Women ripping their clothing taken off

Air, shelter, water, and food, all essentials of life we take for granted. The gratitude of being alive,
smothered by emotional baggage. Just a bunch of pill induced zombies, riddled by life’s perplexities. Not
me, not any more at least. No, now I wake up every day reborn with a newly discovered purpose in life,
thanks to, him.
Most would be emotionally devastated and seek long term therapy, after what I had endured.
Most would need to be heavily medicated, to calm their anxiety of the fear he would return. No, not me,
the person I once was, is now dead. Suffocated, frozen, dehydrated, and starved out of me. Who I was
perished, and I am grateful. I am offering you the same, but before we get started, let me explain how I
arrived at this place of serenity.
The night was the same as always. I had just finished gorging myself on junk food while binge
watching a reality show. Empty bottles of soda surrounded me as I surfed the streaming networks.
Knowing my weight was getting out of control, I still managed to finish off the bag of greasy potato
chips. My bottles of meds sat on the end table waiting for me. Depression, anxiety, stomach, and heart
pills all courtesy of the negligence of my life choices. One by one I swallowed the antidotes of a better
me. Yet, there never seemed to be a stronger version of myself, no matter how many pills I ingested.
Falling asleep, I told myself tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow I will try harder. As I drifted
off to sleep, I felt a sting in my neck, only waking up for a few seconds. My eyes opened just enough to
see him standing over me. Fighting to stay awake, my eyes latched closed, and I fell into the darkness.
Upon awaking, I could hear sounds of mumbles surrounding me. Feeling heavy and disoriented, I
managed to flicker my eyelids. As the minutes passed, my surroundings became more lucid. The foul
stench of pig shit singed my nose hairs. Dust from old haybales stimulated my sense of smell, inducing a
sneeze. An unimaginable pain coursed through my mouth. Still dazed and confused, I heard a voice say,
"we can't have that, now, can we?". Once again, I felt a sting in my neck, causing me to drift out of
reality.
"Wake up", I heard as I came to, "we need to get started". Started with what, I tried to ask. Yet,
my mouth wouldn't open. Tranquilized still, I thought maybe my brain just wasn't cooperating with my
body. Flexing my jaw, I tried again to speak, it was useless. All I could do was mumble. My words were
nothing more than muffled grunts behind a padded wall.
Looking around, I could see I was not alone. Vision blurry, I still managed to make out a large
silhouette of a man sitting in front of me holding a cutting needle and thread. He then placed the needle
on a barrel and stood up. Whistling, "The Sun will come out tomorrow", I began to look around. There were other people with us. Including myself, all tied to chairs and mouths sewn shut. Three of us were men. The fourth was a woman in her
mid-forties. She was crying and moaning uncontrollably. Mucus ran down her face dripping from her
chin. Trying to console her, I batted my eyes. It was all I could do without having the use of my mouth
and arms.
The injection he had no doughtily given me, had worn off. Like the woman, I found myself in panic
mode. My heart raced fast. I thought I would have a heart attack. Wanting to scream, I
couldn't. Wanting to run but I was incapacitated. Fighting my way out, entered my mind, but how? How,
with my hands bound behind my back. Besides, I wasn't a fighter, and the man was massive. He would
be very intimidating under any circumstance. His raggedy hair was sandy blonde with a mixture of gray.
Deep wrinkles hid behind a handlebar mustache, which stretched across his face. Thick eyebrows sat
untamed above his devilish eyes. Watching him, I tried not to make eye contact. I looked everywhere,
other than at him. The other two men looked as frightened as me. One man, the bigger one, had tears
but made no sounds. The other man was a very frail older man. He shifted side to side as he tried yelling
from behind his fastened lips. His arms bared scars of that of a junkie. His body, covered in scabs.
Cautiously, I looked around. A rusty old plow sat in the corner next to some feed sacks. A saddle
lay across an old broken table. Two horses stood quietly behind their stall door. I could see rays of light
shine through the cracks between the boards. It was daylight, knowing that gave me comfort somehow.
The barn was dusty, and as painful as it would be, I hoped I would sneeze again. At least then I could
scream. Abruptly the man stopped whistling and spoke.
Your mouths are bound together so that I cannot hear you. People talk too much, making the
world noisy. All loud with pathetic excuses of their weaknesses. I am not going to kill you. Your life is in
your own hands. Up to this point, you have wasted your life hiding behind your addictions. Cowering
and leaning on crutches of life’s temptations. I am here to save you from yourselves.
The rule of three is simple. You can survive three minutes without air, three hours without
shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food. If you truly desire to live, then you will
triumph. If not, you will perish. I am here to help you unpack your emotional baggage. Air, the very
breath you breathe, you have taken for granted. So, please slow your breathing and relax. We are about
to begin.
While you were sleeping, I provided you with adequate fluids and nutrition. I cannot have you
starting off, on an empty tank. I want to be as fair as possible and make this a pleasant experience.
Though, I warn you it will not be easy, and you will have to dig deep within yourselves.
The burly man began whistling once again. He placed an egg timer on a barrel, grabbed a plastic
bag and spoke. You can survive three minutes with no air. Do you have the desire and strength to want
to live? For you, I truly hope so.
Standing behind the heavier man he turned the timer and then placed the plastic bag over his
head. The man jerked in his chair, thrashing about. One minute, he said. The man still moving wildly.
Two minutes, almost there just hold on. Three minutes he announced, ripping the bag from the head of
the now motionless man. “Oh dear, I guess he did not have what it takes, next”. My heart raced even
faster as he stood next to the now inconsolable woman. I would be after her. I had to slow my breathing
if I were to live. Picking up another bag, he stood behind her.
The air went in and out her nose as she hyperventilated. “There, there, I’m not going to hurt you”,
he said, as he patted her on the shoulders. “Three minutes is a miniature amount of time. I wish you the
very best.” Her legs kicked out lunging back and forth. Her muffled shrieks filled the barn. “Are you
ready?” He then reset the timer. Fearing for my own life, I turned my head and concentrated on my
breathing. Trying hard to block her out, I went to another place in my head. As hard as it was, I imagined
I was calm and at peace lying on a sandy shore. Desperately, I wanted to cover my ears. Her loud cries
soon became small whimpers. Then to gurgles as she choked on her own vomit. Turning my head back
towards her, I could see her convulsing as life left her body. “Not quite a minute, what a shame”, he
said.
Thinking back to when I was a child, and held my breath under water, outlasting my brother.
Back then, holding my breath was easy for me and I always won. Being in my mid-thirties, I wasn’t a
child any longer. Could I beat this, I questioned. Unlike the woman next to me, who reeked of tobacco, I
didn’t smoke. My chances were greater than those who came before me.
Excepting the inevitable, I practiced my anxiety exercises my therapist had taught me. Four, four,
four, inhale hold, exhale hold. If I panic, I will surely suffocate, I told myself. The other man was calmer
now and followed my lead. Our eyes locked on to one another as we breathed. “Very good, that is what
I want to see, a thirst for life, the will to live.”
Picking up a bag, he then stood behind me. I took a deep breath as he turned the timer. I felt the
panic trying to set in, but I pushed it deep down. Oddly enough, the tune he’d been whistling popped
into my head. “The sun will come out tomorrow”, played as the bag was put over my head. “So, you got
to hang on ‘til tomorrow.” Not wanting to see the blurred images through the bag, I closed my eyes. I
just kept humming the tune in my head. “One minute”, he said. Getting more difficult to hold my breath,
I could feel my heart beating faster and my blood pressure rising. The tune still reeling in my head,
“tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow”. “Two minutes”. I can do this, I’m almost there, but my
mind was getting foggy, and my chest tightened. My muscles tensed up as I felt my existence dwindle
away. The tune that kept me going had faded away somewhere deep into my brain. Hungry for air, I
started scratching my hands behind my back. I was going to die. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I managed to
think one last time. “Three Minutes”!
Air rushed through my nose, as I clung to the remaining life I had. It was the greatest feeling just
being able to breathe. I’d made it, I had beat him, I was alive. “Congratulations, you did well”. “Breath
and continue to appreciate the gift, I have given you”.
Tears rushed down my cheeks, as I sat watching the man set the stage for the last occupant. As
sympathetic as I was, I was overwhelmed too just be alive. Still fighting my anxiety, I closed my eyes,
four, four, four. Sounds of distress and faint scuffling could be heard, yet I refused to open my eyes.
Three minutes passed quickly. “We have another fighter, outstanding.” Opening my eyes, I seen that the
other man had also survived. “Two out of three, I wished it faired better.” “It is a pity they perished, yet
the pigs will eat well.” “Nothing should ever go to waste”. “Their carcasses are a valuable resource.” I
am thankful for their contribution.”
“I will let you rest up.” The next gift, is that of shelter.” “People of the world scratch and claw to
have bigger dwellings of that of their neighbor.” Never being thankful of the shelters warmth when it is
cold.” “Not a second thought about the materials taken from the earth to provide that comfort.” “I will
teach you to not care about the size or the looks. You won’t care if it’s a barn or a house made of sticks.
You’ll learn to be content as it shelters you from the storm.
Not understanding what was coming next, I tried thinking of ways to escape. Wringing my hands
together, I tried loosening the rope. He had his back turned removing the bodies from the chairs. Yet
somehow he still managed to catch on to what I was doing. “That’s a double sheet bend knot.” Try as
you might, you will not loosen or untie it.” “Yet I commend you on your perseverance.” “If you escape,
you will not learn the valuable lesson I am trying to teach you.” “Sit and be patient, like I told you
before, I’m not going to kill you.”
He was right. The more I tried twisting my wrists, the tighter the rope became making them bleed
and burn. “Why was he doing this and why me”, I wanted to ask. The inside of my mouth was so dry,
and I was thirsty. All I could think about was water to wash out the metallic taste left from the wounds
of my lips. Making eye contact with the other man, I wondered if he was as thirsty as I. “The storm will
be here soon, and we can continue.”, he said as he removed a hacksaw hanging from the barn wall.
We watched as the man carried on as if he’d done this before. He laid the saw across a table.
Sweat dripped from my head as I panicked. What was he going to do to us? I thought. Do not worry, this
saw is not for you, he said as he placed the woman’s body on the table. He then began to dismember
her legs. He continued to hack through the bodies throughout the day. He would casually take breaks
between the removal of the body parts. After he was done, he used a rusty old wheel barrel to take the
parts out of the barn. He kept his word. I could hear the pigs happily squealing as he fed them.
The light that had previously comforted me dwindled away as darkness approached. As frightened
as I felt, all I could think about was water. “It is time”, he said as he wiped sweat from his brow. “I will
untie your arms so you can move freely. I encourage you to move as much as possible to keep the blood
circulating. Frostbite and hypothermia are inevitable if you let yourself settle. You can wear the clothes
you have on, but nothing more.
The barn was heated with an old wood stove. Our captor had fed it wood throughout the day. Yet
the wind from the storm outside seeped through the cracks. A chill came over me, fearing what was
next. The four technique no longer working. He then placed a makeshift collar around our necks.
Connected to the collar was a chain. After untying the ropes from behind our backs he told us to stand.
Fearing what he would do, I did what he told me.
He then unlatched the wooden brace holding the barn doors shut, unveiling winter’s wrath.
Weather in Michigan was unpredictable and harsh at times. That night was no different. The wind
bustled through the doors as we all stood staring into the night. Snow was falling rapidly and had quickly
begun accumulating. “Tonight’s storm is only a mild one but will last a few hours.” “Having your mouths
bound is a positive.” “It will protect your lungs.” Your heart rate will lower the less you move so keep
moving to boost your circulation.” “You will have to endure three hours in the weather.” “This trial is
brutal, I know but if your life is precious then you will improvise, adapt, and overcome.
He then led us by the chains out of the barn and into a wooden pen. It didn’t have a roof but was
too tall to climb over. “I know you must be thirsty, but if you try and eat the snow you will only amplify
dehydration and hypothermia.” He then removed the collars and locked the door. As he walked away in
his rabbit fur coat, he turned and once again said, “Do you have the desire to live, for you I truly hope
so.”
Frantically I surveyed the pen looking for a way out. The enclosure was made of old pallets, thin
boards, and cattle fence. It was sturdy enough to keep us in but not the wind out. It must have been
about twelve feet wide by twenty-four feet long. Rubbing my hands along the gaps, I felt something
warm run down my fingers. I had sliced my hand along the inside of one of the pallets. He had secured
razor blades and sharp nails from the inside to keep us from climbing out. Even if we were able to make
it to the top, we wouldn’t be able to climb over the razor wire that spiraled along the perimeter.
More frantic than I, the other man ran back and forth. He was shaking and sweating profusely. How
could he be sweating in this weather, I thought. On the other hand, I had begun to shiver. My feet had
already begun to tingle. Wearing only gym shorts, socks, and a t-shirt, I knew I must keep moving. The
other man was more fortunate than I. He was wearing pajama bottoms, socks and a hoodie. At least he
had a layer to break the wind.
The snow was dry and easy to move. Thinking maybe we could get out from the bottom. I began
moving the snow with my hands. As I moved it, I motioned for the other man to help. My attempts to
get his attention went unnoticed. He had found a nail long enough to cut through the stiches in his
mouth. Watching him, I debated on doing it myself. Though I thought of the burly man and his hacksaw.
Deciding it was best to keep my lips bound, I watched him saw through his. He yelled in agony as blood
dripped from his lips. Be quiet, I wanted to tell him, he’ll hear you.
When the last stitch broke the man dropped to his knees gasping and crying. He then stood up,
removed himself from his pants, and began urinating in the snow. “I’m Evan”, he said shivering and still
covering the white snow yellow. His urine smelled foul as the wind carried the smell. Not being able to
talk, I used a stick to spell out my name. Letter by letter, I spelled it out, Liam. He didn’t acknowledge
what I had written. He didn’t seem to care about what my name was.
Bending over he began to eat the yellow snow. Then pulling up his sleeves, he did something that
made my stomach churn. He picked off the scabs from his arms and started sucking on them. I now
understood he was detoxing and was trying to get a fix from the meth that had exited his body. I had a
cousin in jail once, who had described this same behavior from the inside. After doing this for a few
minutes he then spoke. Stuttering out his words, “I know it’s disgusting, but it is what it is.” “Now how
we gonna get out of this here, Liam. No matter what he was or what he spoke, it was comforting to hear
him speak to me.
Not knowing how to get out I just started moving. Shaking my head and still shivering, I began to
do jumping jacks. There wasn’t a way out and I was so cold. Knowing that I had to keep moving I
continued. I knew that if I didn’t move, my heart would slow and eventually stop. “You gonna listen to
that Behemoth or ya gonna try and help me find a way out?” Stopping, I once again tried looking from
the bottom. He looked for a way to climb over. Neither of us found a way to escape. Both of us,
shivering we stopped looking.
As we huddled together in the corner, a voice came from a speaker. “One hour has passed, two
hours remain.” Your lust for drugs trumps your lust to live.” “It will be your demise.” He’d seen, he’s
watching us, I thought. Not wanting to die, I began running in circles. The pain was excruciating. Every
step I took was like stepping on needles. My nose felt like it would break off.
“It’s no use, we’re gonna die, Evan said as he plopped on the ground. Using my arms, I motioned
for him to get up, but he refused. He sat in the corner with his teeth chattering and shoulders shaking.
While Evan sat, I continued. Running from one end to the other, tears freezing as they plummeted from
my eyes. As I ran, I tripped over something that caught my attention. It was a stack of a few boards
hidden under the snow. Uncovering them I counted them out in my head. There were several I dug out. I
crafted a fort in my head. We could use the wood for a shelter. Once again, I motioned for Evan to help.
Evan didn’t speak or move. “Two hours”, I heard as a voice projected from a hidden box.
Quickly I stumbled to Evan, shaking him. Tears ran down my cheeks as I faced the truth. I was
alone. Evan’s inability to try had snuffed out his life. He was dead. Time seemed to stand still in that
moment. Looking at his lifeless body, I realized he wasn’t a frail old man. He in fact was my age. The
drugs just made him look old. My sadness for him abandoned me to be replaced with anger. He should
have tried harder. I was now alone. He had left me alone.
Feeling numb and secluded, I wanted to give up. There wasn’t much fight left in me, yet
something in me snapped. I didn’t want to die. Ripping my wet clothes off, I threw them to the ground.
Trying to keep my temperature above freezing, I jumped and staggered in the snow. Laying Evan’s body
flat on the ground, I thought I would use it as a warm layer between me and the ground. One board at a
time, leaned them over Evan’s body and up against the pen, making an ominous clubhouse. Shivering
and naked, I crawled inside and laid on Evan’s lifeless body.
No longer having the strength to move, I lay crying. In the last hour I replayed my life. If only I had
another chance to do it all over again. If only I thought as my eyes closed. The door then opened, “Three
hours”. “Stand up.”, he said as he wrapped a fur coat around my frigid body. ”Come on, you have passed
but you are not out of the woods yet.” Replacing the collar around my neck he then led me back into the
barn.
“I have prepared a warm bath for you.” He then helped me lift my legs over a galvanized water
trough. “There, there”, he said, “Just sit and let the bath warm your blood. The pain of prickly needles
washed over my body as the numbness dwindled. Fading in and out, I watched him carefully remove a
stockpot from the stove. He poured the water from the pot over my head. “Just relax, you should be
proud of yourself.” “You have outlasted all who came before you.” “You’re a fighter and you value your
life. I watched as he warmed pot after pot, continuously pouring them over me.
“I will have to give you warm fluids intravenously.” “Try to stand”, he said as he lifted me up and
out of the trough. He then dried my body with a towel. After he dressed me in dry clothing, he led me to
a makeshift bedroom converted from a stall.
As he assisted me into the bed, I noticed a tray with medical instruments on it. What were they
for I wondered, but to tired to care anymore. He then placed the I.V. needle in my arm and covered me
up. “Rest up and sleep while I deal with the frostbite.” Before I was able to think about what he had just
said, I went out.
Waking up, I was no longer cold. The shivering and pain from the night before gone yet replaced
with new discomfort. My hands, feet, face, and head all pulsing. Slowly, I removed the blanket with my
bandaged hands to see my feet. Both were wrapped in bandages. Looking over my entire body, I
reached for my face. It was also bandaged. I could feel that my ears and nose were missing. “I know this
must be shocking to you, but it had to be.” “You had deep frostbite in your fingers, toes, ears and nose.
They had to be amputated. “I have sealed off the wounds and have given you antibiotics to fight off
infection.” “Be grateful your alive.”
“You are very ambitious, and I want to reward you for your success. “If you can continue to
cooperate, I will remove the stitches from your lips. “Don’t speak unless I ask you to.” “Can you give me
word that you can stay quiet?” I nodded in agreement.
As promised, he removed the sutures from my lips. Handing me a tin cup of water, he told me to
drink. Words can’t express how refreshing the first sip was. Not being able to control myself, I gulped
down the entire cup. Handing the cup back to him I managed to mumble, “more?” Violently, he struck
me in the face and stood up. “More, more more”, he yelled as he paced the floor. “Always wanting
more!” “You should have savored every last drop rather than gulping it down like a pig at a trough.”
“You have reached your third trial.” “Water is the source of all life and you will learn to appreciate it. Do
you have the desire to live?” “For you, I truly hope so.”
Locking the door behind him, he left the room. Feeling relief from his absence, I took a deep
breath. Concentrating on the air that went in and out my lungs, I was thankful to be alive. It had been a
couple of days since I was able to breathe through my mouth. I felt happiness and gratitude to just be
able to breathe. The blanket and bed kept me warm from the cold that seeped through the barn walls.
Feling relieved, I felt safe for that minute. I pulled the blanket up under my chin and just lived in the
moment. Looking for ways to escape no longer crossed my mind. Still fearful of the man, yet I felt a
strange feeling of gratitude toward him.
Mixed emotions danced around inside of me as I lay. Thinking of the others that were with me, I
pitied them. Had they truly wanted to survive, they would be alive. Had they fought harder, they would
have won against his trials. My sympathy for them abandoned my thoughts, replaced with
disappointment. Questioning my mental state, I laid wondering if I’d gone mad. How could I sympathize
with a man who had essentially tortured me. How could I be thankful to a killer, I wondered. As
comfortable as I was, I was thirsty. Three days was a long time to go without water. Knowing this, I
closed my eyes to try to sleep through it.
A familiar tune whistled through the cracks of the wall. My eyes blurry from crust, I wiped it away
with my bandaged hand. Curious, I tried peeking through a hole in a board. Seeing the two horses in the
next stall brought back anxiety from the first trial. Sounds of mumbling could be heard. Listening
intensely, I realized he had more victims. Wanting to scream out to them to calm their breathing, I said
nothing. Fearful he would kill me if I spoke. Though I didn’t have to. He was telling them to be calm and
they would live. If only they would listen, they could live. One after another perished throughout the
ordeal. Once again mixed emotions of sympathy and anger fought within me. I slammed my hand
against the stall boards. Why am I angry at them, I questioned myself. Hearing the distinct sound of the
hacksaw cutting through the bodies, I became sick. I crawled back in the bed and covered my head.
“Wake up, you have rested enough.” Leading me into the room where the bodies were, he
motioned for me to pick the parts up. “I will cut the meat and you will load it up.” “Do you
understand?”, he asked. I nodded yes and began putting the severed limbs in the wheelbarrow.
“Take it out back to the pigs.” “I trust you won’t try to run.” You will not get very far in your
condition and the weather” He was right, still bandaged and weak I knew I would freeze. Reluctantly I
put a arm, leg, and head in the wheelbarrow.
Once again, the cold made me shiver as I treaded through the snow. The night was calm. The
moon shined down on the solar panels that lined the buildings. I was on some sort of homestead.
Nearing the structure that housed the pigs, I cringed at the thought of feeding them. The squealing led
me to the hog house. Opening the door and entering, I gasped in horror. Piles of bones lay everywhere
within the house. The pigs squealed in delight as I tossed the body parts to them. The smell was pungent
and took my breath away. Not being able to hold back, I vomited the only liquids I had in me. After
unloading my delivery, I left to retrieve another load. Feet still bandaged, and I was cold, the thought of
running left my mind. Yearning for the warm bed, I trudged my way back to the barn. This went on
throughout the night.
“Almost done, this is the last of it.”, he said as he cut through a torso of a woman. “You have done
well, and I am proud of you.” “I know your cold and must be thirsty.” Yet, you still have forty-eight hours
left until you can replenish your thirst. “Keep motivated and you will triumph over your it” After the last
load was completed, he led me to the bed and rebandaged my wounds. Curiously looking down at my
severed toes, I seen I was missing five of them. The same as he bandaged my hands. I was four less
fingers. Two were gone from each hand.
My stomach grumbled as I tossed and turned. All I could think about was water and food. I
eventually passed out from the nights work. Waking up, I felt disoriented and weak. The hunger for food
and water still consuming my thoughts. “Twenty-Four hours left”, his voice said from outside the stall.
“Get up, I have more work for you.” “You have to earn your keep.”
The man then entered the room and placed the collar around my neck. “Here is a coat to keep
you warm, he said as he placed it on my back. Then he handed me some rubber boots. “These should
help keep your feet dry while you dig.” Wanting to ask, dig what, I didn’t dare from the fear of being
struck again. The task will be difficult but not impossible. Handing me a shovel, he led me to the spot he
wanted dug.
“The weather has let up and the temperature has risen. I can not trust that you might try to run.
He then locked the chain to a stake in the ground. “The hog house needs cleaned of the bones.” “Dig me
a hole big enough to bury the remains of the less fortunate.” “I will return in twenty-four hours.” You
have fared well so far, keep up the good work and you will be rewarded.” He then turned and walked
away.
The sun was just beginning to rise, and it felt warn against me face. The black sky turned to a
canvas of pastels. The view was stunning under any condition. After admiring the horizon, I started my
grueling work. Trying to dig with missing toes was difficult and excruciating. Placing the shovel into the
frozen ground, I bared down with all my weight. Breaking the ground seemed unfeasible, but I managed.
Letting out agonizing cries, I repeated the movements until I finally moved dirt.
Scanning around, my head was on a swivel looking for cameras. The thought of trying to escape
weighing heavily. Using my bandaged hands, I felt for any gaps in my collar. It was tight around my neck.
I Then looked for any weak links in the chain but found none. The steak the chain was hooked to must
have been buried ten feet, I thought as I gave it a tug. Giving up on any escape attempts, I continued to
dig.
The hunger and dehydration had started to take effect. My head pounded like a hammer on a
nail. I became nauseous. Fearing I might throw up, I sit and rested on the ground. Looking down at the
homestead, I wondered who the man was. Nearly falling asleep, I pushed myself up off the ground.
Visions of water surrounding me engulfed my every thought. God, I was thirsty.
After I finished digging the hole I fell to my knees in exhaustion. Worrying that if I fell asleep, I
would die of dehydration. Standing up, I desperately tried staying awake. The chain weighed down my
neck making it hard to stand. Using the shovel as a brace, I wedged it into the ground and balanced the
chain over top of the shovel. It lifted the weight off me, allowing me to stand easier. Standing and
swaying, I watched as day turned to night and night back to day. “Congratulations”, the man said as he
walked up the hill toward me.
“II knew you would conquer the test.” “You will soon be rewarded for your victory.” Leading me
back to the barn, I stumbled and fell. The man picked me up and helped me to my feet. As He laid me in
the bed, oddly enough I wanted to thank him. “Before I tend to your bandages, I am going to start an I.V.
to restore your electrolytes. He then handed me a cup of water. “Drink”, he said. Wanting badly to gulp
it down, I refrained and sipped slowly. The water was refreshing as it moistened my mouth. Water
wasn’t something I normally craved but, in that moment, it was all a I wanted. Living mostly on energy
drinks and sodas, I rarely drank it.
As I sipped, I thought about my body and how I had neglected it. Peculiar enough, the man was
giving me all I ever needed. He had somehow managed to push my stronger version to the surface.
“Good news”, he said as he wrapped the final bandage around my foot. “You have made it to the last
trial.” “But before we discuss that, I want to reward you on your accomplishments.” “I’m sure you have
questions, and I will allow you to ask them.” A little conversation will do us both some good.” I must say
I am as curious about you as you are of me.” He said as he poured me another cup of water. “But not
until you have rested.” “I look forward to it, I will see you this afternoon.” Locking the door behind him,
exhausted, I fell asleep.
Hunger pains interrupted my slumber. Turning about in the bed, images of food ravaged my
thoughts. Trying hard, I managed to push the vivid images of cheeseburgers out of my mind. Replacing
them with the image of the man conversing with me. What would I ask him, I pondered. Would I set him
off again and be fed to the pigs. One would think that I wouldn’t want to talk to him after he had cut off
my nose, yet strangely enough I did. I was curious about him.
My tossing about abruptly interrupted as I heard the man enter the room. “Well now, how do you
feel this afternoon?” He asked, as he pulled a old wooden chair next the bed and sat down. To scared to
speak I laid quietly. “It Is o.k., he said cheerfully as he patted my leg. “You may speak”. “Better but
hungry”, I managed to mumble. “Yes, I know you are hungry, but you have entered your final trial.” You
must endure three weeks with no food.” You have been here a week.” “Two weeks remain.”
“People of the world are gluttons. Indulging in prepackaged garbage to feed the body. Never
having to hunt or forge for it. If you make it the three weeks, you will have learned to appreciate what
you put in your mouth. You will think about what it is for, rather than just stuffing your face. Do you still
have the desire to live, for you I truly hope so.
“What is your name?”
“Liam, my names, Liam”
“Well, Liam, my names Doc” “It is finally nice to meet your true self.” I’ve been waiting along time for
this.” “You are now worthy to speak to.” “You have shed your old, infected skin and are growing new
skin.” “I have helped you thus far to create a better, you.” “You may speak freely”.
“Why are you doing this”?
“To save you.” “To rid you of the worlds temptations” “I am extracting all you have digested and
replacing it with the will to survive.”
“Who are you”, I fearfully asked.
“I am a doctor who the world cast out due to what they call negligence.” “I only pushed my patients to
better themselves and refused to subscribe fake antidotes”. “I didn’t hand them a crutch when they
could walk on their own.”” I left the city and moved off grid”. “Here I am free to practice as I see fit”.
“My patients now, are those that want to better themselves but just need a little push.” “Yet, none have
come as far as you, Liam.” “What is it, you desire, Liam?”
“A life of fulfillment”, I said.
“Are you not now, achieving that goal, Liam?”
Before I could answer, he told me, “Enough talk for the day”, we have work to do. “Don’t speak
unless I ask you to”. Unhooking my I.V., he then furnished me with warm clothes and boots again. “Grab
the wheelbarrow”, he said as we excited the barn. He then led me to the hog house. “I want you to pick
up the bones and put them in the hole you dug. Feeling weak, I pushed through the chore. The sight of
the mutilated parts wasn’t as repulsive to me as before. Yet, I did wonder who they were and where
they had come from. The day sped by quickly.
That night, I laid in the bed thinking of the man. Could he be right with what he was doing. I did
feel a new feeling of accomplishment. Had I truly shed my old self. Had he had given me what every
doctor before him had failed at. Questioning my own thoughts, I drifted off to sleep.
As the days went by, I would often help him rid the world of the weak. Every few days he would
bring in new patients. One after one they failed his trials. Some made it past the first, only to die in the
pen or the cooler, depending on the weather. We had many evening conversations where I learned
more about Doc, as he did me. Some nights I would listen to him mourn their deaths. He would often sit
by the stove talking to himself and crying. He would question their inability to understand what he was
doing. Finding myself somewhat sympathetic to him, I spoke out. “It’ll be o.k. you’re a good doctor, they
just don’t have a desire to live. “Thank you”, he said, “but do not speak unless I tell you”. With that I
climbed into bed and covered my head.
Ribs now visible, I was nearing death. No longer having the energy to help him any longer, I spent
the remaining few days in bed. As the final day approached, he came to me and said, If you don’t die
through the night, I will intravenously feed you the nutrients your body requires. Then you can truly live
your life. Tears filled his eyes as he pulled the blanket over me. You have been an outstanding and
cooperative patient and I thank you. Share to the world the gift I have given you.
Waking up, I was confused and again fighting off a sedated state. Rubbing my eyes in dismay, I
stumbled out of bed and tripped over my tennis shoes. Looking down at my disfigured feet, I was
perplexed at the sight of the floor. Continuously wiping at my vision, I scanned the room. Soda bottles
littered the nightstand. An empty potato chip bag lay empty on the bed.
Falling onto the floor, I curled up into a fetal position and cried. Visions of the dead filled my
thoughts. My mind was baffled with an emotional and ethical struggle. Four, four, four, I tried to
manage as anxiety reared its ugly head. “No!”, I yelled. I was alive and I was thriving. Quickly jumping to
my feet, I ran to my dresser mirror. It would be the first time, seeing the new me since my amputations.
Raising my head slowly my eyes met a man I had never seen before. A mangled mess stared back at me.
Yet, I didn’t see the ugly. I seen a victor. A man who fought for his life. I seen a man with the desire to
live. Admiring my new self, I calming starting whistling that familiar tune. I knew what I had to do.
The next few months, I spent talking to the detectives. Occasionally throwing them a false bone
toward their investigation. Had I not been a missing person, I would have avoided the police all
together.
A year has passed since my abduction. My life has changed for the better. I have faired well. I
often think about Doc and if he is still practicing. I did what he asked. I survive, appreciate, and share my
new gift to the world. I no longer spend my days waiting for life to toss me a crumb of its cookie. There
is value in the very air we breathe, the water we drink, the dwelling that shelters us, and the nutriment
we eat. Yet, it’s been difficult to convince people of this without some persuasion. So, please calm your
breathing. I am not going to kill you. This will only take three minutes. So, relax, do you have the desire
to live?” “For you, I truly hope so.

