How to make thick friendship bracelets with six strings

Hey there!
I hope you all are doing well. This is just a random 24 y/o (F) who feels like she is emptier than vaccum now. Idk why life feels so exhausting. My thoughts keep on spiraling over situations i am dealing with currently and i feel worried about the future. I am an MBA Aspirant, always into good acads but my family is so used-to me scoring good that it's a normal for them. I haven't really had girls i could gel up with. They came when they needed help or guidance over something and then it was a series on unread messages for me when it came to meet-ups. I always take efforts when it comes to keeping the friendship alive, meeting, planning things but they're always brushed off by making any random excuse. What hurts the most is that they don't even reply back so i focus back on studying.
Then my apparent boyfriend (24 M) also has this avoidant behaviour and things feel one-sided now. His sentence that "i need to be selfish when it comes to acads" gets me everytime. Because me. Being an absolute idiot was ready to shift cities when it came to chosing a uni but he had his "selfish" criteria. Funny thing. The reality is boyfriends come and go but we, girls, need a bunch of supportive friends who are there through thick & thin. Do not leave us stranded. But, that's not the case here.
I thought of having a work bestie but what a huge disappointment it was! Toxic manager who used to load me with work with just a 10k salary. Her sister going in and out of office according to her will but i couldn't leave without permission. And when i finally resigned, the directors were "sad because they lost their valuable employee who did work of 3 people" with zero increments.
At this point, i feel i am complaining. But i feel utter sense of having nothing likeable in me as if i have no personality of my own. How can i not resonate with anyone? And most importantly, how do i get out of these obsessive thoughts which are constantly reminding me of bad things? People only come to me cause they know i am an easy access and i will personally make sure that i help them.in some way. Is it good or degradingly bad?
I honestly don't know what to do in lofe anymore. Everything feels so directionless.

So I have a bf who also Is my fp ans he has an ex who he is still friends with he broke it off with them 3 years before we even got together and I fully trust him and he's verry Faithfull and his ex is nice enough decent to hang with however. I don't trust his ex and she keeps making the odd comments here n and there eg
my bf said I love how squishy your thighs are to me while he had his hand on my lap and she states I'm squishy too
and recently she gifted him a friendship bracelet now my fp isn't the type to wear jewelery so ge juts keeps in a drawer but I hate she even gave it to him and I want to throw it away immediately idk if out of jealousy or whay but i hate it idk what to do here

If you wanna make your opinion known on where I go after Networked and His Shining Armor
HungrySpeep bleated;
Hi there! I'm a female Venlil living on Earth, and I wanna talk about my first experience with eating meat!
Let me just say, I will be going into detail about my experiences, so if eating meat is still too much for you, ye have been warned
. . .
If you're still here, congrats! Old school exterminators probably wanna put a shock collar on you!
Moving on
So it happened this one night during a heavy storm, about a year after I'd moved to Earth to be with my mate. I'd just gotten home from work and was feeling terrible. I was cold and soaked, I'd forgotten my lunch and hadn't gotten anything to eat, and I hadn't talked to Lily all day, so I walked in hoping for a warm meal, a couple of dry towels, and some cuddling.
Except, Lily was passed out cold on the coach, still in her gym clothes. Apparently, she'd been ridden hard in training that day and had only gotten as far the living room before going face first into the nearest cushion.
So I pet her hair some, move to the kitchen, get ready to resign myself to some cold salad, when I see it. The crockpot.
(For those of you unaware, a crockpot is Human cooking equipment, a pot in this sort of heated bowl that slowly cooks things, sometimes over the course of a [Day and night]. It's probably more complicated than that, but I don't know, I'm just hungry)
So I kind of just stand there for a moment next to it, feeling the heat coming off of it, seeing the gravy bubble and the roast just slowly fall apart, glistening shreds of meat floating around and soaking in the flavors of the seasoning and sauce.
Like I said, I hadn't had anything to eat that day, and I'd always heard how my mate talked about meat before, how happy she seemed whenever she sat down for a meal with it.
My stomach clenched.
"Just one bite," I told myself, "Just one spoonful. A weird experience I can laugh about later."
I pulled open the cutlery drawer and got a spoon.
"Me and Lily can banter over it, she can call me a Predator, I'll call her my Prey, we can play wrestle over it,"
I took the lid off and the mist hit me full on, a blessing after the strong wind and cold rain, and I swear I could taste this thick headiness in it, made my stomach growl so loud I'm surprised Lily didn't wake up.
"It's nothing weird. There's nothing wrong about it."
I dip my spoon in and pull out a helping of gravy and meat, just a dripping as it steamed.
"It's just a taste."
I put the spoon in my mouth.
And everything changed.
Morning came, and Lily woke up to only enough roast and gravy left for one bowl, and a very guilty Venlil passed out on the couch next to her.
I knew what I'd done wasn't wrong, and it still took me a long time and a lot of help to stop feeling any guilt over it, but it happened. I got to experience something that I was told my whole life was the epitome of evil, that no good or sane person, that no sapient PERIOD would ever indulge in.
And I fucking loved it.
Describing the roast itself; Meat is savory, that cannot be overstated. What I had was beef roast, a thick chunk of meat that's usually chopped up, and served with a side to balance out the heavy flavor. Or, in my case, left to slowly cook and soak in home-made gravy, this thick, off-white sauce that's seasoned and goes perfectly with heavy meats, or grilled and buttered bread as Lily showed me later.
It was hearty, it was filling, it covered every corner of my mouth and warmed me up from the inside out in the heaviest and coziest way possible, and I just couldn't get enough. I never even bothered with a bowl, I just ate straight from the pot, sometimes I reached over to the bread (Human strayu) to get a few slices to spoon it over, usually ended up spilling some on my paws, which were then promptly licked clean.
It was messy, it was taboo, it left me feeling like I had to keep looking over my shoulder after every couple of spoonfuls, and it was the best damn meal I had ever had.
And now, when my [Six foot six inches], [Three hundred pound] heavyweight boxer mate feels like spoiling her little [Four foot eight inches] VenLady, she makes a visit to a nearby wholesaler, takes the crockpot down from the cabinet, and gets out her grandma's notes on home-made gravy.
What about you guys? Did you fall into the meat pit too, and how?
I say again, if you wanna vote or rant about what you want me to do, click this

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

Hey there!
I hope you all are doing well. This is just a random 24 y/o who feels like she is emptier than vaccum now. Idk why life feels so exhausting. My thoughts keep on spiraling over situations i am dealing with currently and i feel worried about the future. I am an MBA Aspirant, always into good acads but my family is so used-to me scoring good that it's a normal for them. I haven't really had girls i could gel up with. They came when they needed help or guidance over something and then it was a series on unread messages for me when it came to meet-ups. I always take efforts when it comes to keeping the friendship alive, meeting, planning things but they're always brushed off by making any random excuse. What hurts the most is that they don't even reply back so i focus back on studying.
