me a room , 20 minutes pass my parents are here my mom noticed my lips were dry & I looked pale so I drank some water ,I felt a bit better after drinking water but kept shaking my fingers after another ten minutes of waiting they lead me & my mom to a room give me a gown & say they’ll be right with me shortly well after 8 hours they never came by so by then I felt calm with my mom by my side having drank some more water I asked them to be discharged as I felt better & wasn’t being attended anyway so after 15 minutes they give me a paper with the diagnosis being (Cannabis intoxication without complication / HCC)I should contact my healthcare provider as soon as possible next day so I contact my doctor and she give me an appointment in two days , well within those two days I ended up not being able to sleep well at all because I was having palpitations & anxiety so I go to the Emergency Room again this time at a different hospital & they do a EKG right away it comes out as abnormal so they get me a room & do blood tests they end up coming out fine except for my LDL cholesterol kinda high (116) they tell me it’s a extremely low chance I would have a heart attack so that relieves me a lot , they tell me I should concentrate on breathing & ignoring the palpitations, so the day I go see my doctor she does more blood work ,I tell her I’ve been having anxiety & palpitations she asked if I want to talk to someone about it and I said no as I wasn’t feeling too bad at the moment so she prescribes me Hydroxyzine HCL 10MG for anxiety & sleep which I haven’t taken at all because I seen online sometimes they make palpitations worse so i haven’t touched them as I think they would make me more anxious about my heart so I’ve just been looking up natural things that would help me. Fast forward to now 5/13 it’s been 3 weeks I’ve been toughing it out I’ve changed my diet completely avoiding foods with too much saturated fat like pizza burgers etc , I began drinking a lot more teas & water I still get anxiety from time to time but noticed distracting myself with things to do like Going to work , laughing with friends & family going out for walks with my siblings and my dog playing video games here and there etc I don’t know what exactly the explanation is for what I’m going through is but I haven’t lost hope that I can recover seeing my parents breakdown telling me they believe in me and are with me all the way make me want to push through this even more I’ve gotten closer to god as I’ve been going to church again with my parents I hope this makes my siblings want to get close to god & come along with us to church every Saturday . As of right now I’m still following my diet eating mainly chicken ,turkey vegetables fruits & drinking black teas & peppermint teas to help me sleep I’ve also been taking a (magnesium +malate + Glycinate + Citrate)supplement and have noticed my brain feels a lot less foggy I still feel anxiety & my fingers twitch from time to time but distracting myself with anything else helps so much I also still struggle sleeping I find laying down will make me anxious triggering my palpitations with a tight feeling in my upper left chest causing me to panic sometimes if I’m focused on just my palpitations , box breathing and deep breathing drinking a bit of water seem to help me ignore them . I’m currently waiting on my appointment with a cardiologist next week 5/22 for more reassurance that nothing is wrong with my heart. Prior to this incident I would say I had little to no anxiety at all I’m hoping it’s not any serious condition & maybe just my body dealing with the trauma & if it happens to be anything serious I have hope I can learn to continue living a normal life without much of a learning curve . Anyway I know this is super long but if anyone has gone through or had something like this before leave any tips or comments below of things that could help please & thanks god bless us all .🙏🏽

DISCLAIMER: This respectful and civil debate is oriented towards muslims. For the sake of the moderators time and also the readers I will only list 5 problems I've found. But don't worry I have 20 more to post if this post has more traffic!
According to the Quran, Jesus was a prophet of Islam, his followers were Muslims and the gospel is the inspired preserved authoritative word of Allah. But when we go to our earliest records, we find Jesus claiming to be the Divine Son of God who would die on the cross for sins and rise from the dead. Jesus followers proclaimed him as their Risen Lord, the gospel that Christians have been reading for nearly 2,000 years tells us that "Anyone who claims to be a prophet, rejects Jesus death, resurrection and deity is a false prophet and an antichrist" - 1 John 2:22, a verse to remember.
Problem 1. Earlier Records for Paul's Life than for Muhammad's Life - Our records of Paul's life are much earlier than our records of Muhammad's life. And here I don't just mean that Paul came centuries before Muhammad and so we have earlier sources for Paul's life, I mean that when we talk about the teachings and deeds of Paul the biographical sources we use are much closer to the events they report than the biographical sources we use when we talk about the teachings and deeds of Muhammad. Our earliest biographical sources on Paul were written during the lifetime of Paul. The book of Acts for example was written in the early 60s before Paul was martyred, and it was written by a traveling companion of Paul who was an eyewitness to many of the details he reports. We also have numerous letters written by Paul himself. Our earliest detailed biographical source on Muhammad is the sirah (biographical literature), especially the work of Ibn Ishaq (d. 768) which was written more than a century after Muhammad's death. And we don't even have what Ibn Ishaq actually wrote. We have an Abridged version that was sanitized by a later scholar and we shouldn't forget that many Muslims don't trust Ibn Ishaq. When Muslims quote stories about Muhammad, they're usually getting their information from sources like Sahih Al-Bukhari and Sahih Muslim, which were written two centuries after the time of Muhammad.
Problem 1.1. But it gets worse... The main reason for composing works like Sahih Al-Bukhari and Sahih Muslim was that Muslims were composing so many false stories about Muhammad, people didn't know what to believe. Scholars like Bukari decided that they needed to collect stories they thought were accurate in order to distinguish them from the ever increasing supply of false narrations. Now if Muslims during the time of Bukhari were inventing stories about Muhammad, what about the generation before that, and the generation before that..? And the generation before that? Two centuries is a lot of time to make things up, that's why it's always good to have sources written within the lifetime of the person you want to know about or at least within the lifetimes of the eyewitnesses. When we learn about Paul we learn about him through first generation eyewitness accounts. When we learn about Muhammad, we learn about him through late sources written by people who didn't know him, whose parents didn't know him and whose grandparents didn't know him. People who were fishing for historical facts in a sea of fabrication and deception. A few years ago the crumbling historical foundations for the life of Muhammad led the Islamic scholar Muhammad Sven Kalisch to conclude that Muhammad probably never existed. I don't agree with Dr Kalisch's conclusion about Muhammad's existence, but when even Muslim Scholars are starting to recognize how difficult it's become to take Muslim sources seriously our confidence in the historical Muhammad vanishes.
Problem 2. Paul Was a brillian scholar; Muhammad Was Not - The Apostle Paul was a brilliant scholar who defended his views in Athens, the intellectual capital of the ancient world, and in other major cities. He had discussions with the Stoic and Epicurian philosophers of his day and he could quote their sources to them. Even Anthony Flu, one of the 20th Century's most impressive critics of Christianity, said that the Apostle Paul possessed a first class philosophical mind. Muhammad by contrast was an illiterate 7th Century Caravan Trader. Now being an illiterate 7th Century Caravan Trader doesn't make you wrong, just as being a brilliant scholar doesn't make you right. But when we're dealing with claims about history and theology and various other topics having some sort of education helps. Not having an education leaves you open to obviously false revelations because you don't know enough to recognize them as false. This is why we find Muhammad telling his followers that Dhul-Qarnain traveled so far west he found the place where the sun sets, and that stars are missile that Allah uses to shoot demons, and that semen is formed between the backbone and the ribs. These are exactly the sort of absurdities we would expect from someone who has no clue what he's talking about, and who therefore has no clue whether his revelations line up with reality.
Problem 3. Paul knew the Old Testament; Muhammad Did Not - The Apostle Paul was a Pharisee who studied under Rabban Gamaliel II, one of the greatest Jewish rabbis of the first century. Paul knew the Old Testament inside and out which is why he quotes the Old Testament so frequently in his writings. This is important because Jesus claimed to fulfill a variety of Old Testament prophecies and you can't really examine this claim if you don't know what the Old Testament says. Muhammad was almost completely ignorant of the Old Testament because his knowledge of the Jewish scriptures was limited to what he heard in conversations. Not surprisingly despite Muhammad's numerous interactions with Jews in Arabia the Quran contains very few quotations from the Old Testament. Due to his ignorance of the scriptures Muhammad couldn't tell the difference between stories that were in the Torah and therefore divine revelation and stories from later Jewish writings and commentaries some of which were so late and so obviously fabricated they weren't far beyond the level of bedtime stories. Imagine how amusing it must be for someone who specializes in Jewish literature, to read the Quran and find so many fables being presented to Muslims as Revelation. Cain being taught how to bury the dead by a raven (al-Ma`idah (The Table, The Table Spread) 5:31), Solomon listening to a speech by an ant (Surah An-Naml - 15-25). But Muhammad just didn't know enough to distinguish scripture from non-scripture. Muhammad's ignorance of the Old Testament is also noteworthy because, like Jesus, he claimed to fulfill Old Testament prophecies. If Muhammad had been more knowledgeable of the Torah, he would have known that he couldn't possibly be a prophet for numerous reasons. For instance:
Problem 3.1 Muslim sources report that Muhammad once delivered what are now called "The Satanic Verses" to his followers. These verses promoted prayers to three pagan goddesses, Al-Lat and Al-'Uzza and Manat (Surah 53:19-20). Muhammad bowed down in honor of these polytheistic verses and his followers bowed down with him. But a little later Gabriel confronted Muhammad about his sin, Muhammad confessed in the history of AT-TABARI 6:111. So Muhammad admitted that he delivered a revelation that didn't really come from God. Why is this important? Well in Deuteronomy 18:20 "God declares but a prophet who presumes to speak in my name anything I have not commanded or a prophet who speaks in the name of other gods is to be put to death".
Problem 3.2 Muslims claim that they respect Moses, but if Muhammad had delivered "The Satanic Verses" during the time of Moses, Moses would have ordered the people to pick up stones and stone him to death as the most obvious false prophet in history. Muhammad didn't realize this due to his lack of familiarity with the Jewish scriptures.
Problem 4. Paul Was a Contemporary of Jesus Muhammad was not - The apostle Paul was a contemporary of Jesus and he spent much of his time in first century Israel, this put Paul in a perfect position to gain accurate historical information about Jesus. If you want reliable information about a person it's pretty helpful being a member of the person's own generation. And Paul was right there. Muhammad was born more than half a millennium after Jesus death in a completely different country. Since he couldn't read, apart from Divine Revelation his knowledge of Jesus was limited to whatever stories were popular in 7th Century Arabia. This is why when we read the Quran we find so many stories about Jesus that are known to be forgeries. Mary giving birth under a palm tree Surah Maryam - 16-26, Jesus preaching when he was still a baby Surat Maryam [19:29-34], Jesus giving life to clay birds Surah Al-Ma'idah - 110. We know where these stories come from, and they don't come from the first century.
Problem 5. Paul Spoke the Relevant Lanugaes Muhammad Didn't - The Apostle Paul was fluent in Hebrew Aramaic and Greek. All of the languages necessary for understanding the Old Testament, the claims of Jesus and the earliest Christian writings. Muhammad couldn't speak any of the relevant languages so any attempt to understand the Old Testament, the claims of Jesus, or the earliest Christian writings would have required the help of interpreters. I normally wouldn't bring this up as a problem, but since Muslims are obsessed with reading the Quran in the original Arabic, we can only assume that the writings of Moses, the teachings of Jesus and the writings of Jesus followers can only be understood in the original languages. Paul could do that, Muhammad couldn't. Muhammad's ignorance of the original languages leads to further problems: For example the Quran refers to the book revealed through, Jesus as the "Injil", but the Arabic word Injil is ultimately derived from the Greek word "Evangelion" meaning good news. So according to the Quran the book, revealed through Jesus was written in Greek, this makes absolutely no sense if Jesus was only sent to his fellow Jews as Islam claims, but it makes perfect sense if Jesus message was for the rest of the world as well since Greek was the international language of the time. Interestingly the New Testament gospels were written in Greek, exactly what we would expect given the quran's use of the term Injil, but quite unexpected given Muhammad's notion of Jesus life and mission, not to mention Muhammad's conviction that Revelations can't be translated. Quite hypocritical indeed.

