Hello everyone, first want to express my gratitude to this forum which was such a beacon of hope and information during a turbulent few months of my pregnancy. Thank you to anyone who shared their experiences with high NT measurements and CVS! I want to share my experience as well to give another example of a happy ending after an abnormal NT result.
TL;DR NT of 4.0mm, after tons of testing (and sleepless nights) we got the all clear, baby boy was born healthy and perfect in mid April. He’s taking a nap next to me right now 🥰
For context, I’m a 30yo living in the US, first pregnancy, healthy overall and got pregnant naturally. I was hoping to have a home birth and as low-intervention prenatal care as possible (ha!)
August 13 - got a positive on a home pregnancy test. We were sooo happy and excited!
September 6 - first appointment with my midwife, saw baby’s heartbeat via ultrasound. After this, we started to tell close friends/family we were expecting.
September 29 - blood draw for cell-free DNA test
October 5 - received negative/low risk result on the cell-free DNA. Fetal fraction was 13% and the baby is a boy!
October 9 - appointment for my 12 week ultrasound. Baby was moving around a lot and the tech had a lot of trouble getting measurements. But eventually she got what she needed. I was sent home and while in the car driving home, I got a call from my midwife’s office. Baby’s NT measurement was 4.0mm and I was referred to MFM and genetic counseling. This was a huge shock. I pretty much cried the whole way home because I could only envision poor outcomes.
October 12 - first appointment with the genetic counselor. The three days between the ultrasound and this appointment felt like forever. The GC said with the NT of 4.0mm there was a 1 in 3 risk that the baby had a chromosomal or structural defect. The probabilities I was given were if something was wrong, 70% of the time it’s chromosomal/genetic, 20% of the time it’s heart issues, and 10% of the time it’s miscarriage/stillbirth. I never really registered that 1 in 3 means that there’s a 2 in 3 chance that everything is fine! Anyway, I was booked for a CVS to investigate the genetic piece further. My husband and I also did carrier testing per the recommendation of the GC. I was also advised to have an early anatomy ultrasound at 16 weeks and a fetal echo and 20 weeks.
This is when the looooong limbo period began. I didn’t want to think about my pregnancy at all because I was pretty convinced I wouldn’t end up having the baby. I took the ultrasound photos down off the fridge and put all the baby stuff we had bought in a box. I also stopped telling people our pregnancy news - I wasn’t going to get anyone else’s hopes up until we had certainty that the baby was healthy. I too a few days off work to cry. It was rough.
October 16 - CVS, transabdominal since my placenta was anterior. It was not fun but also not horrible. If I had to do it for a future pregnancy, I would do it again. I have a serious fear of needles so the GC recommended I bring headphones and listen to music during the procedure. That was awesome advice and I just turned the volume up and tuned out (and squeezed my husband’s hand) while the OB did her thing.
October 18 - got a call from the GC, normal karyotype 👍 this was not a huge surprise since I got the low-risk cfDNA result. But still reassuring.
October 24 - got carrier testing results back, we aren’t carriers for anything
November 7 - Early anatomy scan at 16 weeks. Everything looked normal! “Specifically, there were no cardiac defects or other anomalies associated with an increased NT. The nuchal fold was normal at 3.0 mm.” Unsure how the nuchal fold (which is not exactly the same thing as NT) was 3.0mm 🤷‍♀️ seems like it had shrunk? We never got a good answer on this.
November 22 - “Normal constitutional chromosomal SNP microarray results from chorionic villi” - this result came back about 5 weeks after the CVS. The waiting was pretty terrible to be honest.
November 28 - Fetal echo and 20-week anatomy scan. This appointment was at the children’s hospital with the OB from MFM plus a pediatric cardiologist. Baby’s heart looked perfect on the echo. Anatomy scan looked totally normal as well. Still waiting on the Noonan panel results but I felt like after this appointment (and nearly 3 months after the initial high NT results) I felt like I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
December 5 - negative for Noonan 🎉
It seems the increased NT was just a random anomaly and I was released from MFM and continued my prenatal care with my midwife. Baby boy was born at 38+6, happy and healthy! He is the cutest thing ever and somehow made the chaotic 2nd trimester worth it.
Happy to answer any questions about my experience. If you find yourself in this position, I’m sending you a big hug and positive vibes ❤️

I am a floater who has only been working in daycare for about 5 months and I also don't have my ECE yet. My degree is in Youth Ministry (in ministry there is a difference between youth and children, youth=teens), but I have many years of experience working with kids in settings other than daycare. One of my biggest pet peeves is when I am disciplining a child and another teacher walks into the situation and sees me, for example: with a crying child, pulling a child away from another kid, speaking firmly with a child, etc., and they don't know the context, and even when I tell them the context, they play good cop and make me the bad guy in the child's eyes. I always feel like they are judging me.
Here are some examples: A child is climbing on something and the situation has become unsafe. The child won't come down on his own after being asked nicely. I remove him but he keeps running back to climb again, trying to push past me, and has started crying. Another teacher steps in who has witnessed the whole thing and starts rubbing his back and telling him he is not in trouble in a soft voice after he completely ignored my soft polite voice, then my more firm voice when I asked him to walk away after he was removed from the play structure.
A two year old cannot keep her hands off of her older brother and keeps hitting, grabbing, and pulling him. After being asked to stop by me and her brother, I pull her off of him but she keeps repeating the behaviour. Finally I pick her up and she is crying and saying she won't apologize to her brother. The other teacher walks in and I tell her what happened and she pinches the kid's cheeks and says "leave your brother alone" in the same tone as like "you silly goose" or something and then she takes her from my arms and the child is laughing.
I've already spoken about a particular child who doesn't seem to like any of his teachers apart from one. He is a very difficult child and often hits, pushes, screams at, grabs toys from, etc., other children and treats most of his teachers pretty much the same way and will even bite us. Whenever one of us is trying to discipline him, he will scream at, hit, throw toys at, and/or bite us, then run to his favourite teacher who will pick him up and comfort him and after she's told what he did, she will either do nothing or just say to him "uh oh, not nice" in a "whoopsie!" kind of tone. When I got bit the other day she didn't do a thing and she was right there.
A kid was repeatedly throwing sand in the sandbox. The lead teacher would remove any kid from the sandbox after doing this once, so after a few times, I removed this child and he ran away. I have a great relationship with this kid and I just wanted to explain to him that if he wants to stay in the sandbox, he can't throw sand. I was playfully chasing him around outside like "I'm gonna getcha!" and he was laughing and then I said that I wanted to talk to him so I plopped him on my lap for a second. He wasn't even resisting or anything and kept getting distracted and saying funny things when I was trying to talk to him. Another teacher from very afar just saw me remove him from the sandbox, run after him, and plop him on my lap and immediately started barking my name and then asked what the child had done. Being in the middle of everything, I just gave her a quick answer and then my next free moment she rudely told me to go home. It was around the time I'm usually dismissed, but she had said that my coworker and I could go at the same time, but then when I tried to clean up a few things on my way out to make HER job easier, she rudely repeated for me to go home while she stood and chatted with my otjer coworker who was also supposed to be leaving. A simple misunderstanding where I was heavily judged and treated rudely without even an attempt at hearing my side of things.
A child has been biting, hitting and pushing the other kids all day and has just had a recent bite incident and is crying after being removed from the other kids. Another teacher asks why she is crying and I say "she has bitten three times today and has just bitten (baby)". The other teacher says "3 bites in the span of...what?" and then tells the biter to go seek comfort from her older sister. Does it matter how recent the other 2 bites were? I don't understand.
I don't resort to physically removing a child unless they are going to get hurt or they are hurting other children. For the sand one, I was following what the lead teacher was doing. I only chased the child and put him on my lap not because throwing sand was such a serious offense, but because "I'm gonna getcha" is like a little game with this kid, and I wouldn't put a kid on my lap who didn't want to be there but he was laughing and was clearly okay with it to the point he couldn't even pay attention to what I was saying because he was talking to me too much.
I feel like my coworkers don't trust me and they undermine me. There are kids who don't even view me as their teacher and will tell me they don't have to listen to me because I'm not their teacher when I am.
Any advice? I hate pulling out my firm voice and always speak softly and politely first. I still say please when I'm firm. I never yell. I hate having to touch a child as a form of discipline (pulling them away from a situation). Am I the problem? Are these just misunderstandings? Thoughts?

https://preview.redd.it/cv6gi44h1h0d1.png?width=230&format=png&auto=webp&s=3b16e7604f6e686001d65656ff8f0cf18cdb7aab
I am trying to create a data table on a different sheet - I need to track how many check boxes there are for a certain segment.
Example - If I select Buyer from my drop down under segment, then check the box for Set, I want that to be added to a total in another cell on a different sheet for only buyers.
I currently have it tracking all checked boxes but that is total of checked not based on segment.
Any help would be great!