I'm hoping on some level this will allow me to clear my mind enough to finish my finals and allow me to move on from past regrets. This is a throwaway account as I really don't want this following me more than it has.
I was 19, I'm 20 now, at a small college in America with a mainly athlete population. I'm far from an athlete but I go to the gym a lot. Being such a small school, there's really only one place to party and that place really sucks. I went there most weekends out of some sense of obligation I can't quite place my finger on.
I was talking with this girl and I had thought everything was going well, though to be fair I was pretty cross faded (high and drunk) at this point. We were just talking and getting to know each other but her friends would occasionally pull her away, I didn't think much of this and didn't make any attempt to follow or reengage until she came back to speak with me. This happened several times throughout the course of the night, we were dancing and having fun between these points. She had mentioned that she was sobering up and wanted more to drink so I offered her some beers I had back in my dorm. She agreed and as the party began to change location I made the decision to tell her to stay with her friends so she doesn't get lost and I'll just bring the beers to her.
We meet up at the new location later that night and we sit on the couch and chat some more before going back to my room. This part here, is one of those things that made me reconsider drinking as a whole. I've done it maybe once or twice since because of this experience. She had mentioned that she had a boyfriend and I didn't process what that meant at all. We get back to my dorm and we're hanging out and drinking more just talking, she spills the drink on her face and in my deeply drunk and dumb brain I have one thought...
Protect the carpet
So I quickly grab a paper tower and start wiping off her face and making sure none of it gets on the rug. Then we started talking about the ring her boyfriend got her, at this point in the night I remembered what a boyfriend was so I had stopped all light flirting and was just enjoying getting to know her, but I was playing with her fidget ring. I then realized that I had had my hand in her lap that whole time, I remember recoiling a little bit and asking if she was comfortable. She said no so I immediately moved my chair a bit further away from her and told her that I wouldn't be offended or anything if she left but I'd enjoy just sitting around and talking more. For context, even before this moment I was always careful to never be between her and the door because it's important for me that guests never feel trapped or anything like that.
We talk for 20 more minutes and then say goodnight and part ways.
I wake up in the morning with a feeling of deep regret, knowing that it was kinda weird. I send her a snap apologizing and mentioning that she left some stuff in my room and asking when she can pick it up. I was left on delivered. The whole situation was mentioned to a friend of mine who chalked it up to me being a bit awkward and also drunk. What bothered me mainly was that I had made someone feel uncomfortable, the thought really upset me and I wished desperately there was a way to make it up to her but I figured giving her as much space as possible was the best solution. Additionally, people were saying I was sober and she was drunk. As far as I could tell we were similar levels of drunk, I'm on meds I really shouldn't drink on and she had a lower body weight than me. It was later explained to me that close friends would be more likely than strangers to tell if someone is drunk or not and unfortunately that goes both ways. She was either drunker than I thought because I didn't know her or they thought I was sober because they didn't know me. Either way, neither of us were stumbling or slurring our words at all.
Flash forward to April and I'm talking about it with a friend of mine, she was the one who really said it all back to me in a way that made me realize how awful that looks. I'm not proud of this but I just started shaking, in near tears, at the thought that I made someone feel as though they were in danger. I more or less shut down for a week. It was around this time that I figured out that people around campus felt as though I was being a creep. I'm sure it goes beyond that isolated incident, it almost has to but I've never purposely done anything to harm anyone. Whenever someone wants a conversation to end I drop it, if I sense someone is uncomfortable I drop it, I don't touch people who don't want to be touched and typically go to great lengths to avoid accidentally touching people.
I ended up going to one more party at the end of the semester where some guy called me a creep while I was checking in on my friend. Honestly I'm emotionally done at this point, I wanna transfer and I don't wanna be here anymore. This schools culture is bizarre to me because I witnessed an athlete get outed as a pedophile and a nazi, the team covered it up for him. But I make a couple mistakes and instead of reaching out to me to figure out what's wrong people just assume I'm a creep? Which honestly I get, if you think someone's creepy you're not gonna sit there and ask them why, you're just not gonna interact.
I've gone on a spree of asking a lot of the trusted women in my life about what happened, explaining in detail the full story as I've laid it out here. The reactions are mixed, one person said it looks terrible but they know I'm not a bad person and didn't have bad intents. Another said that it was just people deflecting from their own poor behavior (that's a total cop out on their end and I don't agree), more ended up saying that's a pretty common mistake for guys to make and it's just a lesson you have to learn.
To be clear, I have nothing but sympathy for that girl. I do not agree with her presumed perspective on the event but I have nothing but empathy for how it seems like she must've felt. I never want to bring out those feelings in anyone, everyone deserves to feel safe and never feel like they've been taken advantage of. It's even in thinking hard about this that I realized someone had done to me what I was being accused of trying to do, get someone drunker than they should be to have sex with them.
I just want to be able to move forward, to fully forgive myself for what happened and allow this to be a lesson moving forward on social cues and the like. I think I partially just wanted to get this off my chest but mostly I want to know how other people feel about it. If there's details you think are missing I can add those if they exist.
This whole process has also began me looking into an autism diagnosis, the fact that I could not even conceive of the depths of the issue until it was laid out for me and then I proceeded to shake for 8 hours straight thinking I was gonna die is not a sustainable habit and I need to find skills to navigate the world and the people in it with more tact.

Well after a seriously fucked up combat tour in afganistan I was out on the street left to pick up the peices of my life in my mid twenties..working out was one of those things that seemed to keep alot of things In check for me and Like every good lad and lady after a good swoll, I hit my local gnc for supps religiously. I was in the army and I received certain awards that are specific to combat and I proudly wore a hat with two awards along with my unit imsignia I recieved while I was in combat. Anyway upon walking Into the gnc a tall ripped dude who had alot of pain in his eyes called me out for my hat, so as to check and make sure my combat story aligned with my awards... this is more common than you think and while in the millitary these types are known as badge protectors making sure everything is on the up and up, its a douchey thankless job but i guess it warns off stolen valor in some situations., anyway I took it as that and shared my story and he shared his..

 His story was particularly horrifying he was in a marine regiment that took heavy heavy casualties in helmand province a couple miles from where I was stationed during the troop surge in kandahar province a few years later. As I explored the va system and getting help for injuries and trauma I sustained during combat I thought I would go out of my way to help this marine and be a freind, even though in his mind only the weak " went to the VA. I was always careful not to push to hard and was careful to put my trauma away because his was more serious. As in i lost a couple people, he lost 1/3 of his unit..I spent many many nights consoling my freind who often lamented about his struggle for survival in battle his lost freinds and I could relate. Years later I had many issues and ended up moving away to my home state after a combat ptsd progragram. 

Unfortunately, unexpectedly, i saw my freinds family had posted the worst news on fb. My freind and hero marine had ended his life. I had to memorialize this marine who i had known for years and shared my deepest shit with , I knew his struggle, and saw where it led him. In some ways I felt like I had failed. My last post addressed to my freind was an RIP Marine salute on instagram....thats when shit gets crazy...About 2 hours after I posted this, I received a call from his baby mama with news that would change the way I viewed life and people around me forever.
I heard a cracking voice on the other end of the line as I say my condolences, "I'm sorry I have to be the one who tells you this, Matt was never a marine. I laughed, what, why would you say this, I was furious, I demanded answers, and then got them. So apparently Matt had never been a marine, but had always had a fascination with them.... I couldn't understand still, all the talks the lingo the stories specific to that area, the specific units and marines who died. He was in fb groups with these specific units talking to parents of fallen hero marine sniper Matthew Abate. He was even talking to this man's dad and had told and showed me their condos on fb...So apparently what led to the suicide was Matt developed a drug problem and his life was spiraling out of control , this was on top of an apparent full blown double life where he was a hero combat marine sniper, and had infiltrated many veteran groups stealing stories stealing personalities, stealing valor. As he spiraled, he leaned heavily on the veteran groups for support and they insisted on getting him emergency assistance, apparently the only thing he could provide that proved he was in the millitarybwas an anti terrorism class that you take pre bootcamp. So this raising g many red flags the group did a FOIA on him and found out he was a total fake. It's taken me a long time to get this story out because it really fucked me up for a long time. I could never make it make sense in my head. I guess I can accept that today

Maybe this is normal or maybe it’s normal to an extent? I (23f) am deathly afraid of giving birth. I’m not pregnant but the thought of giving birth absolutely terrifies me, I once had a panic attack over it. I’m not scared to become a mother, I love children and want one. This is the problem, I would like my own child but I cannot wrap my head around giving birth. I read up on so many things that have happened to women, even heard stories from women I know about their birthing experiences and it’s terrifying. My mom lost so much blood the doctors were surprised she survived. My best friends mother got that numbing stuff (sorry forgot the name as I’m writing this out) and it only worked for one side of her body, her friend became paralyzed from it. My other friend’s family member died from a blood clot right after giving birth. I saw that girl on TikTok with a LIST of reasons to not get pregnant and I was flabbergasted reading it. My step mom said when she gave birth to her first in born she ripped down to her butthole, WHO WANTS THAT? Then she can only have C sections after that birth, and her sister said how she watched her organs be taken out during the process. LIKE WHAT?? My mom broke out into hives and lost her hair just being pregnant. All of that terrifies me. Then reports about women having really bad postpartum depression and some having really bad psychosis breaks and doing really bad things cause if it. What if that happens to me? Ontop of that, I’m really emotional what if I lose that baby? I had a dream where I had a daughter and when I woke up I felt empty and broken without her even though she never actually existed. I can’t handle that loss. I watched my best friend give birth, watching her body in the process terrified me but I didn’t say anything cause I didn’t want to make her feel someway about my feelings that weren’t personal towards her. To the women who have given birth, I applaud your strength and courage cause how???