I can not forgive myself for leaving a kitten that had found me. I was not looking for her when I heard her meows. I followed them. & she jumped down from the abandoned shed she was hiding in. (as soon as I approached she came out of hiding, because she wanted to live & be seen, which made me feel seen by her, for feeling like she could be safe with me) it was an instant connection with her. So, I scooped her into my arms and brought her home. She was full of fleas and we found later when I brought her to the vet she had a broken leg ( healed by itself very nicely). Because of the fleas I left her outside on my porch (top floor safe from dogs) for the first night and planned to take her to the vet in the AM if she was still there & she ended up sleeping there most of the night and then returned in the afternoon, she really did choose me. We were in a developing nation. I was moving back to the states and decided to take her with me as I feared for her life with dogs surrounding the area and having seen horrible incidents that made me feel very differently about having outdoor cats (which I had indoor and outdoor cats my whole life). I bought a leash for her before our trip and never had her outside without it or without me supervising her. I planned to live with my sister, but I ended up leaving after 2 short weeks because we were not getting along and a trip to Europe had been on my mind for some time. (After a couple years of saving) I decided to leave this precious kitten who made me laugh, who trusted me instantly, followed me around, & knew she was safe with me, with my sister while I took a trip. I planned to return just before their lease was up within a month. Instead, my sister was called to pet sit at my parents house across the states on the east coast, somehow this kitten (who I named Bodega) was on this flight with her and I was now meeting Bodega here instead. My sister stayed for a week, left Bodega at my parents house where I would now be going to. Just a few days after my sister left she was hit by a car and my parents claimed she died on the scene, but they did not take her to a vet to confirm. I am upset for many reasons. I feel I failed her and never should have left her in the first place because I knew she was my responsibility. I wanted to be the one to keep her safe, I didn’t even like leaving her for short amounts of time, I never should have taken a trip so far away so soon. I can’t imagine thinking they mistook death for what could be similar to what shock looks like and then put her in a bag possibly alive. They said her eye popped out and her head may have been crushed a bit, but I read several survival stories where cats can recover from exactly this. I wish they had at least taken her to the vet, but it wouldn’t change how I feel toward myself. Knowing that this wouldn’t have happened if I stayed with her. I only had her for 2 months in my care, she passed about a month after. I was already missing her greatly and had a ticket to come home before she passed, but then I cancelled it because I found a workaway job. And then I got this news that she was hit by a car 10 days after. I wish if she had gotten out they had gone to get her. I wish so many things. I wish I could turn back the clock because she deserved so much better. She was pure love, so grateful and just wanted to be loved. She wanted to stop hiding and we were safe with each other. Why did I have to go on this trip? It wasn’t worth losing her.
now In just a couple days I will be seeing my family, my mom and dad and sister, all the people who told me they could look after her while I was gone, and I have anger, and it’s Everywhere, I don’t know how to give them hugs and be happy and talk normally with them knowing they couldn’t keep her alive for me, especially when I had cared for their 3 cats and 1 dog in the developing nation I was living in (by myself) and they all returned back home safely to them. Sorry for the extremely long run on sentence, I am awful with grammar and quite frankly just very tired and sore for typing in my notes to get put the anger out somewhere (except it’s not helping anymore and now I’m here) because I know I can’t really blame anyone, but it feels it could’ve been prevented and I don’t know how it wasn’t. And now I think I will feel even worse returning and trying to live life without her knowing she should be right there with me. & my family all expect me to just move on even tho they said I could take all the time I need, but really, when I talk about it, they don’t want to hear it or talk about it anymore because they want to move on, but I am still trying to process it all( going from looking forward and believed I’d see her again to all of a sudden knowing now I never will ), all because maybe they were careless or I was just too selfish with the most selfless being I’d ever met

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.