I'm not very good or understanding of scripts. I've looked at a bunch of scripts online that say they can do it, but when I try to add them I get errors, or don't know exactly how to make it work to do what I want. The coding of it confuses me and I really need a simple one, or an explanation of what I need to change to make it work.
I'm basically trying to find a way to have a sheet with permit expiration dates autofill and update only once a week to get around the loading times and upload limits. Right now, my IMPORTXML function for each permit tries to fetch the info too often and after a while every cell ends up as "Loading..." or "#N/A" because of the upload limits. I really only need them updated once a week since they expire every two years.
I have about 80 employees, so 80 rows. Each employee has two different permits. The below examples are just for one of the permits, but would need to update both columns, so about 160 different cells. People get added and removed often, so there is a good amount of shuffling and could be more or less than 80 people at any given time.
The setup for the sheet is basically this:
I have column named "Permit Number" which has a hyperlink to the webpage of the person's permit that has the expiration date.

=HYPERLINK("website.com", Permit Number) 

Then I have another column called "Expiration" which displays the expiration date. The IMPORTXML function pulls the webpage from the Permit Number hyperlink cell (C3 in the below example), then gets the date from that. Also note that each permit has its own webpage and unique URL.

=IMPORTXML(INDEX(SPLIT(FORMULATEXT("C3"),""""),2),"/html/body/div[2]/div/article/headediv[2]/p[4]","en_US") 

As I said, this works perfectly at first, but unfortunately it tries to update too often and leads to errors. I want to find a way to have the script just fetch the dates, then instead of providing that information, actually copy and paste it so that there is no constant fetching of data.
I also acknowledge that trying to run more than like 20 IMPORTXML functions at once usually leads to delays, so if there is anyway around that, I would love to know.

I got this device solely because of the airplane mode feature since I never want to connect the band to my phone and don't want bluetooth on.
Initially this a PITA to use.
I had to download two apps:
Samsung Health
Galaxy Wear
It crashed after installing. I had to unfreeze the Samsung Account system app.
Then I had to go make a dummy Samsung account with all fake data, which was a PITA. Initially it automatically fetched my cell phone number so I removed the SIM card and uninstalled and reinstalled.
Then after verifying using fake data do I'm not tracked, I connected the band, waited for it to set up. Without all this I could not even use my Fit3, it will not let you do anything until connecting.
After this I froze the system app, Samsung Account, Samsung Health, and Galaxy War apps.
Next I turned on airplane mode by swiping down and left and click the quick icon.
Finally I can use my device for the first time, 1 to 2 hours later.
This is all unnecessary. I bought your device, now it's mine, let me use it offline out of the box.
Not to mention, without the radios, the battery should last a lot longer.
So far I like it, I am tracking my heart rate, o2, and stress. I will track my sleep tonight.
I have some disappointments.
I don't want any notifications, but swipe left us a blank notification screen. I regret that I can't put something I'm using there, like summary or a calculator and then I put heart rate and sleep in the right. But there is no option.
I can't reorder the screens on the right without removing them all and adding in a new order
Looks like there are missing features only available in the app, like VO2 Max, which I'm not sure if this band does
I liked that I can disable all buzzing vibrating notifications, and sounds.
One thing that would be awesome is a simple pomo timer which vibrates at the end. Also a vibration for certain metrics, for example, completed your run time, heart rate went too high, stress too high, etc, with ability to customize or disable this when you don't want it.
A focus vibration would be a killer feature. Somehow use it to detect if you get distracted and buzz to remind you to focus.
Alternatively set a buzzer every few minutes to simply remind you to stay focused. A very light, non-distracting nudge just to bring you back into awareness, so you stay focused.
This is my feedback so far. Thanks for the device, I hope you improve it further and make ability to use full offline with manual sync by touching a button. I don't mind manually doing a sync now and then maybe once every day or two. But I want all radios off the rest of the time.
Update: when you sync, it erases your watch and replaces with what's on your phone, so you lose everything. This makes the device useless for me unless I never connect, ever.