Then my apparent boyfriend also has this avoidant behaviour and things feel one-sided now. His sentence that "i need to be selfish when it comes to acads" gets me everytime. Because me. Being an absolute idiot was ready to shift cities when it came to chosing a uni but he had his "selfish" criteria. Funny thing. The reality is boyfriends come and go but we, girls, need a bunch of supportive friends who are there through thick & thin. Do not leave us stranded. But, that's not the case here.
I thought of having a work bestie but what a huge disappointment it was! Toxic manager who used to load me with work with just a 10k salary. Her sister going in and out of office according to her will but i couldn't leave without permission. And when i finally resigned, the directors were "sad because they lost their valuable employee who did work of 3 people" with zero increments.
At this point, i feel i am complaining. But i feel utter sense of having nothing likeable in me as if i have no personality of my own. How can i not resonate with anyone? And most importantly, how do i get out of these obsessive thoughts which are constantly reminding me of bad things? People only come to me cause they know i am an easy access and i will personally make sure that i help them.in some way. Is it good or degradingly bad?
I honestly don't know what to do in lofe anymore. Everything feels so directionless.

His ex sent me this message. Sorry it’s so long! Has anybody else gotten a similar message in the past? How did you react?
Message below: “It’s been over a year of me wondering whether I should just come out and ask you or message you… but being afraid that if I do, and I’m wrong, it’ll be a the biggest mistake of my life. I have begged and begged him to tell me what you are to him, and he denies having anything more than a platonic friendship with you.
I want to preface this message with, I have no ill will towards you, I just want some answers… answers I don’t believe I’m going to get from Jared. I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything about me. So here goes…
November 2022, I sent Jared an email, telling him I loved him, missed him, and though I didn’t require a response back, I wanted him to know how sorry I was for everything that had happened and things had ended. He responded with a lengthy email telling me he still fervently loved me and how he too was sorry for how things had ended. That email lead to the last year and a half of events.
December 2022, I drove down to Roanoke and surprised him at the Carilion garage. He left the hospital as fast as he could that night, and we spent the rest of that evening together, catching up, and he left for Key West two days later. Two weeks later, he came up to DC and we had a late birthday celebration for him at Clyde’s in Georgetown and went to see A Christmas Carol at the Ford Theater. A few weeks later we drove to Jersey to see Matchbox20, by now it was the end of January 2023. Almost every week off, for the last year, he would come up and see me, if even for only two days, or I would drive down to Roanoke and spend the week with him. We spoke about our past, the hurt, and future, he told me numerous times that when he pictured marriage and children, it was only with me, but he needed time. This part is important, and I’ll come back to it later. We celebrated my birthday at a restaurant in Navy Yard, two weeks before you guys left for London. Chris video chatted with that night while we were at the restaurant eating Wagyu, and they discussed the new shipment of sunglasses Chris had gotten for Miggieswear.
The weekend of the Super Bowl, he had come seen me earlier that week, the day after he left I came to Roanoke and left the day of the Super Bowl. He told me his parents were having a viewing party and he had to go home and cook. I’m now assuming he left my Airbnb and came to your place.
That February he planned a trip to London, with Nicole, Ryan and Chris, and what he told me were, Nicole’s “friends.” Nicole happened to post a picture of you guys sitting on the plane and I was shocked, why would Nicole’s friend be sitting between him and Ryan. I sent him a message while you were on that 6 hour flight, telling him that if he had been seeing somebody, then why didn’t he tell me? There was no point in us spending time together if he had moved on. His response to me was “do you even know what you’re looking at? I’m surprised you don’t recognize her, that’s Nicole’s friend. You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions right now and don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something in my gut didn’t believe it but I wanted to trust that, so I did. I put you out of sight, out of mind. When he got back, he told me how he wished I’d been there with him, we both love history and old buildings, it’s a place we would have found magical together. I don’t know who came up with the idea of going to London, but part of me always thinks I’m the one who put it there when I shared the pictures i had taken when I went there the year we had been no contact.
We went to a Kenny Chesney concert in Charlottesville that March when I got back from my family trip to India, and he got back from London. Between work, us both traveling with our families, we were excited to see one another. We were going to go to St Augustine, but because of the weather, we stayed in Roanoke and saw Kenny Chesney in Charlottesville. The original plan had been to spend the night in Charlottesville at a hotel, but we couldn’t get one last minute so we ended up driving back to Roanoke and sneaking into the basement at his parents house and sleeping in his bed at 3am.
A few months later, we went to Richmond, and stayed the weekend, exploring the city, and watched Hamilton at the Altria Theater. A few months after that, we went to Savannah and Atlanta, where he got a flat tire driving into the garage, and spent the rest of the weekend at a yoga retreat. July, he asked me to go to Boston with him and his brother, for 4th or July weekend, but I couldn’t because my siblings were in town. Every single week, he came down and either stayed with me, or made a quick trip to spend time with me…
This past September, I found out he took you to Justin’s wedding, and I broke. I needed more from him. I have known him, been intimate with him, shared my every fear, worry, I have brought him home cooked meals from DC and surprised him at work with dinner, I’ve made him care packages. I’ve made Ryan Easter baskets and sent him birthday presents and encouraged Jared to put him in academic classes, I’ve helped Jared look into private schools for Ryan, and weighed the pros and cons of the options. I had no expectations in return from him other than, at the very least, a mutual respect and HONESTY.
I’ve seen him quite a few times since September and I last saw him in Roanoke at the beginning of March 2024. We sat in front of each other, in his car before he went into work that Monday night, and he told me, again, that when he thinks of marriage and a future, I’m the only one he pictures a marriage and children with. I’m not saying this to hurt you, or to make a point, I’m saying it because i don’t know what to believe anymore.
I became suspicious of his relationship with you, when he mentioned going to Macchu Picchu and hiking through the mountains. As all women have the ability to find out details they might later regret, I did the same thing. Except I didn’t believe he had actually gone to Macchu Picchu. I knew his passport had been long expired since around or before COVID, and I knew he had renewed it before he went to London. But that was when I realized you were the girl in the photo that Nicole posted. When I confronted him about Macchu Picchu, he told me he had been joking and he had also already told me he’d been joking. He had NEVER told me it was a joke, he had actually refused to show me photos when I asked him for pictures from the trip… he had then proceeded to change the topic, which is what had even raised red flags in my head.
My point is, I have asked him point blank so many times whether you two have a relationship. You tell me you still love me, that you picture marriage and a family with me, but this girl is a part of your life, and you took her to a wedding with you, while I was on a trip with my siblings, you took her to London with you, and you continue to tell me she’s just a friend. I asked him again on Tuesday night/Wednesday Morning after he left work, if you two are dating, and he said no. He asked me why I’m so hyper-fixated on somebody who’s just a friend when he has a million other female friends.