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As the world faded away into nothing but a dark void, Tom felt the only mildly familiar sensation of magic flowing like a gentle stream. It wasn’t much of a draw, but it was certainly noticeable.
“Right, best make this quick then,” he tried thinking to himself, feeling the flow peak as he did.
“Who is this? Make what quick?” an ethereal sounding female voice replied. It did sound a bit like how he remembered Joelina sounding. Though she did not exactly sound calm.
“Uhm… Hello? Anyone there?”
“Yes hello. Who is this? What must be done quick? Answer me at once!”
“It’s Tom… Is that you, Joelina?”
“Yes of course it is! Stupid dragons taking ages, I have questions for you! So many questiiioooonssss...”
“Yeah I figured that… Fire away I suppose.” Tom replied a little uncertainly as to just what he might be in for.
“Firstly! Did you read the letters?”
“I did yeah…”
“Disregard them, I have learned much since they were written! So much more yes, cursed blessed knowledge…”
“So you do know we have gone to space then?”
“What? No, I re-experienced the memory you had of the movie about the moon mission. It was evident on the second watching that it was trickery of the eye! Spaceflight is but a myth!”
“Riiight.”
“Then how have your kind visited space? And what of the gods above!? it was evident that the woman with the crystals was but a fraud!” Joelina explained with all the calm and restraint of a shoppingmall Karen
“Well the rockets to the moon, that did happen.” Tom attempted, doing his best to remain calm and diplomatic. “The movie you saw was probably a recreation… Tell me, did things go wrong on that trip but they made it home anyway?”
“Yes, do you know of what I speak? Ahr what am I proclaiming! of course you do it is your own memories, how could I forget.”
“Yea…, you watched a movie about Apollo 13 I think. Good movie, and that all happened too. Like for real happened”
“I see…” Joelina replied, sounding rather unstable. “And what of the gods?”
“We ain’t got any. Well not in space at least.”
“Impossible!”
“No, quite possible. Many still believe in gods though, but let’s not get into that too much. It’s a right old mess.”
“No, you must tell me what happened to the gods? Have they left you?”
“Well some think so, but no. I just think it all works a bit different for us. They might be a little more hands off.”
“But the churches… and these religious warriors you did battle with,” the inquisitor all but muttered to herself, sounding like she was struggling to put pieces together. “Do Jesus and Islam fight for power then? no no, they would have long since lost the battles to the ancient gods of war the teachers spoke of… though why they were always naked eludes me yeeees…”
“No, again we don’t really have gods just floating around... Could we please talk about something else? Or is that all you wanted to know?” Tom tried, hoping he really didn’t have to dive deeper into that particular subject.
“No no don’t you dare cut me off! I have seen what you talked of, nuclear fire and missiles, ships of the oceans and planes soaring in the skies. But is it not all fake? Surely it must be! It must be? It must be…”
“I don’t know what you saw… but we have ships sailing around. If you’ve ever seen flying ships like you have here then that’s fake I can assure you of that. We do have airships, but they look more like really big long balloons.”
“But we could make such vessels, or someone could from times past. If you can visit the moon then surely you can make a ship for the skies!”
“No no, we ain’t got grav oil. Or dragon essence as I guess it’s called. That means no anti gravity, and that means weight is a very very big problem for anything you wanna make fly. Planes and helicopters are how we fly. Remember how I flew to Afghanistan on a big ass plane? Or when I learned to parachute later?”
“What is parachute? is it the ham from your times doing, vacationing? what has dried meat products got to do with flying machines of battle!”
“Wooo easy now easy. I guess you didn’t get that far yet. Uhm. It’s a cloth kite you dangle from and then glide to the ground. Very good fun.”
“A cloth kite used to fly?... such strange inventions. Wait was there not a movie of with something of that nature? yeeee… there was a song. I liked that song… something something brains upon his chute. Yeesss…”
“Yeah… You’ll know it when you see it. I have one actually.” Tom clarified trying not to get too weirded out.
“You must demonstrate on a suitable occasion.”
“Yeah… I do have a question too though,” Tom replied, letting silence reign for a short time. “...Your last letter was in Danish.”
“Oh, uhm yes. I- I was having some difficulty separating what was real and what was not… I still am. Do not tell Glazz, she musten know the truth yet. She seeks to limit my excursions.”
“You’ve ended up like I did, have you?”
“No no no, the effects do indeed recede as expected, everything is in good order… But I had to know more. So so much moooore.”
“Maybe you should cool it a bit. You never know when a brain snaps. Or how,” Tom tried, confident his advice would be ignored.
“There is not time!”
“And why is that? How is it going in our beloved Inquisition?”
“Mind your tongue, human! Things are progressing, but so are our enemies. Infiltrators have been caught, traitors within our ranks are making their moves. The reemergence of Rashan, attacks on mines, keeps and a daring heist attempt at a Royal Guard fortress! The game is afoot, we cannot delay.”
“You can’t overreach yourself either. Weren’t you supposed to be winning over the rest of the inquisition right about now? Can’t do that as a gibbering mess.”
There was silence for a while more after that. “Glazz sent you a letter? What did it say?! You may not keep secrets from me- wait not… I should confiscate her arm… she cannot write with her left. Yes far better plan, avoid upsetting him. And fill her pen with invisible ink. Yes very good.”
“No, it’s just obvious to any idiot. But what about winter, won’t things slow down?”
“They should, yet as autumn progresses it has only been picking up. I hope they too are running out of time… But time for what? I must know what they are planning. They might be behind schedule. But what SCHEDULE! sorry…”
“Well you’re not gonna find the answer to that in my memories, now are you?”
“You were sent by someone. You are here for a purpose. I must know this purpose. It will help me understand. The puzzle is large and much of the box kept from me.”
“As far as I’m concerned, I’m here to help you guys get in gear. That’s a decades to centuries long sorta problem, not a couple of years. Sounds like this war will be in the couple of years category.”
“Then why now? Why did you arrive now?!”
“Shitty luck? Sounds like 10 years ago would have been a lot better… Oh on that note, did you hear? We found something down below.”
“No, Paulin would have told me.”Joelina dismissed, he could almost feel her turning her snout up and away from him.
“Well we opened the vault like 3 days ago,” Tom replied, quite surprised Paulin hadn’t said anything. “Wait yeah she can send you messages, no? She sent the message about what we wanted to buy too, didn’t she?... How did she do that by the way? Why didn’t you just have her ask me questions?”
“That is not for you to know, and this is not for her.”
“Really? More secrets still? Come on, tell me or I’ll let you think flying whales exist.”
“I know those are not real. If they were, you would have harvested them long ago! likely for some deranged snack… or facial decoration.”
“True, but you get the idea,” Tom persisted, feeling like this was something worth pushing for. Why would Paulin not have let her precious Joelina know?
“Very well. This does not leave your mind… In the name of, what was it called… camaraderie. Paulin is in possession of joined paper. Messages may be written down and read by anyone with similarly joined paper. Unsecured. Originally believed to be fore love letters… dastardly studs and wenches using perfectly good magic for such trivialness… simply tie the message to a rock and throw it though the window. Most peasants cannot even afford glass” Joelina trailed off, seemingly zoning out once more.
“You have magical paper that can relay written information… and you don’t fucking use it!?” Tom explaimed, not quite believing what he was hearing.
“No, we do not know how to make freshly bonded paper… only more linked to all other paper in existence…” Joelina agreed. He could almost feel her looking at the floor in shame. “But it is not as if you are infallible, why did you not bring one of these radios?”
“I uhm…”
“Why didn’t you?!”
“I forgot,” Tom admitted, thinking back to his packing days. Of all the things that could have proven useful, that one might have been his biggest blunder.
“For the love of all that is holy! You are our saviour?!” Joelina scolded, understandably so, but still.
“Hey I never claimed to be smart!”
“I have lived your dreams. That is a lie! You very much claim to be smart!”
“Fuck off, I know you are just a scared little insecure girl.”
“She died 30 years ago!”
“Well I haven’t gotten to that bit yet!”
“What in the devils do you mean?” Joelina questioned calming right down in a fraction of a second.
“I’ve only had like three proper dreams about you… wait no, not like that,” Tom blurted out as it clicked just how wrong that sounded. Joelina didn’t seem to care in the slightest though.
“Three? That is it!?” going right back to outrage.
“Yeah… Wait, how many have you had?” Tom questioned. He rather wanted to know just how much she might know about him in addition to the memories she had already picked through when inside his head.
“Several a day!” the inquisitor exclaimed in reply.
“Okay, I can see how that would drive someone a bit mad.”
“I am not going mad!”
“Did Glazz say the same thing?” Tom questioned, quite certain he was striking a nerve.
There was no reply for quite some time, Tom feeling the headache growing as things grew tranquil once more. He could feel his breath. It was rapid, and his heart was pounding. He probably shouldn’t do this for much longer. Thus he endeavored to break the silence.
“You probably should listen to her you know.”
“No! These matters are above her station!”
“Hasn’t she been in the Inquisition longer than you?”
“She has yes. But she is no inquisitor. She is a body guard.”
“Seems like she is a wee bit more than that,” Tom pushed on. He didn’t yet know how those two came to stick together, but it was clear they had been working together for decades by now. All the way since she was assigned to Harvik
“Mind your own matters, human.”
“Very well, don’t think I can keep this up anyway.”
“We have barely been chatting! Where do the dogs come from?!”
“Selective breeding for thousands of years. But I’m gonna go. Take a break, do what Glazz says… even if Jacky hates her.”
Yet more silence followed that, though it was brief and Joelina was the first to speak again.
“Fine! In the interest of cooperation I shall let you rest. Wear the earring at all times, I shall be contacting you again soon.”
“I think I’m gonna be the judge of that. I’ll put it on when I feel like it.”
“You will do as I say!”
“You need a nap and a bit to calm down. I’ll give you three days. Around noon. See yah… How do I get this thing off?”
“I’m not telling you,” Joelina grumped like a little girl. She really didn’t seem quite like herself at all today. She had been the spitting image of restraint and arrogance before. The arrogance was still there, but the restraint had certainly gone.
“Come on, do I just try to cut off the magic or is that a bad idea?”
“If you answer a question I might answer.”
“Right then… Gimme gimme gimme aaaa-”
“JUST CUT IT! Farewell!” she called out loud enough Tom’s head pulsed and then there was blissful silence once more.
“Hehe. That did the trick, right concentrate on that funny feeling aaan-”
__________________________________________________________________________________
After dinner had been rounded up, Dakota had given a brief address as to some of the news received. There wasn’t much that hadn’t already made the rounds at the tables during the dinner itself. The war had been expanding, recruitment had started in full in the cities, and if not for the rather special situation at Bizmati they could have expected their banners to get called by spring.
Rumors had it that the kingdom was preparing itself for counterstrikes the following spring, which meant training through the winter for many volunteers.
“And a lot of not so volunteers,” Fengi muttered as Dakota carried on with the address.
“You can say that twice. At least the street rats might get something to eat and a place to sleep,” Tirox the trader escort added.
“I suppose that is true. Not a bad deal in winter time… I might even have taken it.”
“But we must instead keep our minds on our home,” Dakota carried on, talking to the whole hall. “There can be no mistake, we will be a target. We will be ready. They are getting bolder by the day it seems. It is not impossible they may attempt to take our keep before the winter comes. Or perhaps they will be waiting for spring. It is equally clear their forces are spread thin. We will weather such assaults, I have no doubt. But we must keep training. We must keep vigil. We cannot afford to be surprised or outmatched. I know you will all do your best. And tonight, we have no less than 4 dragons here. So breathe easy, have your snacks and your drinks. If the weather holds soon we will be finished with the warehouse and then we may make final preparations for winter. It is sure to be an interesting one for once.”
The hall replied with a half-discordant cheer, not overly enthusiastic unlike what Dakota had likely envisioned. The talk of them possibly getting attacked even before the snow came wasn’t really that encouraging. But Dakota tended to speak her mind, and she was probably right. Bizmati keep would be a damn tough nut to crack. And to Dakota’s credit she did seem to recognize she hadn’t really managed to rile them up.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she tried again in a slightly more humorous tone. “Eat, drink, and have fun! And put those tables together, don’t want you brooding in your corners.”
That did get a bit more of a reaction, as well as some good humored chuckles. People started getting up and set about moving the tables closer together.
It was a little rude to split up their guests in the same way as they normally did. Saph carried one of the benches over to the new spot, glancing around for any sign of Maiko, but there was no sign of him anywhere.
Feeling a little miffed, she sat down with the others as Ray came back with one of the small kegs of cider looking very excited. “We should have a taste, right?”
“Oh yes please!” Pho called out, Essy giving her a slight slap on the wrist.
“This one is only for those who paid for it. You will have to do with whatever you bought. Or the ale I’m sure they intend to serve.”
“Aww man. Not even a sip?”
“Okay, maybe a sip,” Essy relented. “Oh, I should get Koko his gift.”
“You got him a gift?” Saph questioned with mirth in her voice.
“Of course, that is what people do for each other… you did get Maiko something, right?”
Saph felt her expression slip a little as she prepared to disappoint their chief people person. “No, not really…”
“All that money and you didn’t get him shit? That’s cold girl,” Pho laughed, clearly finding it hilarious.
“Oh shut up, not as if I got something for Unkai either,” Fengi added, springing to Sapphire’s defence, though it seemed like the delivery had Fengi second guessing herself as well.
Esmeralda did look a little saddened by the news, but she was far too nice to say anything. Tirox however had no such filter.
“Oh don’t worry about it, just gotta go with a different sort of gift.” The diminutive guard laughed heartily at his joke. Udanti found it quite funny as well, and Pho certainly loved it. Bo just shook her head a little and went back to a small puzzle of some sort she had been working on, on and off, for most of the dinner by now.
“So uhm… One mug each?” Ray questioned, having been left hanging at the keg.
“Oh yes sorry, just the one, this stuff is expensive,” Saph replied, holding out her mug, Ray pushing it back down.
“One moment.” And she produced a wooden mallet and one of the metal taps. It looked like one of Raulf’s, so it was probably old as faded dragonscales.
Ray gingerly placed it against the cork and raised the mallet as the table fell silent in anticipation.
With a whack the tap went in clean with hardly a drop spilled, and Ray breathed a visible sigh of relief. “Right there we go.”
There was a quick round of cheers from the table, and Ray started pouring servings.
“Oh got yours open, have you?” the voice of Balethon came as the guard came walking up to the table, mug in hand and lizard on shoulder. “You all know we are gonna have to work out who got the better stuff, right?”
“Oh does it always have to be a competition with you, Balethon?” Saph questioned. She had just wanted to enjoy the cider.
“Look who is talking… And yeah of course we do! Just think of the bragging rights.”
Ray didn’t look too thrilled, nor did any of the girls who had actually paid for the keg. The rest of the table seemed to think it was a brilliant idea, even as Balethon’s voice carried and heads started to turn as people started to mingle between the now closely together tables.
“I’ll be the independent adjudicator!” Tirox declared, not receiving much attention as the full mugs started to get passed around. “Oh come on. I’ll be fair!”
“Shut it pipsqueak, you’ll end up taking 10 rounds of tastings before you make up your mind,” Udanti scolded, though in good humor.
“I might…” the guy relented, looking to Balethon. “Ey, by the way. Did you teach the brainlet any tricks?”
“Sure, Skitters can do a few things.”
“Aside from chasing the food?”
“You know what I think he might yeah,” Balethon replied sarcastically, gently tapping the static lizard twice on the head. The lizard didn’t do much save skitter about on his shoulder to face Balethon’s head, one eye pointing in whichever direction.
‘That thing just looks so dumb,’ Saph thought to herself as Ray handed her a mug. “Oh thank you.”
“Okay, Skitters. Up,” Balethon went, raising a claw into the air as if he wanted the lizard to jump. Or perhaps stand up. “Up… come on.”
There was no reaction from the lizard aside from it jerking to the left a bit, possibly having spotted a fly or something.
“Weeeell obedience might need some work,” Udanti chuckled. “Have you tried with some food in your hand?”
“Sure, then he just tries to eat the hand. Come on, Skitters. Up!” Balethon tried again, doing the gesture once more. And this time the little lizard jumped into the air. The little legs stretched out, taking its pitiful excuse for wings with it, and it half-fell half-glided to the floor where it hit with all the grace of a 6 year old on his first lesson. The slightly fat lizard bounced once, then rolled over twice before coming to a stop, looking around confused.
“Aaayyy! That’s a good boi,” Balethon went, going to pick it up again before someone stepped on it or it ran off under the tables. “And now you get a treat.” True to his word Skitters was fed a small piece of something or other which it seemed quite happy to snap up.
Fengi leaned in to whisper to Saph. “Was that the trick or did it just get sick of staying there?”
“I have no idea,” Saph replied, holding up her mug. “Cheers though.”
“Cheers,” Fengi replied as they clinked mugs.
“Oh hang on now, wait for me,” Essy protested as Ray finished pouring her mug and started on her own, looking to the girls as she questioned “Oh, also what about Jacky? Should we wait for her?”
“Who knows how long that will take?” Fengi replied, holding her mug impatiently.
“I’m sure she won’t mind. She is with Tom. We’ll let him have a mug as well,” Essy added with a reassuring nod, looking up to the high table. “Oh but we are missing Lin!”
“Oh right yeah she paid too… I can’t remember, did Edita chip in?”
“I don’t think so,” Sapphire replied, shaking her head as Essy got up to go fetch Linkosta. Balethon decided to take her place, a big grin on his face.
“So what else is going on over here?”
“Oh not much, hellooo little guy,” Pho went, trying to give skitters a scritching. In exchange he tried to eat her finger. “Oh… I mean I guess it doesn’t hurt.”
“Oh yeah, he can’t hurt a fly… well he can, but nothing more.”
“Shame he won’t get any bigger either,” Udanti added, nodding sagely. “Would have made a good rat hunter.”
“Nah… toe hunter though. Also where is the ale at?”
“Oh Raulf and Wiperna are getting ale and some of the bubble beer.”
“What is bubble beer?” Udanti questioned, tilting her head.
“Oh you’ll love it,” Saph interjected, waiting patiently as she saw Essy and Linkosta returning to the table out of the corner of her eye. “It’s an ale but it’s all fizzy.”
“Riiight… I’ve heard of fizzy beers before.”
“Oh yes, but this one is so much more fizzy.”
“It’s light and almost springlike.”
“Light ale? You mean for kids?”
“No no no. Just trust us it’s good.”
“Right right, I trust you,” the archer replied, looking to Essy and Linkosta, who seemed to be looking for a place to sit. “Should we not just put two end to end rather than this scrunching up business?”
“Yeah we should… Right get the craftsman table over here then. We don’t wanna have to smell the guards,” Saph called out, holding up her mug.
“Hey! That was uncalled for,” Balethon protested as Ray passed a mug to Linkosta. The girls all raised their mugs and had a sip, not willing to wait any longer. They all smacked their chops a little, looking down at the golden liquid. It was slightly fizzy too… and it tasted like the brew of the gods themselves. Ray was looking at them all visibly tense with anticipation and perhaps a twinge of fear.
“Ray… You have not disappointed,” Saph declared, nodding her approval, a smile creeping onto her face once more.
“Oh this is the best drink I think I’ve ever had,” Fengi added, taking another gentle sip.
Ray looked visibly relieved, her expression changing to one of ecstasy as she too took a sip herself. “Oh it’s even better than I remember. I’m glad you liked it.”
“Like it?! I love it!” Fengi cheers, Essy giving an appreciative nod to Ray before looking to Lin.
“Sooo?”
“It’s very good… Do you think we could try and cool it down a little? Imagine this cold.”
“It is often served cold, yes,” Ray confirmed, nodding her assent.
“I’ll go get the powder!” Saph called out, getting up. “I have got to try that.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
The strange ethereal world that had seemed so all-consuming started to quickly fade. Holes grew as light and reality started seeping in, sounds and noise starting to build around him. “Oom-Tom… Tom, are you okay?” came the familiar voice of Jacky as his eyes shot open and he blinked a few times as he returned to reality proper.
“Yeah yeah, I’m here… That is trippy, but hey, I think it worked.”
“How many fingers?” Jacky questioned, holding up her hand.
“4. Clear as day.”
“Pheeew. Okay look around, anything strange?”
Tom obeyed, sitting up a bit straighter and glancing about the room. “Nnnnn, nope all good. Just like last time I used one of these.”
“Right, good. Now what did she say?”
“Oh a bunch of stuff… mostly we chatted a bit about how she’s going a touch mad. Even Glazz thinks she’s falling apart at the seams apparently. She was also not happy I wanted a break.”
“Oh don’t tell me you have to do this every day from now on?”
“I said she had 3 days to get ready to try again. Hopefully she’ll have her case worked out by then.”
“Here’s to hoping… also how is your head? Does it hurt?”
“A bit, it’ll go away I’m sure.”
“Right,” Jacky replied, looking at him skeptically. “If it gets worse, tell me. But dinner was served a while ago I think. And I’m hungry.”
“Me too, let’s go.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
Well then, Joelina got her chat. She seems fine... I am sure she will continue to be a steadfast ally, within the walls of the inquisition for many weeks to co- I mean years, definetly years.
As always I hope you enjoyed the chapter, if not you know who to blame. I promise I won't cry to much if you tell me what was wrong... I promise.
Not really any news, other than fuck me I'm a busy boi, luckily I found the time to keep up with the writing yet, hopefully things will quet down soon so I can get back to begin a bit further ahead.
Untill next time, take care
Wiki and Art Gallery If you can't remember who someone is, want to read any of the side stories of fanfiction, or you just wanna watch some of the cool art that's been made for the story. Patreon If you want to help get more cool shit made consider joining the Patreon, you also get chapters two weeks ahead of time. HoH Subreddit if you want more stories from the HoH universe or are interested in writing something for this funny little world. Discord if you wanna have a chat about the story or just hang out First Previous