This is one of my favorite parts from a Japanese fan novel that I really like. The characters are reincarnated in another world, with some of them retaining memories of their past lives. Mondo is a 32-year-old carpenter, and Celeste is a high school boy recently arrested for certain illegal acts. I really like Celeste's description of the killing game, so I wanted to share it. Here is a translation:
•••
About an hour later, Oowada was visiting a certain place. He took a deep breath through his nose.
"Smells moldy," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn't sure if it was actually mold. He clicked his tongue loudly, causing a staff member in the corner, who was spreading out a notebook to record their conversation, to flinch. Oowada closed his eyes and laughed through his nose, wondering if such a timid person could handle working in a juvenile rehabilitation facility.
This was his first time visiting here as a visitor. A cramped, narrow cage that boxed everything in, isolating the boys from society. It was a place he had been confined to many times before and hated more than anything.
But even so, his safety was guaranteed. There was no way a killing game would happen here.
"It's lukewarm... no, that's how it's supposed to be," he muttered as the door opened with a cheap-sounding clatter. At that sound, he quietly opened his eyes.
Sitting with his legs spread on the hard, leather sofa, arms crossed, he watched as a beautiful boy, dressed simply in a shirt and slacks, entered the room with a straight posture. When the boy saw Oowada, he lightly tilted his head and smiled, causing his neatly trimmed long black hair to sway.
"Hello, uncle. I didn't expect you to come."
Oowada’s eyes twitched at the boy’s words, but seeing the suited facility staff who entered behind the boy, he closed his mouth.
The boy sat down across from Oowada with a low table between them, placing a hand under his chin and deepening his smile.
"It’s been a while."\ "…Yeah."\ "I was just getting bored, so I’m very glad."\ "…Yeah."\ "I thought you were hospitalized… Are you feeling alright?"\ "…Yeah."\ "So, uncle. Why the sudden visit? Did something happen?"\ "…Yeah."
As Oowada grunted in response, he glanced around the room, noting the staff in the corner and the one quietly standing guard by the door, wondering how to begin. The boy, seemingly understanding everything, smiled knowingly.
"...It seems like it might be difficult to talk like this."
Oowada raised an eyebrow suspiciously at the boy who whispered this in a low voice. At the same time, the boy raised one delicate hand, snapping his fingers lightly.
At this signal, the staff in the corner nervously, and the one by the door calmly, exited the room. Their abrupt departure made it seem like they could no longer see Oowada and the boy.
In shock, Oowada stood up from his chair.
"What the...?"
"Well, as they say, money talks," the boy said nonchalantly, brushing aside the troublesome bangs that fell over his forehead with a swift motion of his fingers.
"No matter the means, the assets I’ve accumulated have come in handy. I went through a lot, you know. Selecting useful personnel, seizing opportunities, negotiations, instructions, and so on. The fact that you’re here talking to me now is thanks to my sweat and tears."
"You made it so I could get in here by claiming I'm your family?"
"I just included potential visitors on the list. I asked them to allow visits by making up a connection within three degrees of kinship based on the visitor's age."
"Who the hell are you calling uncle, you..."
"You're my uncle. You should feel honored and act accordingly. Don't make that face like you're some relative mooching off a rich family member."
"Huh!?"
"Well, whatever. In any case, you're my first visitor. Welcome."
Ending the pointless conversation, Oowada, finding himself unsure of how to direct his emotions, clicked his tongue and looked up at the ceiling with a weary expression. Contrary to Oowada’s rough demeanor, the boy elegantly crossed his legs, lightly arching his back, and smiled mysteriously.
"So, once again. It's been a while, Oowada-kun. It's the first time we've talked properly since our past lives. A lot happened the other day, but I won't apologize. So don't expect an apology. With that out of the way... what brings you here today?"
A cramped, narrow cage for boys, cut off from society, where everything was neatly boxed up. It was a place he had been confined to many times before and had hated more than anything.
However, in the hands of Celestia Ludenberg, it seemed even such a cage could transform into a modest mansion with servants. Oowada, leaning back on the sofa and tilting his head back, exhaled deeply in exasperation.
What followed was a strange silence. Even though he had been asked why he was here, Oowada didn’t immediately respond. No, he couldn’t respond.
Torn between the hesitation of how to start the conversation and whether he should even talk, his thoughts bounced back and forth. Watching Oowada intently, Celeste shrugged slightly.
"Well, there’s no use rushing. By the way, Oowada-kun, when it comes to visits, one expects gifts. Did you bring something?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah."
As if he had just remembered, Oowada pulled out something from the pocket of his jacket that he had bought from a vending machine on the way here and placed it on the table. What was scalding hot when he bought it had now cooled to a lukewarm temperature.
"Luxurious Royal Milk Tea. Made with plenty of first-pick Uva tea. The smoothness of Hokkaido cream enhances the flavor. Enjoy a luxurious moment."
Celeste glanced at the so-called luxurious moment that cost 120 yen from a vending machine with a blank expression. Nevertheless, he muttered a thank you in a monotonous voice and reached for the pull tab. The expression on his face clearly read, "Are you kidding me, you piece of shit," but Oowada ignored it.
"Well then, until you're ready to talk, how about listening to what I have to say?"
Taking a sip of the Royal Milk Tea and making a noticeably displeased face, Celeste continued in a calm tone. Oowada didn’t mind. He nodded with just his eyes, and Celeste placed his fingertips on his cheek and looked up at the ceiling.
"At that academy, the mastermind... No, now that I remember, I can say for sure... The detailed and elaborate preparations of that rotten bitch Enoshima created an environment that made killing almost inevitable."
The sudden start of the unexpected topic made Oowada frown, unable to read his intentions.
"For example, the situation was based on several psychological theories. As I explained a few times at that school... no, with that corn-head of yours, you might not remember, so let me explain again."
"Huh? Are you picking a fight with me?"
"The prisoner's dilemma."
Ignoring Oowada's words with a calm expression, Celeste continued without even glancing at him.
"Additionally... the zero-sum game. Moreover, due to unconsciously recognizing a hierarchical relationship between the mastermind and themselves, there might have been effects similar to the results of the Milgram experiment."
"…Could you explain it in a way I can understand?"
"You don’t need to understand the theories themselves. To put it simply, as I said before, 'The mastermind created an environment that made us psychologically prone to committing atrocities.'"
Taking another sip of the Royal Milk Tea and making another dissatisfied face, he placed the half-finished can on the table and looked back at Oowada.
"This is just a psychological theory. But now, let’s bring in a sociological theory and consider this: 'Why don’t people commit crimes?'"
The emphasized words sent a chill down Oowada’s spine, and he rubbed his arms.
"Let’s start with an extreme example. Living beings act according to their desires. A lion would hunt a rabbit if it appeared before it, regardless of hunger. Humans are the same. So, 'Why don’t people commit crimes?' …What do you think?"
"If someone killed every person they passed on the street, they’d just be a lunatic."
"That's not an answer."
"Well, normal people wouldn’t do that. Even if we’re animals, humans are different from beasts."
"Exactly. Simply put, 'People don’t commit crimes because they possess social or psychological self-control.' …Of course, it also depends on their living environment, so it’s not a theory that applies to everyone. For instance, someone like Genocide Jack."
Crossing his legs, Celeste took a breath and said,
"There is a theory called the 'social bond theory' that considers the reasons why humans don't commit crimes."
"Huh?"
Once again, the conversation entered a more specialized field, making Oowada raise his voice in irritation.
"What about it?"
"This theory considers four main aspects as 'bonds,' and when these bonds break, crimes occur."
"So?"
"First, the first one."
Pointing a natural, though unusually long nail at Oowada, he stopped him from interrupting. The sudden action made Oowada freeze, his cheek twitching.
"First, there’s belief… essentially a sense of morality. This bond ties into the psychological aspect I mentioned earlier. In that environment, 'murder was deemed acceptable.' Thus, the feeling that 'murder is absolutely wrong' diminished, whether consciously or unconsciously."
The finger pointed at Oowada increased to two. Moreover, the finger, which had been aimed at his nose, was now directed straight at his eyes, as if ready to poke them.
"Next, the second. Involvement. In other words... let's see. If there was something to be indulged in, especially something healthy like sports, there would be no time to commit crimes. In that space, with few given entertainments and plenty of time to kill each day, who knows when someone might plot something wicked?"
"...You mean yourself."
"There's no guarantee that someone like me wasn't there after I died. Now, the third. Commitment. Risk and reward, let's say. Is it worth committing a crime even at the cost of everything one has built? Rationally thinking, it may be worthless, but in that space, in that situation, it was the ultimate reward. There's no need to explain what that is."
Moving away from Oowada, he leaned back against the uncomfortable chair, slightly waving the three fingers beside his cheek.
"...Graduation, huh."
"Yes. There was a bonus for me, but let's leave that aside. Now, the fourth. This is the main point."
Holding up four fingers in front of his face, Celeste's expression became somber.
"Attachment. It’s about family, friends, and companions. Surrounded by people who act morally, one wouldn’t commit crimes. They wouldn’t. That is, if 'the people in that space were such close individuals.'"
A gulp sounded from Oowada’s throat. His sharp eyes widened.
"...There wouldn’t have been any killing?"
"I can’t say for certain. But if it were me..."
Breathing out faintly, Celeste shook his head gently. Oowada, sharing similar sentiments, lowered his eyes.
By now, talking about "what ifs" and "if onlys" wouldn't grant them forgiveness.
"...Hey, our memories were erased to make the killing game more likely. We understand that, but..."
"...Let's add one more thing. 'What if, after committing murder, we regained our memories?'... What would happen?"
"!"
That was their current situation exactly.
"Impossible, right? Even if Junko Enoshima had planned that far ahead… I don't remember anything like so from 'that world.' There's no way that bitch could control reincarnation or anything so godlike."
"...In other words."
"In other words, this situation is an 'unforeseen despair' even for Enoshima. Realizing the person you killed was a close friend, a dear classmate, a loved one… is a despair beyond imagining."
Celeste suddenly leaned closer to Oowada, their faces inches apart, his crimson irises intense. Overwhelmed by the pressure, Oowada didn't move, captivated, listening intently to his alto voice.
"The person they killed... was someone they had spent two years with, a dear classmate, a friend with whom they laughed together, someone they had feelings for. Isn't that despairing?"
Oowada swallowed loudly.
"...I understand why you're here."
After staring at each other from such a close distance, Celeste slowly moved away and looked down at the seated Oowada.
"It's about Kuwata-kun, isn't it?"