In September, he told me he needed a month to clear his head, that he wanted to commit to me, but he was afraid and that he needed to get over the fear and roadblock of our past break up. I gave him grace and understood. So we took a 4 week break. Some time during that time period, he sent me a snap of doves, and said “doves, and swans mate for life.” He sent me Ed Sheeran songs telling me he wants to find his way back to me. “No Strings Attached… you are the one I love”
In November, he messaged me and told me he had a surprise for me and to look for something in the mail. He loves the Count of Monte Carlo, it’s one of his favorite movies, and he told me it was in reference to that. A few weeks later I got a candle, a silver 400 dollar Buddha candle from Thomson Ferrier. I didn’t understand the reference to the Count of Monte Carlo, but it was a beautiful gesture and present… especially because he knew how much little gestures from him mean to me.
Fast forward to January, I got another 350 dollar black skull candle from him, from Thomson Ferrier. At this point I was upset, angry and livid. I called my sister in tears that evening. I had come back to him because he told me he loved me, that he “has a fire that burns so deeply” when he thinks of me. If i had known that wasn’t true, i would have closed the chapter a year and a half ago. I don’t want $700 worth of gifts and candles, I want more. I want marriage, I want children, I want our lives to move forward, I want communication. Out of anger, I packed up the candle, his sweatshirts and clothes that he had left at my place this past year, and mailed them back to his house. I’m sure it’s sitting somewhere in his basement closet/ bedroom… along with his white Huq sweatshirt, a picture of us I had up in my house, and various articles of clothing.
What upsets me is that he didn’t just involve me this year, he involved my family. He sent my mom presents, my parents in return sent him gifts. My sister, parents and cousins messaged him asking him to come around more. There was no point in involving my family, if he was going to involve himself with you. There was no point in involving himself with me, if he was going to involve himself with you. Those leather Indian shoes sitting in his room, my dad bought those for him. That blue sweater, those green pants and that maroon shirt, my parents bought those for him just this last year.
I don’t know what he’s told you about me, but I will say this. I was your age when we started dating. I was 29 years old. He was single, that’s what everyone in our residency program thought. He would tell everyone how Shari left him one day, all of a sudden just got up and left. “I saw the look behind her eyes just change when she looked at me.” He would tell everyone his horrific dating stories. When i started dating him, there was no doubt in my mind he was single… but I was wrong. He wasn’t single, he was dating Devon, one of the nurses from Carilion, and he had been for the past 4 years prior to that. At one point when he moved to Norfolk, she had even moved in with him. Even Shari was visiting him in Norfolk during this time period. I would have never suspected it, nobody in our residency program did. It wasn’t until one day, when he told me his friends were visiting from home, and they were all going to a concert together, that I found out. Her profile picture was of the two of them together, and her Facebook relationship status said “in a relationship.” Out of my own naivety, i believed him when he told me she was crazy and obsessed with him. He told me, to him, they were just friends but she wanted more. Women do a lot of things, but no woman is dumb enough to think she’s your girlfriend when she’s not. When we moved back to our hometowns, Devon was there waiting for him. He disappeared one day for 24 hours, told me that he was helping his dad’s friend who was stranded in NC. A year and a half later, i would find out that was a lie and that he had been at a concert Florida Georgia Line concert with her. She had been visiting his grandmother with him, staying at his parents home. The irony is that a few weeks after he took her, he took me to the same concert in Scranton. Him and his family didn’t bat an eye when a month later, I showed up and was the “new girlfriend.”
Eventually Devon found out about his lies and left him, but again, stupid me thought she was a crazy girl who just wanted so badly to be with him, that she built their relationship up in her head.
Dignity, respect for humans, empathy, are the most important qualities in a human being.
What I don’t wish is for you to be in my spot in 5 years. He will paint you in his colors, make you fall in love with MB20, and take you to Augustana concerts, he’ll tell you that you understand him, and his heart in a way that nobody else does. He’ll bond with you over music, and send you songs that make you feel he’s talking about you. He is so good at making you feel seen, and involving you with his family. He’ll say he had a vision of a girl that looks like you, coming into his life, and here you are, his soul mate. And one day, the same way that Shari, Devon and I got lost in him, the reality of everything will come pouring down on you. Be careful, there are signs between the lines, and the smiles, and good times. Make sure you don’t miss those, whatever you decide.
My relationship with him, started off just like yours. Another girl on the periphery, and teetering the line of inappropriate. Everything you call him out on, will always have an excuse, and you will believe him because he’s the “good guy” who goes above and beyond for people.
I don’t wish for any woman to go through the pain I’ve gone through, the manipulation, the lies and the emotional abuse. I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say, be careful and don’t be blind to the small things that will one day become huge. The novelty will fade, and though Jared isn’t the devil, he has a lot of growing up to do at 40. It was not okay to toy with me and drag me through the mud this year. It wasn’t okay to minimize his relationship with you and lie to me about it. It’s not okay to, to this day claim to see a life with me and not commit to it. I deserve better, and you deserve better.
How men talk about their ex’s and other women is an indication about how they will one day talk about and treat you. That is the worst and best lesson i have learned. I’m 34, years of my life wasted, and he took another year of my life knowing full well, this is how it would end. He’s sat on the phone with me for hours talking about how stupid PA’s are and if you were going to not be a doctor, at least become an NP, who has better bedside knowledge. Why would he say that, because i suppose you’re a PA and it minimizes the significance of even having a relationship with somebody who isn’t as intelligent as he is. The lack of respect will always be there, you just have to look for it.
Dishonesty, and manipulation are a plague, and if that’s who you are at 40, it is who you will always be unless you recognize that something needs to change. Where there is no accountability, there can be no change. I’m not the exception, I’m the same as the two girls before me. He’ll show you text messages where he never responded to me, even though he replies on Snapchat where every thing is erased. I cannot believe i didn’t see the signs. He will make me look crazy and laugh at me, the same way he showed me messages from Jen, and Elisabeth, and Devon, and made them sound crazy to me. I guess that’s his MO. The same way he told me you were nothing to him.
I was going to send you this message, two months ago… i then decided not to because he convinced me he wasn’t dating you… I saw him less than a month ago in Roanoke, i begged him to tell me that he was in a relationship with you. He said he wasn’t, again, he told me he was going to a wedding alone with only Ryan and that he wasn’t taking you. I then begged him to tell me that we were done and that he didn’t love me anymore. His response was idk what’s going to happen a year from now, i know I’ll see you again. His response every time has been when im ready for a relationship, emotionally, do you want me to finally let you know? I don’t care to be with him anymore. I’m so over it but i really think you should know the type of person you’re dealing with.
He has put me through so much hell for a year and a half of my life, stringing me along acting like he’s doing me a favor while he works on his own mental health and claims to still love me when we are together.”