During the course of my career as an alpha Sasquatch hunting, Dogman destroying, pussy crushing, luxury watch loving dude, I have run into this particular woman a few times. She is one part uber sensuality, and the other part deadly. Yes, I am speaking about the lovely, Anna Conda. I bring her up because I had another run-in with her last year.

Anna and I first joined forces, so to speak, when she acted as a go-between in my business deal with the Chinese to sell them bigfoot parts. See, I would hunt and kill the critters, cut them up, deliver the parts to Anna, who in turn gave me a suitcase containing unmarked American hundred-dollar bills, then she would transport the bigfoot parts to the Chinese. I was never really sure of what the sneaky-ass Chinese were doing with the body parts. All I knew for sure is that they are extracting certain materials from them, then synthesizing them with some other shit, creating some sort of drug. Whether it then becomes a bio-weapon or a dick stimulant, I do not know. Neither do I care. As long as they kept the hundies coming, I was good.

Now, while Anna is of Russian descent, she is a freelancer. She will work for any sick, skeevy motherfucker out there. She does not care. She has no conscience, at least not in the traditional sense as we understand it in western civilization. Today she is working for the Chinese, and tomorrow she may be working for Hamas. She is a slippery motherfucker.

So here is how it went down. At 11:32 p.m. on a Friday in September of last year I get a call on my cell phone. When the call came in I was balls deep into this hot little lass I picked up at the bus station a little earlier in the evening from an old swarthy chap named “Colorado Joe”. He wanted to sell me the girl. I was assured she was over 20 years old. I told him I needed to take her out for a test ride, which he agreed to.

So, there I was, balls deep in “Bing Bang Yun”, and my phone rings. Of course, I silence all incoming calls not in my contacts list. Thus, I knew that I must know the caller. In mid stroke I reached over to the nightstand to retrieve my cell and looked at it. It was a call from “Sergio”. I thought, “Oh shit…. I am going to have to cut the Oriental bang circus short.” When Sergio calls, I have to respond…immediately. He has the best blow on the east coast!!

“Hey, Serge! What’s up?”, I asked. All he said was, “Hooters. 2:00 a.m.”, then hung up. This was obviously the rendezvous for the transaction. Now, understand that Serge was not talking about the chicken wing restaurant. Hooters was code, in case the feds were listening in on the line. “Hooters” meant the titty bar out on Highway 69 called “The Plump Rump”. We had a communications code we used.

It was a long haul to the titty bar, so I needed to get moving. I had no time to return the girl to Colorado Joe, so I took her with me. I had her blow me on the way to the meeting with Sergio, telling her that her performance would make the difference on whether I save her from Joe or not. Of course, after she was done I tossed her out of my speeding truck and down, over the bridge, and into the Wendigo River below. I did not need any complications in my life right now.

I arrived at The Plump Rump at 2:00 a.m. on the dot. I saw the manager, Lou Skunt, sitting at the bar when I walked inside. I nodded. He walked over and said to me, “Use my office for the meeting The parties are already in there waiting for you.” I nodded and then headed to Lou’s office. Then it hit me: Lou said the “PARTIES” are already here. That is, parties, meaning more than one person. It was not just Sergio. It was 2 or more people! Lou was probably in for a cut of whatever was about to go down.

Something was bad fucked up!! I know for a fact that Sergio never brings anyone with him on a deal, at least not with me. He is too distrustful of people to do that, and too fucking mean to need protection. Something was wrong. I was just as likely to get whacked when I enter Lou’s office as anything else. I needed a moment to think things through.

I took a spot in front of one of the performance poles to watch a young, swarthy Mexican lass perform. My mind quickly strayed from the problem at hand to this brown chick’s ass and tits. She was not a great looking chick, but her body was smoking!! I quickly became aroused. I thought to myself, “Goddamn Asian bitches!! They are just like Chinese food – after 2 hours you are ready for some more!!”

When the little Mexican chick went on break I motioned her over to my table. “Hola Senior!!”, she said. I pulled out a clear plastic baggie of blow and dropped it on the table. Her eyes grew wide and slobber starting falling from her mouth. Blow is like catnip for strippers. Thus, she fell under my spell immediately.

The next thing I know, this brown girl was on my lap, dry humping me like a feral bitch dog in heat. I had to bang her. I NEEDED to see my wang penetrating her. Just then, someone taps my shoulder hard. I look up to see Lou standing over me. He bent down and said, “Did you forget about my office, asshole?!?!?!” I replied, “Damn, Lou!! You read my mind!!!” I arose, with the little Mexican bolted onto my mid-section, and hastily retreated to Lou’s office. I figured Lou would prefer me to stain this chick in private rather than out in the open.

The door to the office opened easily. The lights were on inside. In a lustful haze, I set the little Mexican chick on her back across Lou’s desk and started pumping the shit out of her, completely unaware of the others in the room with us. In a moment I heard someone call my name. I twist my neck around to see Sergio sitting on Lou’s jizz crusted couch. I think to myself, “Oh shit! I forgot about that shit!”

I figured I would just move forward with the deal as it was proposed to me. “Hey Serge! What ya got for me, dude?”, I asked. He replied, “I have a very special deal for you. I need, uh … yeah, ……Hey, Rod, you want to stop for a moment so we can talk?” I picked up the little tamale and laid her down onto Sergio’s lap as I continued to plow her. She stayed on my cock the whole time. I told Sergio, “No, man. I’m good! Lay it on me!” Slowly, Sergio lowered his face into his palm.

Then it happened. The voice cam from behind me, in the dark corner of Lou’s office. It was velvety yet hard as steel. “Rod. Went need to talk”, it said. Even though I did not stop pumping the little brown chick, a chill went down my spine when I heard those words. It was the thick timbre of the voice, I think, that alerted me.

I turned to look across the room. There, sitting in a red leather captains chair against the wall was the source of the sultry voice: Anna Conda.

I picked up the little taco yet again and turned her around so I could face Anna as I continued pumping her. At this point the Mexican girl was merely a masturbation toy I was using. I increased my pump so I could dump my load and get this over with. Then BAMM!!!, it was over. I removed the lass from my huge rod, after which her body crumpled to the floor. I did not know if she was dead or injured, or what had happened to her. But I did not care either, so I did not dwell on it.

I tried to compose myself the best I could, then walked over to stand before Anna so I could get to the bottom of all this business. “Well, well, well. Anna Conda. We meet again. Tell me, what brings you here, to my little neck of the woods?”

Anna replied, “Rod, put your dick away.” I looked down and, indeed, I had forgotten to stow my cock. Out of pure curtesy, I packed it away. Then I returned my attention to Anna. “Alright, Anna, what’s going on here?”

Anna launched into a startling tale about what brought her to me. As she spoke I became lost in her wanton beauty. She got up from her chair and walked about the room as she relayed her story, presumably to make it more dramatic and demonstrative. I got a full-on view of her body, and it was fantastic!!

She stands 5’10’’ and weighs 105 lbs. She is lithe. She was showing it off too, wearing a black, silk dress that landed just about her ankles. The top was low-cut, betraying just a bit of cleavage from her C-cup wineglass titties. She was not wearing a bra. Anna never wears a bra. Her nips were perfectly outlined through the silk. In fact, I think her nips were hard. It was probably something she did on purpose in an attempt to influence me. It was working.

Anna’s ass was perfect. It was not at all fat, but round enough not to be skinny. It was a fit figure skater’s ass. As she walked, I could see a tiny bit of jiggle emanating from her ass flesh, and then reverberated in the silky black dress she wore. My cock began growing hard again.

Her face was beautiful. Think Scarlett Johanson and Phoebe Cates rolled into one. But any sweetness this may evoke is quickly dispelled by Anna’s throaty voice with its thick Russian accent. I have known Anna for 20 years. Yet, she still does not look a day over 25. Jesus Christ!!! If ever there was a chick to die for ….. If I was one to delve into the belief of the paranormal, then I may conclude that Anna made a deal with the devil. But, I am not such a person.
And literally, Anna Conda is a chick to die for. She is deadly as fuck. She will kill you in a split second without a thought just because she does not like the shirt you are wearing. She can do it too. She is always armed and she knows how to use her weapons. Moreover, she is a total psychopath. This makes her doubly dangerous.

Anna and I have always gotten along for the most part. Like Anna, the dollar is my primary motivating factor. Such a mindset allows for understanding and predictability among people, which are elements that are sorely missing in many business dealings today that go on in the color of darkness.

Suddenly, Anna snapped me out of my thoughts. “Here’s your gun, Rod. Now let’s get started”, said Anna. She and Sergio were halfway through the door exiting Lou’s office when I said, “Hey, wait a damned minute!!! What are you talking about?!?”

They both stopped, and Anna walked back in and looked me in the eyes, saying “The plan, Rod. Let’s get on with the plan.” A little embarrassed, I sheepishly asked, “What plan?” Anna folded her arms and looked cross at me. After a moment to allow me to simmer in my shame, she asked, “You were not paying attention, were you, Rod?” I shook my head and looked down.

I heard a hammer cock. I jerked my head back up to find myself staring down the barrel of a pistol pointed at my head that Anna was holding. I protested, “Look, it is not my fucking fault!! Put that fucking gun down!!!” I continued, “You were distracting me with …. Well.. you know, how you are dressed, and that hot, sultry voice…. You know?”

“So, instead of paying attention to the plan, you chose to eye-rape me. Is that what I am to understand your position is, Rod?”, she asked. Knowing that my life was on the line, I said, “Anna, look, you know I am horny to a fault. Then you come in here, swinging them tits around, wearing that silk dress showing off the crack of your ass…. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT TO HAPPENED?”

Anna lowered her gun. She knew that my explanation of being a total cocksman was truth. “Let’s go”, Anna curtly said. I obeyed.