A Nop X Fallout 3[ish] Fanfic
Written By Pixel
NoP was written and Belongs to Space Paladin

Chapter 2: A Tale of Historians
Memory transcript: Tyka, Farsul junior archivist
Date: August 2275 local [human time]
Time: 22:30 [time of late Meals and rest]
Tyka let out a disheartened sigh, the world below them, once vibrant and beautiful, even if its sole sapient species were predators, leaf-eating ones but still predators, made his heart sink to see it in such a grave state.
Tyka was never one who could understand how Exterminators could find any kind of joy in the purging of life, no matter how tainted it was.
“those poor beings….”
He placed a paw onto the viewer his shoulders slumping as he watched the Grey marble spinning in the inky black void
“Something wrong Young archivist”
An older feminine voice says making their way Into the observation bay of the large science and collection vessel, Tokana upon realizing who the voice belongs to jumped
“O-Officer Netly, I apologize if it seems I was...meandering, I just….”
He looks back over to the tumbling grey-blue marble
“Ah, Earth. I understand your apprehension, but there is no sentient life existing now, it's a barren dead wasteland, you know why we are here now”
She says arms behind her as she moves up beside the young pup
“I know officer Netly it's just….I've studied humans so much and despite the aggression they had they were also so….fascinating, the fact they developed so fast And even accepted in certain technologies despite being predators….”
He said marveling as Netly suddenly interjected
“Their accomplishment didn't stop them from destroying themselves in the end, nothing could have survived that kind of prolonged nuclear strike with their technological level”
Before Tyka could dejectedly admit that point there was a ship-wide broadcast to all archivists, scientists, and security onboard
Life has been found on earth
It was human life.
Memory transcript: Abigail Nelson
Date: August 21st 2277
Local Ship time 00:00 [time of early light]
Abigail stirred from her daze, what had happened, she could barely remember, the attendee, the crater, the light!
“Dogmeat!”
She screamed out jumping up as he cellmate grabbed her to stop her
“Woah woah easy, there not here you can calm down”
The female voice said, Abigail panted and started to tear up a bit
“N-no, dog meat…. his…he's my dog he was with me when we got….where are we?”
The hardened wasteland features on the woman who now held Abigail softened with pity at the young girl
“I don't know where your dog is, I haven't seen them with any kind of animal, besides us anyway, how are you feeling kiddo?”
she asked as Abigail tried to wipe her eyes and coughed
“Im…I'm fine, I just….ah cheese and crackers I'm sorry”
She says gingerly leaving the wasteland embrace
“I'm uh…Abby…Abigail Nelson”
She says as the waster seems a bit off and then notices her pip-boy
“You a vault dweller? How'd they scoop your blue-suited ass up?”
Abigail blinked a bit and looked at her device
“OH right, I was topside….my Dad left our vault to pursue Something he was working on, project purity?”
She says that made her cellmate's eyes widen in realization
“Your James kid?”
Abigail Was now the one to balk, she simply couldn't believe there was ANOTHER person who knew her father
“How do you know my dad? Are you brotherhood?”
She asked as the waster stepped back
“Well I am, but I didn't know him personally I was only an initiate when he was working on it, names Somah”
She was now the one who extended her hand which Abigail took
“So are a knight? Paladin?”
“Field scribe”
Somah said which made Abigail blink a bit
“Field scribe? I know scribes but I've never heard of a field scribe”
Abigail said as Somah chuckled
“That's because it's a position rowdy Scribes get to drain their energy and enthusiasm, typically scribes are supposed to grow out of it but I've been a field scribe for a good while now, trying to make Lyons make a new rank for me, elder field scribe”
She joked making Abigail Chuckle a bit
“Well, then miss scribe… where Are we?”
Somah sighed a bit, rubbing her neck before moving it over to her face and chin, pondering how to explain their predicament
“How to explain it…..I know we've been abducted but the tech is like something I haven't seen….the bars are steel but there is a photonic barrier more advanced than even the few bits of prewar examples I've gotten to fiddle with, plus that little levitation Trick they pulled on me when I was trying to hide from some muties out in the edge of dc….then my radio got this…weird signal”
She said as Abigail's eyes widened
“My pip-boy did the same, I got this weird signal which led me to an antenna In the ground…..wait…”
Abigail Pinched her nose and let out a sigh
“Did we get abducted by….by aliens?!”
Somah let out a humorless chuckle
“Seems like it, as unlikely as it is….I'm still trying to understand how that's even possible”
Somah said while tracing a finger against the seamless white material that made their cell
“While also marveling at real alien design and technology….its….all so much to process”
She says enraptured with it all as the two talked, a distinct sound of the force field barrier turning off as a tray of food was pushed through With a metal pole, and the wall of light reasserted itself
Abigail timidly picked up the meal…it looked like….vegetables, they smelled like them too, but not like wasteland veggies, what few she'd seen but actual clean veggies
“Alien greens, for some reason it's all they'll give us, probably to keep us weaker, easier to grab”
She says snagging an alien carrot off the tray as Abigail looks at her with a mix of confusion and worry
“Grab us?”
She asks as the whirling of machinery is heard suddenly Abigail looks up only now realizing the roof of their cell is open
“Hug the wall!”
Somah shouted as she pushed Abigail against it making her top the tray as the two hugged the lip, Abigail watching as what looked like a man in a Grey military uniform was carried across the roof with a giant metal claw or arm carrying him
“Okay where good for now….poor bastard”
Somah Sighed as Abigail blinked
“We have to get out of here”
She said as Somah put a finger to her lips
“Ssh they can hear shit like that, be quiet”
The scribe said as she looked around
“Look I have a plan already and I've been waiting for someone to be dropped in here with me….I've done this once before and it worked but we got caught after, so if we do this we have to be quick”

writing these is something im enjoying so far! as usual ask me whatever you want about it and ill try to respond, the next upload will be a mini chapter so stay tuned!

For example when Turkey became a Republic after the Ottoman Empire's collapse, the current official language called Ottoman Turkish was heavily influenced by Persian and Arabic, but Turkey's nationalist leader, Atatürk started a language purism movement which replaced a lot of Arabic and Persian loanwords with native Turkic words derived from a mixture of remnants of Old Turkish, the speech of commoners, and coinings by making up new compound words, resulting in the modern Turkish language.
Icelandic has very few loanwords, because Iceland also had (and continues to have) a language purism movement, which coins terms for modern things by making compounds of words with Old Norse origins. For example, "computer" became "number prophetess" and "electricity" became "amber power".
Although English never had such a movement, there is the tongue in cheek mode of speech called Anglish, in which all Latinate words, even those used in common speech, are replaced with Germanic words. (To be, or not to be – that is the asking).
Japanese, because of its history and connections to China has a similar relationship to Chinese as English has to French - A part of Japanese vocabulary is kunyomi - native Japanese words, and a part is onyomi - words taken from what the Chinese language was like circa a 1000 years ago and somewhat adapted to Japanese pronunciation. For example, "mountain" in kunyomi is "yama", and "san" in onyomi.
Various rules and conventions govern whether to use the kunyomi or onyomi version of words, but I wonder, would it be possible to turn the Japanese language into a kunyomi-only language and purify it from Chinese influence? Was something like this ever tried, for example between the Meiji Restoration and the end of World War 2, when nationalism was at the highest level in Japan?

You know what I'm talking about; some cleavage hanging out here and there, maybe the odd six pack, a bit more cheek showing than one would usually expect in polite society. We've all done it, we know the old advertising mantra "Sex Sells", but is it true with the modern youtube algorithm? What is the new "fine line" between a safe amount of visual appeal and "smut"?
I run a comedic paranormal investigation channel that parodies the entire paranormal genre, so I feel like I can definitely lean into the smut, and there's plenty examples of these thumbnails on my channel. But I'm curious as to what everyone else here thinks? I would expect there to be less wiggle-room if someone's posting a lecture on coding, but I think there's always an opportunity for creativity.

I've had a weird issue for a while where I just can't revise but I never really tried to focus on how I feel until just now, whenever I need to revise via reading through notes/ revision guides I get a really weird feeling that makes me want to stop, for example right now I'm trying to revise maths statistics and mechanics and I'm currently reading through the revision guide to remember how to do everything. However, I wanna stop and do something else that isn't revision because I've got a tight feeling in my throat/ chest area, my muscles in one of my arms is aching in a weird way, and I feel the need to built my cheek, I genuinely feel like doing nothing is better than revising right now and I don't know why but this has been and issue for me for a while, how do I fix this?