First / Previous / Royal Road / Patreon (Read 12 Chapters Ahead)

When dawn broke, the two of them set off again, once more heading north. Pale had made sure to call down another pod once the sun had risen, this one full of winter gear for the two of them – thermal jackets to keep them warm, but more importantly, snow-print camouflage covers for them to throw over themselves if they needed to creep around at night.
"What's the point of this stuff?" Kayla asked as she threw one of the snow-colored smocks over herself, pausing only to tug at it in a few places.
"Makes it harder for them to spot us," Pale explained. "Of course, some degree of combat is inevitable, but that's no reason to not avoid it if we can do so."
Pale zipped up her winter jacket, then reached for her shotgun, topping it off with fresh shells of buckshot. Kayla watched with fascination as Pale slid red-colored shell after red-colored shell into her weapon's magazine tube, finally furrowing her brow in confusion.
"How does it work?"
"Hm?" Pale asked, looking over to her. "You mean my weapons?"
"Yes. I thought you said your people couldn't use magic?"
"We can't. This is pure science." She held up a shotgun shell for emphasis. "To put it simply, my weapon works by setting off a chain reaction of burning chemicals and small explosions, which forces metal projectiles down a carefully-shaped and machined piece of metal at a very high rate of speed."
"But… it's so small. Why does it do so much damage?"
"Because of something called physics. Kinetic energy is determined by a combination of mass and velocity, but between the two, velocity has a much more profound impact on the energy itself. Essentially, you want to make a projectile more powerful? Make it go faster rather than just make it heavier."
Kayla hesitated. "My head's already starting to spin…"
"I will spare you any further explanation, then." Pale slung her weapon across her front, then did a quick gear check to make sure everything was stowed where it needed to be. Once that was done, she nodded over to Kayla. "Lead the way."
The two of them took off at a brisk march through the plains. Snow had started to fall as they had woken up, covering the area in a thin sheet of white that crunched underfoot with every step taken. Neither girl felt the effects of the elements thanks to their new winter gear, but it did make traversing through the plains a bit more difficult, not to mention that as the snow continued to fall, their movement would only be more impeded with time.
And just as well, there was the matter of the tracks they were leaving behind as they walked. Pale wasn't quite sure how to deal with those, at least not yet, but they would cross that particular bridge when they came to it.
As they walked, Pale noticed Kayla had become oddly silent. She blinked, then turned towards her, only to find her staring off into space as they advanced, watching the snow fall down on the terrain below. Pale cleared her throat, and Kayla jumped a bit before turning to face her.
"Yes?"
"Are you feeling okay?" Pale bluntly asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because you look awful. Is it the nightmares again?"
Kayla bit her lip, but ultimately nodded. "...Yeah, it is."
Pale's brow furrowed. Unfortunately for both of them, she was no psychologist. It was clear Kayla was going through some sort of trauma regarding the events of the past few days, and while Pale had archives of books related to the subject stored in her data banks, even she knew better than to go poking around in someone's head.
The human brain may have been mapped, but there were still things about it that even her creators didn't quite understand, and the nature of mental illness was one of them. She had already tried to logic Kayla out of whatever mental hole she'd fallen into, and that clearly hadn't worked. No, there was something deeper going on with her, something that Pale didn't understand.
Part of her wished Evie was still here, if only because she seemed to get it a lot better than Pale could.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Pale offered.
"Do you think that will help?"
"Has to be better than letting it fester like this. But if you're not willing, I won't push the issue."
Kayla shook her head. "It's just… I don't know how people do it. I still feel like I'm gonna vomit whenever I see a dead body lying on the ground. How you and Evie are able to not only keep going after that but add more to the pile is… frightening."
"Death is inherently frightening for everyone, even me."
"Truly?" Kayla asked, surprised. "You're afraid of death?"
"Yes, in multiple different ways." Pale gestured to herself. "This body, for one – I worry about losing it, because if that happens, I am going to be stuck floating listlessly through space, stuck in Sjel's orbit until my systems finally burn themselves out after several million years. Then my consciousness will fade away into nothingness, and there will be no remnant of me left behind aside from a shattered husk of a warship. Then again, perhaps that is the fate of every warship – the oceans back on my creators' home planet are, after all, filled with the dessicated husks of once-proud ships of war, many still sealed up like time capsules. I must admit, it would be poetic if I were to join them."
"No, it wouldn't," Kayla countered. "It'd be sad, Pale. You'd just float endlessly through space for the rest of time."
"Not quite. After a few billion years, this solar system's sun would burn out and turn into a supernova, wiping any trace of it from the face of the galaxy. But I understand what you're saying. My point, however, is that death is profound for everyone, even me."
"Why wouldn't it be profound for you?"
"Because I am not alive."
"Yes, you are."
Pale's brow furrowed. "I am not an organic person."
Wordlessly, Kayla reached out and poked her in the shoulder. "Weird, because you certainly feel organic."
"Not what I meant. I was created in a laboratory."
"So? Do you have any idea how many people were created from a drunken romp between an adventurer and a tavern wench? Is being made in a laboratory, whatever that means, really any more inauthentic than a loveless one-night stand that happened to lead to a baby?"
Pale opened her mouth, but Kayla beat her to the punch. "I don't understand why you keep trying to make this point. You are a person, Pale, and-"
"I cannot be a person," Pale growled. "That was not the purpose I was created for. And besides, this conversation isn't about me, it's about you. Stop trying to change the subject."
Kayla grunted, then crossed her arms as she walked. "Fine. You want to talk about what's bothering me? Now you know. I hate the knowledge that what I'm doing is leading to people being hurt and killed. I hate that Evie decided to help us, and made herself and her caravan a target as a result. And most importantly, I hate that it's all so necessary, because if we don't do this, I'll never see my father again. There, happy now?" Kayla crossed her arms, then let out a tired sigh. "I want to go home, but I can't even do that – not only is my father still missing, but my home is gone. I have nothing to go back to. Any friends I had are dead now..."
Kayla let out a small sniffle, and Pale hesitated before reaching out and resting a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to make you feel like this. I understand that you're going through a lot, I just wish there was more I could do to help."
"You're here," Kayla insisted. "And you're helping me get my father back. That's more than enough. The rest… I'll deal with that on my own for now, I guess."
"Very well. But if you need someone to vent to, I'm here."
Kayla sniffled again, but gave her a thin, grateful smile. "Thank you."
Pale let her hand fall off Kayla's shoulder, and Kayla took a breath to calm herself before they continued on.
–
They walked for several more hours, the snow intensifying all around them before it finally came to be too much. By this time, the plains had given way to hills and rocky mountains capped with snow. Pale paused to examine their surroundings as they climbed a hill, looking for shelter.
"We must be getting farther north," she surmised. "The weather is becoming unrecognizable from how it was back in your village."
"You're right about that," Kayla grunted as she scrambled over some rocks. "Shouldn't be much longer now until we get to the sea. How we're going to cross without a boat, though… I suppose we'll have to figure that out on our own."
Pale nodded. "I am surprised that we haven't run into any opposition yet."
"I've had us staying away from the nearby towns on purpose. I figured that if we were going to run into anyone hostile, it'd be there."
"Smart move," Pale complimented. "And I take it that keeping us out in the open fields for as long as possible was part of that, too? Good thinking."
"Thanks," Kayla replied. She looked around the mountain, her gaze finally landing on an outcropping of rocks. "I think I see a cave over there. Think it'd make for good shelter for a night?"
"It'd be better than staying out in the open. Come on, I'll lead the way this time."
–
A short while later, both girls were sprawled out inside the cave, their outer layers of clothing hung up on some nearby rocks to air dry. Their thermal under layers kept them warm, as did a small fire Kayla had managed to start using her magic. They both sat huddled around the fire, a set of military rations perched in their laps.
"It'll be hot, so be careful when you open it," Pale warned. "The flameless ration heater included in each may use water to function, but trust me, the food will come out hot despite that."
"What'd you say this one was, again?" Kayla asked, examining the bag.
"Chicken and rice bowl. It should be a lot better than the earlier emergency ration bar I gave you – less artificial, at least – and unlike that one, you can eat this one in one sitting without any ill effects."
Kayla perked up a bit at that. "That sounds nice…"
They both fell silent after that, the only noise filling the cave being the crackling of the fire. Finally, Kayla broke the silence.
"
I just want you to know… I'm glad you're here with me," she said softly. "And not just because you're helping me find my father, either. You're a good person, Pale."
"I am-"
"I know, I know – you don't agree with being called a person. But you are."
Pale's brow furrowed. "No offense, but perhaps this is a difference of culture. How does one define a person on this world?"
"A person is anyone who has a sjel," Kayla answered.
"Then I do not fit the definition."
"Everyone has a sjel, Pale," Kayla softly emphasized. "Even you. Even if you can't use magic, I know you've still got one. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you realize that."
Again, silence fell over the two of them. It didn't last, however – from outside, Pale heard the unmistakable sound of far-away voices, and sat up straight. Judging from how Kayla's wolf ears perked up, she'd heard them, too.
"Look alive," Pale said, putting her ration aside and reaching for her shotgun.
"I think we're about to have company."

Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, Ickbard for the help with writing this story.

~First~
(Writing, writing, writing: Muse crashes, burns and refuses to respond. Great.)
The Buzz on the Spin
“That’s the third time the call was dropped.” Hoagie states the obvious.
“From what I can tell they’re being hacked like it’s the latest fad. Even if our call goes through clean it’s going to be seen by an audience of several billion at least.” Demon replies. His tiny little girl is sitting on his shoulder so everyone’s watching their language, even Zsebreza. Sure, Kathy was growing quick and was developing a good sense of humour, but not even Minisi wanted to be responsible for teaching her the naughty words.
It takes several more tries with the bridge crew chuckling at things before suddenly the link is accepted to find a thoroughly unamused Asian Man glaring at them. The man then lets out a breath. “Two hundred and eighty six separate calls with the image of a woman presenting herself. I have never been simultaneously flattered and insulted.”
“Spoiled for choice sir?” Demon asks.
There is a moment of a pause as the man’s eyebrow quirks in frustration. “Yes.”
“I’m afraid it’s a common issue the galaxy over sir, we humans are hot commodity. Even a hideous slob of a man would find himself inundated with attention. A competent man with goals, ideals and motivation? A feast before the starving sir.” Hoagie says.
“Clearly Officer Eastman.” He says before relaxing a little. “I am Observer Wu. I have been charged by the nations of Earth with baring impartial witness to what has occurred the galaxy over. I have already spoken to several pockets of humanity, including but not limited to three other space stations, the newly risen nobility of Vucsa and of course, The Dauntless and the Embassy on Centris.”
“So what are you looking for? We’ve sent back numerous eyewitness testimonies and as much in the way of resources and proof of our claims that can survive the damaging effects of Cruel Space. A fair portion of exotic material and cadavers were actually supplied from this very station. What more do you need?”
“I just wish to speak with people. I will be communicating with and travelling to every major locations where humans have touched in the galaxy. To see the truth of things with unclouded eyes.” Observer Wu says and there are some nods. “Now then, if you could describe your location and posting please?”
“Certainly, we’ll do that in reverse though if you don’t mind.”
“I do not.”
“We are posted here to both ensure that we have friendly contacts in an area of interest and to learn more about the galaxy at large. Between ourselves and our fellows posted at other stations we are writing the operations manual for how to maintain, police, administrate, protect and supply a fully functional space station with a substantial permanent population. We’re also recruiting and keeping our eyes out for unusual technologies, tactics and techniques. This station alone contains a permanent population that rivals several first world nations on Earth with an industrial capacity well beyond what those nations can provide.”
“Can it now? This station is self sustaining? Food, air and other such supplies?”
“It turns out that a great deal of air is released by harvesting asteroids. Most of them contain a large amount of ice, even when they’re primarily minerals of some kind. Food is grown in hydroponics on such a scale we outright export it. The mining provides the metals and other materials for further products and again, hydroponics of a different source give us oils which leads to plastics, cloth comes in too. The station is completely self sustaining at this point. If the rest of the galaxy was to vanish then all we need are some rocks and we can keep this place going forever.” Demon explains and Observer Wu nods.
“And have you learned about these techniques and technologies?”
“Yes, however many of them are reliant upon Axiom.”
“And the control of the station?” He asks and Minisi pokes at a few of them with her tentacles to get people to shift away. “And you are... the woman in charge I believe?”
“Indeed. Although not for too much longer. I’ve had my fun but the station has become a tedium. I will admit that your species showing up has broken up the monotony a touch, but only enough to give me enough time to really make sure my heiress has this place on lock and with an unmatched command crew.”
“And you’re fine with them having that level of power?” Observer Wu asks and Minisi has a tentacle point right down at Hoagie.
“This one has been in charge of over ten percent of my station. The most productive Agriculture Decks we have are in his power, both officially and unofficially. The businesswomen there fear the flamingo shirts!”
“Hey, I got flowers on at least half of them.” Hoagie protests and she turns to him.
“Hey hey hey! Station boss or not, no horning on my hubby!” Zsebreza says buzzing into view and pressing back on the woman who leans back in amusement.
“You Charbis are so easy to rile up...” She says fondly as Zsebreza sheathes her weapon while still giving her a massive stinkeye.
“So that video was not an elaborate prank in horrific taste.” Observer Wu notes.
“Reality is stranger than fiction sir.” Hoagie notes.
“Indeed it is, and now that you’ve confused me, I am going to return the favour.” Observer Wu states and Hoagie looks from side to side and everyone else is equally baffled.
“Sir?” Hoagie asks as Observer Wu presses a button on his armrest and requests for a certain passenger to be sent up. “What is this...”
He freezes entirely as the camera shifts and he can see... “Mom?”
“Daniel!” Janet Eastman says with a smile. “And... one of those... things that got you.”
“I told you we needed to edit that video.” Zsebreza says.
“But it would clearly have been faked in some way and...” Hoagie trails off. “I... are you alright? The way out of Cruel Space is no fun.”
“It.. it was not pleasant, but I worked in the kitchens for most of it and it kept me busy.” She says.
“Familiar territory then.”
“A starship mess hall is NOTHING like a Corner Bistro in New York.” Janet says and he chuckles.
“Are you sure you’re alright? I mean... the rail shot into orbit, the initial training...”
“I’m part of the civilian experiment. To see how easy or hard it is to get people out of our little corner of the galaxy.”
“And the verdict Miss Hoagie’s mother?” Minisi asks in an amused tone.
“Something needs to be done about the zero-gravity trip. It’s too much. I’ve needed some chemical help to stay calm during parts of the trip.”
“Yeah, it’s not much better when you’re trained for it.” Hoagie says. “Are you coming here?”
“Of course! Those videos were horrifying! If those girls are walking all over you like that then I don’t care if I’m numbered two hundred to one or two thousand to one! I didn’t work my butt off as a waitress when you were a little boy just to see a bunch of bees walk all over you! So I’m putting you on notice!” She growls out.
“Okay lady, I’m giving you the private number, because I love that attitude. And because we need to get ahead of this before there’s a war kicked off.” Zsebreza promises.
“There is no war that’s going to kick off. Mother, Charbis are a very defensive species and refuse to let people see their relaxed state unless they have absolute trust. No exceptions. That’s why you’ve never seen them in anything less than one of their most agitated states. When not safely in the hive a Charbis is only a few moments away from violence.”
“Is the hive like a beehive?”
“It’s not made of waxy hexagons. It’s a bunker with innumerable defences and very comfortable on the inside. They’re so reinforced and secure that it’s the most defensive part on the station barring the other Hives.”
“Hey, you’re really pushing it...”
“I haven’t said anything secret. I haven’t shown anything secret. Anyone with working eyes can see a Hive is nearly impossible to attack if they want to live, and with how wealthy and good with crops Charbis are in general, any idiot can figure out that they have plenty within the hive.”
“Well... yes, but the idea that anyone has any idea what the hives are like...” Zsebreza says and then Janet’s eyes widen as she realizes exactly what she’s seeing.
“Oh! It’s like THAT! No wonder you haven’t bothered running. It’s not too different from home was it?”
“Tough on the outside, everything you want inside? Pretty much.” Hoagie says and a very relieved Janet lets out a sigh of relief.
“Good. I’m still coming over though.”
“But, what about back home? Aren’t you?”
“Daniel. It’s okay. The old building was... well it was soon to be decommissioned anyway.”
“Oh... and I suppose the little place out back...”
“Gone too.” Janet says.
“I see.” Hoagie says.
“Are you alright?” Zsebreza asks and he nods.
“Yeah it just... the place I grew up is gone. Even if there was a way back to Earth, a true way, then I still couldn’t got home again.”
“Everyone leaves home eventually. Not everyone can go back.” Janet says. “Still. Don’t think you’re keeping me away, just because I’ve gotten an idea about you young lady. I’m coming to make sure you’re treating my little boy right. If this is a woman’s galaxy, then this woman is making sure her boy is with the best in the galaxy. Understand me?!”
“Mom!”
“Daniel.” She says even as he gives one of his fellows a dirty look when they snort. They put their hands up and back away. “So fierce young man. Now...”
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
He simply watches the video feed as mother and son speak. Trying to get a grip on the body language of the alien creatures. There’s a great deal of play and movement around the Charbis Bee woman, the ears are a massive tell on the Ikiya-Mas girl and the Mnenmi seemed utterly passive, in control. The men seemed either comfortable or excited and things seemed to be matching up.
Of course Mother Eastman was an open book to his practised eye, worried, putting on a brave front but the kind of woman who had given up her life to raise a child properly and was now chasing him out of not only maternal duty, but a sense of emptiness now that her great struggle was finished.
He knew her story. A sad tale of how to people, neither with families, had found each other and then shortly as life seemed to be picking up for the happy ending, an accident had taken the father, leaving a single mother to mourn and raise a child alone. A woman with no really marketable skills beyond being a woman and having a sympathetic story. She had been hired and remained hired at a moderately successful Bistro for over a decade, even being held on because she had a teenage son at home working a part time to help out.
Sad story, but one that had given her and the boy spines of steel. Still, open book regardless and...
His communicator goes off and he checks it. It is a text from an unknown number.
-Enjoying the show? ~Minisi
His eyebrows climb up a little and he reconsiders his thoughts on the octopus alien. She’s clearly very aware of things, and likely has the implants required to communicate without being obvious. Or he’s looking at a body double. Either way, she’s tipped her hand for... some reason. Which is bothering him. Why did she reveal this?
There is no way to determine without further interaction. So he replies with a simple yes.
-Good, a voyeur who doesn’t even enjoy the show is just a bore.
Is she just mocking him? This seems to be more mockery than anything. So he asks a simple question.
-Why does it matter?
-It doesn’t. You’re a prickly one aren’t you?
-Yes, I am. Is there an issue?
-Not at all.
Well that’s not useful. Is she just poking him for entertainment? She still hasn’t moved at all beyond basic shows of amusement as mother and son make plans to get her to the station and the Charbis daughter in law is putting on a clearly fake show of protesting having the woman be brought into the hive.
A hand falls onto his shoulder and he jumps in his seat a little before turning to see a smiling, but old and withered face. “Can I help you?”
“I was just wondering if I could make use of the communication relays next. As entertaining as the last few months were, I do think I should give a proper warning to my approach. If only to see how the boy responds.”
“Do you think he will respond poorly?”
“Only if he’s changed far more than I’d expect. But who knows? The mystery is half the fun of life now, isn’t it?” The elderly man says. Observer Wu considers for a few moments. This man had broken into his personal office without setting off an alarm, without alerting the guards and all the while needing a cane and with his joints audibly creaking.
“If you tell me how you broke in Mister Koga, then I think I can accommodate you.”
“Oh that? Easy enough, follow me lad, I’ll show you where you need a few more eyes. Or lasers! Lasers are always fun. Not as much as a guard dog, but having a poor inu in the vents is just cruel no matter how much you dislike chihuahuas.”
“That was rather specific.”
“I was suppose it was wasn’t it? Anyways, this way young man.”
~First~ Last