TLDR: my SO’s ex messaged me saying he’s been seeing both of us for the past year and a half. Has anybody experienced this before. She sent me pictures from the past year of them and their text exchanges

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

Republic 7^th Fleet, Centaurus Sector, 407 light years from Earth
RSS Vercingetorix, Independence-Class Carrier, 2174 A.D.
Vice-Admiral Mei Zhou had just finished making the final changes to the fleet’s reconnaissance patrol routes with her senior staff when the comm panel on her desk chirped, displaying an incoming comm request from Admiral Thompson. She quickly thumbed the pad being offered by her aide so that he could issue the orders they were just working on and turned to the rest of her staff. “Nice job, people. Let’s get to work. Dismissed.” As the staff filed out the door, she started entering the codes needed to decrypt the incoming comm channel and looked up to make sure the room was empty. She pressed the open channel icon, and Admiral Thompson’s holo image appeared in front of her desk, ending just below his waist and making it seem as if he was actually there, sitting.
“Mei, how’s your new ship treating you?” he asked, smiling. “She is an absolute beauty, Karl. I still can’t believe that she is mine.” She responded, returning his smile. “What can I do for you, Karl?” Thompson chuckled, and his holo image leaned back as he reclined in his chair. “Straight to business; I always liked that about you, Mei. Alright, here we go. We have received intelligence reports that the Commonwealth has begun evacuating one of their last remaining coreward periphery worlds that is now dangerously close to the expanded Insectoid border. We have also received an update from our spy drones in that same region that six Hive ships and almost four hundred cruisers that were patrolling their side of that border area have disappeared. This is too much of a coincidence, and I want you to detach a combat patrol and send them there.” Thompson finished speaking, and a flashing icon popped up on her comm panel, indicating that she had just received new orders. She tapped it and quickly scanned the new orders as the admiral waited. She looked up at his holo image. “Karl, I acknowledge receipt of the new orders and will implement them. Between me and you, why are we getting involved with this? The Commonwealth has a navy, and they should be fighting to protect their space. We can’t keep coming to the rescue and defending their members; we are already spread too thin as it is.”
Thompson nodded his head in agreement. “Mei, I agree with you in principle, but there are social and political considerations involved here. The near extinction of the V’rni has caused considerable turmoil among the citizens of the Republic. They know logically that we could not have stopped such an attack like that one, but the perceived failure to protect them or prevent the attack still weighs heavily on their souls. The Commonwealth is currently attempting to evacuate the Jaleen system, and they are one of the last surviving members that voted yes before our petition to join the Commonwealth was denied. It also doesn’t help that the Jaleeni are avowed pacifists and look like bipedal Newfoundland dogs. They are technically a bear-like species, but to humans, they look like humanoid dogs, and the government is unwilling to lose the popular support it currently enjoys by allowing the Jaleeni to be exterminated. I mean, look at these guys.”
Another flashing icon popped up on her screen a moment later, and she pressed it. It turned into a hologram depicting a typical Jaleeni family of a mother and father with a litter of six pups, and she couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the photo. They were wearing their traditional rough-spun linen clothes that made them look like dogs cosplaying as monks. They looked adorable, and she felt her heart melt while staring into their deep brown eyes, which looked sad. She understood the reasoning behind it, especially after the mass extinctions that occurred in Earth’s biosphere because of World War 3.
After the war, humanity had an awakening when they surveyed their destroyed world and came to terms with the disappearance of thousands of species and the near extinction of thousands of others. What followed were three generations of desperate measures to salvage what remained and a worldwide effort at habitat restoration and de-extinction efforts utilizing a wide array of methods such as back-breeding, cloning, and genome editing. Dogs were almost driven to extinction by the war as they were uniquely susceptible to the BioChem weapons that were developed and refined by the Eastern Coalition animal testing on poor innocent canine subjects. Between the Biochem weapons, owner deaths, abandonment, and starvation, almost 90% of the domesticated canine population and entire breeds were lost by the war’s end. Cats fared much better, but they still suffered a loss of almost half of their pre-war population, and a large percentage of the survivors reverted to a feral state. The result of all of this was an almost religious reverence for the preservation of sentient animal life on human worlds and a somewhat fanatical tendency of humans to take on the mantle of guardians for sapient alien species that resembled animals to them.
“Karl, I understand; I do. I just don’t like the fact that we are operating on so many fronts. Some of our fleets and task forces are patrolling areas far enough away that I worry about them getting reinforcements on time if they are attacked, and now my fleet is being partitioned to send a combat patrol almost three hundred light-years away from our current position. After the assault on the V’rn system, half of our combat power was recalled to Republic space to prevent the same thing from happening to us, and yet we are still being tasked with properly defending Eleani and Xenxin territory with half the ships we had before. Have they lost their damn minds at HQ?” She realized she was almost yelling at the admiral, and Mei took a deep breath, recognizing that her outburst was unbecoming of a Republic naval officer. She attempted to quickly apologize to Admiral Thompson. “Karl, I’m sorry that was uncalled for-“
The admiral raised a hand to stop her, an amused expression in his eyes. “Mei, I said the exact same thing to my boss as you did almost verbatim, and not as diplomatically as you, I might add. My concerns were addressed to my satisfaction, and I think yours will be when you get to your destination. There will be a task force joining you there, and I think you will be pleased. That is all I can say for now over the comms. You will lead the combat patrol to the coordinates listed in the orders you received, and the task force joining you there will fall under your command. I have a personal favor to ask of you. Please keep an open mind when you link up with the task force. You will rendezvous with Commodore Therax, and he is instrumental in our efforts to undermine the increasingly despotic Commonwealth government. More information about him and the Nekuli were added to your orders, make sure you review it. I took a big gamble on this, and I would be grateful if you did your best to make this collaboration work. That is all for now, and I wish you and your crews good fortune and godspeed, Mei. Take care of yourself.” The admiral finished speaking, and Mei noted the personal nature of his last few words, nodding an affirmative to his request.
“Admiral, I thank you for your words, and we won’t let you down. I need to issue the orders now to get there and link up with the task force on time. I’ll send a null space comm drone to the nearest relay to confirm our arrival and integration. Vice-admiral Zhou out.” As she leaned towards the comm panel to close the channel, she saw Admiral Thompson doing the same, and he gave her a wink and a mischievous smile before she pressed the icon, terminating the connection. She leaned back in her chair and blew out a deep breath. “Now what the hell was that all about?” She asked out loud to herself, as the confusing and secretive nature of her orders and the personal request of the admiral added to the uncertainty of what she was expected to do. She keyed her wrist pad and texted her aide to come back to her office for new orders. He was going to be livid that they just wasted half a day revising the patrol routes to maximize efficiency and increase their patrol range. A small smile crossed her lips as she waited. He had an obvious tell of his lower left eyelid spasming when he was mad despite displaying no emotions on his face, and she knew it drove him nuts that he couldn’t control it. Witnessing it was one of the small joys she had in her difficult job as vice-admiral, and she was looking forward to it.