My idea for the GxK sequel plot would begin with Godzilla waking up from his sleep in the Colosseum and returning to Tiamat's former layer to complete his evolution. Fast forward a few months later, and Godzilla emerges from the lair, completing his evolution and starting to look a little bit more like Tiamat.
Fast forward a few years, and Monarch detects two previously unknown Titans emerge from the Hollow Earth, Titanus Qalupalik, an ugly serpent-like fish or amphibian emerging from the Arctic Circle, and Titanus Dakuwaqa, a shark Titan emerging from a portal in the sea near Kadavu Island. Monarch figures they are here to take over the niches left by Scylla and Tiamat. Godzilla encounters Qalupalik first, who is combative, and they get into a quick one-sided fight which forces Qalupalik to submit. Godzilla gives her a pass and accepts her to take Tiamat's place. Then Godzilla meets up with Dakuwaqa, who begins a ritualistic dance of sorts to gain Godzilla's approval. After Godzilla inspects him and his demeanor, he accepts Dakuwaqa to take his new territory. Then, Godzilla moves to Madagascar to rest.
On the human side of the story, public outrage over the incompetence of both Monarch and world governments to prepare for these Titan attacks is at an all-time high. Governments are now arguing over how to deal with them. Some leaders want to eliminate Godzilla because they believe Godzilla is going to attack them anyway regardless of whether they provoke him or not and that he is too powerful to let alive. Others want to focus more on a Hollow Earth takeover and declare war on the Kongs because they fear that they can plan another attack on the surface world. Monarch tries to assure them that such an event would not happen again because of their change in leadership, but many are still unconvinced. The American government, along with other NATO countries, begin investing in developing a new type of military weapon to deal with Godzilla, the Super X. They also are trying to seal up the holes left in Hong Kong, Cairo, and Rio de Janeiro to ensure nothing from the Hollow Earth can use those portals to invade the surface world again. Monarch gets into heated conflicts over world governments over the portals, as they want to keep a few open for research purposes among other things. The governments relent and allow the portal in Barbados to remain open but require them to invest in extra security in case of an emergency.
Returning to Godzilla, he is suffering from irritating skin parasites (these parasites would be Shockirus, Endoswarmers, or an original kaiju). To deal with them, he begins trying to scrape them off by rubbing himself against the seafloor near the coast of Madagascar. He also tries reaching for some with his jaws and claws. The people on the beach are witnessing this as it is happening, and once Godzilla gets rid of most of the parasites, the beachgoers realize that some of them haven't been killed yet, and as they are aggressive and still larger than humans, they emerge from the shore to attack humans. But this terror is short lived as Godzilla quickly comes in to finish them off. Godzilla then returns back to the water but stays close enough to the island where people can clearly see him. He floats in the water, similarly to a crocodile, with his head and eyes above the water. He is staring at the people and the coasts intensely, which makes the beachgoers feel uncomfortable. Then, it transitions to some flashbacks where we see Madagascar 5 million years ago. These flashbacks would likely be of Godzilla's memories of his youth, from his birth to the other megafauna that used to exist on the island back in the day. Then, it would transition to another flashback where Godzilla encounters some indigenous people on Madagascar as a more mature individual. He curiously stares at the people and the chieftain looks back with great reverence. The people bow and begin to worship him, and Godzilla continues to look at them tenderly. Returning back to the present day, Godzilla lets out a deep low bellow, which gives off the impression of sadness. In reality, Godzilla is upset that he has become more disconnected to the world he protects and now feels like his life has become nothing but fighting to protect it without being able to take pleasure in its wonders.
Switching the attention to Kong, a fight sequence occurs between Kong and another Great Ape wielding a heavy machete. They are fighting in the battle arena as some apes watch the fight while others are busy doing other things. Kong prevails and the Great Ape falls to the ground. After the fight, Kong helps the Great Ape back up. It turns out the fight was nothing more than training; one of the things Kong has begun to do since his rise to power is to teach his people self-defense. As the audience gets a better look of what life is now like in their layer, it is revealed that Kong has recruited a group of Great Apes to assist him in pushing forward his policies. For example, there is a group of Great Apes that are tasked with keeping track of their inventory and rationing their food and water for the tribe. Another group was tasked to build a safe bridge replacing the giant skeleton, which was at this point completed. Others are taking care of the children and so on. Then there are apes that are farming fields of crops, which Mothra periodically visits to pollinate. Shimo, meanwhile, is just chilling with the apes and is not confined to her pit anymore. Kong has no generals or anyone with military roles as he has no interest in conquest and does not see the need for an army at the moment. Kong also does not allow anyone to gather food or water on their own except for him, because he does not want to put anyone else in danger. He meets up with Suko after his duel and is approached by Boots, who is also now a trusted advisor to him, and is alerting him of an approaching Titan. It turns out to be a squadron of Monarch HEAVs and Jet Jaguar, piloted by Trapper. After the fight in Rio, Monarch sent expedition crews to visit the Kong lair, and were horrified by the living conditions that Skar King created. So, they planned an initiative to deliver humanitarian aid to the apes, providing them with food or water, and also trying to make diplomatic measures with them and the Iwi tribe. They have developed a new type of bioengineered crop made from various Hollow Earth flora and Titan cells to feed the apes (which can be a set-up for Biollante in a future installment) and a new type of HEAV that can carry a heavier load to transport these resources. They also created a humanoid mech named Jet Jaguar, piloted by Trapper, which serves as both a diplomat and a vet, fully equipped with veterinary tools that allow it to treat pathologies for Titans, including the Great Apes. In addition, Monarch has rebuilt the Titan Hunter with some improvements as NATO voted to force them to reconstruct it as a self-defense weapon in case of another Titan attack. Since that has not happened yet since the Rio attack, the Titan Hunter has not yet been used. Jet Jaguar and the HEAVs are arriving at the lair with another shipment of resources, including more tools for the apes to plant their own crops. While the Great Apes begin to collect the shipments from the HEAVs, Kong greets Jet Jaguar, who is here to treat a Great Ape with severe physical ailments. This ape has torn tendons and ligaments from slave labor and requires casts for all of his limbs. The challenge with treating the apes is that they are still cautious of foreigners, so Monarch has had to learn patience when working with them. They also have only one mech to perform surgeries with, so they can only treat one ape at a time. Kong and Jet Jaguar meet up with the patient, an as they perform surgery, Kong has to be with the ape to soothe and comfort him as Jet Jaguar begins surgery. After a successful surgery is completed and the Monarch team departs, Kong sits back and looks at his tribe. He begins to have feelings of self-doubt, that he is not up for the task, despite trying his best. He also still feels Skar King's presence, as the pain and damage he has caused still greatly lingers even after death. Kong begins to suffer from insomnia and nightmares from Skar King, showing his presence is still strong and relentless even after death.
Then, the Monarch team visits the Iwi city and delivers the rest of their resources which were designated for them. Here, in this scene, while the audience gets a better glimpse of what life for the Iwi is like, they also get to see Phosphera, another guardian Titan (The best explanation I can come up for why Phosphera did not show up to fight Skar King in the previous movie here would be that she was in a metamorphosing stage during the events of GxK and was too immature to safely break out of her cocoon until after the events of the movie.)
Back on the surface world, in a lab somewhere in the U.S, scientists are experimenting with a genetically modified colony of Shinomura, which would be the main antagonist(s) of the first half. These scientists work closely with the federal government. They believe that it would be more effective to genetically engineer a kaiju superbug that can quickly evolve, spread and annihilate the Hollow Earth ecosystem at much lower costs than constructing mechs which take much longer to do and a lot more money. The cells are dormant and can only be activated by exposure to radiation, which is why Godzilla does not detect them or see them as a threat. The cells are transported by a ship to North Carolina where another portal to the Hollow Earth has been opened. The military plans to release them into the Hollow Earth and then quickly seal it, but it is backfired by a group of mercenaries who attack the ship and want to take the cells for themselves. Unfortunately, the cells are released, and they are not far from a nuclear power plant which also happens to be using the pink super charged radiation gathered from the Hollow Earth, so the cells multiply and grow, turning into a swarm. The cells combine into arthropod like monsters that are too small to be Titans but large enough to attack humans. They begin attacking nuclear plants and surrounding cities while others retreat into the Hollow Earth, which catches Godzilla's attention. Mothra gains wind of it too and emerges onto the surface world to aid Godzilla. By the time Godzilla gets to North Carolina, the swarm has absorbed enough energy to combine into a singular, massive, supercharged form that rivals Godzilla in size. They begin to fight, while the military decides to resort to Plan B and send the Super X against Godzilla. The first battle is fairly even until the Super X begins to attack both Shinomura and Godzilla, blasting chunks of Shinomura away. It becomes a three-way battle until Shinomura escapes and retreats into the ocean while Godzilla is distracted fighting the Super X. Mothra eventually arrives and Godzilla and Mothra destroy the Super X. Then Godzilla pursues the main Shinomura heading for Japan while a few other smaller colonies move to other locations.
Back in the Hollow Earth, the Shinomuras that escaped there quickly grow and begin running amok on the planet. Kong is travelling with Shimo and Suko. They are gathering more food and water to bring back to the tribe, but their trip is quickly interrupted by a squadron of Shinomuras that have combined into their arthropod like forms but now rival Kong in size. Kong leaves Suko with Shimo and takes them on himself. He has no problem ripping the Shinomuras apart with his axe and bare hands. He overpowers them individually, but as the Shinomuras recombine and reshape themselves, they begin to overwhelm him. He notices Shimo and Suko are prompted to do something about it, even though he doesn't want them to, but eventually relents and retreats into a nearby body of water to shake them off of him. Kong quickly jumps out of the water and Shimo freezes and traps the Shinomuras in the water. The trio realize that even more Shinomuras are on the way and transforming into something deadlier. The three immediately turn back and run straight for the lair. As they are running, Kong gets flashbacks of being pursued by Skar King's goons; the Shinomuras remind him of the destruction and chaos that was left behind in Skar King's advance. Kong calls out to the apes farming as he makes it back to the lair and motions them to get inside immediately. He closes up the entrance and warns everyone of the emergency. He has everyone gather all of the resources they have and take refuge in Shimo's former lair, which they now use as an emergency bunker. Boots signs Kong what are they going to do next, and Kong admits he doesn't know, but he intends to be the one to check when it is safe to leave again. Meanwhile, the Iwi are in a similar predicament and Phosphera swoops in to defend the barrier against the invading Shinomuras.