first
Luna VI query: Set the source to the leaked files of the first reconnaissance operation of Irisa.
Certainly!
Luna VI query: What did Ryo do during the first hour of the war?
***
Ryo had already reached a state of full awareness after waking up, and yet he hadn't moved an inch, immersed in his inner world as he thought about what he and Elysira had done at night.
And what a wild night it was.
The way that she had skipped the journey to go straight for the finishing line had caught him unprepared. Still, with the mystery of their physical compatibility out of the way from the get-go, Ryo had been left with a lot of time to explore the other hiccups and perks of this interspecies endeavor.
From the occasional accident with her claws to the new possibilities her tail brought to the table, Ryo had enjoyed everything.
There was not an ounce of regret in him, but the memory of their last act lingered incessantly in his thoughts—a vivid Recollection of Elysira’s tail wrapping around his leg and letting silence prevail as his arm shyly enveloped her, allowing them to fall asleep side by side.
The one memory that held him in place, fearing their next interaction when the slightest of his movements would inevitably wake her up, mirroring what had happened all in the previous mornings.
What would she say?
Would she think that they are in a relationship now?
What would he do if the concept of casual hook ups didn't exist for the Irisians?
Ryo touched his face and shook his head, instantly deciding it was time to start his morning routine to distract him from those absurd thoughts.
The brain IO interface captured his intention, turning on the lights on the ceiling with maximum brightness, something that he was sure would wake her up at once given how sensitive to change all Irisians were.
And yet he was wrong.
Elysira’s head tilted away from the light as eyelids fluttered, but the only other thing she did before stopping moving was strengthening her grip on his leg quite a bit, making him realize that her tail had not let go of him the whole night.
Upon noticing how numb his leg felt, Ryo propelled his body upwards, intending to uncoil her tail from his leg and start his day. Hopefully, Elysira wouldn't mention what they did, and he too would be able to pretend it never happened.
However, the moment his upper body lifted from the ground and he got a full view of her body, he was unable to remove her tail from his leg, captivated by a simple but powerful sight.
With her hands inside the pockets, Elysira had used his jeans to restrain her claws, putting herself in a very uncomfortable position, likely afraid of hurting him during her sleep.
His eyes widened, dispersing his previous train of thought from existence. The hand that was supposed to be dealing with her tail moved toward Elysira's exposed neck instead, aiming to wake her up with a gentle touch.
And as if he had just perturbed the stillness of a calm lake with a stone, a barely perceptible ripple of yellow spread on her skin from the contact with his fingertips. It traveled through her neck, reaching the soft lines of her face, and even traveled down her long hair strands.
At the same time that it felt wrong to be able to take a peek at her emotions so easily, Ryo couldn't help but wonder—which other colors had the darkness stolen from him? While immersed in this question, Ryo kept caressing her neck until her eyes opened slowly, resetting all the back spots of her body at once as consciousness took control over instinct.
Elysira’s grip on his leg loosened when she realized she was overdoing it. Her gaze started scanning every inch of him, starting from the accidental scratches of her own making and unashamedly stopping at places she had not seen before.
Unbothered by her curiosity, he even removed some of the loose strands in front of her eyes and threw them behind her long ears to make her job easier, feeling some apprehension only when she lost interest and sought eye contact.
Traces of purple appeared around her black spots as she spoke. "What do you humans do after... what we did?"
Ryo winced, but his tone was gentle. "Silly girl!" He felt deep regret for how he had skipped the part of Irisian relationships in favor of politics when she was teaching him about her species. "It could be everything or nothing."
He expected some intense reaction from Elysira, but there wasn't a lot of emotion showing. As he searched her skin, he also realized he was unable to look at her the same way as before.
From seeing her small breasts, which he now knew for a fact fit on his hands, to the very memory of all evenness that he now was able to associate with the sheen her skin exhibited from certain angles, Ryo realized he had lost the ability to gauge her emotions without feeling a hint desire.
She noticed how long he was staring at her and a hint of yellow appeared. "I don't need everything, but nothing is not enough!"
How did Ryo fail to see that this conversation would inevitably happen when they were having fun at night?
"Oh!" He was unable to keep his mouth shut, which resulted in red and purple manifesting on her skin as he felt the pressure for a quick reply.
He had heard the Irisians speaking terms such as chosen, mate, and family, but Ryo didn't know much about this, and now was not looking like a good time for asking for clarification.
The translator would do its job in conveying his intention. But what would he say? Friends with benefits maybe? He gave up that one on the spot; he didn't consider their previous relationship a friendship, and somehow, he felt a dangerous desire to want more than that from her.
Under the pressure of his previous mistake, he told her the highest relationship he was willing to have without a care in the world for consulting his superiors. "Is girlfriend good for you?"
Elysira’s eyes widened as her skin maintained the same tones. But it lasted only a second before a golden hue took over, leaving little room for her black spots. "Wait, are you serious? I never thought you would consider anything more than being my exclusive pair."
"I am serious, but what's the difference?" Ryo instantly felt he could have gotten away with being just friends with benefits.
"Two differences." She took her clawed hands from the pockets of his jeans and pressed them against his neck in a fast but controlled movement. "One is implied trust." Her head approached him slower as if she would kiss him, but instead, her lips diverted toward his ears where she whispered, "And the other is a promise for the future."
"That seems alright."
As he said that, Elysira had already started taking little bites on his earlobe, her other hand joining around his neck while her tail was sneakily pushing the rest of her body on top of him.
"This will have to be quick, we-"
Ryo was about to give up the time they had for breakfast, when a powerful explosion shook the ground, causing the whole tent to vibrate.
Elysira’s pointy ears began to twitch and her body receded, trying to get of clue of what happened as she displayed purple. "I hear nothing."
"This was not far from here; I don't think it was a landslide." Ryo summoned a window with all the cameras outside and found nothing unusual, even with the infrared inspection.
Elysira could see what he was doing since they had never left the shared augmented space.
"Can we see what Amara is doing? She might know more than us."
He still was incapable of referring to her as his girlfriend even in his thoughts, but he still felt a hint of pride for her quick thinking. "Let's see."
He quickly summoned a live feed and promptly instructed the AI to go through the recordings of the whole night. "Nathan and that princess are still inside the tent. Time to go there."
Ryo wasted no time explaining, quickly standing up to begin the search for his underwear. The floor was still littered with paper sheets, and there were even some opened water bottles around, but he still found what he was looking for before pulling his jeans from under Elysira’s butt and getting dressed with haste.
He wore his shoes but didn't bother with his shirt and jacket, just taking his already loaded gun from the holster and getting some spare ammunition before heading outside cautiously.
"I'm going with you." She got out of the tent almost at the same time as him, proving that not needing clothes had its advantages.
"Stay close." He activated the infrared view mode and scanned the surroundings just to be sure, then hasted his steps towards Nathan's tent which was about forty meters ahead.
There was little he expected would go wrong on such a short journey, but Elysira’s ears began to twitch halfway through, prompting him to stop advancing. "Hear someone?"
"Something." She then used her tail to point uphill, in the direction where the rest of the group had set camp on the previous day. "I think it's a drone."
"Fuck, I hope you are wrong." He raised his 3D-printed revolver and felt like cursing more at the fact he didn't even have a proper pistol, pulling back the harmer and getting himself in front of Elysira.
Thanks to her acute hearing, when he heard the buzzing of the drone, his gun was already pointing in the right direction. Upon getting the first glimpse of the flying object and noticing how fast it was moving, he didn't hesitate to do a partial activation of combat mode.
The world slowed down for a moment, allowing him to see the device flying among the very few beams of blue light that made their way through the canopies. He didn't wait a single second and corrected his aim slightly to the left before pulling the trigger.
Bang!
The drone was torn to pieces and many parts fell about twenty-five meters away from them, at a distance that any explosives wouldn't hurt himself or Elysira.
When his eyes found her behind him, there was yellow and purple on her skin as she asked, "What if it was friendly?"
"The owner can send the bill up the chain for all I care." Ryo lowered the gun and did a full scan all around once more, only to find nothing again.
Her tail wrapped around his arm as all purple on her body disappeared, leaving only a hint of yellow. "Amara won't be happy if it was hers."
Just as Elysira spoke, a circular door opened on Nathan's tent, and Amara took a step outside with red filling her body.
Ryo pictured a scene of a princess complaining about her lost drone, but things only got more complicated instead.
Nathan emerged after her, and the pair began to argue loudly about what to do now that a war had broken out; Amara wanted to march uphill to join her guards, but Nathan held her by the tail when she was about to leave and prevented her for moving, saying it would be too dangerous.
Their argument turned into a messy mixture of the present situation with Amara sulking about a wasted night, which led Ryo to exchange a look of surprise with Elysira.
But their surprise only lasted a moment and Ryo decided he couldn't let those fools keep wasting valuable time.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
He had their attention now. "Please don't tell me you're mad because the plant lover couldn't get it up."
Under normal circumstances, Ryo had no doubt his assholish behavior would only instill shame and improve their cooperation.
However, he forgot to account that he was not wearing a shirt, leaving all his scratches exposed while Elysira was disheveled by his side, which caused Nathan's jaws to drop followed by Amara throwing an indignant gaze at Elysira and then at Nathan, who gave Ryo the feeling he might snap at any time.
"Why are you here?" Nathan's calm voice didn't match his clenched fist and rigid posture.
"Information. I want her to tell me what she knows about this war." Ryo had learned about the war by overhearing their previous argument.
Surprisingly, Amara was cooperative. "My brother's army found our position. They were not aware I was here with Nathan and ambushed the rest of my people and Zara; you destroyed their drone but if they saw us they might have a good reason to come here."
"Fuck!" He turned to Elysira and ordered. "Go back and gather my things. Take the essentials first, we are leaving."
Elysira used her tail to squeeze his arm in acknowledgment and rushed back. But when she had barely taken a few steps, she stopped as her ears moved. "More drones are coming!"
After alerting him, she ran to accomplish her task, leaving Ryo in the company of just Nathan and Amara.
"Isn't that great?" He grumbled to himself, but his voice carried loudly, obtaining the pair's attention as he raised his revolver again.
Knowing that the enemy was probably aware of their position, Ryo used infrared view mode to ensure they weren't using the drones as a distraction to pull off an ambush.
And that didn't seem to be the case when the first machine appeared, flying downwards in zigzag from the concentration of trees uphill.
Again Ryo used a partial activation of combat mode and aimed at the drone, yet this time more of them appeared, leaving the cover of the woods in groups of three until there were nine of them in total. But they didn't even try to get close this time, choosing to hover next to the canopies more than two hundred meters away from him, and assuming something akin to a structured formation.
This was extremely weird and enough of a reason for him to retreat a little, getting closer to his tent and taking cover behind a tree.
Nathan and Amara moved too, the botanist getting inside and returning with his gun while Amara's colors blended with his tent becoming hard to spot.
Assessing the new situation in an instant, Ryo concluded it would be better not to engage and retreat considering that those drones would be hard to take down at such distance. But things changed again quickly when the AI triggered a pop-up window, showing that several of the cameras he had set up in strategic places were capturing movement.
And what he was seeing now were several armed groups of Irisians heading towards their position, confirming Amara's supposition that the rebels were coming for them.
With the situation getting grimmer with every passing moment, Ryo thought of a possibility for what the drones might be doing, but his mind was still refusing to believe that the rebels could be as organized as his worst-case scenarios were giving them credit for.
To test this, he immediately tried to contact the space station through radio transmission, and since being found by the enemy was no longer an issue, he set the transmitter to maximum potency to validate his test.
Unable to establish a two-way connection.
He frowned even though that was not totally unexpected.
With only a few minutes at best before this place was filled with enemies, they would have to leave fast or they would be at the mercy of the enemy.
But first, there was something he wanted to say to Nathan, who now was using his tent for cover together with Amara. "Listen up, those fuckers are jamming our comms and they will be here at any time. Take the MLBCS and find a clearing to use it, I doubt they can interfere with the laser. Just don't forget that your immediate safety comes first or else you might not be among the living when the pod arrives."
Ryo and Nathan were technically enemies, but the last casualty in the war between Earth and Mars had happened several years in the past, ensuring that he had no reason to wish any harm for the botanist even though he didn't like him.
As for Amara, it was a little different. He hurried back to his tent without saying anything to her. And he did that not because he wished her harm, but simply because he didn't understand what she had at her disposal to offer any useful advice.
"Wait, what are you gonna do?" Nathan shouted from a distance.
With the adrenalin of seeing how many Irisians were coming helping his sincerity, he shouted back. "I'm not leaving the planet unless mission control finds a way to save Ely too."
After that, Nathan and Amara disappeared from his mind as he took cover behind his tent, slamming his hand against the foldable fabric many times to get Elysira's attention. "Hurry up, we can't stay here any longer."
She left immediately after, struggling to maintain balance as she used a hand plus her tail to carry his backpack, while her gun threatened to tumble from her gasp in her other hand.
And besides, one thing that Ryo’s eyes were immediately drawn towards was the clothes she was wearing—his clothes. While her legs were still exposed, his jacket still covered a bit more than her hips, loosely engulfing her slender frame like a billowing sail.
"I put the food and water in your backpack." She let go of the heavy item right over his feet as she put the gun on the ground and lifted her arms for him to recover his jacket and t-shirt. "You can get dressed while the tent folds."
He might have allowed her to keep the jacket if not for it being an inconvenience to her, so he just took it, making the first time he saw her wearing clothes a very short experience.
"No time for that, it won't fold with all the paper you left on the ground." He said as he swiftly slipped his arms into the sleeves of the jacket and zipped it up in one smooth movement.
Ryo was already considering which path they would take to flee when he noticed something terrible—Elysira’s skin had just been filled with gray as tiny black spots began to appear and disappear as if rain on the sand of a desert.
"What's it now?" He asked, trying to hide how unprepared he was to deal with this.
"Nothing has changed." Elysira averted her eyes. "I'm a burden to you just as I was to Amara. If I had-"
"Oh, shut up and quit the self-pity!" Ryo realized he was being too harsh, but still went on to finish it. "The paper is our mistake and I'm staying because I like you. This simple. Now get your gun and use your goddam camouflage, just like that princess is doing."
Ryo felt awful after saying this, and Elysira seemed quite taken about as she stared at him with wide eyes.
A moment later, however, she bent over and took the gun from the ground, her exterior blending quite well with the surroundings.
Ryo felt bad for her, but now there was no time to talk. "We run now, let's go."
The sound of his own steps was all he heard as they were putting some distance from the tent, making it so that he had to check on Elysira every couple of steps he took to ensure she was following him.
It was only when he heard some gunshots from far behind that he felt her claws tugging at his jacket from behind. "I hope Nathan is like you."
***
This was an account based on what Ryo did during the first hour of the war. The previous narrative is based on the events of the morning of the twentieth day of the exploratory mission of Irisa. According to your current settings, no queries will be suggested.
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Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. I grew up as a military brat, so my childhood memories are a blur of packing, unpacking, and getting settled. It had been seven years since we arrived, and nothing but the grace of God would make me move again. A few years ago, my father got orders to station at a base in the middle of the Mohave. I was only seventeen then, but after a few dozen screaming matches, I decided to strike out on my own a little early. I got a part-time job at the cafe, which was enough to rent a little run-down shack a couple of blocks from downtown. As far as I was concerned, I was living the dream—serving coffee a few hours a week and spending the rest of my time hanging out with friends, listening to music, and drinking.
That particular morning started the same as any other. I woke up around noon with a text from Mark to meet me at the cafe. Took me about two hours to get up and head over. The sun had just begun its descent as I pushed the door to the cafe open, the bell above tinkling softly. The sound bothered me a little bit, but I couldn’t tell why. It seemed to ring a little louder than I was expecting, and gave me this strange drilling sensation inside my head.
I ignored the feeling as the smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries washed over me. I saw Mark and Jamie already sat at our usual spot. Mark looked up as I approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Alex. Sarah should be here soon."
“So what's on the docket today?” I asked as I sat down, stealing a bear claw off Jamie's plate and taking a large bite before he had the chance to protest.
Mark’s excitement was almost palpable. He was always the one with the big ideas and crazy schemes, which I honestly appreciated. They got us into trouble more often than not, but it beat day drinking in the Walmart parking lot like everyone else our age.
"Alright, check this out," Mark said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I was talking to my cousin who works for the county. He told me about this old, abandoned food processing factory just outside of town. They used to can peaches there."
I gave him a skeptical look. "That’s your idea? Old, canned peaches?"
"No, idiot," he scoffed. "They left behind a ton of nitrates and phosphates. I’ve been doing some reading, and we can use them to make fireworks. I was up all night figuring it out and putting these together." He subtly opened his backpack to reveal at least a dozen PVC pipes fitted on both ends.
"Now that's what I’m talking about," I said, grinning.
Sarah walked in, catching the tail end of our conversation. "Sorry I’m late, I had a breakout and had to stop by the pharmacy. Upped my allergy meds. I fucking hate pollen," she said as I scooted over to make room for her on the bench.
"Is there anything you aren't allergic to?" I laughed.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring my question. "So, what's the plan for today?"
Mark, Jamie and I exchanged cheeky glances. "Well," I started, "let’s just hope you’re not allergic to peaches."
We finally managed to pry the side door of the factory off, which broke free from the hinges and smashed against the floor. Stepping inside, the air was thick and rancid as we bounced the beams of our flashlights around the packaging floor.
"We should split up," Mark suggested. "Alex, you and Sarah check out the storage rooms for the chemicals. Jamie and I will find the control room and see if we can get the power back on."
All of us nodded as we went our separate ways. Sarah and I wandered down the dark hallways, kicking open doors and looking for anything that looked vaguely like chemicals. The corridors were dark and damp, with black mold snaking along the walls like veins.
The first few rooms we checked were empty, filled only with dust and the remnants of long-abandoned equipment. Each door creaked as we pushed it open, revealing more decay and desolation.
As we moved further down the hallway, the mold seemed to become more aggressive, spreading in thick, dark patches along the walls and floors. The air grew heavier, making it harder to breathe. We kicked open another door, our flashlights revealing more of the same—nothing useful.
"This place is a bust," Sarah muttered,
"Let's keep looking," I replied, though I was starting to feel the same way. "There has to be something."
We continued down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the silence. As we approached the end of the hall, something caught my eye. One door stood out, covered in black, creeping mold that seemed to pulse and writhe. Tendrils of fungus snaked out from the edges, reaching out into the hallway.
"Sarah, look at this," I said.
She turned to see what I was pointing at and her eyes widened. "That’s... different."
We approached the door cautiously as the tendrils moved and swayed.
With a deep breath, we each grabbed one side of the door and pulled. It resisted for a moment before giving way, the mold snapping and tearing as we forced it open. The smell that hit us was overpowering, a mix of rot and decay that made my eyes water.
Inside, our flashlights revealed a horrifying sight. At the back of the room sat several pallets with dozens of boxes of peaches each. But it was what grew from these boxes that will haunt my nightmares till my dying day.
The entire back wall was consumed by a towering fungal mass. Thick, fleshy stalks jutted out from the base, climbing nearly to the ceiling. The surface of the fungus glistened with a slimy, wet sheen, appearing almost like rotting flesh under our flashlight beams. Each stalk was covered in a mottled, sickly green and yellow hue, with patches of black mold that seemed to pulse in the dim light.
Interwoven within this horrific sight were bulbous growths, each one throbbing rhythmically, as if with a heartbeat of its own. They resembled obscene, overgrown tumors, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Long, sinewy tendrils extended from the main mass, creeping over the boxes and along the floor like the fingers of some malevolent creature, seeking out any life to ensnare.
The tendrils near the door twitched, slowly inching their way toward us as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores, glimmering in the light like tiny stars, each one a potential harbinger of decay and death.
"Oh my god," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of our own breathing. "What is that thing?"
We stood there, frozen in shock and disgust, before I slammed the door shut.
"Let's get the hell out of here," I said.
We hurried back down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. The lights in the facility flickered on, casting a blinding white light. I heard a bubbling, groaning noise emanate from behind the fungal door, sending a wave of nausea through my body.
We met back up with Mark and Jamie in the main area and quickly told them what we saw.
"Yo, that sounds sick," Jamie exclaimed. "We should blow it up. I found the chemicals in the control room and these bad boys are ready to go," he said, holding up a pipe bomb.
"Yeah," Mark agreed, his eyes alight with excitement. "We'd be doing the world a favor, getting rid of that thing."
Sarah shook her head, her face pale. "No way. I'm not doing this. That thing... It's not normal. We need to get out of here and call someone who knows what they're doing."
Jamie frowned. "Come on, Sarah. Don't be a buzzkill. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something epic."
"Epic?" Sarah snapped. "That thing is dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with. I'm not risking my life for some stupid joke."
Mark stepped in with a grin. "Alright, let's all calm down. If you’re scared you can just let the men handle it.”
Sarah crossed her arms. "Fine, but I'm staying here."
"Suit yourself," Jamie said, shrugging. "But we're not leaving without taking care of that thing."
"Alright, let's do this," Mark said, looking at Jamie and me. "We'll be quick. Sarah, stay here and keep an eye out.”
The hallway looked completely different in the fluorescent lighting. I could see now that each vein of fungus emanated from that single door, like a spiral portal threatening to suck us in.
"Let's make this quick," I whispered, glancing back at Jamie and Mark. "We light the bomb, throw it in, and get the hell out of here."
Jamie nodded, holding the pipe bomb tightly in his hand. "Ready when you are."
We reached the door, and the tendrils of fungus seemed even more aggressive, writhing and pulsing as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores.
"On three," I whispered, gripping the edge of the door. "One... two... three."
We yanked the door open, the mold snapping and tearing as it gave way. The smell of rot and decay hit us again, making my eyes water. The monstrous fungal mass loomed before us, its bulbous growths throbbing rhythmically.
Jamie lit the fuse and threw the bomb as hard as he could inside. It struck one of the orbs, which burst, shooting a fine white mist into the air.
"Run!" I shouted, slamming the door shut. We turned and sprinted down the hallway. The explosion sounded behind us, the shockwave lifting me off my feet and sending me tumbling to the ground.
Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. My parents were in the army, so we moved a lot, but now I'm staying put. I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small headache.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a doughnut off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Are YOU guys feeling ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a maroon off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Not really. Are YOU guys feeling Ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a piercing migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a bagel off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“What's going on?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m scared.”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s fine, Sarah. Just take a seat,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a splitting migraine.
As I slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie, I noticed Sarah outside, fixated on a bird suspended in mid-flight. I went out to see her.
"Are you seeing this?" she asked, her voice tinged with astonishment.
"Yeah," I replied nonchalantly. "That happens all the time. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"What the hell do you mean, 'Am I feeling okay?'!" she screamed. "That bird is frozen mid-air, and you don't think anything weird is going on?"
Her yelling took me aback. I didn't understand her alarm, so I shrugged it off and joined Mark inside. As we began planning our nightly excursion to the peach factory, Sarah burst through the door, screaming, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
"That's odd," I mused, my brow furrowed in confusion before we shrugged it off and resumed our scheming.
The day after, I met Mark again at the cafe. This rhythm had become our existence: meetings by day, adventures by night at the old peach plant. That evening followed the familiar pattern; we reveled in the thrill of hurling pipe bombs into that small enclosed room.
This routine had completely engulfed our lives. Day after day at the cafe, night after night at the factory—it seemed as though this cycle was all we had ever known. Reflecting on it, I couldn't remember any other way of life.
However, one thing increasingly disturbed me—the ringing of the doorbell at the cafe's entrance. Each time I entered, the sound seemed sharper, more grating. Focusing on it brought a searing pain to my head, like a needle drilling through my skull. Yet, despite the agony, I found myself obsessing over it, the sound gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
One day, driven to the brink by this incessant ringing, I decided to confront it head-on. I stood by the door, letting the bell chime repeatedly. Each ring sliced through my mind, but I persisted, sweat beading on my forehead, teeth clenched in torment.
As the pain crescendoed, reality shattered. I woke to the blaring of a fire alarm, not the quaint doorbell I had imagined. The cafe was engulfed in chaos. The hallway was consumed by a sprawling fungal mass, its tendrils creeping along the walls.
In the dim, flickering light, I saw Jamie, or what was left of him. Half of his skull was missing, the fungus attached grotesquely to his exposed brain, pulsating with each eerie beat of his fading heart. Mark was there too, seemingly unharmed physically, but trapped in a delusion, his eyes glazed over, a smile playing on his lips as the fungus encased him.
Sarah lay collapsed by the fire alarm, her hand still on the lever. She had managed to pull it before succumbing to the spores that now clung to her body.
The tendrils that had enveloped me snapped violently, each break releasing a sickening crack that echoed through the eerie silence of the hallway. An outline of my body remained imprinted in the fungal mass, a mold from which I had desperately broken free.
Gritting my teeth against the pain and horror, I scrambled to Mark and Sarah. Mark was less entangled, lost in his fungal-induced stupor. I grabbed him under the arms, his body limp but alive, and dragged him across the floor. The fungus resisted, stretching like sinew before tearing away from him with wet, ripping sounds.
Sarah was heavier, her body weakened but still fighting. I clasped her wrists, pulling with all my strength. The fungus clung to her, tendrils winding up her arms like ivy. With a final, determined yank, the last of the tendrils snapped, freeing her. We left behind fragments of the monstrous growth clinging to her clothes.
Together, we staggered out into the night air, away from the suffocating enclosure. The cool air hit our faces, harsh yet cleansing. Behind us, the fire alarm continued to blare into the night. I fumbled with my phone, hands shaking, to dial the emergency number. The call went through, and within minutes, the sound of sirens cut through the stillness of the night, growing louder as help approached.
The next few days were a blur. I remember fading in and out of consciousness as nurses pumped antifungals directly into my IV, their faces blurring into the sterile environment. Once we were somewhat cognizant, the police wanted answers. One by one, we were interviewed, but we gave them nothing. I still don’t know what the exact penalty is for manufacturing explosives and using them to destroy a building, but I’m guessing it’s not community service. Jamie was still missing, and they hadn’t found any sign of him or his body. I tried to hide my tears as I knew he was already long gone.
After a few weeks, I was finally cleared for visitors and got to see Sarah again. She told me that after the explosion, she ran but couldn’t leave us behind. She came back, only to see us being consumed by the fungus. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to free us as she felt the oppressive spores take her under. She fought back and managed to pull the fire alarm before succumbing again. The doctors told her that her allergy medication gave her some resistance to the fungus; otherwise, she might have been a goner.
Mark was never the same. We never talked about what happened, and after trying once and him flipping out, I figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. That summer, he moved to upstate New York to work in his dad’s business. I haven’t seen him since. That fall, Sarah started college at Savannah State. I still call her every now and again, but it’s not like it used to be.
Despite all that happened, I’m not moving again. I’m happy here, and if it’s up to me, I’ll die in this little town. I still work at the cafe, as a manager now. On weekends, I come in and just sit at the booth we all used to share.
I still think about Jamie from time to time. I wonder if he's dead or still stuck in his delusion, picturing the four of us sitting at our table, talking, laughing, and passing the time. Sometimes, when the cafe is empty and the light is just right, I can almost see him there, his smile frozen in that moment before everything went wrong.
The cafe grows quieter each day, the hum of life fading into an eerie stillness. My skin feels different, as if the air itself whispers secrets I can't quite grasp. The itching that started as a minor annoyance has intensified, becoming a constant torment. I scratch at lesions that have begun to form on my arms and chest, red and raw, with patches of green spreading beneath the surface. I’ve started to wear long sleeves to cover my arms and a mask to hide my purpling lips.
Some nights, when closing, as I sit alone in the dim light of the cafe, the itching becomes unbearable. I claw at the lesions, feeling a dampness beneath my skin. Sometimes, when I cough, I could swear I see tiny spores hanging in the air, reminiscent of the bursting nodules growing on the stalks of the monster.
Occasionally, I hear the bell ring and the door open, but no one is there. I look outside into the empty night and see nothing. This went on for weeks, becoming more frequent. But one night, the door opened, and I saw Jamie standing there, the picture of health. I went to embrace him and noticed my lesions were gone too. It was almost as if we had never gone to the peach factory. It was suddenly morning, and the light shone through the cafe. For the first time in forever, we were happy. We talked about nothing, passing the time.
After what felt like hours, he told me it was time to go. But his mouth wasn’t moving—I felt like I could read his thoughts, and he could read mine. We stood up as I took one last look at the cafe and headed off with him, back to the peach factory.
As we walked, a strange calmness settled over me. I remember feeling that I wanted to ask if he had talked to Mark or Sarah, and wondered how they were doing. But deep down, somehow, I could feel their presence and I knew they were doing just fine. The sun was bright, the air crisp. The itching had vanished completely, replaced by an inexplicable craving for the sweetness of ripe peaches. Jamie and I shared a silent understanding, a bond deeper than any words could convey.
The factory loomed ahead, its doors wide open as if inviting us in. The familiar scent of peaches and something else—something earthy and ancient—filled the air. We stepped inside, side by side, feeling at home for the first time in ages.
The last thing I remember before the darkness took over was the feeling of the soft, warm peach flesh in my hand, and Jamie’s voice in my head saying, "Welcome home."