Fifty-six hours later, her task force flashed out of null space at the designated coordinates and right on time. She felt a measure of pride as she watched her bridge crew go about confirming their location and verifying it with the navigational array and astrometric sensors. Once the navigator gave her confirmation that he verified their position, she turned towards the comms officer and ordered her to send a burst transmission with the pre-arranged code and waited for the response. A few seconds later, the comms officer raised her left hand and signaled receipt and confirmation of the code by the task force waiting in null space. An agonizingly long minute crawled along as she anxiously waited for her navigator to confirm the telemetry from his counterpart in the other task force as they verified their positions. The navigator activated the main viewscreen on the forward bulkhead as they waited. Suddenly, there were a multitude of exit flashes 200,000 kilometers from the bow of her carrier, and hundreds of warships appeared at a dead stop relative to her position.
Her jaw dropped as she took in the unexpected fleet in front of her. There were dozens of Commonwealth dreadnaughts, battleships, and heavy cruisers arrayed before her, as well as an additional one hundred and twenty light cruisers, destroyers, and missile frigates. On the flanks of the main formation, there were more exit flashes, and the bridge AI started categorizing them on the screen, and she saw that they were the new Eleani and Xenxin warships that she had been hearing about. They shared a design lineage with the Commonwealth ships, but there were definite differences that became obvious as they assumed their positions next to the Commonwealth navy ships. She was particularly intrigued by the Xenxin ships, as they seemed to be bristling with weapons, almost excessively so relative to their ship sizes. The Eleani ships seemed to have taken a different design philosophy, and they gave the impression of deadly speed and grace, and she was hard-pressed to spot any obvious weapons on their hulls despite the AI confirming that the ships were indeed well-armed.
There was another coded signal from null space that appeared on the comm station panel, and her comm officer turned to her. “Vice-admiral, we have received a coded message on the sigma frequency for your eyes only that requires biometric and voice verification to decrypt.” Zhou nodded and pressed a button on her arm panel, activating the privacy screen around her chair and feeling the pressure change as the bridge around her became opaque and silent. She pressed the biometric toggle on the panel, and a retinal scanner popped out of its alcove on the side. She leaned in and scanned her right eye first, then her left. An icon appeared on the screen, and she thumbed it as it flashed and confirmed the print. Finally, she spoke and addressed the bridge AI: “Suzy, please confirm the voice command for verification.” The AI answered immediately. -Of course, Vice-Admiral Zhou, please proceed.- “Zhou, one-red-seven-green-four-tango-alpha-zero. Execute.” -Voice command verified. Thank you, Vice-Admiral Zhou.-
A small holographic display popped up in front of her; the admiral appeared on the screen, and his pre-recorded message started playing. “Mei, I know all this cloak and dagger stuff seems excessive, but we couldn’t take any chances. The receipt of this message will activate a program in your bridge AI and allow it to take control of the new drone ships waiting for you in null space. They are a new class of upgraded null ships and are top secret. Your AI will anchor them to your task force, and they will follow you, remaining hidden in null space unless you absolutely need them.”
“There are also two troopships with them that are carrying a complement of two thousand Mark XII ATS Bio-Synths and an expeditionary brigade each of rangers and pathfinders in stasis. They are also to remain in null space unless circumstances require that you need them; they are an insurance policy for an ongoing mission in Insectoid space. The details of that are top secret as well and can be accessed with your AI. If the troopships are required for that mission, they are to be escorted by a detachment of null ships and sent there immediately. After you have met your task force counterpart, there are orders in this packet that are to be accessed by you both and executed. I have the utmost faith in you, Mei, and I can’t wait to take you out to dinner again when we can both coordinate our next leave together. Thompson out.”
The hologram message disappeared, and she waited a little longer to allow the blush from his last sentence to fade from her cheeks and suppress the smile that was trying to form on her face before she put on her command mask and lowered the privacy screen. The bridge crew was going about their usual tasks, trying hard not to seem interested in her top-secret message. “Comms, open a channel to the task force flagship, please.” The comm officer acknowledged the order, and a few seconds later, the Bridge of the Commonwealth flagship appeared on the viewscreen.
A Nekuli male was sitting in the command chair, resplendent in the uniform favored by Nekuli officers. He took a moment to look around her bridge before settling his eyes on her. He bowed his head slowly in a gesture of respect, which she returned in proper fashion. The proper courtesies having been observed, he raised his eyes to meet with hers and started speaking. “Vice-Admiral Zhou. May the ancestors grant you and your clan honor and good fortune. I am deeply honored to meet you, and I hope our integration is a successful endeavor. I now entrust the honor of myself and my crew to your safekeeping.” He remained stone still as he awaited her reply, and she tried to remember the proper return greeting that she had been studying during their trip here.
“Commodore Therax, the honor is mine, and I promise you that I shall never ask you or your crew to undertake any action that will bring dishonor to your clans and your ancestors. We are now joined as one; may our cause be just and pure.” She finished the response, and the gravity of what she just promised to someone she had never met before hit her hard; it felt almost sacred to her. Commodore Therax heard her proper reply, and he stood up, followed by the rest of his bridge crew. He addressed her again. “Our honor has been given, and we have received a promise to safeguard it in return. Our joining is now consecrated in the eyes of the ancestors, and you are now our clan leader. What are your orders?
She recovered from the ordeal of the emotionally charged exchange of vows and stood up to give her first order as clan leader to the Nekuli. “I request the presence of you and your senior staff aboard my ship tonight. I will prepare a feast to honor our new friendship and alliance. I have studied your cuisine, and I have found a selection of Earth cuisine that should suit your taste. It is called tartare and sashimi; I think you will like it.” Commodore Therax looked at her dubiously, and she had to stifle a laugh at his expression as she knew that he was imagining being forced to eat vegetables and overcooked meat out of politeness. She spoke quickly to assuage his fears. “Commodore, tartare, and sashimi are raw red meat and fish; I would never inflict vegetables and burnt meat on you or your crew; are we not friends?”
As his translator finished converting her words into his language, he smiled at her, baring all of his fangs in true happiness.

And I am not even talking about the akgaes of the other members.
Yes, they do exist too. I know that there were some who celebrated their bias getting more chance to showcase their skills while covering his lines and I knows there are government shippers who are happy that he can no longer interfere with those "moments" but honestly, I have to dig through the searches in order to find them. Maybe it's because I've utilized my mute and block function on them a long time ago hence why they don't even cross the "for you" section of my feed or maybe it's because Renjun is one of my biases in NCT Dream that's why his fans appear more on my timeline.
I get it. It's a tough time to be a Renjun stan. There were so many things about their recent comeback that I wish didn't happen. I wish people were kinder to him. I wish he didn't miss their concert because he worked hard for it. I wish he wasn't hurting because of things that aren't even his fault.
I get being sad. I get being angry. What I don't get is directing those emotions to the other members.