In response to all of this, Monarch sends militaristic HEAVs to neutralize the Shinomuras and has Trapper (or some other character) tasked to pilot Titan Hunter to pursue the main Shinomura on the surface and kill it. Kashiwazaki is evacuated before Shinomura arrives on the scene. Shinomura begins to attack the Kashiwazaki nuclear plant when Godzilla and Mothra arrive to fight it once again. As this is happening, the other colonies arrive to other regions of the world, gaining more strength and attacking other major cities. Godzilla notices this and is conflicted on how to deal with the threats as he is fighting, but Jet Jaguar arrives in Kashiwazaki to fight Shinomura. Godzilla charges up to attack Titan Hunter, thinking he is a threat to him just like the Super X, but Trapper notices this and bows to Godzilla before he can attack. Godzilla accepts this surrender, but quickly shifts his attention back to the Shinomura. Eventually, Titan Hunter, Godzilla, and Mothra defeat the Shinomura, but soon after, several Shinomura supercolonies that supercharged themselves on Hollow Earth energy have reemerged on the surface world to the point where there is at least one attacking each continent of the world. The largest and most powerful colony is in the Yucca Mountain Nuclear West Repository in Nevada. Godzilla is forced to send his alpha call and awaken all of the surface Titans to attack the Shinomuras, so battles begin breaking out across the world. But Godzilla realizes it is not enough and ventures into the Hollow Earth to get more help. Mothra and the Titan Hunter stay behind to hold the line while Godzilla is away and Mothra moves on to Nevada to tackle the Shinomura there, and the Titan Hunter follows her.
Most of the Titans appear to be holding their ground for the most part, but not outright winning either. However, they start to have more problems as some Titans take advantage of the chaos to pursue ulterior motives. Amhuluk wants to fight to claim his desired territory in the Amazon again and travels to the Amazon to fight Behemoth over it and causing a three-way fight between them and the Shinomura colony attacking the region. Meanwhile, in the Hollow Earth, Camazotz reemerges and sends his minions out to devour everything in their path, including the smaller Shinomuras. So Amhuluk and Camazotz become the main antagonists during the second half. Some of the hell swarm attacks the ape lair, and Kong leaves to confront them before they break through. He is able to kill a large number of them, but there are too many for him to handle, forcing him to retreat back into the lair. Several escape into the lair, which Kong is able to kill. When he reunites with his people, he gets more flashbacks of his memories of both Camazotz and Skar King. The attack of the hell swarm reminds him of the invasion Skar King launched against the Hollow Earth and surface world a few years back.
Godzilla travels through oceanic Hollow Earth portals and passes through various ruins of extinct Hollow Earth civilizations along the way. He detects Amhuluk's movements and realizes what he is doing. Godzilla gets really mad, but reluctantly continues on his current path as going back to confront Amhuluk would take up too much time and energy. He makes it into the Hollow Earth and heads over to the ape lair and finishes off the rest of the hell swarm that was still attacking the lair. Afterwards, he charges up his breath and blasts the entrance open again, startling all of the apes. Kong grabs his axe and gets in a defensive position, but after hearing a roar realizes it is Godzilla. He calmly walks into the ape lair, but the other great apes become angry and leave the bunker to mob, surround and harass Godzilla. Godzilla does his best not to escalate tensions, but snaps his jaws, hisses, and sometimes pushes the apes away. Kong roars at the apes and directs them to move away from him. The apes follow his orders and Kong approaches Godzilla. He realizes that he has called on him for help against the Shinomuras. Kong decides to go with Godzilla but does not want to bring Shimo or any of the apes with him. The apes beg for him not to go, and even Shimo seems to cry out for Kong to stay, but he rejects allowing any of his people to put themselves in danger, and he puts Boots in charge while he is away. He says one final goodbye to Suko and leaves with Godzilla.
They have to fight off many smaller Shinomuras while travelling to the surface world while heading for Nevada. Meanwhile, Mothra and the Titan Hunter are already there fighting with the super Shinomura colony. The fight is rather even, but Trapper feels like the fight is going to quicky turn against their favor if they do not get backup soon. Some drones and fighter jets arrive to strike the Shinomura. Eventually, Godzilla and Kong arrive to fight the Shinomura, but Kong notices the Titan Hunter, and has a vision of Skar King, seeing both the Titan Hunter and Skar King as the embodiment of cruelty, destruction, and conquest. Kong attacks the Titan Hunter out of anger, forcing Godzilla to be the one to shove Kong away and break it up. Kong takes a closer look at the Titan Hunter and realizes that it is not the same pilot as the one that hunted Hollow Earth fauna. The Titan Hunter bows to Kong to show he is on the same side and they resume fighting the Shinomura. So, a large portion of the movie would be showing scenes of the Titans fighting the Shinomuras at random intervals, giving a glimpse of what is going on in all of the areas where fights are happening.
Shifting back to Godzilla and Kong's fight, things begin to look grim as more Shinomuras arrive from the Hollow Earth and combine with the supercolony, and Godzilla, Kong, Mothra, and the Titan Hunter begin to struggle against it. Godzilla is still capable of holding some of his ground, while Kong and Mothra are forced to step back as close-range combat is no longer viable. The Titan Hunter gets beaten up really bad and seems to be done for until an ice blast hits the Shinomura. It is Boots, who is riding Shimo, and has gathered the strongest and physically capable apes to help their leader (A fairly large number of fit apes were left behind to care for the elderly and the children). Kong does not know whether to feel happy that his people have his back or mad that they disobeyed his orders but regroups with them regardless and regain their edge against the Shinomura. Then we see more scenes of the other fights going on around the world before Kong's army, Shimo, Godzilla, Mothra, and the Titan Hunter defeat the super Shinomura. While the organic Titans return to the Hollow Earth to finish off the Shinomuras still running around in there, the Titan Hunter lags behind from all of the damage it has sustained, but the pilot persists with helping the Titans.
Back in the Hollow Earth, Godzilla, Mothra, Kong's army, and Shimo run through the Hollow Earth, assisting the local fauna in fighting off the Shinomuras. The Titan Hunter tries its best to follow them and fight off the Shinomuras, but they eventually overwhelm them, forcing the pilot to eject himself. Luckily, a HEAV is nearby and is able to rescue him. Then, a good chunk of the plot would then focus on shifting back between the Hollow Earth fight and the rest of the fights happening on the surface. Kong directs a portion of his army to join Phosphera in defending the Iwi city, which is now under attack by both Shinomuras and Camazotz's minions. Phosphera is close to dying (and eventually does), but the apes are able to kill most of the enemies while the rest retreat. Godzilla and Kong split up, with Kong pursuing Camazotz and Godzilla returning to the surface to confront Amhuluk. Kong leaves Boots in charge of his army and takes a few other trusted friends of his to confront Camazotz, but Shimo follows them, wanting to accompany them. Kong gets more flashbacks of Skar King when he used Shimo to try to execute him, and Kong was unwilling to let Shimo go with them since he did not want to use her for fighting his enemies. Shimo persists and eventually Kong reluctantly lets her join them.
Back on the surface world, Behemoth is not faring well against Amhuluk. The Shinomura colonies in the eastern hemisphere begin to lose the fight and as some of them are killed, the victor Titans travel to regions of the world where they still persist. In South America, however, the Shinomura colonies are still giving the defending Titans a hard time. Behemoth and Amhuluk killed the Shinomura colony, but to Behemoth's dismay, Amhuluk absorbs the remains of the Shinomura colony. It is close to killing Behemoth until Rodan shows up to fight Amhuluk. Rodan quickly gets the upper hand over Amhuluk with his airborne abilities and greater agility. But Amhuluk is not affected that much by Rodan's fiery attacks, as he reinforced his body with fire resistant plants like redwoods. The tables turn on Rodan until Godzilla emerges to fight Amhuluk. So Rodan and Godzilla tag team Amhuluk while Behemoth tries to get the strength to get back up.
Meanwhile, back in the Hollow Earth, Kong, his few trustees, and Shimo are looking for Camazotz and travel through a dark, stormy stretch of rough, mountainous terrain. They find Camazotz in a plateau surrounded by a supercell. They see that Camazotz's minions are feeding him, and he is gaining strength from the radiation that his minions got from hunting Shinomuras. So, Kong, his trustees, and Shimo fight the hell swarm and Camazotz. At this point, the Shinomuras are losing out on the fight with a few large colonies remaining, and Amhuluk and Camazotz become the main threats now. The plot then moves on to showcase some of the final remaining fights between defending Titans and the last Shinomura colonies and see the fights end with the Shinomuras killed. So, the main focus turns to Godzilla's fight, Kong's fight, the fight at the Iwi city barrier, and Boots' crusade to kill the last Shinomuras, which is coming to an end. The fight between Kong and his allies and Camazotz eventually breaks through onto the surface in Canada. Camazotz creates a supercell storm and begins getting an upper hand against Kong and his allies with his new power up. Back in Brazil, Godzilla eventually kills Amhuluk and Rodan and Godzilla both head to Canada. Behemoth gets the strength to get back up.
Back in Canada, Kong and the apes come up with a new strategy to cover their ears with dirt as protection against Camazotz's sonic screams. Kong then tries to do the same with Shimo, but when he does, Shimo does not like the sensation and pushes Kong away. He does not bother trying again and tries to kill all of the minions which are biting him and the apes and causing too much blood loss. Shimo does not fare well against Camazotz despite her size as his cyclone and sonic scream overwhelm her ice breath. Eventually, Mothra emerges to fight him after dealing with the last of the Shinomuras and blasts him with her god rays. Highly stunned and weakened, Kong grabs ahold of Camazotz and notices Rodan approaching to help. He throws him at Rodan's direction, who grabs him with his talons and starts burning him. He holds him in place for Mothra to shoot Camazotz with her webbing. Then Rodan drops Camazotz and Kong finishes him off.
Godzilla arrives onto the scene not long after and shoots his atomic breath to eliminate Camazotz's storm. With all of the hostile Titans dead, Godzilla almost sends the Titans back to sleep, but Mothra approaches him and begins to communicate. The plot then ends with Godzilla returning to Madagascar to take a rest at the coast and watch life as it happens on the island. Kong returns to his people in victory, and they are finally able to leave their lair safely. And Mothra takes over Godzilla's role of balancer, allowing Godzilla to take his well-deserved vacation. This idea of a plotline would mean the movie would be 2 hr 30 min or even 3 hrs so we get the most fighting sequences out of it. I know I glossed over a lot of the human aspects and that I left a lot of the specifics of how a lot of the fights between most of the unseen KOTM Titans would look like, so let me know what your thoughts on this are.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