You can see from my profile I left the other forum years ago because it is toxic af. I found out I was adopted as an adult and it went from hell from there. Now that I can get this off my chest, I am tired of both birth moms and adoptive parents.
Birth moms are not selfless. Like wtf do people keep praising my birth mom for choosing life and being selfless? My birth mom is the most selfish person ever! She could not keep her legs close to her brother in law and got pregnant with me. She hid it and is very upper class conservative. These women can create babies but don't want to step up and raise them. When I see people praise birth moms for giving their babies up I am like wtf. Why are we praising this? I only feel for birth moms who did not have a choice and had their kids taken. The birth moms who choose this crap are awful, lazy, selfish human beings who hide being this marketing adoption crap. Sorry to say this but real moms step up and take care of their baby not give them away. My birth mom could've kept and took care of me, she was too lazy and chose not to. I am happy my adoption was closed because in my eyes why are we rewarding these women for wanting an open adoption and seeing their baby when they could not even step up to parent. It's like these birth moms want to have their cake and eat it too. They want to be fun mom and make excuses why they can't parent. I am not talking about the parents who truly try and cant parent but the ones who can and don't even try.
And adoptive parents.. Gosh they are just as bad. My adoptive parents are fucking awful. They lied to me and didn't tell me I was adopted. They said they made a promise with my birth mom for me to never find out. They adopted because they could not have their own bio kid. Like seriously, why do adoptive parents have the same damn story? Boo hoo you're infertile, who tf cares. I am sorry, but there are plenty of kids who you know want or need someone to adopt them. Why do these people always bypass them? Nobody needs a baby My adoptive parents are the most selfish entitled people ever! My adoption was shady af with a shady ass agency who only cared about money. My bio dad never knew about me. He died not knowing I exist. My birth mom and adoptive parents thought it was a good idea to keep this a secret and my adoptive parents actually said its better not to tell my bio dad. Why? Because he could come and take me away from them or fight for custody. WTF is this crap!! My adoptive parents were so desperate for a baby, any baby they would do this shit and keep it from me. They were happy my bio dad did not know. They were happy they did not tell me. They were mad at me for finding out I was adopted.
My adoptive parents paid a shit load of money to buy I mean adopt me. And no adoptive parents are not doing anything amazing. Raising a baby is not amazing. That's your damn job. They are not special.
All of this crap is ridiculous.
And the myth of these poor struggling birth moms who can't parent due to poverty is a lie along with amazing adoptive parents. Both sides are trash expect the birth moms who have no choice. Why can't birth moms rethink about having sex and own up to their crap and why can't infertile adoptive parents just not adopt or adopt kids in need? Why lie?
End Rant. All my experiences and opinions.

Link to AO3
chapters 1&2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
The Academy looked normal enough from the distance but blew Gentry’s mind when she finally entered it. First of all, the way in lay through a massive winter garden full of the most luxurious botanical collection she’s ever seen. Not only that, but it seemed to be arranged in a way that offered spaces for hanging out as well as paths in and out. Here and there, G noticed little nooks with people’s voices coming from them and small murmuring streams gleamed in the sun that blazed through the transparent walls and roof. This place looked magical and invited to stay, enjoy the refreshing coolness and peace of mind. But Gentry had a good enough rest in her communal room the night before and was eager to start working on her first assignment that the System had spat out with a congratulating letter. Figuring out the controls of her new wristcomm was simple enough.
DEAR GENTRY!
WE ARE DELIGHTED TO INFORM YOU THAT YOU ARE THE FIRST CONTESTANT TO CLEAR ALL CHALLENGES AND OBTAIN THE STATUS OF AN ASHTAPADAN NEWCOMER! YOUR MEDICAL DATA HAS BEEN ANALYSED AND FOUND ACCEPTABLE.
IN THE ATTACHMENT TO THIS LETTER YOU WILL FIND A LIST OF RULES, RECOMMENDATIONS AND IDEAS THAT WILL DEFINITELY HELP YOU IN THE FIRST WEEKS IN OUR BEAUTIFUL CITY BUT WE STRONGLY RECOMMEND FINDING A BUDDY THAT WOULD BE YOUR MAIN GUIDE AND POTENTIALLY A NEW GREAT FRIEND! IT CAN BE ANY CITIZEN OR A MORE EXPERIENCED NEWCOMER.
YOUR CURRENT POINTS: 0
WHY NOT START EARNING SOME WITH YOUR FIRST ASSIGNMENT?
START ANY BEGINNER COURSE AT THE ACADEMY AND KEEP YOUR ATTENDANCE RATE OVER 80% — WORTH 50 POINTS
(OPTIONAL) FIND SOMEBODY WHO IS WILLING TO BECOME YOUR BUDDY — WORTH 20 POINTS
Without stopping to check if the vending machines offered anything good, G made her way through the dreamy garden and entered the inner yard that looked just like everything here: nothing too eye-catching at first glance but secrets hidden everywhere.
One thing she had already noticed was that most of the people had another piece of technology on their bodies besides the comm on their wrists: a sort of extendable visor that some of them kept engaged at all times. Those who were focused on the screen had a comical look on their faces, a thousand-mile stare, eyes wide even as they were talking to each other or going about their business. It was unclear yet why they would engage the screen for so long though. No one needed this much time to read a notification or check a map.
Take a group of young students by the fountain, for example. They seemed deep in conversation with each other yet their pupils didn’t focus on the person in front, but on the translucent screen over the top part of their faces. Was it some kind of virtual reality helmet?
If so, G needed one, too.
Perhaps she’d be able to make new friends this way.
There was something else that caught Gentry’s eye. Despite her initial disappointment about the severe lack of male hotness in the streets, people of both sexes seemed to really care about their appearance. Even those who probably weren’t naturally stunning were very interesting to look at not least because of the crazy fashion sense everyone here had. Never before had G seen so much variety in what everyone wore: countless variations on different national garments, some looking very traditional, like something one could see in a theatre, some — futuristic uniforms straight out of a sci-fi movie. It didn’t seem like anyone was concerned with gender norms here, too. At least in when it came to the outfits.
G hoped she didn’t look like a creepy stalker when her gaze lingered on a pair of very nicely shaped legs stretching from underneath a plaid skirt that belonged to a young man in the group sat by the edge of the water. A pair of snow-white knee-highs, flat loafers and neat raven hair with some blue streaks completed the image. His clothes fit him very well and weren’t inappropriate in the least: something an old money university student would wear.
A female student that is.
And he wasn’t alone. Here and there, among more conventionally dressed people, there were people wearing all sorts of things: a crazy mix of goth-like apparel but barefoot, men and women with heads covered with scarves, people in strange jewelery that looked like it weighed a ton and so on. Most importantly, no one seemed to care what the others looked like.
Was it paradise? Looks like the demo didn’t lie: it was heaven on earth.
The young man in the middle of the student gaggle caught her staring after all. With a dazzling smile, he waved in her direction as if they were great friends, and G waved back, face heating, hoping there wasn’t anyone behind her this tease was actually waving at. Thank god his shoes weren’t heeled, otherwise she would definitely have a heart attack right here, in the middle of the common area, on her first day.
Did he notice her ogling his legs? Judging by the giggles of his friend's entourage, they all did. The young flirt covered his mouth, eyes wide in mock indignation and pulled his knees in, as if hiding them from the improper attention, getting even more laughter from the rest of the company. G averted her eyes and tried to calm her breathing as she was on her way through the yard again, but before they all disappeared from her field of view, she noticed the coquette stretch his legs again and fall back on a friend of his, embracing the lucky man’s neck in an affectionate gesture, already forgetting G existed.
There was no way she wasn’t going to make some pretty boy do the same for her. Forget the assignment, put that in the list of her top priorities!
At first, Gentry was lost when she failed to find any kind of class schedule and there was no one to ask at the reception desk.
Why have a reception desk if nobody’s on duty?
Soon, however, it occurred to her that there was no schedule: each room within the wide marble corridors had a small display with a handwritten message scribbled on it.
Bachata for beginners
Product engineering (Tuesday class cancelled)
Colloidal chemistry (revision today)
None of these were the Communications course that Jey was talking about, but the variety definitely made G’s eyebrows go up.
Was she just supposed to barge into any class and sign up? Did she have to sign up later if she liked the subject? Was it ok to choose any?
After some wandering around, too scared to just walk in uninvited or ask others for directions, she finally stumbled across the door saying:
Communication & decision making course (Newcomers welcome)
With the desks arranged in a horseshoe and the people of various ages that were also apparently Newcomers, it all seemed comfortably casual. Everyone was chatting as she walked in, paying G no mind so she busied herself with the wristcomm that dinged at exactly the right time to save her the embarrassment of looking for a desk.
Would you like to enroll in this course? Scroll down to read the description.
Was this damn thing a spying device? Did it just know which room she was in? Jey didn’t joke when she said the little thing was going to be her primary aid!
“Are you looking for somewhere to sit?” called a young red-haired woman at one of the paired desks. “Here, this one is free.” She had the auglasses on, like everyone else, but they were off, showing her lively face and a pair of sharp green eyes.
“Thanks,” G said, gratefully taking the offer. “I’m new here, don’t know how things work yet.”
“It’s alright, the course is very engaging, you’ll love it.” — the woman held out a hand — “I’m Sereen, what’s your name?”
G shook the warm palm. “It’s Gentry. And by new I mean I’m new to Ashtapada, not just the course. Literally arrived yesterday.”
“Really?” — S looked surprised — “Everything must be very confusing!”
“You have no idea,” G smiled. “I’m glad someone understands. Everyone’s friendly but acts as if giant mechanical dogs in the streets and a moss garden in the lobby are the most normal things ever.”
“Don’t worry, I was just like you when I first arrived, you’ll get the hang of it soon.”
“Hope so! Is that the lecturer?”
“Shhh...”
Just like everything else in Ashtapada, the lecture started out normal enough only to unfold into something completely alien to how things were normally done.
Apparently, the Communications course involved learning rationality, debating, logic, etiquette and god knew what else. It was supposed to give the future citizens tools to, well, communicate. G was given a booklet with some ground rules for beginners that included entries that sounded like something Sun Tzu would say if he studied debating instead of warcraft.
“The purpose of any argument is not to win it and not to change the other disputant’s mind. It’s to find the truth.”
“Always argue in good faith.”
“Don’t attack your opponent.”
“If attacked, dismiss the attack as if it didn’t happen.”
Well, hopefully, it only meant verbal attacks! G knew too well that when it came to physical violence, it was hard to ignore it.
Most of the rules looked straightforward enough, some were confusing.
“Seek challenge to your convictions. Avoid echo chambers.”
“Don’t seek being right.”
“Be mindful of your audience including yourself.”
“Avoid “Empty arguments” that don’t bring everyone closer to the goal of finding the truth.”
The lecturer, a willowy man of about sixty that drowned in his tweed jacket, started the class with a bit of small talk with the regulars after distributing the booklets to all first-timers. He made sure to give it to G face down so that his photo under the “About the author” title didn’t go unnoticed. He also made most of the “talk” part himself.
“I never took part in a debate,” G told Sereen, who was patiently waiting for the class to begin. “And never seen anything like these rules. Is it actually useful?”
“Oh, believe me, professor Poe will be ecstatic to talk to you about them. He can’t not start discussing his subject at the slightest provocation. Look.” — she raised her hand — “Professor, how was your weekend?”
The man wearily smiled. “That might seem like a meaningless question, Sereen, but it’s actually very much related to the topic we are going to cover today.”
“See?” — S raised her eyebrows with a suppressed smile. G giggled. This promised to be interesting.
“Our friend Sereen is a very polite person, isn’t she?” — Poe smiled at the class but his eyes glided over everyone’s faces, gaze turned inwards like he was reading an invisible text written on the walls. “But as kind as she is, I don’t think she’s actually interested in how my weekend went. Small talk is just a social custom we engage in to strengthen our social relations. Why don’t we just start a day by saying “Hi! I value our relationship and would like to fulfill my societal role!” to everyone we know? I would definitely prefer THAT over the small talk! He-he!”
The audience laughed politely. The guy seemed alright.
“However, just as we use different tools to fulfill this role in different contexts, so can the context of a logical problem steer our thinking towards a rational, that is, right, and an irrational, that is, wrong, answer.”
“Well, that’s not a given,” Gentry mumbled under her breath but it went unnoticed by S, who was already immersed in the lecture.
“Consider the famous René Descartes’s quote "Cogito, ergo sum". Who can translate it from Latin?” — the board behind the thin, almost transparent man glowed, displaying the words.
“Is it really a Beginner’s course?” G asked Sereen in a low voice but her companion was already raising her hand, together with a dozen other students.
“I think, therefore I am,” she said after a curt nod of the lecturer’s permission.
“Very good,” he continued, pleased. “I taught you well. Those of you who attend my lectures regularly are familiar with the notion of solipsism, which states that the only thing we can be sure about is our own thoughts.”
Gentry looked at S with raised eyebrows.
If this is an introductory course, what was the advanced like?
Sereen didn’t seem to perplexed. She was fully following the thread.
“However,” professor Poe said. “I am going to challenge that notion by demonstrating that we can’t trust our own mind when it comes to perceiving reality.”
He looked at the audience with a quizzical eye, and pointed at Gentry with a long bony finger “You, new girl. I want you to close your eyes.”
Why her?
Gentry was only happy to hide behind her eyelids. No doubt the whole room was now staring at her.
Through the blood rushing in her ears, she heard the old man’s voice, “Who was sitting beside you before you closed your eyes?”
“My new friend Sereen,” G answered and heard a little gasp of appreciation from the woman.
“So you know she existed as long as you two were whispering behind my back. However, now that you can’t see or hear her. How do you know she exists?”
“Well, I can reach with my hand and touch her,” Gentry said, demonstrating.
“Yes, this is what most people answer,” Poe said. “You can open your eyes now. But let me ask you this: how would you know it was her, an not some other person that took her place?”
Gentry’s intuition was right: everyone was staring, as if waiting for her answer.
“Well, I suppose— ”
“Hush, it was a rhetorical question,” the professor cut her off. “The correct answer is that you can’t know that. We think we can trust our senses or at least our thoughts, but this is also false. Everyone, look out of the window.”
Everyone did.
The day was as fine as Gentry was annoyed.
What did this pops think of himself?
“I’d ask what you see, but I already know the answer,” he went on. “All of you would say “the sky”. And all of you would be wrong, because sky doesn’t exist. We only see the endless emptiness of the outer space, but perceive it as a blue dome. It’s an illusion, a phantom, born out of our collective unconscious.”
Sereen whispered, lost in the lecture, “Ah, yes, Carl Jung.”
What?
Was it supposed to be obvious?
“But listen to this,” he continued, voice booming like a demiurge’s in the completely silent room. “Listen to this. How many words is it? Listentothis. Our common sense says it’s three words while in reality it’s just a string of sounds I an producing with my mouth. I am literally making you hallucinate the spaces between the words I’m saying. With knowing that our perception is so flawed, how can we know that we even know how to think?”
“I’m sorry, professor, I disagr...” G started but got struck down by his serrated gaze.
“I’ll invite questions at the end, young miss,” he chopped out.
Sereen’s eyes were sympathetic. It looked like most if not all of professor Poe’s students had learned not to interrupt him.
He went on, “Anyway, the fact that you even understand what I am saying is in itself incredible and shouldn’t be possible.”
“But it IS possible, right?” G whispered to Sereen. “I mean, aren’t we understanding this as he speaks?”
“PLEASE refrain from talking unless asked!” professor Poe roared.
Impressive lung capacity for such a frail human being!
G begrudgingly did as she was told. The guy seemed to be enjoying this power trip a bit too much to her taste.
“Now, since most of you,” he put some emphasis on the word to shut up another pair of whispering students. “Most of you think you comprehend my words, you must know that there is a way to tell that something is real, even though we can’t rely on our senses for perception. I’m giving you a minute to discuss with your partners what it might be.”
G considered it. She and Sereen exchanged equally confused glances.
Like a dutiful student, S started summarising Poe’s arguments but Gentry listened with only half an ear. She felt that behind all this over-thinking was a clear and simple answer.
She watched the professor walk along the aisles, tuning into one or another conversation before leaving each with a smug head shake of disapproval.
What was there to think about? Even if they didn’t see the world precisely as it was, something was definitely real, right? The chair she felt under her buttocks, the air around, the low murmur of the students. The annoying professor that… looked a little too translucent.
Gentry waited for the man to approach their desks and tune into Sereen’s musings. As he came so near they could reach out and touch him, Gentry did just that.
To her utter shock, her hand went through the old jacket and sent a wave of static over the professor’s figure, his whole form glitching and flickering.
Professor Poe was a hologram!
Unable to help herself, Gentry said, “No wonder you don’t think anything is real, Professor, you are hardly real yourself!”
The whole roomful of people stared, transfixed, at the surreal scene of a student’s arm disappearing into the teacher’s abdomen.
Gentry looked back at Sereen in search of support.
Was it laughter in her eyes?
Poe’s blood drained from his face, the mouth slacked open, twitching as if trying to form some words, but none came out.
Sereen chimed in, “You never told us you were a simulation, Professor.”
“Out!” Poe gritted lowly so that no one really heard him.
“I’m sorry?” G asked, innocently.
“Out of my class!” he exploded, jumping out of Gentry’s reach with an enraged grimace. “I am as real as you are!”
G stood up and looked at her hand then back at Professor Poe.
How much rage could storm in those watery eyes?
Then, she winked at her new friend.
“Let’s go then, shall we?” she said.
Sereen looked lost for a second, her eyes darting pack and forth between Gentry and Poe. Then, her gaze seemed to cloud a little, as if she retreated into her own head, but when she resurfaced, she nodded with a mischievous smile.
Both young women left the room, the classmates’ sympathetic silence and Poe’s angry seething seeing them off.
***
“What a way to start my first day,” Gentry said. “My hands are still trembling a bit.”
She and S were calming their nerves in the green winter garden, the soothing sound of the little running streamlet at their feet a welcome distraction.
“Believe it or not, his course is actually quite useful,” Sereen laughed. “Who would have thought the old Poe is actually not human? I guess we never thought of poking him in the stomach before. This is going to be the talk of the Academy for the next month or so!”
“Is it? I feel bad now. I guess I’m not getting any points for attending this lecture, right?” — Gentry checked her wristcomm — “It says “zero progress” and something else… ad.. Honi… adhonim…”
Sereen laughed, “Yeah, you adhominem’ed good old Poe, no wonder you got zero credit!”
“What does it mean?”
“You’ve seen the rules of learning and discourse, right?” S said. “There are no-nos, things that aren’t allowed, especially when it comes to Rationality classes and the like. Ad Hominem means an attack on the speaker, not their argument. It isn’t exactly what you did, but I guess it’s the closest thing!”
“Ad Hominem, huh,” G said. “Well, I guess I deserve it then. Thanks for standing by me.”
If it wasn’t for Sereen, G wasn’t sure she would be going to return to the Academy any time soon!
“You just chose a wrong course as your first class, G,” — no doubt about that! — “But another lecturer who works here is much more open-minded and he also teaches Rationality. I think you’ll enjoy him more than our old Poe. His next class is in a couple of days. Wanna come?”
***
DEAR GENTRY!
CONGRATULATIONS ON COMPLETING AN OPTIONAL ASSIGNMENT! 20 POINTS HAVE BEEN ADDED TO YOUR STATUS COUNTER.