Anna explained the plan to me again on the drive from The Plump Rump. She made me wear a blindfold so that I would not get horny during her explanation. Here is how it went:

Anna Conda was now working for the Russians. It seems that Putin caught wind of the Sasquatch project that the Chinese were working on. He also knew that the American government have been fucking with sasquatch for decades. Thus, he was very concerned about the existence of a bigfoot gap. He ordered the acquisition of a Sasquatch specimen immediately.

Moreover, said specimen must be prime. It needed to be the biggest, baddest sasquatch of them all – a true alpha – so as to speed things along. Putin did not want some weird shit-creature, is-it-a-sasquatch-or-is-it-a-dogman, kind of monstrosity. He wanted purebred, badass sasquatchery, and preferably from the American Pacific northwest.

Anna got in on it because she sold the intel to Putin about China’s Sasquatch operation. She then told Putin she could produce sasquatch corpses for him. She told him she had a contact (i.e., me). Thus, with Putin’s blessing and promises of riches to come, Anna set out to America to find me.

Now, here is where things got a bit squirrely. See, I agreed to procure some more dead sasquatch. I have no problem with killing sasquatch because, in my opinion, they are an abomination on this Earth. I kind of feel like I am doing God’s work by wiping out as many of them as I can. And given all the not-so-Godly stuff I have done, I feel like killing Sasquatch kind of offsets that to some degree.

But Anna, she was stuck on Putin’s instruction that she must supply him with apex Sasquatch. So she did not want to take my advice of heading to the Pacific Northwest or Alaska. Instead, Anna claimed to have pinpointed the whereabouts of a particularly gruesome sasquatch beast that she KNEW would win her a fortune from Putin if she brought it to him.

“So, where is this beast?”, I asked. Anna replied “Martha’s Vineyard”. I paused. Then I asked her to repeat herself. It turns out that I was not mistaken about what Anna had said. I continued, “Uh, Anna, there are no sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard, just a lot of wealth New Englander schmucks.”

Anna looked at me and told me I was wrong. Then she decided to attempt to taunt me. “Oh, Rod, mighty slayer of Bigfoot! Yet, you fail to take notice of where the biggest, most foul and rotten beast of them all makes its home. Jesus, Rod!! What kind of bigfoot hunter are you, anyway?” Anna then spit at my feet and wondered aloud whether she even needs me for this job.

I decided that I needed to straighten out the hierarchy here in order for this here deal to move forward. I said, “Well, Anna, feel free to truck on over to Old Whitey Beach and battle that beast. But, if there is a big old mangy sasquatch lurking around over there, then it is probably a fucking Nazi-Squatch. You know, those fuckers out there hate the Jews.”

The work “Nazi” visibly shook Anna. Her great grandfather died defending Leningrad. Her entire family there died of either starvation or cannibalism during Hitler’s siege during Operation Barbarossa. Anna despised Nazis. But she feared them too. After landing that punch, I decided to push my luck.

“Now, I am still willing to help you catch this here Nazi-Squatch, but you have to do something for me”, I said. Now Anna’s eyes were on me, and they were narrowing. I continued, “I want you to get bare assed naked and pleasure yourself while I stand over you and jack it.” Anna stared at me silently for a long moment. Then she replied.

“After the job is done, and you can get none of your … fluids… on me”, she said. I shook my head and countered, “Now, and I will ‘try’ to not get my spunk on you.”

However, Anna then turned the tables on me. In fact, she picked up the table and bashed my head in with it. She looked me in my eyes, then matter-of-factly said, “You get the beast, and your prize shall be a night with me, anything goes, darling.” Well, since this caused all of the blood to immediately drain from my brain, I had a lapse in judgment. “DEAL!!”, I said. Then we shook on it.

“OK, tell me more about this supposed monster sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard”, I said. I still was not ready to believe there was a monster out there. “I show you photo”, said Anna. She took out her phone, scrolled to find the photo, then handed the phone to me. “There. Sasquatch”, she said.

I stared at the photo and remained silent. After a long moment, I turned the phone so that Anna could see the photo and asked, “Uh, Anna, is THIS what you intended to show me?” She replied. “Yes! There…Sasquatch! The biggest, grossest monster around.”

Now, I could not argue with Anna that the image on her phone is a big, gross monster. Hell, it could actually be a sasquatch, and THE UBER sasquatch. It is most certainly the grossest thing on Martha’s Vinyard. But I somehow do not think this is what Putin is expecting.

I turned to Anna and said, “Anna, this is a photo of Michelle Obama. I know it looks vile, and has a huge, hulking body with large appendages where a woman should not have them. But, sweatheart, that ain’t no sasquatch. That’s a big, hairy Chicago street negro.”

Anna did not believe me at first. She was hard in her conviction that Obama was a sasquatch. “I have seen the Sasquatch beast you deliver to me for China. This … Michelle Obama …. It is big, and hairy, and ugly like the sasquatch beast, but worse.”

When the truth finally set it, I could see that it had kind of broken down poor Anna, if only just a bit. I put my arm around Anna and told her, “Look, Michelle O fooled you. Hell, she and her Hamas Hubby fooled millions of Americans, twice! At least you saw Michelle for what she is, to wit: a big, gross sasquatch, and NOT some kind a retarded leftist messiah.”

After that, things took a rather dark turn. “What if we still take her to Putin? We can make deal; sell her to Putin!!” At this point I held up my hands and said, “I’m out”, then turned and walked away. Anna followed, trying to get me to stay. At this point, I could tell that Anna was coming undone a little.

See, she had to produce for Putin. There is no telling what kind of secret deal she actually had with him. She had to deliver a big old mangy Obama …. Er, uh, I mean … Sasquatch, to Putin.

“Ok, Rod, we do your plan. We go out west to kill bigfoot. Huge, monster bigfoot. she said. I turned and looked Anna in her eyes and said the following: First, we bang for 48 hours straight, right now, so I can get my fill of you. Second, you pay me $10,000.00 cash upfront. Third, upon delivery of the dead bigfoot, you pay me $1 million immediately.”

Anna agreed to everything, but noted that at the present time it was her “time of the month”. I grimaced, as I will absolutely not go there (and she knows that). “Fine, next week we bang”, I said. She pointed out that I would be in the woods next week hunting sasquatch. “Fine, once I come out of the woods, then we bang – 48 hours straight”, I said. “Of course, darling!”, she agreed.

Well, it took several days to set up the hunt, but it finally happened. I was in Washington state at high elevation based on intel I has acquired that indicated that there was a monstrous 15’ tall sasquatch on the mountain range that had been murdering and eating hunters and hikers. After 3 months in these mountains without a trace of the creature I began to lose hope, thinking that I probably got some bad intel, or bad coordinates.

I got my satellite phone out to call for an extraction. Winter was setting in fast, and if I did not get off this mountain soon, then I would freeze and/or starve to death. Unfortunately, my contact did not answer. I tried for 2 days. No answer. I had been fucked. I wondered what had happened back in civilization that caused me to be abandoned like this. I resolved that I would get off that mountain and get to the bottom of this shit. There would be hell to pay for this betrayal!!’

I was able to get in touch with contacts from back home. I got old Billy Ray from Ellijay and Rattler on the phone and got them to come out here to Washington State to extract me. Rattler use to fly helicopters in the Army. He has an old Huey sitting in his front yard, to the chagrin of his HOA. He fired that sucker up, and him and old Billy Ray flew out here to my coordinates and extracted me.

After landing at a convenience store to buy some beer for the flight home, we headed east. Through the skies a way, Billy Ray said, “Well, Rod, I guess you is bout ready to git back home to Georgia, eh?” In fact, I was ready to go home. But I had to take care of some business first. I told them both to take me to New York City. They were both perplexed. All I said to them was “I have an old friend there I have to see before I can go home.”

I have intel on where Anna Conda stays when she is in the United States. She stays at certain hotels depending on what month she is here, and whether her check-in date is an odd or even number. This is for undercover work. I came across the code for her stays while doing the sasquatch work for China. She an I were caught in a snowstorm one night in Buffalo, NY, and had to share a room at the Holiday Inn near the airport. We had like 10 big Igloo ice chests with iced down sasquatch body parts with us in the room.

Anna was like, “No hanky panky, Rod. I am tired and I want to go to bed. Tomorrow we finish business.”

Frankly, I did not blame her for withholding her magnificent muff from me. I was tired as hell. But, I could not settle for nothing. So, when Anna was in the bathroom taking a shower, I started going through her suit case. I wanted to find some of her panties to jack off into. Instead, I found a little black notebook. Inside it contained her lodging codes, and some other interesting things. I photographed the contents with my phone and then put it back.

When Anna got out of the shower she was already dressed in her night clothes. She saw me lying on my back, nude on the bed, and jacking it. “Rod!! GROSS!!!! Go to the restroom to do that shit!!!”, she commanded. I just did it to get a rise out of her. LOL!!

So, if Anna is still inside the U.S., then using the codes I stole from her I can locate precisely where she will be that night. I studied it for a few moments then had my answer. Tonight she would be staying at the Dogman Inn on Hwy 95 South, Room 355. I told Rattler to get me there stat!

We had to stop several times for fuel and beer. Those Hueys go just a bit over a hundred MPH, you know. But eventually, we got there. I gave the boys some money and told them to go to the Waffle House for some coffee to sober up. Then they would fly me home.

I should mention that I also had Rattler’s fully auto Russian AK-74 with spare mags. During the long flight with 2 drunks from Washington State to New York City, I had worked myself up into a towering rage over how Anna fucked me on this Putin deal. She had clearly thrown me aside. But for what, exactly? I figured I would storm the hotel room, get some answers, then shower the room with gun fire.

I busted through the door of Room 355 at exactly 3:35 a.m. There she was. My entry roused her from slumber. I was pointing my rifle at her, center mass. She was shocked at the appearance of a gunman in her room at this time of night. However, she was not as shocked as one would think (this was not the first time something like this has happened to her).

I raised my face from the receiver just enough so she could see it was me. “Rod!!!”, she exclaimed. “What happened to you?!?!? I thought you had died up in those mountains when we never hear from you!” I replied, “Shove it up that cute little ass of yours, Anna. You fucked me. And not in the good way. What the fuck was all that shit about needing a sasquatch for Putin?!?”

Anna played dumb. But it struck me that I had been deliberately put out of the loop for 3 months. Why? Who wanted me away for that long, and why? What went on in my absence?!? I was just dying to know!!! I set my rifle down and pulled out my fixed blade knife, ready to get down to some real nasty work on Anna so I could get some truth. The pure evil of what I was about to do to her caused a wide death grin to grow on my face. Anna saw it. She knew what it meant. She swallowed hard and her eyes betrayed the shear terror she felt inside. I was engorged with blood lust. She knew she had fucked up one time too many this time!!

Suddenly came the sound of the toilet in the bathroom flushing. I was momentarily shocked. I did not expect anyone else to be there with Anna. Anna saw it in my face. I glanced at her and saw that the terror in her face was replaced with pleasure, a slight smile creeping over her face.

I was going to have to face off against this person in the bathroom, who would be out in a split moment. When I do that, I will have to turn 180 degrees from Anna, thereby making me vulnerable to her. I had only once choice: Shoot Anna first.

Just as this came to me, but just before I could act on it, the bathroom door opened. I had to deal with that person before Anna now. I spun around to see that it was a completely nude, and fat, white man. He was a real oafish blob. He looked surprised to see me. He also looked sort of familiar.

I next heard the crack of something hitting my skull hard. I remember the immediate hateful pain that shot through my body and the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I remember the dizziness, then falling to the floor. Clearly, as I fixed on the man from the bathroom, Anna had cracked me over the head with a blunt object.

I came to the next morning, Billy Ray and Rattler had manage to track me down based upon coordinates I left in the chopper that said “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY”. Billy Ray filled up the hotel room ice bucket with cold water and doused my head with it to bring me conscious. I was disoriented at first. But after a bit, what happened in this room the night before came back to me.