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

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

For example, mine is one of my past lives, Dustin Callaway.
36, a twin, up and coming country artist, offed himself (OD’d) after his oldest daughter died of disease. Wife was his middle school sweetheart, married at 20. First daughter at 21. Had 7 kids, a ranch, 2 cars, 6/7 nieces and nephews by 33. Perfect career earnings by the time he was mid 20s. Oldest daughter got sick at 13, passed on at 15 from sickle cell disease after years of treatment. Went into a spiral after his loss, began taking pills, ended up in jail for a year after a public intoxication charge, got out at 35. Spent less time with the people around him before he fatally OD’d a year later.
Child loss sucks. RIP man

Basically what I want to do is setup a machine that provides an exit-node. All traffic out of the exit-node should then go into a VPN service. Basically I like mullvad but I can't seem to use the tailscale exit-node reliably due to hit-or-miss encounters with draconian firewalls. I think these firewalls are using IP not any sort of SPI. I need to hop off one of my devices first. Goal:

[my clients] -> [my exit-node] -> [mullvad servers] -> [internet] 

If I use the tailscale mullvad directly from what I understand (i.e. my testing) it seems to end up functioning this way which is honestly preferred except for these annoying firewalls I encounter periodically (I'm trying to use this on my phone since I can't mix VPNs with tailscale on Android):

[my clients] -> [mullvad servers] -> [internet] 

The reason this doesn't work is apparently mullvad servers are blacklisted by various public networks. It affects my laptop but that's not as big a deal as my phone losing internet on some public wifis when cell network is unreachable. This works just fine, but looses the VPN hop (which is why I think packet inspection is not involved):

[my clients] -> [my exit-node] -> [internet] 

So my question is how can I make traffic hop to the exit-node first? Is this something that can be configured in tailscale or do I need to do some sort of packet engineering on the exit-node server? Is there a way to configure the tailnet to use my exit-node as first hop?
Can anyone suggest any examples or tutorials? Would learning about pi-hole setups and configs help? I am unfamiliar with pi-hole. I'm just looking for some guidance about where to focus my efforts.