OC
In the far future, mankind is surrounded by neighbours that rule over their citizens with an iron first and no regard for their happiness, either in the name of a select few families with noble blood, absolute monarchs or tyrants that claim to serve the interests of their nations while their actions suggest otherwise.
It is a sickening thought and certain individuals would not stand for this. Many species were flabbergasted when they learned so many humans were willing to meddle in the affairs of their neighbours, even more were shocked to learn that these endeavours were not funded by any human government for the sake of destabilising potential rivals.
It was a voluntary effort.
[----------------------------------------]
If Mesch could describe the current microcycle, she’d call it tiring, soul-crushing even, she had no choice but to overwork herself to pay off her debt to the state. After the brother of her father was falsely charged with high treason and shipped off, all of her immediate family-including her-was charged the appropriate price for being the acquaintance of a dissident. The dread residing in her heart only grew stronger as she made her way back to her meager apartment-dwelling, the thought of the massive debt and the cost of living only served to wear her mind down.
“Hello miss, did you know you have rights?” Mesch’s ears perked up at the sudden barrage of noise directed at her, turning to look at the source, she found a strange, seemingly furless biped looking at her. She exhaled from her snout, as if she didn’t have anything better to do…she had recently gotten off her twelfth consecutive overtime shift and the last thing the drowsy nersk needed was a speech about- “You actually do and since I’m here, I’m willing to tell you all about it” The biped was holding plenty of pamphlets in its first appendage and a clipboard in the second. Whatever it wanted to tell her must have been important enough to stand in the same spot for an indefinite amount of time, Mesch decided to humour the strange alien, stopping in her tracks and focusing exclusively on the being in front of her.
"Enlighten me then, what rights do I have?” She came to the conclusion that the alien ignored the sarcasm in her response, seeing that it was thick enough to pierce. She had nothing to her name besides the clothes on her person and what little she had in her apartment-dwelling. The alien handed her a pamphlet, why not? She had come this far, may as well go the whole way. It was written fluently in the language of her people and the information it divulged immediately drew her attention.
-The average Nerski adult works an average of ten human hours for six human days every human week with for the same criminally low wages. This is twenty nerski mini-cycles every twelve nerski micro-cycles every nerski mega-cycle. That is humiliating, grating and unacceptable. Besides being deprived of overtime rates, the average nerski adult is robbed of their sense of safety in their own dwelling, the nerski authorities need no one’s written permission to invade and sack someone’s dwelling for evidence of a crime, perceived or not. The average nerski citizen has no say in who governs them or the measures they may enact at any given moment. The average nersk is not free. But you can be, if you ask the nearest F.F.F advocate for more information. Freedom Forever Foundation-
Something just did not sit well with her about this, was she supposed to work less? Was she supposed to be paid more for the unskilled labour she provided? Was she being taken advantage of? The intrusive thoughts did not let her already weary mind rest, for she had a myriad of questions that urgently needed answering. “I…I want to know more” Mesch did not bother masking the tone of her voice, it sounded equally tired and pleading, desperate for answers to the questions that only kept appearing with each passing second.
The face of the alien brightened by a considerable amount, quickly withdrawing something from the bag on their back. In that span of seconds that felt like a lifetime she remembered the race the odd sentient in front of her belonged to, humans. Not new to FTL technology by any means, but still treated like children in many political-and social-circles thanks to being the newest addition to the Neutral Cooperation Concord. “Glad your rights concern you…this is the information kit, spread the word” A beige folder was handed to her, it was almost as thick as her arm, the scandalous information…the pull it had on her, it was hellish! The promise of relief almost made her knees buckle under the pressure of her need to know.
“One more thing…can I have your signature? I will sooner burn the page than let it fall in the hands of nerski authorities…you have my word” She didn’t need to be pressured to sign and she did so eagerly, carefully hiding the illicit materials within her clothes with shaky hands. ‘Thank-” The human did not get to thank her in time, noticing a single file line of nerski plain clothes enforcers closing in on them, picking up speed when he started backing away. “Unfortunately this is where we part ways…now go!” The last glimpse of the human she caught was him getting swarmed by the enforcers “Liberty fears no tyrant! FREEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!” Mesch’s attempts at leading the human away had failed, tears threatened to spill out of the corners of her eyes the longer she ran yet she had no other choice. If only she could see him again…
Almost an entire megacycle latehuman month later…
Mesch was returning from work, this time she failed to evade the treacherous weather, opting to withstand it and head back home through the camped alleyways leading to that fabled square she had met the human at. She sighed, stopping for a bit and sitting down, squeezing her long ears to get what little water had gathered in there out again. That was when a familiar voice caressed her ears once more. “Hello miss, did you know you have rights?” Her head spun around a little too quicker than she liked, causing some pain to her neck but ultimately ignoring it in favour of finding the source of that blessed voice.
“Of course you do, you’re the first one!” The same human from before sat next to her, shielding her from most of the raindrops thanks to his larger size. “Also I’m now considered a political dissident and there’s an active warrant out for my detainment but that’s not the important thing here! It is this…” The same clipboard came into her view, this time filled with plenty more signatures and from the looks of things there were more pages under the one on top, all filled to the brim with signatures as well. “Whoever has it out for me sure doesn’t like it when people think on their own”
Mesch…was stunned, she had convinced herself the human would never see the light of day again and yet here he was, staring at her with that same smile, the same smile with the same, if not larger, amount of defiant spirit brewing behind it. “How did you?...”
"I am a vessel for liberty, as long as it exists somewhere, I will not be stopped” The human stood up and offered her his hand, she accepted it and after getting pulled up on her feet he showed her another pamphlet, this time it talked about a protest right outside the presidential palace, it was suicidal to say the least…which was why Mesch thought she had finally flown off the handle when she accepted without second-guessing herself.
“So…there are more like me?” Hope filled her heart, it was good, way too good to be true. “Not just more…way, wayyy more! Now come, I will get us there with the Liberty mobile!” She soon found herself strapped inside a vehicle of signature human design, heading straight to the presidential palace, her stomach flipping at the mere sight of the crowd gathered at the meeting point. Chanting slogans, phrases, speeches that at any other point in time she would have rejected as crazy and meant to destabilise the nation her people had built over many lifetimes. They got out and marched with the rest of the assembled nersk until they hit a chokepoint, lines upon lines of enforcers ready to meet them halfway , they were not scared or intimidated, they were ready.
Before long, either due to their own initiative or an order from a higher up, the enforcers were set loose on the crowd. Bashing, bruisng and shooting with electrically-charged pellets, trying their damnest to scare the crowd away. Mesch was scared but she would not flee, for the life she lived before this grand event was nothing more than celebrated slavery. Enforcers descended on her and the human, she was badly beaten but before any serious harm could befall her the human shielded her and proceeded to drive back the enforcers hellbent on killing her without even fighting back , the only weapon in his name was his own body and he did not use it as a weapon, only a a shield.
A few moments before she fainted from the overwhelming pain, she could hear the battle cry she had heard only once before and a sense of comfort, a painful but satisfying end to her life of misery.
This would have been the case if she hadn’t woken an indeterminate amount of time later in a hospital, with none other than the same human sitting besides her, watching her. “Slept well? You deserve it after all these bruises” It was painful to move and for the second time, she ignored it. Twisting just enough to be able to hug the human. “Thank you for everything” The human hugged her back, comforting her with the warmth only his words had provided so far. “You shouldn’t thank me, I was doing my moral duty…there is someone else you should be embracing right now” Behind the human stood another nersk, it was uncle Vinow, the same uncle that had gotten dragged off by the secret police. Tears of happiness overwhelmed her and she soon hugged both of them.
“Some sympathetic soul leaked the coordinates to several blacksites holding political prisoners and from the looks of things this isn’t the last act of defiance we’re going to be hearing about, while you were unconscious I was ferrying as many prisoners back and forth to the capital….Congratulations Mersch, your people have embraced freedom. Enjoy it, your blood, sweat and tears have finally paid off”
[-----------------------------]
[My HFY-themed discord server](http:// https://discord.gg/KQeBuv88EB)

Part 5
Gerard, God
Somewhere in time and space
He watched the passers-by as they moved about, following their daily routines, unaware of the fate that would shortly befall them. This was the time that fascinated Him the most. The moments before they finally understood that The Threat was here.
It was a sort of last hurrah, He thought. They didn't know it, but Gerard could nonetheless sense a sort of joi de vivre, a liveliness that simply didn't exist in prior times, and couldn't possibly exist in future ones. He watched mothers dote lovingly over their children, watched children hurl themselves into play with abandon, watched addicts take in their drugs like a drowning man would gulp for air. They might not known that there was no tomorrow for most of them, but they nonetheless seemed to put just a little bit of extra effort into everything.
Eventually, it came to an end, of course. It always did, no matter how many times He watched it. He saw happiness and mundanity give way to pain and suffering. Laughter was replaced by the screams of the dying. Life was replaced by death. The world replaced by destruction.
He sighed, leaving this timeline. He never watched the arrival of The Threat twice in the same timeline. There was nothing for Him to learn that way. His power was immense and total. He only had to witness The Threat once in each timeline to understand it.
Worst of all was the knowledge. The knowledge that He would only be able to save a single timeline. That all others would fall into ruin, destroyed and left to rot away. Only one could survive; the one that He chose. He could stop The Threat only once, for doing so would require Him to remain. Ever vigilant, ever ready to stop any recurrence.
He had to choose which timeline. That task was less than He feared, for now he knew that there were an infinite number of them. He could choose one with the right qualities, one whose nature would aid Him in His work. He realized then that He would, once He had chosen the proper timeline, finally watch The Threat come twice. Once, when He reviewed that timeline prior to choosing. And again, when He would stop it.
And stop it, He would. No other outcome was acceptable. He had already sacrificed too much. His mortality, His life, His happiness, His very soul itself. He had wrought Himself into a weapon, to strike down The Threat, and He would fulfill that purpose, no matter what.
----
Jerry Williams, Godslayer
Nibiru
We were sharks, swimming and darting among a school of fish. Gods and devas fled, screaming in terror as we flew through the swirling, chaotic energies that should have driven us -or at least my wife and daughter- mad within seconds. They had thought that their realm protected them.
Little did they know, we were already mad.
Inanna and I flanked a group of fleeing gods, preventing them from leaving this world, extending their essence into manifested bodies somewhere in one of the countless material worlds, or simply crossing the energy that was the core of their beings into the Spirit World. Here, in Nibiru, our divinities and demi-divinities gave us access to unlimited power. We seized it and wove nets with which to entrap those minor gods who could not find escape elsewhere, and had huddled here in fear of our coming.
As the group fled, we sped up, curving our course, which caused them to curve theirs, fearful of drawing too close to either of us. We moved slowly, carefully, angling them where we wanted them to go.
It wasn't long before the gaping maw of the Grandfather of the Gods came into view. Ixlublotl, the primordial god, the originator of divinity. The gods we herded realized their peril and turned to flee back the opposite direction, but there they found Aaina, burning towards them, screaming in rage and bristling with offensive energies.
Trapped, they had no choice. They attacked us. Emotions and thoughts, energy and matter, all of it flew at us in an orgy of sudden violence that churned the substrate of this world into a screaming chaos. All three of us linked our magics into a shield; a half-sphere of anti-magic that absorbed their attacks, sending the energy of which they were made back into into the swirling chaos around us.
They threw everything they had at us, a desperate last stand, driven by necessity and panic. All of it crashed against our defenses, the resulting streamers of magic filling the space around us with an all but impenetrable cloud. Hidden by that cloud, Ixy closed in.
By the time they realized that it was too late, it was over.
Ixy's physical body, that cloud-wrapped cacophony of maw-stalks, eye-stalks, spider-like legs and whipping tentacles, currently the size of a skyscraper, swept in, mouths snapping up the energies that were the cores of our quarry.
We came together when it was done. Inanna created a haven for us, allowing us to release the magic that held our bodies in stasis and protected us from the wild magic all around. It was a copy of our house, something she'd come up with a while back and shown to me with great pride. I had loved it, of course.
I sank into the loveseat with Inanna next to me as Aaina took the recliner.
"That's most of them," Aaina said.
"About thirty more," I replied. "And then we can start the next phase."
"Do either of you have any doubts about what we're doing?" she asked. I could see the indecision in her eyes. She was so young, and such a good girl. My heart broke at having dragged her into such dirty business.
"No," Inanna answered, her voice hard and confident.
"Yes," I added. "But at the end of the day, this is what needs doing."
Aaina looked back and forth between us, then nodded. None of us smiled.
----
Emily Windham, Wizard, Artificer
Fremont, Nebraska, at the corner of E 4th Ave and N Main St
Emily turned just in time to see the massive troll hit Jim Carmichael with a shoulder, sending the trooper flying before angling at her with no change in speed.
Acting on pure instinct, she conjured a wall of force between them. The troll slammed into it, shattering the magics that held it together with raw force, but the wall did its job, stopping the warrior in his tracks.
Emily snatched the rune-engraved knife off her belt and surged forward, jumping at the last second to put her in range of the troll's huge neck. The blade plunged in, and she released a quick burst of magic that made her legs and off hand sticky, allowing her to cling to the thing, too close for it to use its battleaxe on her.
She ripped the knife out and plunged it in again and again as the barbarian roared in pain and indignation at being hurt so badly by a foe so tiny. Emily grabbed his beard, yanking hard to bring his eyes to hers as she slammed the knife in and twisted, the magic in the blade telling her when it found his windpipe and carotid artery.
Blood sprayed, coating her face and shoulders. The troll's roars were cut off in a gurgling, breathy hiss. He stumbled, then fell. Emily rode him down, her eyes locked onto his, watching all hopes of victory, or even survival, fade from them. She lost herself in those eyes, in the mystery that was this troll's life, ending right before her. She saw the regrets, the crushed hopes, the shame of defeat and wondered at the context.
The impact as they hit the ground broke the spell.
Emily released the magic and stood up, instincts trained into her by the security troops and war wizards making her search for more threats before she could even process what had just happened. But there were no more threats. That had been the last one.
Greg Ramirez walked towards her, his rifle barrel pointed down, hanging from the sling in front of his armor and all the various attachments that he and the security troops referred to as their 'battle rattle'.
"Nice work," he said, eyeing the troll, who continued to gasp for air, the sound of his labored breaths reminding Emily of a pig squealing. She looked down, searching for that orgasmic feeling her bio-dad had so desperately wanted her to share with him, but not finding it. All she found was a sense of satisfaction, yet even that was too much.
Years of therapy, of telling her story to trained clinicians and listening to and internalizing their advice. All of it had helped her make friends and move among the normal people, but it had never erased that feeling of satisfaction. This was the fourth time she'd killed a sentient being, and each time, she felt the exact same way. It was a victory.
Her maudlin thoughts were interrupted by the bark of Greg's rifle. The troll's head jerked and deformed, a splattering of blood coming out as a .277 fury round drilled a hole straight through his temples. She glanced up to find Greg still eyeing her.
"You did good," he said, his expression showing some concern.
"I liked it," she said quietly, her eyes turning back.
"You liked killing him?" Greg asked. Emily nodded, wondering if she'd always be fucked up.
"I killed him," Greg said. "And I damn sure liked it."
Emily turned back, eyeing him with some interest. Greg was, in many ways, the opposite of her. Cool, confident, charming and just all-around well-adjusted. She hadn't ever imagined that he wound enjoy something like this.
"It means I won," he explained. "It means that big, badass motherfucker showed up here trying to bully us, and take whatever he wanted from us, and little old me stood up and said 'no', and when he tried to force the issue, I took his life away. It feels like justice. It feels like one less motherfucker trying to kill me and my friends. Damn straight I liked it."
Emily smiled. She didn't realized she had smiled until Greg smiled back.
"I read your psych eval," he went on. "I know you think you're fucked in the head, but I'm gonna tell you right now, you're not. You're a warrior, that's it. Bloodlust isn't a bad thing, if it can be controlled. Enjoying killing isn't a bad thing, if you're killing the people that need killing. Give yourself a break, girl."
He clapped her on the shoulder, then took the back of her head with his free hand and pressed her forehead to his.
"I'm gonna recommend you be allowed to join the war wizard roster. You're all trained up, you're prepared for it, and from what I've seen today, you're a fucking natural."
Without waiting for a response, he let her go and turned away, grabbing the radio fob on his armor and squeezing it.
"Black Lead, this is Black-Two Actual. All raiders at the target site are neutralized. We're commencing a sweep now, will report back in thirty mikes."
Emily smiled at his back as he walked away. A part of her reflected that he was a natural leader, knowing exactly what to say to her in that moment. Another part didn't care, because it worked. She glanced down at the troll again, and didn't see a victim.
She saw a victory.
----
Kathy Evenson, Professional
Somewhere in the ruins of an ancient city in the Seventh World
Kells shifted nervously as Kathy continued to cut chits from the electrical panel lid with the magical laser emerging from her fingertip. He held his machete, really a short sword, in one hand, and his dagger in the other.
"We really shouldn't be much longer, Kath," he said. Kathy had explained to him the difference between Kath and Kathy, and even hinted at the things she'd done while possessed by Pissface and calling herself 'Kath', and even gone into some detail about how much she hated the nickname. Kells hadn't cared. He simply agreed with her, then continued to call her 'Kath'.
And the truth was, she really didn't mind that much.
She wasn't quite sure why, though she could hazard a guess. The man was disarming to a great degree. He presented himself as a dirty wanderer, a simple, violent man who shouldn't be trusted as far as you could throw him. But within just a few minutes of meeting him, she'd seen the intelligence in his eyes and words. She had seen the integrity in his negotiations with her, and the ethics that had turned him protective when the Searchers had appeared.
And despite that protectiveness, he still managed to avoid being patronizing. When she'd told him how she planned to get his chits, he had warned her of the dangers, then agreed to come along without hesitation when she didn't change her mind. Kells was a good man, she thought, and if a good man wanted to call her Kath, she supposed she could let him reclaim the name from the hell it had once represented.
"It won't be much longer," she said. She already had over seven hundred, and this plate would bring her to eight hundred. She only needed five or six more. This deep in the ruins, there was an untouched electrical box on almost every building. Some had been corroded, but most were surprisingly intact.
As she cut the final strip into chits, a roar sounded. It was a gurgling, rasping roar, unlike anything she had ever heard before. Or rather, the first one had been unlike anything she had ever heard before. This was the third time she'd heard it, and it sounded closer than the last two.
"That's no good sign, right thur," Kells said.
Kathy finished, dumping the little squares of galvanized steel into her bag and standing up.
"Come on," she said. "We'll go a couple blocks away from whatever that was before I cut the next one."
"Aye," Kells agreed, his head swiveling on his shoulders as he followed her down the alley. Kathy took note of how spooked he was. He seemed more nervous here than he had with the Searchers right in front of him. She supposed that might have something to do with the nature of the threats. The Searchers were, regardless of power and reputation, mere humans. Whereas whatever was making that roar was clearly some sort of monster.
She led him six blocks in a direction away from the roar before she stopped to examine the buildings. They had moved into a downtown area, which was one of the reasons she had stopped. The buildings here were closer together, which should make the rest of her task quicker. She found a good cover and ripped the little padlock off, then pulled it open and off its hinges.
A mass of spiders rushed out of the electrical box. She jerked her hand away, but they ignored her, scurrying down the wall and vanishing into the cracks between the bricks, safe once again in enclosed darkness.
She began to cut as Kells again stood watch.
She hadn't even made it halfway through the panel when another roar sounded, even closer than the last, and from a different direction.
"Call it," Kells said. "Call it now, Kath. Better ye collect some more later on than deal with the beast makin' them sounds."
"What kind of beast?" Kathy asked. She kept cutting, but glanced up and around, not seeing anything but filthy, dilapidated alleys.
"Walkers, they call 'em," Kells said. "Like great spiders, but rottin' away, with bones stickin' out an' flesh hangin' off th'legs."
"Great spiders?" Kathy asked. "How big?"
"Bigger'n a building."
"You've seen them yourself?" Kathy asked.
"Only once," Kells said, his voice growing quieter. He seemed to be done speaking for a moment, staring around. But after a few seconds, he continued.
"Friend o'mine, name o' Gil. We used t'work together, he an' I. I were real new to runnin' a caravan crew back then, about ten years back. Gil were an old hand at it, though. Took me under 'is wing and taught me th'roads, as it were.
"Anyways, we'd taken a pair o' contracts. Rough ones, with a tight timetable. Merchants needed t'get to Freeman's Port post-haste. One faster'n th'other. Gil took that one, left me with the easier one, though that weren't t'say it were an easy job.
"We was in Craster's Holdfast at th'time, an smack in between there an' Freeman's Port were an ancient ruin. Big one, 'bout the size o' this'un, in fact. Normally, it took about a week t'travel between the two places, but if one were brave or foolhardy enough, they could cut through th'ruins an' make it in five days.
"Well, old Gil had that in mind. We left together, an' at th'place where ye normally would turn north t'go around the ruins, he led his caravan on straight. I prayed fer their safety that night, but never really believed anything would happen. Gil were an experienced caravaner, an' tougher'n anyone else I'd ever met.
"Two days later, we was walkin' this ridgeline north o'the ruins when somethin' called out t'me. Not sure what, exactly. I started lookin' south, scannin' the ruins, an' sure enough, I found Gil's caravan, walking down a wide road between th'largest buildings. They was movin' at quite a clip, I hav'ta say.
"I were tickled pink, at first. Because we'd made near as good a time as they had, despite movin' almost a day's north to skirt th'ruins. But as I watched, I realized that they weren't just travelin', they was runnin'."
Kells sighed, his eyes distant and full of old regrets.
"That's when I saw one. A great Walker, striding out o' th'deepest part o' th'ruins. The way it moved were like nothin' I ever seen before. It crawled along th'sides o' the ruins themselves, like a spider almost, but always with two or three feet on th'ground.
"It came fer th'caravan, and fell on 'em in a slaughter. I watched it breathe fire down on 'em, stompin' men flat with its feet an' scooping 'em up with its great claws."
He sighed again, then looked down. He tucked his sword under his armpit and used his hand to rub his eyes for a moment, before taking the blade up again.
"Killed 'em all, it did. Erry single one, as I live an' breath. An' when it were done, it went around, stompin' th'bodies flat. Never ate one, jes did all it could t'make sure that not a single survivor lived t'tell the tale. I were shook something fierce, I tell ya. Took me own caravan down off the ridge, t'avoid bein' spotted. We ended up arriving a day late, but to this day, I thank me lucky stars we made it at all."
Another sigh came, and Kathy heard the cracks in his voice as he continued on.
"Not Gil, though. Nor any o'them what worked for him, or th'merchant what hired him. A few years later, I worked up th'courage t'take a couple o'men into the ruins, t'find the bodies. I found bones dressed in Gil's clothes. I took his sword, which had survived, an' is th'one I carry to this day. I think Gil'd be pleased to know his blade had saved me life, quite a few times since."
Kathy finished cutting the cover up and stood to put her hands on Kells' shoulder.
"Thank you for telling me that," she said, her voice gentle. "I can tell it's an important story to you."
Kells nodded and sniffed once, then jerked his head in the direction away from the most recent roar. "I still think we should get out o' here, Kath," he said. "I'll face down the Searchers an' be happy o' a good death, should they take me. But them Walkers... They ain't warriors ye can face an' die with honor. One o'them things finds us, there ain't no fightin' it. We jes' die screaming, th'only consolation coming when it's all over."
Kathy weighed his words carefully. Kells knew this world far better than she did. And while she knew her own abilities far better than anyone here, she had to be mindful not to be too arrogant. Kells had told her how a single Walker had slaughtered an entire caravan of experienced fighters, led by an experienced leader.
"Okay," she said. She handed the bag to Kells. "There should be about eight hundred and fifty chits in there. You can count them out later, and I'll trust your count. After I find what I'm looking for, I'll collect the rest and we'll settle up."
"Good call," Kells said. He tied the bag off to his belt and walked to the corner of the building, peeking around. When he was satisfied, he nodded. Kathy joined him, and together, they made a beeline to the edge of the ruins.
They had made it about halfway out when another roar sounded, this one right on top of them. A rumbling crash sounded from her right, and Kathy turned to see rubble falling to the ground as something massive rose off the ground, two blocks over.
"Stars an' stones," Kells swore, then shouted "Run!"