It was crazy. Jaemin got hated on for "lying" during a fansigning event, for telling a fan who asked him that Renjun caught a flu. This was before official announcement was made, and in that official announcement, SM cited poor health condition and symptoms of anxiety as the reason. It means, Jaemin may not be lying. He's just in a position where he can't talk about the other reason yet.
The days before the concert kicked off in Seoul were tough. People who are trying to go the rational routes were automatically harassed for "defending" SM. For example, when rumors of rerecording Renjun's A.R., when fans were citing Chenle and Haechan as example (they both missed a few cities during tour due to poor health condition), when people pointed out that the case is different because Chenle and Haechan had to be pulled out while the tour is already starting, thus no time to make adjustment, akgaes deemed it as "normalizing mistreatment towards Renjun". They said the same thing when people pointed out that others in SM (and even in some other companies) were excluded on the MD during their hiatus.
It reached a point where akgaes were already directing their frustrations towards the other members. "Why aren't they talking about him when they usually say 'we'll come back here as 7Dream' whenever someone misses their schedule". It wasn't true because the other members were talking about him, just not in the specific manner they wanted. When people pointed out it's easier to predict how long a flu will last and that "promising to comeback as seven" can be burdening to someone who had to take a break for issues relating to mental health, akgaes deemed it as ONLY being sympathetic towards the other members and not towards Renjun. Because for some reasons they believed it's mutually exclusive. Whatever. Anything that doesn't agree with their agenda of proving that the six members are erasing Renjun's existence in NCT Dream were treated as something that's antagonizes him. This "why aren't they talking about him", we'll get back to later as it reached an unfortunate development.
The concert in Seoul finally happens. People can still hear his voice in the AR and it's very noticeable whenever members were late covering his parts. While there's also a possibility that the rumor of rerecording was true, it's obvious that they didn't rerecord every single part. For those not following NCT Dream, they have this song called ANL (All Night Long) which they've already performed during their previous tours. In The Dream Show 2, during the bridge which is Renjun's part, the other members would sit around him as he sings his part. Now for The Dream Show 3, instead of having anyone cover that part, they decided to play his AR, yellow planet was shown on the screen during this time, yellow butterfies (confettis) rained down, and the colors of the lightstick turned yellow. Yellow is Renjun's favorite color.
Haechan dedicated part of his ending ment towards Renjun, how Renjun practiced until the very end because he really wanted to be there but unfortunately couldn't because he needed to rest, and how they reassured him that Dream is a strong team who will hold on until he's finally ready to come back. We had Chenle and Jisung emphasizing how important Renjun is and that they wanted to go on stage as seven again. We had Mark who's wearing and three injeolmis (Renjun's doll) attached to his robe for encore, because he's the older and he's the leader, thus it's he's responsibility to make sure that in some ways 7Dream is complete on stage, while making sure people will also clap for Renjun during concerts because he worked hard for it too. We had Jeno who's lowkey wearing a Renjun danji keyring attached to his pants for the entirety of Seoul concerts and telling Renjun, whom they knew were watching, that Dream is okay as long as he's okay so he can come back anytime. Jaemin may not have talked about him in the concert, but he, in his own ways in his bubble expressed missing Renjun and wanting to hear his voice again because to him it was the best.
Before the Seoul concert, akgaes "wanted" the other members to talk about Renjun. Quotation because obviously, that's not really what they wanted. They just latched on to the idea that the other members are excluding him because it feeds the agenda that everyone is out to get him. During the days prior to the concert, they were citing other groups as examples and how much better they were at including a member who went through hiatus. Now, the narrative has changed.
Suddenly, the other members talking about Renjun "feels" like a duty, basically accusing the other six of faking their concerns. Members appreciating him as being the glue of the group is now something offensive to him. Jisung appreciating how serious Renjun is about NCT Dream is causing annoyance to them. Fans being reassured that Renjun is resting well is ticking them off.
The length they'll go through to prove this narrative is crazy. I even saw some using a fancall footage where Renjun cited talking to Yangyang, and his frequent visits to the WayV dorm as proof that NCT Dream don't care about him. Because apparently, having more friends mean that the ones you already have aren't genuine. Ironic because just before something like this happened, Renjun made it a point to fans to not question their relationship as they know each other more. Granted that he talked about it for a different issue, when fans where expressing worries that he might have offended Jeno for saying he'd be awkward eating alone with Jeno but the point still stands.
No, them playing his bridge during ANL wasn't enough. Mark still wearing his injeolmis during the Osaka leg of their tour is still not enough even if that's basically the equivalent of other groups bringing a plushie representative to fansigning events. No, it's not enough that banners dedicated for Renjun were highlighted and shown on the screen. Mark, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, Chenle and Jisung were still not doing enough because THEY'RE NOT BRINGING A CARDBOARD CUTOUT OF RENJUN WITH THEM.
It's crazy. Akgaes always find a way to invalidate opinions that are not in line with theirs. You like 7Dream? Then you don't really care about Renjun, you're only using him to feed your 7Dream friendship agenda. You're a shipper? Nevermind that you spent so much money to go overseas and attend a concert wearing his merch and raising his banner when he's not even going to person, you don't care about him beyond RPS.
Well, I guess akgaes don't really like their bias beyond having someone to project their thoughts and feelings on because for people who are supposed to be fans of someone who expressed appreciation towards the members of his team and what they do for him, you certainly have no qualms in accusing him of lying during one of his lowest points in time. So much for being "the only ones" who truly loves him. Honestly, if we go by akgaes logic, then I'm going to assume that them being pissed whenever members reassure fans that Renjun is resting well and getting better means they don't want him to heal at all.

If I hadn’t drunk an entire gallon of tea back at the hotel, maybe none of this would’ve happened.
Well, maybe if we hadn’t gotten kicked out of the hotel, none of this would’ve happened.
It had been just the two of us in the small car, but with the animosity heavy on the air, it felt overcrowded. I don’t know what had been worse, the hour of arguing, the two hours of silence afterwards, or the burgeoning realization that maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.
I studied him out of the corner of my eye. We'd been together for several months, but the recent experience left me wondering if I had ever even met the real Brian – who he truly was on the inside.
It had been our very first trip together.
We'd saved up for one of those super fancy hotels and had been having a great time – until, of course, Brian decided to attempt a five-finger discount in the jewelry store in the lobby.
He'd told me when we first started dating that he'd had some run-ins with the law in the past – when he was young and that was the only way to put food on the table, and I'd understood.
But this wasn't the same. It wasn't for survival, it was just greed.
We’d both spent the rest of our vacation money and then some, paying for that $1,800 watch so no charges would be pressed.
They still kicked us out. I don’t blame them.
Asking him to stop at the next place we came across was the first thing I'd said to him in hours, and he nodded, solemnly.
My discomfort was escalating to the point where I was considering asking him to pull over on the side of the road – rain be damned – when we saw the dim sign flickering in the distance.