Honestly, I am surprised that Anna did not just kill me. I presume that she thinks she can leverage her drop-dead hotness to get me to do more shit for her in the future. She is absolutely right about that too. Rattler then said, “Hey, Rod, that snake bitch left a letter fer ya.”

He handed me the letter. This is what it said:
____________________________________________

“Dear Rod:

Sorry about the boo boo on your head. Hope it heals soon. Also sorry about leaving you in the mountains. I was not running a scam on you Rod. Rather, an opportunity arose for me to acquire a sasquatch body from another person. You may know him since you are a sasquatch hunter. His name is Matt Moneymaker. Anyway, until next time…..

Yours truly,
Anna Conda”
_____________________________________________
I could not fucking believe it. That was fatfuck Moneymaker in the hotel room earlier. Anna fucked Matt Fatfuck Moneymaker for a Sasquatch! That fat son of bitch!!

Billy Ray asked, “You ready to go Rod?” I stood up and said, “Yeah, let’s go.” Then Rattler said, “Hey, ya wanna stop and git some beer fer the ride home?” I replied “Hell yeah.”

I felt like I wanted to die. Thank God for beer and buddies. I don’t blame Anna. She is a fucking snake, and I knew that before this started. Also, I cannot really blame fatfuck Moneymaker for wanting to get some of that hot poon pie Anna serves up. I guess I have to blame fate for fucking me over this time. I even started thinking that next time I will just avoid Anna. But I know I won’t, thus making me subject to this sort of shit again. I had Rattler set us down in Charlottesville so I could buy some hard liquor.

so for context my gf (f, 33) and I (m,32) have been together for roughly a year now. It’s the first long-term relationship I’ve been in seven years and for the most part it’s pretty great. We love a lot of the same things. She likes my sense of humor, she’s easy to talk to, and very helpful and compassionate with a lot of things I’m dealing with in my life and I try my best to do the same and reciprocate.
Things have been very rocky and tenuous. I moved into her place after five months of dating. My good friend spontaneously decided to move in with his GF of over a year at the time and I couldnt find anyone else so it came as more of laziness/necessity for looking for somewhere in a month and a half of time. But friends and family told me to for it. There is a pretty large financial disparity between us. It makes it hard for us to go and do a lot of things. I have more money so I end up doing all the planning which can be fun. But we’ve become homebodies as a result and it feels like we’re married.
I have a lot of mental illness. Severe Depression and anxiety. I also can’t find any work. She has it too but I think I have a lot more trouble managing mine. Living in close quarters kind of drives me insane. It’s a small apartment that feels like hers more than ours. And it feels often like I’m bothering her. I’d go out more but the problem is I’m working on this big project which I can’t do remotely so I have to be home most of the time.
We have a lot of communication issues. I think I’m very reactive and I often think I’m doing everything wrong all the time and am under attack get defensive. She has a difficult time defusing that which is understandable. We also have not been having sex. This doesn’t seem to be an issue for her but it is definitely for me. I have been in much more sexual relationships in the past and even at this relationships best it’d be lucky to be once a week. She seems to enjoy it, and compliments me a lot even randomly, but she doesn’t really m*sturbate or do anything like that on her own.
She even said once sort of jokingly when we were talking that if for some reason I didn’t have a p*nis anymore that’d be okay with her and she’d still love me forever. That’s a sweet sentiment, but also kind of speaks volumes as to this gap in our level of desire. She doesn’t like being spontaneous sexually. And gets upset when I say that’s a thing that I frequently like.
I have to take charge every time. Which is weird to me. It makes me feel like the needy one which makes me not want to push for sex. And when I do sometimes it’s hard to tell with her. And she gets upset at me. That she’s repeating herself about this and I just don’t understand.
There’s other things as well. She passed out at two shows we went to together. I guess she has fainting spells. The second time was a show I liked and I didn’t respond quickly enough when fifteen minutes into the show she said we need to go. I didn’t understand what she meant until she said “I’m not feeling well” a couple times. I grabbed my coat and she fainted in front of a group of people I picked her up and got an Uber and she was furious at me the entire time.
Understandable. It was a huge mistake and it i spent so much time thinking on my selfishness. But it was a fifteen second lapse of judgement and I guess but she really held it over my head. The next day I asked her to see a doctor and she said she understood her body and she had passed out before and it wasn’t a big deal. This prompted a huge fight where she mostly cursed me out over text a day before I was supposed to take a flight to see my parents. This kind of emotionally wrecked me. I ended up bringing a box of my valuables to my brothers because in my head I thought maybe she’d smash them which was a ridiculous assumption.
She got upset that I assumed that and I realized it was a paranoid sort of fantasy I’d created in my head after dating someone who had those sorts of compulsions. I apologized. We made up. She recently spoke to my therapist who had nothing but positive things to say about her. He told me he had a “good feeling about her” and that I needed to keep working at it. I have a tendency to bail out of things. Jobs. Friendships. And it puts me in a miserable position. So I heard him out.
I’ve kept at it. And then another wrench. Her dog suddenly got very ill recently. I brought her to the vet while my gf was at work. The diagnosis seemed grim. It didn’t look like the dog was going to make it through the weekend. It was understandably miserable in the house. I did my best to comfort her and did what I could. Then, suddenly out of nowhere the diagnosis changed. She was much better which was great. An older dog so given six months which, is terrible, but better than suddenly on a weekend. And things around the house got a little better.
But this is where my patience is wearing thin and I feel horrible for saying this and I’m sure you might think I’m terrible but it’s how I feel. But this has been a nightmare. The dog has been getting better with big caveats. Her poop had chemo and she had problems with diarrhea so we’d have to clean the floors with bleach if she pooped.
. Now that’s over but the dog is on steroids and has to get up every two hours to pee. Last night after coming home from a family wedding where we didn’t see each other in five days, I tried to make a move and of course that didn’t work. We went to sleep and the dog peed in our bed. I had to take all the sheets and our duvet to a laundromat.
I texted her that I know the dog is incredibly important but I thought for the next week she should sleep on her dog bed which is next to the bed until the peeing problems go away. This upset my gf who said she wants to spend all the time left she can with the dog before she dies in 6 months and offered to sleep on the couch while I sleep in the bed. I was not okay with that because I felt like some sort of monster so I just relented and said the dog can sleep in the bed even if she pees.
I also have to separate my cat more frequently which definitely makes her more anxious. She can be aggressive.
It is becoming clear my needs as a person who lives here are secondary to this dog. And I know that’s callous and I do love this dog. But I am losing love for this person. I am losing attraction. I am losing desire. I am losing passion for my own life. And I don’t know how to reclaim it. I have to watch this animal die in slow-motion. An animal I’ve gotten very attached to. And it affects every possible dynamic of this relationship. Because she doesn’t want to be away that long from the dog. I get it. I do. But how will that be months from now?
I wake up every morning and I feel uncomfortable. We’re less jokey. I’m less good at hiding my emotions. I can’t really even cook for us anymore and I end up doing most of it because I’m so busy on this short and depressed. It’s hard for me to go the gym. It’s hard for me to do almost anything.
I feel like I have to get out. But my doctor tells me to stick with it. Should I? I’m trying to see where it can go really. But I’m not happy and I feel selfish that I’m not…but I’m not?
Am I being selfish? Paranoid? She’s a great and kind person but I find myself feeling more and more alone, sexually (it’s been over 3 weeks) and emotionally. For a relationship that’s only been a year, I’m just not certain how exactly it can improve other than couples counseling which I’d have to pay for myself.
Tl;dr am I being selfish or objective about a 1-year relationship where I see more bad than good?

so i had a friend and she was speaking about taking her life for 2 weeks straight. i was with her most of those 2 weeks and trying to convince her to not do anything to herself bc it’s not worth it. the day i went back home, she seemed okay. but the day after i left her house, i got a text in a group chat saying she passed away. of course, i start freaking out and crying and so did my mom bc she had just met her. well, that friend sent a video 3 minutes later saying “y’all really thought i was dead? y’all wasn’t gonna call me to check on me that’s crazy. just wanted to tell you guys the old me is dead now and i changed my hair. y’all didn’t let me know y’all got home so i died from neglect” mind you, she was smiling throughout that whole video. i was very upset and angry and so was my mom bc of how bad that affected me. i called that friend and went off on her for doing that because that’s not something to joke about. she kept apologizing and sending paragraphs after i told her to leave me alone numerous times. she kept saying she didn’t mean to make us think she was actually dead and she sent the video to clarify that but even in the video it made it seem like that’s what she was looking for even if it was for a minute. i told her i needed space and she left me alone. then last night she told me to look outside my door which scared me and made me mad bc she really wasn’t respecting my space. she sent food for me and my dogs to my house which kinda creeped me out bc she has my location but i never gave her my address for anything and she was only at my house one time. it was like an invasion of privacy. and she wanted to send flowers to my mom which creeped me and my mom out bc my mom literally just met her and doesn’t even know her like that . so i called her to tell her to give me space but she didn’t agree and kept saying that im not understanding her and she doesn’t get why i don’t understand her side of things. after a whole back and forth, she finally said she was going to leave me alone. but this morning i stopped sharing my location bc i dont want her sending anything or popping up at my house. she had an issue with me unsharing it and i told her that its best if we aren’t friends right now and if we dont share locations. she started blowing up my phone with texts and audio messages saying i’m throwing away the friendship, saying i’m unfair bc I’m doing all of this over “miscommunication”, and she keeps putting this on the fact that im emotional bc of my dad’s death a few years ago but it’s not even just that like why would you joke ab death, and keep bothering me? i just want to hear other thoughts on this situation.

So, I’m new here and to be honest at the end of my rope and for the first time I don’t see a way out or a way to get better.
I had 4 beautiful dogs, 2 poodles and 2 Dobermans. Later on 2021 a very special cat found its way on my life.
I had to put poodle1 down in 2018 due to very violent seizures and as hard as that was at least it felt like the best thing to do.
In 2020 doberman1 died of an unknow disease, we never found out what it was, so no closure there. When she died, I started therapy, the feeling of failing her and letting her die in such pain and confusion was too much but taking care of my 3 remaining pets helped and I tried moving on.
Then 2024 started and I lost doberman2 to a turned stomach in early March. He went into surgery but did not make it, it devastated me, after 10+ years of friendship and adventures he simply wasn’t there, for a third time I felt the world fell apart, but I had to keep it together, I still had 2 more to care for and protect.
Then mid April poodle2 died, she was 15 years old and just never woke up, I still don’t know if it was her old age or the fact that she missed everyone else, the pain of losing doberman2 was/is fresh and I just didn’t know what to do.
Finally, on May 7, my cat was poisoned during a moving, there was no malicious intent, the new place had a mouse, and some neighbor forgot a trap on my yard, she paid for vet and everything, but he still died and here I am.
I know people have lost more (parents, brother, spouses, etc.) and there are more tragedies occurring as I type this, but I can’t take this anymore I feel like dying, never in my 32 years of life have I been more broken and honestly can’t seem to find a way out, I’m losing my mind and don’t know what to do.
I still feel like they’ll be there when I get home, that somehow, I’ll wake up and everything will be fine but when reality sets it’s just pain.
How do you cope? Is it worth it?