i 24f don’t want to watch or be around my friends while they do drugs anymore. i sent a group chat out saying that an i had been thinking about it for awhile and that an experience i had with a friend a few weeks ago really shook me up. for context my friend had taken something and mixed it and they got really sick and almost puked/passed out, it happened really fast and i had never seen that happen before so it scared the hell out of me. now that i have sent this group chat, my friends think i should’ve brought this up one on one with each of them and not put my friends name in the initial chat. they think it i was being judgemental and coming out of nowhere. all my friends know that i don’t take part in that stuff and i never said i was okay with it but i wasn’t going to tell them how to live their lives. it’s not my place. every time the subject of addiction comes up i think it get brushed aside and i don’t think my friends take that kind of input very well and the group chat was the only way i thought of ripping off the bandaid so everyone knew what i was feeling but now everyone thinks that it was an attack and i feel like an asshole. i didn’t want to hurt anyone but i also didnt want to keep letting it go anymore. i’ve lost family members to drugs and addiction, so have some of them. so i don’t understand why this feels so awful when it’s not about their life it’s and the choices they make it’s the choices i want to make with my life. i don’t want to lose them but i don’t see them dialing it back any time soon. AITA?

I come from a disturbing family to put it simply. The mother simply will not care and is the type to be boys will be boys. I seriously fear for my life and though I begged to take karate as a kid I know nothing about fighting two older half brothers keep threatening my life and they’re the only ones I’ve lived with one much older so not till now. I think they’re aware of their trauma but refuse to work it out and prefer to take it out on women and children I’m not the only one but being the youngest female they have access to I get most of it. They want to be hated so badly when I try to keep it cordial and stay out of contact but the apartment is really small. I really just want to graduate and move out but I doubt I’ll make it just last night I couldn’t enjoy a bowl of cereal because the older threw things, threatened and cursed me and after closing my door broke it down to attempt to throw a clothes iron at me. I keep having nightmares I just want it over. I’m gunna try to go to the courthouse after school tomorrow, do I just ask for a restraining order? How important is evidence? I’m too busier defending myself to ever grab my phone and record sometimes the neighbors call the police before it’s over sometimes I call the younger ones girlfriend(s) but he always runs off before they come. Will I need money? I’m not working do they want it up front? How long is the line to talk to someone? Would I have to take a day off because they don’t seem to be open on weekends

So I am rewatching Sister Wives and maybe I'm completely off base here, but the fear that these 5 adults are instilling in their children regarding law enforcement is mind blowing. Let's face facts, Polygamy was illegal in Utah (I live in Utah, so I get it). Kody made a choice to "marry" 4 women. They made a choice to put their lives on television and they should have expected blow back. It just makes me sad for the kids. No one should have that kind of fear in them. The adults ripped them away from everything in Lehi and then again in Las Vegas. Kody and the wives have a history of poor decision making.

[I shared this in girls and gays but wanted to share here as well for those of you not in that sub]
With Kendrick Lamar and Drake’s rap feud raging over the last month, I got curious about what their natal charts say about each of them as rappers, and how the astrological synastry between the two has fueled this chart-topping fight. Luckily we have an accurate birth time for both Drake and Kendrick, so we can see exactly how their charts overlap.
Here’s Drake’s chart:
And here’s Kendrick’s chart:
Inconjunct Suns
Kendrick has a Gemini sun, like many of hip hop’s greatest rappers, including Notorious B.I.G., Tupac, Lauryn Hill and Outkast’s Andre 3000. Geminis are well-suited to rap as the wordsmiths of the zodiac, one of the two signs ruled by Mercury, the planet of communication. Virgo, the other sign ruled by Mercury, expresses the analytical, practical, pragmatic side of the mind, the so-called “left brain” which sorts the wheat from the chaff (and, fittingly, Virgo season aligns with the harvest season of late summer).
Gemini expresses the more playful, self-expressive, hyper-curious “right brain” side of the mind - the monkey mind that swings from branch to branch, seeing connections as it goes. “Curious to a fault, Geminis have a finger in every pie. Solar Geminis are flexible and changeable people. Usually quite clever and witty, Geminis enjoy intellectual conversations and they are easily bored if they are not getting enough mental stimulation.”
Drake is a Scorpio sun, bringing a very different energy to the table. Scorpios seek power above all, and they live life intensely. If Gemini is the court jester, taking life lightly and poking fun at it all, Scorpio is the dark knight plotting and positioning himself for a coup. As one of the two signs ruled by Mars, the planet of war and competition, Scorpios don’t back down from competition, and as a fixed modality sign, they can struggle to let go–even of what hurts them. Scorpios are drawn to the darker sides of life - they know that secrets hold power, so they tend toward privacy, as shown in Drake’s last rap beef, when Pusha T revealed that he had secretly fathered a son with a porn star.
Gemini and Scorpio have a tricky inter-dynamic, with an aspect between them known as a quincunx, or an inconjunct. Quincunxes occur when planets are 150 degrees apart, and therefore share neither an element (water, fire, earth, or air) nor a modality (cardinal, fixed, or mutable). They are at odds in a very fundamental way, and though they can teach each other a lot, in order to get along they will have to make some serious adjustments.
“When these signs get together, they just can’t understand each other. They have almost nothing in common, so it’s hard to find common ground. When a quincunx shows up in a synastry or relationship reading, this can make for a tense or difficult relationship.” This natural repelling dynamic is expressed in Kendrick’s diss song Euphoria (“I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk/I hate the way that you dress/I hate the way you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it's gon' be direct”).
Drake’s ascendant is placed at 29 degrees Leo, exactly conjunct the royal fixed star Regulus. Regulus is one of the luckiest stars in the zodiac, and it is often seen in the charts of celebrities. “On the Ascendant, it will give a courageous and frank character. A splendid and illustrious life; glorious, mighty and commanding nature; fame, busy with many activities, bountiful resources, well known or feared in cities and regions.” But with Regulus on the ascendant, expanding the already narcissistic tendencies of Leo, there is a risk for an over-expansion of the ego and a lack of humility. Drake wants to be the best by all accounts - not just the biggest commercial superstar, which he is, but also the most critically acclaimed rapper, like Pulitzer Prize-winning Kendrick.
Mercury and Mars vs. Mercury and Venus
When it comes to analyzing writers of any sort, I like to look at their Mercuries, and here we see a fascinating contrast. Kendrick’s Mercury is located in intuitive, emotional Cancer (just like Lana del Rey, who I analyzed last week), and it is conjoined with Mars, the planet of war, which is what makes him such a formidable opponent in a rap battle. “Mercury conjunct Mars natal gives a quick mind, rapid reflexes, and a sharp tongue. These attributes are ideal for making quick decisions in the heat of the moment while others hesitate. Excellent debating skills allow you to stand up not only for yourself but for the rights of others. Your enthusiastic, direct and courageous way of expressing yourself can win admiration in politics, business, and the military.”
I think Mercury in combination with Mars is the ideal aspect for the competitive sport of rap, and interestingly enough, Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G., who famously feuded and are considered by many to be the all-time greatest rappers, both had these planets tightly combined (Tupac had Mercury trine Mars with a 1 degree orb, and Biggie had Mercury septile Mars with a 0 degree orb).
Drake, by contrast, has his Mercury conjoined with Mars’ planetary opposite, Venus. Mercury conjoined with creative Venus is a great aspect for a musician, but it lacks the teeth of competitive Mars. “Mercury conjunct Venus natal makes you a lovable, handsome, neat, refined, romantic, and courteous person. You may tend to be passive and submissive, but this is a means by which you achieve peace in your life. You can lovingly communicate things; a melodic, poetic, and relaxing voice often helps this. Mercury rules trade, and Venus rules money, so you could do well in business and enjoy buying and selling.”
Many of Drake’s biggest hits show this melodic Mercury-Venus aspect - like the no-rapping, all-singing “Hold On, We’re Going Home,” “Hotline Bling” and “One Dance,” or the purported feminist anthem “Nice for What.” Many think Drake is best as a pop star rather than a rapper, which Kendrick references in Euphoria (“I like Drake with the melodies, I don't like Drake when he act tough” “Keep makin' me dance, wavin' my hand and it won't be no threat”).
Mercury conjunct Venus should be a very positive aspect for Drake, and in many ways it is – as two of the planets that rule over money (Mercury the marketplace, and Venus the possessions), this aspect is part of why he’s had such incredible financial success. However, a few factors complicate it. For one thing, they are located together in Scorpio, ruled by Mars. His Mercury is expressed in a Venusian way, but it wants to be expressed in a Martian way. I think this is why Drake returns regularly to gangster rap despite his success in pop and R&B. He wants to be a Mercury-Mars rap powerhouse like Kendrick, Biggie, and Tupac, but he’s fundamentally different. From the beginning of his career he’s been taunted as soft, weak, feminine, privileged–all very Venusian adjectives.
Another complicating factor is that Drake’s Venus is doubly challenged - it is both in detriment in Scorpio, as well as retrograde. Venus is in detriment in Scorpio because it rules over Scorpio’s opposite, Taurus, and so the planet is not at ease in suspicious, jealous Scorpio. “Fears of being too vulnerable or of giving up their own power to others is strong. Scorpio is an “all or nothing” energy, and relationships tend to be somewhat of a rollercoaster ride as a result. Disdain for mediocrity and superficiality can compel them to create crises in order to feel alive and vital.”
Venus retrograde in the natal chart “suggests you have some difficulty in giving and receiving love and affection. You may experience sadness in love or have to endure hardship or delay. Natal Venus in retrograde can also show as excessive use of makeup and jewelry or even disfigurement from cosmetic surgery.” It’s interesting how some of the allegations against Drake in Kendrick’s songs have included a nose job and a Brazilian butt lift. After Drake told Metro Boomin to “shut up and make some drums” in his initial Kendrick diss Push Ups, the producer responded with “BBL Drizzy.”
Drake has never been married or had a public long-term relationship. His highest profile one with Rihanna was on-again, off-again, and at times seemed more like unrequited love than true commitment. When interviewed about the relationship, he said “As life takes shape and teaches you#Personal_life) your own lessons, I end up in this situation where I don't have the fairy tale [of] 'Drake started a family with Rihanna, [it's] so perfect.' It looks so good on paper [and] I wanted it too at one time.” Two years ago Drake had jeweler Alex Moss create a necklace worth $12.5 million dollars built from dozens of engagement rings he had made but never used: ““New piece titled ‘Previous Engagements’ for all the times he thought about it but never did it,” Moss wrote over a video showcasing the stunning necklace, which is made up of “42 engagement rings” totaling “351.38 carats in diamonds.”” It’s quite the testament to a challenged natal Venus.
Lilith Synastry
Here is Drake and Kendrick’s synastry (Drake is on the outer circle):
The most interesting thing I found digging into Drake and Kendrick’s charts was the presence of Lilith in their synastry. Lilith is an asteroid associated with the “angry woman” figure as well as female liberation. In some Jewish folklore Lilith was the first wife of Adam, but she was banished from the Garden of Eden for not obeying him and replaced with Eve.
“In the intricacies of a birth chart, Black Moon Lilith symbolizes the raw essence of femininity, the primal urges, and the suppressed parts of our psyche that lie in the shadows. This point, not a planet but a mathematical point, reveals where one might feel estranged, challenged, or empowered to go against the grain of societal norms. It unveils deep-seated desires, innate instincts, and perhaps the areas where one feels the need to challenge established roles or expectations. It's a place of power, mystique, and, occasionally, friction – pinpointing where one's true nature might clash with the conventional, leading to feelings of marginalization or rebellion.”
The allegations Drake and Kendrick threw at each other both had to do with mistreatment of women - Drake said that Kendrick abused his fiancée, and Kendrick said Drake was a pedophile who shouldn’t be trusted around young women.
Both Drake and Kendrick’s Liliths make tight aspects with the other’s chart. “Whenever Lilith is around, you can expect to feel a wild, intense, deep, and sometimes obsessive energy. If you have Lilith aspects in synastry then this energy will show up in your relationship. Whenever your Lilith touches one of your partner’s planets or vice-versa, you can expect to see your deepest fears revealed. You might also see glimpses of things you desire but can’t have. Ultimately, Lilith aspects in synastry give both partners a chance to work on their shadow sides.”
Kendrick’s sun exactly conjoins Drake’s Lilith at 26 degrees Gemini. “Often, the sun person [Kendrick] represents all that the Lilith person [Drake] wants but can never quite “catch.” There is an illusive vibe to this relationship. The Lilith person may feel somewhat less-than or “bad.” Lilith conjunct sun in synastry is a test for the Lilith person because their most taboo qualities such as obsession and anger will be activated, but it’s also a test for the sun person. The lesson is for the sun individual to stand their ground and follow their inner voice. Lilith is neither good nor bad, and the sun person can share in some of the Lilith partner’s activities without merging.”
This resonates with the fact that despite Drake’s huge commercial success, he is deeply jealous of Kendrick’s critical success. In Family Matters Drake took a jab at Kendrick’s acclaim (“Kendrick just opened his mouth, someone go hand him a Grammy right now”), and the beef between them played out similarly, with many rap fans deciding that Kendrick won before even listening to Drake. I think it’s obvious that Kendrick is a stronger rapper, but it’s also clear that Drake wasn’t given a fair shake.
Drake’s Lilith makes a tight trine to Kendrick’s Mercury. “Both the Lilith person and the Mercury person help each other to bring unhealed deeper wounds and unconscious emotion to the surface and articulate deeper, wild instincts. Mercury person [Kendrick] helps Lilith person [Drake] make sense of their inner restlessness and insecurities, sexual passions and unresolved rage. Mercury person may find Lilith person to be highly emotional but is also intrigued by Lilith person’s edgy and unique perspective.” It’s remarkable that both of their Liliths are interlocked with each other’s inner planets, creating a push-pull, love-hate, shadow-enlightening dynamic between the two.
I think the obsession goes both ways, and that part of the reason Kendrick fought back so viciously was because Drake triggers something in him shown through the Lilith synastry. Drake shows Kendrick what he could be–a charismatic playboy enjoying his fame and money to the fullest. And in engaging with the feud he stooped to a lower level, making unsupported claims about Drake’s supposed secret daughter, and writing a rap song (Meet the Grahams) addressed to Drake’s 5 year old son opening with “Dear Adonis, I’m sorry that man is your father.” All is fair in rap battles–or is it? Questlove called it out, saying on Instagram: “Nobody won the war. This wasn’t about skill. This was a wrestling match level mudslinging and takedown by any means necessary — women & children (& actual facts) be damned.”
Kendrick’s latest diss track Not Like Us has just debuted at number one on the Billboard Top 100, and it’s clear this battle has propelled him to another level of stardom. Drake’s Regulus ascendant arrogance and Scorpionic desire to fight to the death drove him to attack the strongest living rapper, and now he’s dealing with the fallout. Kendrick’s streams of his back catalog are up 50%, while Drake’s are down 5% and his reputation has taken a massive knock. But Kendrick has taken a hit as well. Having rap’s two biggest stars accusing each other of heinous crimes might drive up streams in the short run, but it’s a dangerous game. Astrology helps us understand why these two polar opposites are so intertwined, and why their mutual dislike has spurred on such a captivating firestorm.