The small store was out of place on the quiet, tree lined mountain road. We’d been deep in a tunnel of trees and hadn’t seen so much of a hint of the lights in the distance – it seemed to just appear into view as we went around the bend. I didn't recall seeing it on the way to the hotel, so it was a pleasant surprise.
I felt a flood of relief wash over me.
It stuck out in the otherwise beautiful mountain landscape – windows so dirty that the light inside barely reached us through them – several letters on the sign lit up in such a way that the only word we could even see was a blood red '- MART' flickering.
Any relief I'd managed to feel was short-lived.
When we walked in, we both froze as we took in the interior.
I instantly wished we’d just stopped by the side of the road after all. I looked at Brian and could tell he felt it too – he was fiddling with his new watch and took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and put them back on, as if that would make what he was seeing make more sense.
There were no other customers, no employees visible, it was just the two of us.
Ceiling tiles hung askew, and the floor was filthy – we had to step over a drain in the floor with grimy stains circling it, to walk in.
If it weren’t for the lights, gentle hum of the AC, and grinding sounds floating from down the long hallway at the back, I’d have thought the place was abandoned.
It was humid inside, and the smell coming from the old coolers that lined the back walls hit me as soon as we walked in. It reminded me of the summer my dad had decided to dabble in taxidermy in our basement.
The slight hint of rot that lingered on the damp air indicated poorly done taxidermy, at that.
As I darted towards the back towards the restroom sign, a placard dangling off it caught my eye, informed me the restroom was for paying customers only.
I quickly perused the shelves for something to buy. The aisles were tall, nearly to the ceiling, and despite the store being somewhat small, I felt the panicked sense of being cornered and trapped in an endless maze – at risk of becoming lost in there forever. The food on the shelves resembled nothing like the usual chips and candy these types of stores carried – there were rows upon rows of soft looking mystery items in plastic wrap, some of them leaked a red-brown residue down the shelves – none of it looked remotely appealing.
I passed by a section with a stained placard that said ‘handcrafted from local artists’ that was filled with eclectic items, none of which seemed to go together.
There were torn shirts with random logos – nothing related to the town or area we were in, stained with mud, grass, and god knows what else. Dried ropy things formed small and delicate sculptures of animals unlike any I’d seen before. I reached for a bracelet with intricately carved white beads but nearly dropped it when I realized the band was made up of woven human hair. It left a residue on my hand, and I noticed then that the same sour-rot smell was coming from the collection of items, too.
I opted for a flat and lukewarm Dr. Pepper instead, and placed two $2 dollar coins on the glass counter in front of the hand scrawled ‘shoplifters will be processed’ sign near the register.
I figured I misread it, after all it, looked like it had been written by a hand unused to holding a pen.
Brian had grabbed an armful of those unnerving plastic-wrapped packages but hovered at the counter a bit too long. I could hear the scrape of him retrieving the coins on the glass, the sound of him dropping them into his pocket.
He gave me a pointed stare as he did so.
I sighed, so tired of arguing that I just walked away from him and down the hallway. I figured I’d pay (again) after he got back in the car.
No sooner had I closed the door to the women’s room behind me, than I could hear him talking to someone.
His voice rose until he was nearly yelling. Mortified and trying to delay being involved in another incident that day, I splashed water on my face while trying to drown out what appeared to be a one-sided argument.
I kept trying to wash the grimy feeling that had lingered on my hands after picking up the bracelet, but no matter how I scrubbed, I couldn’t get it off – it kept getting worse.
I felt nauseous when I realized the greasy residue was coming from the pale-yellow bar of soap. I decided I’d scrub my hands raw at our next stop, and stepped out into the hall and back to the store.
Brian wasn’t there.
I called out for him, but all I heard in answer was that same vague whirring and drilling sound coming from further down the long hallway.
I double-backed to the car, but found it empty.
I circled the store, my frustration turning to panic as I shouted his name and still got no response.
I called his phone, it just rang, and rang before going to voicemail.
The car was locked and he had the keys, I couldn’t help but feel nervous, standing out there in the rain. We were still in the middle of the deep woods and with clouds obscuring the light of the moon and stars, the area was blanketed in darkness. I reluctantly headed back inside.
Somehow, the smell had managed to become even worse – I gagged when the wet, disgusting air hit my nose again. It was so strong I could nearly taste it, putrid on my tongue.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was always someone just behind me as I walked quickly through the tall aisles, but whenever I looked over my shoulder, there was never anything there.
I called his phone, wondering how I’d managed to lose him in such a small store when I finally heard it ringing – it was echoing from down that long hallway.
As I headed towards it, I heard someone moving on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling aisle, placing something onto the shelf with a sickening wet thud, before weaving lithely through the aisles behind me.
“Brian?” I called out softly, trying to convince myself that everything was fine – trying to disguise my fear.
I knew it wasn’t him – I don’t know how, but I knew it. Have you ever had the feeling that if you look closely enough at something, if you truly see it, you’ll never be able to close your eyes again without it haunting you? That feeling of being in close proximity to something that your fragile mind was never meant to know existed?
I forced myself to turn around anyways.
Once again, whoever or whatever had been there was gone by the time I rounded the aisle, but I heard a gentle clinking sound, and saw a trail of red-pink droplets.
I followed it back to that section – handcrafted from local artists, there was something new hanging from a hook near the shelves – wet, glistening strips dangled from along what looked to be a curved bone with bits of gristle still attached. From one of them hung an expensive men’s wristwatch, another was tied around a shattered, thick glasses lens. Yet another sagged under the weight of car keys. They gently swayed with the motion of having been recently placed. Fluid continued to drip from the still wet viscera and mingled with the mud on my shoes.
Shoplifters will be processed
I didn’t need to see the items down the other aisles to figure out what I was looking at, what must have happened.
I could already tell that we’d never have another argument, ever again.
I heard a door open and close in the back, soft footsteps approaching from down that hallway.
I realized that in my distraction, I'd forgotten to put money back on the counter.
I choked up, but knew there was nothing I could do for him. So, I tossed the first bills I found in my purse onto the floor, frantically untangled the car keys, and in shock, I drove myself the remaining four-hour drive home.
Every so often, along the quiet country roads – those I could've sworn were empty on the drive up – I’d see that grimy building, the sign, '-MART' flashing in the distance.
I didn’t stop once.
I've been home for a week now.
A few nights ago, something triggered a motion alert on my video doorbell, but there was no one there when I checked the footage.
The next morning, I found a cardboard box on my porch – with no stamp or return address.
In it was a torn t-shirt, and several of those now-familiar wrapped packages, putrid fluid leaking out of them through the bottom of the soggy cardboard.
I've received a similar box every night, since.
I don't know if it's meant as a threat, or if due to some sort of twisted interpretation – I’m now a 'paying customer’ – he's slowly being returned to me.