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

I’ve been with my boyfriend for a little over a year. He is 26 and I am 24. Just a warning you are going to read this post and say “just leave, you are so stupid”. I know this is my fault now. I guess I just need to vent and I need help.
As usual, it’s started off amazing. Traveled together, had fun, always doing something. I never felt love like I did until I met him.
Looking back there were red flags in the beginning that I should have stopped the relationship. Like he went through my phone and logged into my bumble within 2 weeks of knowing each other. Also earlier on, our first argument (I wanna say 3 months) he downloaded bumble and was talking to girls. This would become a habit.
Things were great from then until about 6 months together. I should have left then too. Maybe it wasn’t great but it sure seemed like it compared to my previous relationships.
These are some of the things that have happened since then and I’ve STAYED.
-started doing cocaine (it is an addiction now) -stole money from me multiple times. -sold my tv -he got into my face so I pushed him (yes I should not have touched him) and he threw me at the bath and broke my rib while I had Covid. He then laughed at me when I gasped for air lol. -we got into an argument because, can’t even tell you about what it was probably minor, while he was driving while I had been drinking. He got out of the car in the middle of a roundabout so I moved the car and hit someone. I got a dui. I can’t really blame him because I could have not moved the car. -cheated on me while I was in jail for the dui -went on bumble every fight we’ve had -screamed at me in front of his mom and my family while visiting -goes through my phone everyday including all my friends and families messages -would not give him my laptop password because I honestly knew he was gonna go through all of my old messages and he kept me up all night, pulled the covers off of me, screamed at me, packed all of my stuff, unlocked the door I locked myself in and stood there looking at me with the knife and then finally picked me up by my neck and threw me at the wall and kept me there while I could not breathe. -my best friends boyfriend and father of her children passed away so I went there for the weekend (it’s a state away)and he went through my laptop all night calling me a whore and names saying I’ve cheated, sending screenshots of them to our friends. He blew my phone up for 3 days and wouldn’t stop. These messages were from BEFORE we were dating. I should have been there comforting my friend. Her fckn boyfriend died. -when I got back home after that I looked through his phone and come to find out he was messaging girls since the moment I left inviting them over to our apartment and asking if they wanna do blow with him. -he broke the door down off the hinges to get to his phone. -he laughs hysterically like a clown when we’re fighting and it’s creepy. -everything is my fault. If I defend myself he will literally not listen to me. -he takes everything as an attack if I tell him I don’t like something he thinks I’m critical -he hits the dogs and the cops came while I was at work because of an animal abuse call. No I don’t let him. I love my dogs more than anything. How can I sit there and stay with someone who does this? -Every time I try to leave he throws the stuff I’m packing so I have to restart and physically restrains me -calls me ugly, stupid, dumb, saying no wonder everyone leaves me
He’s done so much more than that too but I can’t even think.
I have filed a police report on him for the theft and abuse.
And I know I’m not innocent. I participate in all of this. I have picked up on behaviors and my insecurities have started to drive me literally insane. I’m constantly scared he’s gonna leave or cheat again. I’m scared to go places without him in fear of him moving on. I play into this absolute insanity.
The sad thing is, I love him? Through all of this I love him. There’s so many good times together even still (when he’s not on drugs). I would miss his face, I would miss talking to him, his smile, his kisses. I can’t imagine driving home and not telling him I’m on my way. I can’t imagine him with someone else like it would kill me. I’ve never belly laughed the way I do with him. I think of our memories and who we used to be constantly. All of the what 3 months of good?
I’ve left twice while he was at work, and I felt so much worse that each time I went back.
I fantasize about leaving him and becoming who I used to be but when I finally get the chance, I stay?
I literally have nobody. My friends and family won’t talk to me anymore. I’ve pushed everyone away because they don’t want to deal with it and really I can’t blame them. Who wants to watch someone they care about go through this? Someone who knows and still stays?
I’ve ruined myself being in this relationship. I am in so much debt from covering up his bills, the dui, the money he steals. I am depressed. I am miserable. I walk on egg shells daily. I had so much money when we met. I was happier.
We are supposed to move on Wednesday. I have the chance to move to my grandmas and escape. It should be an easy decision. Why is it not? Am I this insecure?
What sane person stays through this? What is seriously wrong with me?
How much more do I have to go through before I leave?
Go ahead and call me stupid. I know. Maybe I need to hear it from an outside perspective. Maybe I need that.
I just need help. Has anyone been through this? What do I do? I know what I need to do but how? How did you do this?