[I shared this in girls and gays but wanted to share here as well for those of you not in that sub]
With Kendrick Lamar and Drake’s rap feud raging over the last month, I got curious about what their natal charts say about each of them as rappers, and how the astrological synastry between the two has fueled this chart-topping fight. Luckily we have an accurate birth time for both Drake and Kendrick, so we can see exactly how their charts overlap.
Here’s Drake’s chart:
And here’s Kendrick’s chart:
Inconjunct Suns
Kendrick has a Gemini sun, like many of hip hop’s greatest rappers, including Notorious B.I.G., Tupac, Lauryn Hill and Outkast’s Andre 3000. Geminis are well-suited to rap as the wordsmiths of the zodiac, one of the two signs ruled by Mercury, the planet of communication. Virgo, the other sign ruled by Mercury, expresses the analytical, practical, pragmatic side of the mind, the so-called “left brain” which sorts the wheat from the chaff (and, fittingly, Virgo season aligns with the harvest season of late summer).
Gemini expresses the more playful, self-expressive, hyper-curious “right brain” side of the mind - the monkey mind that swings from branch to branch, seeing connections as it goes. “Curious to a fault, Geminis have a finger in every pie. Solar Geminis are flexible and changeable people. Usually quite clever and witty, Geminis enjoy intellectual conversations and they are easily bored if they are not getting enough mental stimulation.”
Drake is a Scorpio sun, bringing a very different energy to the table. Scorpios seek power above all, and they live life intensely. If Gemini is the court jester, taking life lightly and poking fun at it all, Scorpio is the dark knight plotting and positioning himself for a coup. As one of the two signs ruled by Mars, the planet of war and competition, Scorpios don’t back down from competition, and as a fixed modality sign, they can struggle to let go–even of what hurts them. Scorpios are drawn to the darker sides of life - they know that secrets hold power, so they tend toward privacy, as shown in Drake’s last rap beef, when Pusha T revealed that he had secretly fathered a son with a porn star.
Gemini and Scorpio have a tricky inter-dynamic, with an aspect between them known as a quincunx, or an inconjunct. Quincunxes occur when planets are 150 degrees apart, and therefore share neither an element (water, fire, earth, or air) nor a modality (cardinal, fixed, or mutable). They are at odds in a very fundamental way, and though they can teach each other a lot, in order to get along they will have to make some serious adjustments.
“When these signs get together, they just can’t understand each other. They have almost nothing in common, so it’s hard to find common ground. When a quincunx shows up in a synastry or relationship reading, this can make for a tense or difficult relationship.” This natural repelling dynamic is expressed in Kendrick’s diss song Euphoria (“I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk/I hate the way that you dress/I hate the way you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it's gon' be direct”).
Drake’s ascendant is placed at 29 degrees Leo, exactly conjunct the royal fixed star Regulus. Regulus is one of the luckiest stars in the zodiac, and it is often seen in the charts of celebrities. “On the Ascendant, it will give a courageous and frank character. A splendid and illustrious life; glorious, mighty and commanding nature; fame, busy with many activities, bountiful resources, well known or feared in cities and regions.” But with Regulus on the ascendant, expanding the already narcissistic tendencies of Leo, there is a risk for an over-expansion of the ego and a lack of humility. Drake wants to be the best by all accounts - not just the biggest commercial superstar, which he is, but also the most critically acclaimed rapper, like Pulitzer Prize-winning Kendrick.
Mercury and Mars vs. Mercury and Venus
When it comes to analyzing writers of any sort, I like to look at their Mercuries, and here we see a fascinating contrast. Kendrick’s Mercury is located in intuitive, emotional Cancer (just like Lana del Rey, who I analyzed last week), and it is conjoined with Mars, the planet of war, which is what makes him such a formidable opponent in a rap battle. “Mercury conjunct Mars natal gives a quick mind, rapid reflexes, and a sharp tongue. These attributes are ideal for making quick decisions in the heat of the moment while others hesitate. Excellent debating skills allow you to stand up not only for yourself but for the rights of others. Your enthusiastic, direct and courageous way of expressing yourself can win admiration in politics, business, and the military.”
I think Mercury in combination with Mars is the ideal aspect for the competitive sport of rap, and interestingly enough, Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G., who famously feuded and are considered by many to be the all-time greatest rappers, both had these planets tightly combined (Tupac had Mercury trine Mars with a 1 degree orb, and Biggie had Mercury septile Mars with a 0 degree orb).
Drake, by contrast, has his Mercury conjoined with Mars’ planetary opposite, Venus. Mercury conjoined with creative Venus is a great aspect for a musician, but it lacks the teeth of competitive Mars. “Mercury conjunct Venus natal makes you a lovable, handsome, neat, refined, romantic, and courteous person. You may tend to be passive and submissive, but this is a means by which you achieve peace in your life. You can lovingly communicate things; a melodic, poetic, and relaxing voice often helps this. Mercury rules trade, and Venus rules money, so you could do well in business and enjoy buying and selling.”
Many of Drake’s biggest hits show this melodic Mercury-Venus aspect - like the no-rapping, all-singing “Hold On, We’re Going Home,” “Hotline Bling” and “One Dance,” or the purported feminist anthem “Nice for What.” Many think Drake is best as a pop star rather than a rapper, which Kendrick references in Euphoria (“I like Drake with the melodies, I don't like Drake when he act tough” “Keep makin' me dance, wavin' my hand and it won't be no threat”).
Mercury conjunct Venus should be a very positive aspect for Drake, and in many ways it is – as two of the planets that rule over money (Mercury the marketplace, and Venus the possessions), this aspect is part of why he’s had such incredible financial success. However, a few factors complicate it. For one thing, they are located together in Scorpio, ruled by Mars. His Mercury is expressed in a Venusian way, but it wants to be expressed in a Martian way. I think this is why Drake returns regularly to gangster rap despite his success in pop and R&B. He wants to be a Mercury-Mars rap powerhouse like Kendrick, Biggie, and Tupac, but he’s fundamentally different. From the beginning of his career he’s been taunted as soft, weak, feminine, privileged–all very Venusian adjectives.
Another complicating factor is that Drake’s Venus is doubly challenged - it is both in detriment in Scorpio, as well as retrograde. Venus is in detriment in Scorpio because it rules over Scorpio’s opposite, Taurus, and so the planet is not at ease in suspicious, jealous Scorpio. “Fears of being too vulnerable or of giving up their own power to others is strong. Scorpio is an “all or nothing” energy, and relationships tend to be somewhat of a rollercoaster ride as a result. Disdain for mediocrity and superficiality can compel them to create crises in order to feel alive and vital.”
Venus retrograde in the natal chart “suggests you have some difficulty in giving and receiving love and affection. You may experience sadness in love or have to endure hardship or delay. Natal Venus in retrograde can also show as excessive use of makeup and jewelry or even disfigurement from cosmetic surgery.” It’s interesting how some of the allegations against Drake in Kendrick’s songs have included a nose job and a Brazilian butt lift. After Drake told Metro Boomin to “shut up and make some drums” in his initial Kendrick diss Push Ups, the producer responded with “BBL Drizzy.”
Drake has never been married or had a public long-term relationship. His highest profile one with Rihanna was on-again, off-again, and at times seemed more like unrequited love than true commitment. When interviewed about the relationship, he said “As life takes shape and teaches you#Personal_life) your own lessons, I end up in this situation where I don't have the fairy tale [of] 'Drake started a family with Rihanna, [it's] so perfect.' It looks so good on paper [and] I wanted it too at one time.” Two years ago Drake had jeweler Alex Moss create a necklace worth $12.5 million dollars built from dozens of engagement rings he had made but never used: ““New piece titled ‘Previous Engagements’ for all the times he thought about it but never did it,” Moss wrote over a video showcasing the stunning necklace, which is made up of “42 engagement rings” totaling “351.38 carats in diamonds.”” It’s quite the testament to a challenged natal Venus.
Lilith Synastry
Here is Drake and Kendrick’s synastry (Drake is on the outer circle):
The most interesting thing I found digging into Drake and Kendrick’s charts was the presence of Lilith in their synastry. Lilith is an asteroid associated with the “angry woman” figure as well as female liberation. In some Jewish folklore Lilith was the first wife of Adam, but she was banished from the Garden of Eden for not obeying him and replaced with Eve.
“In the intricacies of a birth chart, Black Moon Lilith symbolizes the raw essence of femininity, the primal urges, and the suppressed parts of our psyche that lie in the shadows. This point, not a planet but a mathematical point, reveals where one might feel estranged, challenged, or empowered to go against the grain of societal norms. It unveils deep-seated desires, innate instincts, and perhaps the areas where one feels the need to challenge established roles or expectations. It's a place of power, mystique, and, occasionally, friction – pinpointing where one's true nature might clash with the conventional, leading to feelings of marginalization or rebellion.”
The allegations Drake and Kendrick threw at each other both had to do with mistreatment of women - Drake said that Kendrick abused his fiancée, and Kendrick said Drake was a pedophile who shouldn’t be trusted around young women.
Both Drake and Kendrick’s Liliths make tight aspects with the other’s chart. “Whenever Lilith is around, you can expect to feel a wild, intense, deep, and sometimes obsessive energy. If you have Lilith aspects in synastry then this energy will show up in your relationship. Whenever your Lilith touches one of your partner’s planets or vice-versa, you can expect to see your deepest fears revealed. You might also see glimpses of things you desire but can’t have. Ultimately, Lilith aspects in synastry give both partners a chance to work on their shadow sides.”
Kendrick’s sun exactly conjoins Drake’s Lilith at 26 degrees Gemini. “Often, the sun person [Kendrick] represents all that the Lilith person [Drake] wants but can never quite “catch.” There is an illusive vibe to this relationship. The Lilith person may feel somewhat less-than or “bad.” Lilith conjunct sun in synastry is a test for the Lilith person because their most taboo qualities such as obsession and anger will be activated, but it’s also a test for the sun person. The lesson is for the sun individual to stand their ground and follow their inner voice. Lilith is neither good nor bad, and the sun person can share in some of the Lilith partner’s activities without merging.”
This resonates with the fact that despite Drake’s huge commercial success, he is deeply jealous of Kendrick’s critical success. In Family Matters Drake took a jab at Kendrick’s acclaim (“Kendrick just opened his mouth, someone go hand him a Grammy right now”), and the beef between them played out similarly, with many rap fans deciding that Kendrick won before even listening to Drake. I think it’s obvious that Kendrick is a stronger rapper, but it’s also clear that Drake wasn’t given a fair shake.
Drake’s Lilith makes a tight trine to Kendrick’s Mercury. “Both the Lilith person and the Mercury person help each other to bring unhealed deeper wounds and unconscious emotion to the surface and articulate deeper, wild instincts. Mercury person [Kendrick] helps Lilith person [Drake] make sense of their inner restlessness and insecurities, sexual passions and unresolved rage. Mercury person may find Lilith person to be highly emotional but is also intrigued by Lilith person’s edgy and unique perspective.” It’s remarkable that both of their Liliths are interlocked with each other’s inner planets, creating a push-pull, love-hate, shadow-enlightening dynamic between the two.
I think the obsession goes both ways, and that part of the reason Kendrick fought back so viciously was because Drake triggers something in him shown through the Lilith synastry. Drake shows Kendrick what he could be–a charismatic playboy enjoying his fame and money to the fullest. And in engaging with the feud he stooped to a lower level, making unsupported claims about Drake’s supposed secret daughter, and writing a rap song (Meet the Grahams) addressed to Drake’s 5 year old son opening with “Dear Adonis, I’m sorry that man is your father.” All is fair in rap battles–or is it? Questlove called it out, saying on Instagram: “Nobody won the war. This wasn’t about skill. This was a wrestling match level mudslinging and takedown by any means necessary — women & children (& actual facts) be damned.”
Kendrick’s latest diss track Not Like Us has just debuted at number one on the Billboard Top 100, and it’s clear this battle has propelled him to another level of stardom. Drake’s Regulus ascendant arrogance and Scorpionic desire to fight to the death drove him to attack the strongest living rapper, and now he’s dealing with the fallout. Kendrick’s streams of his back catalog are up 50%, while Drake’s are down 5% and his reputation has taken a massive knock. But Kendrick has taken a hit as well. Having rap’s two biggest stars accusing each other of heinous crimes might drive up streams in the short run, but it’s a dangerous game. Astrology helps us understand why these two polar opposites are so intertwined, and why their mutual dislike has spurred on such a captivating firestorm.

According to many posts and interviews by Ava Max, she has identified herself with the Aquarius personality type, now while I do not personally believe in Astrology (as i see it used wayyy to often for discrimination plus its problematic with the concept of freewill) I thought it would be fun to give you all a snapshot into what it would be like to date Ava according to the typical personality traits associated with an Aquarius (with bonus facts about Ava)! Sound fun? I thought so!

1. An Aquarius will be loyal unto the end and does not love just anyone! As such they expect complete loyalty, mutual respect and honesty in return. If you are looking for a casual hookup, fling, or an open-relationship an Aquarius will drop you in an instant! A downside to an Aquarius is they can be very trusting, believing others to be as honest and good as they are, and as such tend to be taken advantage of.

Fun fact: Ava Max was in a SEVEN-YEAR relationship. She also broke up with two partners for gaslighting and cheating on her, something which broke her heart. (Viall Files and Rolling Stones Interviews)

1. An Aquarius is passionate and fun! If you are looking for someone romantic, spontaneous, dominant, charming and unpredictable an Aquarius is right for you!

Fun Fact: Ava Max prefers to date the quiet, introverted and nerdy type of personality - and as such looks for someone whose nature contrasts and compliments her own. (Viall Files Interview)

1. An Aquarius is attentive to their lovepartner, however in return they also require a partner who they can not only trust, but someone they are safe to express anything and everything in their soul. To date an Aquarius means to be their friend first.

Fun Fact: Ava Max and Cirkut dated shortly after meeting, and though they broke off the relationship they have remained friends and close collaborators ever since. (AmoMama website - interview)

1. An Aquarius is drawn to vulnerability and deep-feeling/emotionally intelligent and mature people. An emotional connection is the most important thing to them. Alongside this they are analytical, clever and smart - and thus make for great communicators (honesty, smart, and deep feeling).

Fun Fact: Ava Max LOVES interior design and it is her favorite hobby besides singing/dancing - if you want something to talk to her about, this is a great place to start! (Maxwell Zoom and Viall Files interviews)

1. While an Aquarius is a passionate and loyal lover, they need their space and freedom, as this is a very free-spirited type of personality. If you are a controlling, clingy, or dominant person this relationship will not work out at all.

Fun Fact: Ava Max is a prominent advocate of the duality in us all and is a huge believer in embracing ones dualistic nature and identity - something very prevalent in her lyrics especially in her Heaven and Hell album. (Multiple interviews including Genius)

1. While an Aquarius is deep feeling and passionate, they can be aloof and have the ability to retreat into themselves and disconnect - especially during tension. As such, while highly emotional people, they do not prefer drama and may be emotionally detached at times.

Fun Fact: Ava Max is not this way at all actually (at least most of the time), and is very deep-feeling, outspoken, filled with many different sides and dualism within her feelings. (Idolator interview)

1. An Aquarius is an easy-going, creative, quirky, open-minded inspiring, wild, out-of the box, crazy and eccentric. If you are looking for someone plain and stable this relationship is not right for you. Their nature is very artistic, adventurous, and action focused. As such they tend to be unpredictable and inconsistent - so be prepared for that.

Fun Fact: When Amanda Koci (Ava) was young she catfished her brother as a prank (she loves pranks). So she came up with the name Ava and messaged her brother online for a month pretending to be some girl dating him online (putting an image of some model as her online picture). She then invited brother outside, revealing the truth that he had gotten pranked (he was pissed). That is how she came up with the name Ava and has used it ever since. True story! (Apple podcast - link below in comments)

1. An Aquarius is all about honesty, sincerity, and will always show their real-self. As such they cannot stand dishonest people. Their love language can vary by person but generally they value honesty and respect - when they say something, they mean it.

Fun Fact: Ava Max's love language is quality time as such touring can be hard on her as she is taken away from her partner. She will not go over two weeks without spending quality time with the person she is with. (Viall Files Interview)

1. An Aquarius is a friendly and bold personality. One will most likely will make the first move and can be very flirtatious. However this makes them impulsive - which can cause problems.

Fun Fact: Ava Max has never been in a relationship or hookup where she didnt make the first move! (Viall Files Interview)

1. While an Aquarius can be fun, spontaneous and wild - they are also very private and can even be solitary. As such to win their heart a person truly has to click with them.

Fun Fact: While Ava Max has a very public, bold and extroverted persona she is internally very shy, private and prefers to separate her Ava Max persona from her true Amanda Koci self - hence the difficulties finding information on her private life. (Multiple interviews including the Rolling Stone and Viall Files)

1. An Aquarius is a caring, loyal, and honest personality. As such they tend to be humanitarian and altruistic.

Fun Fact: Ava Max has a very caring heart, major issues for her include LGBTQIA+ rights (with her preforming at the human rights campaign in 2023), personal identity, empowerment and women's rights. She wants to inspire, uplift and empower people. (Bandwagon interview)

1. An Aquarius is DOMINANT and fiercely independent. As such they are uncompromising in who they are (hence the traits of being spontaneous, honest, wild, and free-spirited). As such they work best with either a submissive type of person or a person who is similarly confident in who they are but will not try to control or cage them. If you are dating an Aquarius they need a partner to support them in life, not a dominant person to try to control their nature.

Fun Fact: Ava Max's song Not Your Barbie Girl is the perfect example showing what type of woman she is.

1. Finally, The heart of an Aquarius is freedom of self and expression, they each are truly a UNIQUE soul. As such they are bold, determined and ambitious and have their bar set high for both life and relationships!

Fun Fact: Ava Max has been competing in music competitions since she was 8 years old and worked non-stop at trying to become a singer, even moving to LA when she was only 14, and returning there when she was 17. She has gone through extreme bullying, rejection, sexual harassment, poverty, betrayal and emotional hardship to achieve her dreams.
I hope you all enjoyed learning about Ava Max's personality type. As far her personality type according to 16 personalities she seems to be an ambivert with her Ava persona being extroverted and her Amanda persona being introverted. She also also extremely feeling (something prevalent in her music) alongside being very intuitive, being able to sense the nature of a person from their eyes (the widows to the soul) as she shared in her vial files interview. Finally she appears to be a mix between judging and perceiving - as she has signs of both traits. As such she is an (E/I NF J/P) - with the first and forth factors being pretty balanced.

I don’t feel bad for him at all. He said he’s dated men in the past meeting Douglas wasn’t this awakening for him. Aliyah is in her early 20s. Being in his 60s and having children of his own he should know that people around Aliyah/Douglas’s age are in a huge transition stage in their life. Especially with MTF transition, majority of trans women were gay men and have a similar story to Aliyah’s.
What did he think he was getting into dating someone in their early 20s?
What bothers me the most is that Shawn is so passive aggressive about it. The scene of him giving Aliyah all of the wigs annoyed me because his storyline is how much he hates Aliyah compared to Douglas. To Shawn it’s such an issue for him but instead of being a real man and talking to Aliyah saying “Hey, this transition is new I’m not sure how I’m feeling about it.” My best friend is trans but MTF. For him it was binders and men’s clothes, but for any those items they’re not just gifts, they’re reaffirmation that the person who’s receiving them is getting approval and support for their transition.
Instead he’s financially supporting it, while crying his eyes out looking at old photos of when he looked “manlier”…
Trust me being a gay guy myself I get it having a type. It’s ok to want more masculine or feminine qualities in anyone. For Shawn to tell Aliyah he wanted to go back to his old scared, timid self made me want to barf. That to me says Shawn has this fantasy of Douglas he can’t let go off. Aliyah’s light was shining so bright at dinner and you can tell Scott was trying to dim his because Aliyah isn’t Douglas anymore.
I don’t see him as this man just wanting love. I see a passive aggressive, self centered person who only wants people committed to him when it’s convenient for him. Found out he was gay? Goodbye wife. Douglas becomes Aliyah? Goodbye. He has no concept of love and what it means to compromise.
If they were the same age and dates for decades I’d understand. But Shawn is going about it all of the wrong ways.
Edit: just to clarify, everyone is entitled to what they want sexually in a man or woman. I’m not saying Shawn has to accept Douglas/Aliyah for being trans or that he isn’t allowed to grieve the loss of a partner and miss physical attributes about him that were more masculine.
The point I’m trying getting across is that it comes off as predatory because here’s a 60 year old man realizing late in life what he wants trying to settle down with someone in their early 20s questioning their identity. They’re at different life stages clearly. If Shawn can afford to find a guy in Brazil why not find someone more his age and his preference, or communicate honestly with the one he has now?