Unlocking Email Automation in Excel VBA

Excel's versatility extends beyond data analysis and reporting, delving into the realm of automation that simplifies tedious tasks, such as email communications directly from your worksheets. The integration of Visual Basic for Applications (VBA) within Excel allows users to create custom functions, enabling the automation of creating and sending emails without leaving the comfort of their spreadsheet environment. This capability is particularly beneficial for professionals who rely on timely communication and data distribution, ensuring that reports, notifications, and updates are dispatched directly from their workbooks with minimal manual intervention.
However, navigating the VBA landscape to automate email operations can present challenges, particularly in ensuring the new mail item is prominently displayed in front of the worksheet and is sent after the contact is selected. Addressing this issue not only enhances the user experience by making email management more efficient within Excel but also leverages the full potential of Excel's automation capabilities. By streamlining these processes, users can focus more on their core tasks, knowing that their communication needs are handled efficiently and effectively.

Command	Description
CreateObject("Outlook.Application")	Creates an instance of Outlook Application, allowing VBA to control Outlook.
.CreateItem(0)	Creates a new email item.
.Display	Displays the email item to the user in Outlook.
.To, .CC, .BCC	Specifies the recipient(s) of the email in the To, CC, and BCC fields.
.Subject	Defines the subject of the email.
.Body	Sets the body content of the email.
.Send	Sends the email item.

Expanding Email Automation with Excel VBA

Delving deeper into the integration of Excel VBA for email automation unveils a powerful toolset at the disposal of users aiming to streamline their communication workflows directly from their spreadsheets. This capability is not just about sending basic emails; it's about creating a highly personalized and dynamic communication channel. Through VBA, Excel can interact with Outlook to manipulate various aspects of email creation, from adding attachments to customizing the email body with data directly sourced from the spreadsheet. This level of automation can significantly enhance productivity, especially for those dealing with customer inquiries, periodic reports, or regular updates that require personalization based on spreadsheet data.
Moreover, the automation process extends to handling responses. By automating email operations, users can set up rules within Outlook to sort incoming emails based on specific criteria, such as sender, subject, or keywords. This can be particularly useful for managing feedback or responses to the emails sent through Excel VBA. Such automation ensures that the workflow is not just one-way but creates a loop of communication that is both efficient and manageable. Implementing these advanced features requires a good understanding of both Excel VBA and Outlook's capabilities, highlighting the importance of integrating these powerful tools to maximize efficiency and effectiveness in professional communication.

Automating Outlook Emails from Excel VBA

VBA in Excel

 Dim outlookApp As Object Dim mailItem As Object Set outlookApp = CreateObject("Outlook.Application") Set mailItem = outlookApp.CreateItem(0) With mailItem .Display .To = "recipient@example.com" .CC = "ccrecipient@example.com" .BCC = "bccrecipient@example.com" .Subject = "Subject of the Email" .Body = "Body of the email" ' Add attachments and other email item properties here End With End Sub 

Enhancing Communication through Excel VBA

Integrating email automation within Excel using Visual Basic for Applications (VBA) significantly boosts the efficiency of communication processes, particularly in professional settings where time is of the essence. This integration allows for seamless creation, customization, and sending of emails directly from Excel, leveraging data within spreadsheets to personalize messages. The automation goes beyond mere convenience, enabling users to send bulk emails tailored to each recipient, schedule emails for future delivery, and even trigger emails based on specific events or conditions met within the spreadsheet. Such capabilities are invaluable for marketing campaigns, customer service follow-ups, and internal communication within organizations, ensuring that the right messages reach the right people at the right time.
Furthermore, Excel VBA's email automation can be enhanced with advanced features such as dynamic attachment inclusion, where files relevant to the spreadsheet's data or analysis are automatically attached to the outgoing emails. Users can also implement error handling to manage issues that may arise during the email sending process, such as invalid email addresses or network problems, ensuring that all communications are delivered successfully. With these advanced functionalities, Excel VBA becomes not just a tool for data management but a comprehensive solution for managing professional communications, reducing manual effort, and increasing the reliability and effectiveness of email interactions.

FAQs on Email Automation with Excel VBA

1. Question: Can Excel VBA send emails without Outlook?
2. Answer: Typically, Excel VBA uses Outlook for email automation, but it's possible to send emails via other email clients or SMTP servers with additional scripting and configuration.
3. Question: How do I attach files to an automated email in Excel VBA?
4. Answer: Use the .Attachments.Add method within your VBA script to attach files to your email. You can specify the file path directly in the code.
5. Question: Can I automate emails based on cell values in Excel?
6. Answer: Yes, by using VBA scripts, you can trigger email sending based on specific cell values or changes in the data within your spreadsheet.
7. Question: How do I ensure my automated emails are not marked as spam?
8. Answer: Ensure your emails have a clear subject line, avoid excessive links or attachments, and send emails through recognized email servers. Personalization can also help reduce the risk of being marked as spam.
9. Question: Is it possible to send HTML formatted emails with Excel VBA?
10. Answer: Yes, you can set the .HTMLBody property of the MailItem object to send emails in HTML format, allowing for rich text formatting, images, and links.
11. Question: Can automated emails include dynamic data from Excel?
12. Answer: Absolutely. You can dynamically insert data from your Excel sheets into the email's body or subject line, customizing each message based on the spreadsheet's contents.
13. Question: How do I schedule emails to be sent at a later time using Excel VBA?
14. Answer: Direct scheduling within VBA is complex; however, you can create the email and then use Outlook's Delay Delivery feature to specify a sending time.
15. Question: Can I send emails to multiple recipients using Excel VBA?
16. Answer: Yes, you can list multiple email addresses in the .To, .CC, or .BCC properties, separated by semicolons, to send emails to multiple recipients.
17. Question: How do I handle errors during the email sending process in VBA?
18. Answer: Implement error handling routines in your VBA script to catch and respond to errors, such as using Try...Catch blocks or checking for specific error codes.
19. Question: Is it necessary to have programming knowledge to automate emails with Excel VBA?
20. Answer: Basic programming knowledge is helpful for customizing and troubleshooting your VBA scripts, but many resources and templates are available to help beginners.

Mastering Excel VBA for Efficient Email Management

Excel VBA's email automation presents a transformative approach to managing communications, allowing users to leverage the powerful features of Excel to streamline their email-related tasks. By integrating VBA scripts, professionals can automate the sending of personalized emails, manage attachments, and even handle incoming responses, all within the familiar environment of Excel. This not only saves valuable time but also reduces the risk of errors associated with manual email handling. Furthermore, the ability to customize email content based on spreadsheet data ensures that communications are relevant and timely. As we continue to seek efficiencies in our professional workflows, the role of Excel VBA in automating and enhancing email communications cannot be overstated. It represents a significant step forward in how we manage data-driven communication, providing a robust toolset for professionals looking to optimize their email workflows and enhance their productivity.
https://www.tempmail.us.com/en/excel/automating-email-operations-in-excel-with-vba

I originally had a script that emailed all of the spreadsheets as a PDF, but my current script is no longer working when I'm trying to only PDF one of the spreadsheets called "Log".
I think it has something to do with var pdfBlob, but the logic looks correct.
What am I scripting wrong here

// ts-check let today = new Date(); // Declare as let to avoid hoisting issues console.log(today); let dd = today.getDate(); let mm = today.getMonth() + 1; let yyyy = today.getFullYear(); if (dd < 10) { dd = '0' + dd; } if (mm < 10) { mm = '0' + mm; } today = mm + '-' + dd + '-' + yyyy; console.log(today); function sendLog() { //Get all active spreadsheets in the file var spreadsheet = (SpreadsheetApp.getActiveSpreadsheet()); // Get the "Log" tab var logSheet = (spreadsheet.getSheetByName("Log")); // Get the range of cells containing data in the "Log" tab var logRange = (logSheet.getDataRange()); // Generate PDF for the "Log" tab only var pdfBlob = logSheet.getRange(logRange.getA1Notation()).getAs(MimeType.PDF).setName("Construction Log "+today+".pdf"); var message = { to: "dummyemail@example.com", subject: "[Automated] Email ", body: "Automated Change Order Log for your use.", name: "Dummy Name", attachments: [pdfBlob] } MailApp.sendEmail(message); }