Helldivers 2 has gotten a little stale recently with the Polar Patriots warbond new additions being mostly bad, the Airburst Rocket Launcher also being bad, and the new anti-tank mines actually look decent but will probably have to long of a cooldown so they will be niche. I'm proposing changes that could spice up the game by changing up enemies, modifiers, and weapons. Let me know what you think about the changes and what could be improved as I'm not a game designer and just want to see Helldivers 2 be better.
Assault Rifles
Assault Rifles are probably the worst class of guns in Helldivers, they don't excel at anything and aren't even that good allround. They need massive help
Liberator: Currently the base Liberator is just a worse Sickle. Not only does the Sickle have infinite ammo but for some reason it has higher DPS. I would reccomend changing its damage to 70 per shot and 11 shots per second bringing up its damage to 770 DPS. To go with the higher firerate, changing the reload time to 1.5 seconds on tactical reload and 2 seconds on a full reload would make the gun feel much better as a starter gun because it would just feel faster and kill better.
Liberator Penetrator: Liberator Penetrator is one of the worst weapons in the game. It has medium armor penetration but lacks any stopping power for it to be useful. Bringing the damage per shot up to 60 and upping the ammo to 35 bullets per magazine will take it a long way, having 640 DPS and medium armor penetration but having less bullets
Liberator Concussive: Liberator Concussive has the same probelm as the Liberator Penetrator in that it can't kill but even worse. I would reccomend bringing its damage up to a whopping 90 damage per shot. This sounds crazy but the changes to enemy spawns makes this more fair which i will discuss later. This increase in damage would give it a niche of a long range way of stunning bot enemies and actually being able to kill them. DPS would be 480 which isn't that crazy but the concussive ability would help. If I'm being honest this one might still be to weak so tell me what you reccomend changing for this gun.
Tenderizer: Tenderizer is in a very bad spot because it's an inferior Liberator even without my changes. I would reccomend bringing up its damage up to 70 per shot giving it a DPS of 700. In addition, because the DPS is lower I think giving it a small amount of stagger where enemies can't move or shoot back could go a long way in differentiating itself from the Liberator. Making the Tenderizer stagger enemies such as Hunters, Brood Commanders, Scout Striders (Striders wouldn't be damaged because of the lack of medium armor penetration but would be staggered if hit from the front), and standard Devastators would make the gun much more fun. Also make it fully resupply when refilling with resupply boxes like all other weapons.
Adjudicator: Adjudicator is in a pretty bad spot right now. It has poor handling and the damage isn't high enough to reliably one shot trash mobs, but it also doesn't have good enough damage to deal with more serious threats. I would reccomend bringing the damage up to 100 per shot for a total of 916 DPS. This would help justify the lower than average 25 bullets in a magazine.
Marksman Rifles
Marksman Rifles are in a decent spot with only the Diligence needing some help so that's what I've focused on.
Dilligence: The Dilligence is hard to balance as it is decent on bugs and bots but excels in neither of them. In addition it's hard to juggle balancing the Adjudicator, Dilligence, and the Diligence Counter-Sniper to make sure they're all good in their own ways. I think it might be fun to make the Dilligence the "easy medium armor penetration rifle". Get rid of almost all of its recoil and sway to promote more aggresive playstyles. The Dilligence would have lower DPS than the Adjudicator but it would be much easier to control and would just feel fun.
Dilligence Counter-Sniper: Honestly this weapon is perfect right now. It fulfills its role on bots perfectly and is fun to use. I worry that the Adjudicator changes would make this gun obsolete but I think it would still have its own niche. No changes
Sub-Machine Guns
One of the most consistent weapon types in the game with really only the Knight needing some help.
Defender: One of the most well balanced weapons in the game. No changes
Pummeler: It might be to early to say but the Pummeler feels good to use and fulfills its role, being worse at trash clear compared to the Defender but better against heavier targets thanks to the stagger. My opinion could change but for right now I don't think it needs any changes. no changes
Knight: The Knight is right now pretty bad just because it has a low ammo count for its firerate and fairly long reload time. These 2 factors just make the gun feel unfun to use because you are spending so much time reloading. It takes only 2 seconds to unload a full clip and 2.5 seconds to reload a full clip so you literally spend more time reloading than shooting. I would reccomend increasing the ammo per magazine from 50 bullets to a staggering 100 bullets per magazine and lowering the total number of magazines to 5. This would change the weapon's problem from "I have no ammo" to "I need to control my recoil so that I can kill better". This gun would reward close range play and good recoil management, being able to deal massive DPS if you can hit your shots.
Shotguns
Shotguns are probably the best class of weapon, issue being that some shotguns heavily outclass others. My goal is to equalize the difference between the shotguns and give them their own niches
Punisher: The most forgettable shotgun, the Punisher really just doesn't feel special. I admit that I don't have much experience with this gun so please tell me what you think about this gun currently. I think it would be cool if this shotgun was a jack of all trades shotgun. Reduce the spread but still have it be there and increase the firerate to 2 shots per second for a DPS of 810. It wouldn't have the range of a Slugger or the close range damage of a Breaker but it would have a little bit of both.
Slugger: Honestly just give it back its old stagger. This gun would functionally but the "precision shotgun" staggering and killing larger targers but having lower DPS in exchange
Breaker: Really the Breaker doesn't need help. It tears through trash mobs and does well against larger targets as well. The Breaker is fun and fair. It has lower ammo and not the greatest range but it's 100% workable. No changes
Breaker Spray & Pray: Breaker S&P isn't a bad weapon at all but it's 100% outclassed by the Breaker Incindiary. The only change I would make is to give it a 30 round magazine with 7 magazines to further lean into the "Spray and Pray" aspect of the gun.
Breaker Incindiary: This gun needs nerfs. I love the thing but it outclasses the Breaker Spray & Pray and fulfills its own niche at the same time. I would reccomend bringing down the firerate from 5 shots per second to 4, lowering its DPS from 1200 without accounting for fire damage to a DPS of 960 without accounting for fire damage. This lowered firerate would make the gun lean into its gimmick and have the fire do more work.
Explosive Weapons
Explosive weapons are probably the hardest to balance due to all of the recent nerfs to the Eruptor and Crossbow. I've decided to skip these weapons as I don't fully understand how explosive damage works
Dominator: A gun with good strengths and a fair amount of weaknesses to hold it back, making it fair. No changes
Energy Weapons
One of my favorite types of weapons and one that doesn't require much balancing.
Blitzer: The only change I have in mind for this weapon is the way that targeting works. Make it so that when you aren't aiming it the gun will always try to target as many enemies as possible and when aimed in it will aim all of the shots at the crosshair
Purifier: This weapon needs more testing but is unanimously agreed to be trash. If the gun works the way I think it does then the damage is much lower than people think it is, with the bolt dealing a respectable 250 damage but the explosion dealing much less. I would reccomend making the bolt and the explosion do 250 damage, essentially one shotting any low or medium level bot including Scout Striders. This should be fair because it has a large charge up time inbetween shots
Punisher Plasma: One of the most underrated weapons and a personal favorite of mine. I love what they did to the weapon but it deserves a small nerf. Revert the projectile speed to the way it was before it was buffed or find a middle ground from where it is now and where it was before
Scythe: The problem with the Scythe is really the way damage is dealt. It deals 350 per second. The issue with this is it's slow to kill anything because it at minimum takes 1 second for damage to be applied. I would reccomend making it so that damage starts as soon as the laser touches something for the first time. This could be abused so i would also reccomend raising the charge up time to .6 seconds. I'm not 100% sure if this would work how I think it would so please let me know what you think. I'll try and illustrate what this looks like
Current version
(Laser touches, 1 second passes, damage)
Changed version
(Laser touches and damages at the same time, 1 second passes, damage)
Sickle: Fantastic weapon that is fun to use. No changes
Scorcher: Fantastic weapon, great all around with low ammo to balance it. No changes
Pistols
Pistols are in an ok spot right now but some overshadow others largely
Peacemaker: I bet you don't even know what the Peacemaker is because nobody ever uses it. The Peacemaker needs some massive help. I would reccomend raising the Peacemaker's total ammo to 25 rounds per magazine, raising the magazines to 7 magainzes total, and raising the damage anywhere from 80-90 per shot. The damage would still be just ok, being good on trash mobs, but would be a big help on builds that waste a lot of ammo. I want the Peacemaker to one shot Hunters and Pouncers as I think that's the only change that could make it actually strong and not overshadow other secondaries
Redeemer: No changes. It's very useful as an "Oh shit" tool. It would have lower DPS than the Peacemaker but would be easier to use in a pinch because it's full auto where the Peacemaker is semi auto
Senator: No changes. Great gun with it's own niche
Dagger: Literal trash, it has the lowest DPS in the game, has a large cooldown, and builds heat quickly. I would change it so that it can't overheat at all and even then it might still be trash. Let me know if there are any better ways to balance it
Grenade Pistol: Great utility weapon. The only change I would make is to make the explosion radius a little bigger to more reliably destroy bot fabricators
Verdict: It's to early to tell but the Verdict looks strong, being similar to the Senator with a better ammo economy but no medium armor penetration. Making it a reliable anti medium target weapon. No changes
Grenades
Grenades are in a weird spot right now, with some being amazing and some being bad and I aim to raise the lower end of grenades to be in line with the rest
High Explosive: No changes. It's decent having a larger blast than impacts but being slower
Frag Grenades: These things are bad. I would change the max number of grenades from 4 to 6 when holding these grenades, making them great against fabricators and bug holes
Incindiary Grenades: Raise the blast radius and it's good
Incindiary Impacts: As long as the Impact grenades radius is smaller than the normal version, it's good
Impact Grenades: No changes
Stun Grenades: No changes
Thermite Grenades: These things need help. They really only have 2 uses. 1-2 well placed Thermites and and an anti-tank shot will kill a Bile Titan and 1 Thermite will destroy a Cannon Turret. I would reccomend increasing the final explosion blast radius size, damage, and the thermite burn radius. This would cause 1 anti-tank shot and 1 Thermite to consistently kill Bile Titans, it would be easier to hit Hulk eyes with Thermites and 1 shot them, and Thermites should kill with 2 grenades if hitting a Tank heat vent. Thermites should also strip Charger armor with 1 Thermite
Support Weapons
Expendable Anti-Tank: No changes, great support weapon
Recoiless Rifle: Increase the size of the explosion making it easier to hit weakpoints, Making it stronger than other anti-tank options in exchange for the backpack slot
Spear: Fix the tracking to be much more consistent. The Spear just doesn't have enough ammo and should have 6 shots instead of 4
Quasar Cannon: No changes, has unlimited ammo but has a cooldown and charge up time
Airburst Rocket Launcher: This thing is so dogshit. It requires a backpack slot, needs to shoot enemies far away from allies or you'll kill them or yourself, doesn't gurantee killing everything in the blast radius, etc. This thing needs a massive damage buff to be worth using. Increase the amount of cluster bombs to gurantee that whatever is in the radius is dead including Hulks. Increase the armor penetration value to at least strip Charger armor and do big damage to it, if that's not enough it should kill Chargers outright
Grenade Launcher: Increase the amount of magazines from 2 to 3. This thing is great but the low ammo makes it unviable so increasing the magazines by 1 will go a long way
Railgun: This thing needs help. It should require only 2 level 7-8 shots to strip Charger leg armor. It should 4 shot a Bile Titan in the face when using max charge shots. and 3 max charge shots should kill tank vents
Stalwart: The Stalwart is IMO an underrated pick on bugs. Its main issue is really that it's only good at unarmored horde clearing, leaving the user prone to being attacked by armored and high level enemies. I would propose that giving it medium armor penetration would take it a long way as one of the best horde clearing weapons, being able to deal with Hive Guards, Bile Spewers, and Scout Striders easier
Machine Gun: The Machine Gun might be the least used support weapon in Helldivers 2. It just doesn't really do anything special that another support can't do better. I would reccomend giving it heavy armor penetration, allowing it to kill Hulks when hitting the eye and it would go through devastator armor
Heavy Machine Gun: Unfortunately, from its inception the HMG has been bottom tier. It recently got a crosshair but even still it just gets outclassed by the Anti-Material Rifle, Laser Cannon, and even the Railgun. I think it could be cool to up the ammo to 100 rounds per magazine and add an optional backpack. This backpack would add an extra magazine and would increase the armor penetration to go through Charger & Hulk armor
Anti-Material Rifle: The AMR probably needs a small nerf. It 1-2 shots anything on the bot front. I would reccomend reverting its damage so that it needs to headshot devastators to one shot them
Autocannon: No changes
Laser Cannon: No changes
Arc Thrower: Make the Arc Thrower staggestun lock Hulks again and its great. Right now it's useless on bots
Flamethrower: The Flamethrower is great because it can horde clear and kill Chargers very efficiently. This is most likely unintentional but it is very fun. I would reccomend lowering the total magazines from 4 to 3 to balance out the Flamethrower's strengths.
Backpacks
Guard Dog: Guard Dog is currently just overshadowed by its Rover variant. I would reccomend changing the gun from the Liberator to the Liberator Penatrator, with the damage being the same but giving it medium armor penetration. Ammo boxes should also refill its ammo
Guard Dog Rover: No changes, the nerfs were justified. This is still a great horde clearing weapon but it doesn't play the game for you anymore
Supply Pack: No changes, you give up a backpack slot but you get 4 resupply boxes which is a big help and is balanced
Ballistic Shield: No changes, it fulfills its niche on bots and will get even better as time passes with new 1 handed weapons
Jump Pack: No changes, the Jump Pack is decent but it becomes much better depending on the primary weapon you use
Shield Generator Pack: No changes
Emplacements
Anti-Personnel Mines: Mines are completely terrible right now, their damage is decent but the cooldowns are just to long to be useful. I reccomend reducing their cooldown from 3 minutes to 1 minute
Incendiary Mines: Just like the Anti-Personnel Mines, the cooldown should be brought down to 1 minute but also since fire damage is weaker than explosive damage, there should be more Incendiary Mines in a larger radius
Machine Gun Sentry: The Machine Gun Sentry is just a weaker version of the Gatling Sentry. Instead of bringing the power of the MG Sentry up, I think it would be cool to lower the cooldown of the MG sentry. The idea with this sentry is to be the disposable horde clear sentry, similar to how EATs are the disposable anti-heavy support weapon
Gatling Sentry: No changes
Autocannon Sentry: No changes
Mortar Sentry: No changes
EMS Mortar Sentry: No changes
Rocket Sentry: Right now the Rocket Sentry is just largely inferior to the AC Sentry. I think it could be cool to increase the range and projectile speed of the Rocket Sentry massively. This would make it a lower DPS but longer range sentry with more ammo compared to the AC Sentry. The AC Sentry would be better in terms of DPS but would require better positioning and defense while the Rocket Sentry is something you could put farther away that would help with larger targets, which is what a missle should do.
Tesla Tower: I haven't used the Tesla Tower enough to discuss what should be done about it, please let me know what ideas you have for it
HMG Emplacement: Really just make the HMG Emplacement affected by sentry upgrades. These upgrades would give the HMG Emplacement more ammo, a better turn speed, and more health
Eagles & Orbitals
There are to many to list so I'll only be listing Offensive Stratagems that should be changed
Eagle Strafing Run: Give it heavy armor penetration. It would be good way to horde clear and kill larger targets but wouldn't excel at either role
Eagle Airstrike: Reduce the uses from 2 to 1. This thing is just to good to have 2 uses. It horde clears, kills bosses, destroy fabricators and bug holes, has multiple uses, etc. Nerfing the amount of uses before it goes on cooldown brings up a lot of other stratagems
Eagle Cluster Bomb: Reduce uses from 4 to 3
Orbital Gatling Barrage: The OGB should target and move around instead of being a stationary stratagem. Instead of targeting high level enemies it should target groups of low level enemies.
Enemy Changes
I might be in the minority but I feel like the main game mode (Helldive difficulty, 4 players) is to easy. I would reccomend buffing up the enemies to not only account for all of these new buffs but also to make Helldive hard again. All of these changes would only apply to Helldive difficulty as that's the only difficulty I have enough experience to have a good idea of what should change
Increased spawns on objectives: Objectives currently need to have more spawns, there is just to much downtime. Of course each objective will need its own spawnrates based on how long and how difficult each objective but generally there needs to be less enemies
Pouncers: Low level bug enemies are currently not threatening enough. They have low health, low damage, and are slow. I would reccomend increasing the Pouncer's movement speed to increase their ability to swarm players.
Warriors: Just like the Pouncers, Warriors just aren't very scary and should have increased movement speed to make them still a threat with their ability to swarm
Bile Spewers: These things need to be shot. Their spit attack is 100% broken. Damage on the spit attack needs to be reduced so that it isn't a one shot. I think a cool change though to make them still a threat is that diving would get rid of the slow debuff, but it would also increase the DOT from the acid, giving the player the choice between their movement or their health. Slow debuff should only be applied if the acid attack hits, not if the acid is in your general area
Bile Titans: These things are honestly just to tanky and completely define bug missions. There are to few ways to kill these. You either need an anti-tank support weapon or an anti-heavy stratagem. I think a good change would be that the legs should have lower armor (maybe heavy armor penetration and explosive weapons can do damage) and that if a leg is hit enough the Bile Titan would die. Hitting the head with anti-tank weapons would still be faster and leg shots would probably require 2-3 people to shoot the leg to kill the Titan at a reasonable pace but Titans wouldn't be unkillable.
Heavy Devastators: Devastators just need an accuracy nerf. They kill incredibly quickly and they frequently spawn so nerfing their accuracy would make them more fun to fight
New Additions
These are a few new additions to the game that I think would be cool
Gas Grenade: A portable version of the Orbital Gas Strike. It would have a larger AOE compared to incindiary grenades but a lower DPS
Thermite Breacher: A new support bolt-action sniper rifle that uses large thermite bullets. There would be 3 shots per magazine and 4 magazines total. Shooting this weapon sticks a large thermite bullet that deals high damage over time that explodes, similarly to the thermite grenade. No 3rd person scope. 1 leg shot would strip Charger armor, 2 headshots would kill. 3 headshots would kill a Bile Titan. One eye shot would kill a hulk, 2 shots would destroy heat vents
Incindiary Grenade Launcher: A grenade launcher with 4 magazines that shot incindiary grenades
Gas Grenade Launcher: A grenade launcher with 4 magazines that shot gas grenades. These grenades would have a larger AOE compared to the Incindiary Grenade Launcher but a lower DPS
Arc Spitter: An arc assault rifle that had lower damage per shot and firerate, but would also fire arc shots that could arc to 1 other target per shot
Glide Pack: A varaint of the Jump Pack. It doesn't have as much vertical height but you can hold the space bar to slowly glide back to the ground
Roman Exosuit: A new Exosuit meant to be used against bots. The left hand would have a shield that could block bullets from the front and would break after taking enough damage. The right hand would have a large Laser Cannon that could overheat and would have a long cooldown when overheated
Angel Support: A Pelican would come down from the Super Destroyer to hover over the player for 30 seconds. Would have unlimited ammo and a 4 minute cooldown. So far the 2 weapons I think it could have is an Autocannon and Gatling gun
Care Package: Once every 1.5 minutes, call down a Care Package that gives the player a random one time use stratagem that goes away upon death. Can only hold 1 Care Package stratagem at a time
Fido: A new stratagem that summons an AI controlled car. This car would go around spotting enemies, finding side objectives, collecting ammo, supplies, and samples
Sharpshooter: A new armor passive. Hitting weakpoints on medium and high level targets would reward the player with ammo, stims, & grenades. If a weakpoint breaks such as a brood commander leg or the target dies due to being hit in weakpoint, get some supplies back. This effect does not apply to low level targets. 5% chance to get a stim, 15% chance to get a grenade, 20% chance to get a support weapon magazine, 60% chance to get a primary and secondary magazine.
Thick Skin: A new armor passive. 25% damage reduction when being hit in the back or side
Extrasensory: A new armor passive. Gain the ability to detect enemies offscreen in a 25m radius
End of thread, please let me know what you liked and what you think should be changed