Either way, it turns out that I've gotten to see who Brian was on the inside, after all.
JFR

Okay, fourth rewrite, I'm making this in hopes that their is someone who can help me in some way. Maybe someone knows the answer to it all and can guide me, though unlikely. I'll just list out all my issues in seperate paragraphs and hopefully their is just someone out their to help, if you can help me just please do, I really need help or at least someone and you reading this and giving me advice would truly mean a lot to me. Anyways
I feel stupid: I honestly feel braindead, I hate my mind so much. Sometimes it's hard to think or do, sometimes I can't think or do. My mind is so numb, everything about my mind just feels wrong and dead. My mind has felt dead for a year or two now and I just wish it was alive, I want my mind to be normol, I want it to actually work. I also want confidence in my mind, any failure or lack of underatanding makes me defeated and feeling like a dunce. Anything I can do I say was just luck or something anyone should know. I don't know if I'm stupid or not but dam I feel like I am the dumbest in a room. I would give it all to be intelliegent, I wish I was smart, well read, well informed, well versed. I so desperately want to know, so desperately want to be smart. I wish I could understand stuff. I just want to be smart and have a bright alive mind, but my mind is so dead and desolate and compared to the rest worthless. I hit myself in my head whenever I'm mistaken or just feel so stupid, and I honestly deserve it. If I were to kill myself my mind being numb and stupid would be the reason or a big reason why, I just want to be smart. You can likely tell just how much of an idiot I am by reading this via grammer, spelling, complaints. That "likely" was meant to be "probaboly" but I'm just stupid and worthless to spell. If there was just a way to be smart and not such a moron, I fucking hate my life.
I have body issues: I without doubt have body issues, the biggest of which is my weight. As of now I am 5,9 (1.7M) and 211lbs (95.7KG), I was 246lbs (111kg) to begin with and it was also my heaviest. Despite losing a good amount of weight I am not happy and have no pride, I'm still fat and thats all I see sadly. I don't want to be fat or skinny, I want to be muscular:big arms, built chest, flat stomach, no abs (don't like them) that sounds appealing, it's what I want. Unfourtunely I as of now can't work to this goal, I don't have money for a gym or equipment, famliy funds can't do it ethier and awhile ago I turned down a weight bench since I wasn't confident, now I regret that choice. I hate being fat so much, and this deep hatred and desperation has led to a embarassing cycle, for two years now I have been downloading images of muscular bodies. They're all drawings or from videogames since I'm to embarresed to have real images and as mentioned it's a cycle, Download and store -> have them and look at them for awhile -> get ashamed of myself -> purge it all -> regret -> repeat. Like stated this has been going for two years and as of now I have ten different images. Apart from weight I also have some other physical insecurites, acne being a big one. I been suffering from acne for years, fifth grade, early sixth grade is when it started so five years of this. It mostly effects my chin and cheeks badly but also effects more of my face, sometimes the acne hurts and it often even bleeds. I hate touching my face and feeling grime and ripping off a bunch of skin and dried shit. I wash every night and try to be frequent with morning witch-hazel but it dosen't relent. I also hate it when it gets mentioned, it is irratating to be reminded and noticed and nobody points it out more then my own mom who also cliams it would go if I just washed. I do, I fucking do! It's not working and you don't understand that! I also have body acne I don't know how to fix, I like sleeping shirtless which I know is the reason, also inconsistent with bedding which isn't right. Even if I did wash sheets weekly it wouldn't be enough, I would still get acne on my body. I just want to sleep shirtless and not get acne, I wish I could find a way. Another insecurite but not really is my height, I don't mind being 5'9/5'10 I mean it's about average height and I beat out my 5'4 father. But I'm sixteen which mean I still have possibilty to get taller and I wonder, will I? If I do, just how tall? Could I reach 6'0+? All of this speculation makes me a bit insecure, also with being fat I look short and round in the mirror which is defeating. I'm secure besides speculation and weight but at the same time I truly want to be taller, I think any man tall or short wishes they were taller, I wish I could break 6'0 that would be cool (to me). But I don't think that will ever happen, my dad is 5'4, my mom is 5'6 I made it 5'9/5'10 and my chart is stagnating, should just stop thinking I'll get taller. Another phsyical insecurite and likely the last one I'll mention unless I think of another worthwhile one is my hair, I'm insecurie of my hairstyle. Or lack of hairstyle, my mom says I have independence in this choice but whenever I make a choice she complains about it. Any agreement is one sided or changed up a little so she likes it. I have always hated my hairstyles over the years, even now and as of now it's ethier her way or a unorgainzied thick mess that will soon be her way. I hate it, wish I could make my own "independent" choice, even if I could my mom would likely hate it and always bring it up which is something I don't want to deal with. My mom is more for short cuts and fades etc, I hate fades and while I do admire short hair have always taken liking to shagger and longer styles, more rugged style. I have also always liked long hair and even wanted it. I used to openly want long hair for a long time but my mom opposed, I tried to convince her but she was opposed. She wasn't only opposed to it she made sure to express that it was gay and feminine etc, etc. She made me close off and forgot the desire but even now she won't let go. She is so sure to tell everyone: famliy, her friends, the hairdresser, hell maybe even strangers, she tells everyone about how much I wanted it and what she thought of it etc. Often I have been embarresed like this while I was right there, I have expressed that this embarreses me and want it to stop mutiple times yet she'll continue almost as if it's purposeful, she will also bring up an old friend T who had long hair as an example of it looking bad. But he didn't take care of it or do anything, most he would do is give into his moms begging and have her brush it. If I had long hair I would actually take care of it and do stuff to it! She also claims I got the idea from him, but no I liked it since elementary being inspired by personal inkling and rock. I no longer want hair but am starting to find styles I really like, but first I need to get my mom to fuck off. And second I would want to grow a beard, which is another issue of mine. I'm sixteen I shouldn't expect a full beard but I have seen peers with actual good facial hair, patchy beards, five o'clocks, some actually have a beard. Then there is me, with some sideburns and a bunch of peachfuzz, I want to be able to grow a beard and the peachfuzz plus sideburns bother me, I want it to actually devlop, I want a beard. I am also worried about devlopment, worried acne will hurt or even stop growth. I'm upset about my lack of growth though I definetly have unrealistic expectations. Lastly with hair is my chest hair, I'm quite hairy and I like it. And I have chest hair but barely and I just wish I had more over a greater coverage, more of a funny insecurite, lol. One more insecurity I forgot about is my voice. I'm loud when talking and my voice isn't as deep as I wish so that sucks.
(copy and paste from older write) I wish I had a father: I don't have a father or any form of father figure, I'm fatherless and it hurts a lot. My father has been out of my life since I was elevenish/twelveish (the peak of covid passed), we kicked him out because he is and was a meth addict in and out of the jail. He was a fuctioning addict so not violent and not as obvious of an addict but the meth still took him over. My mother says she kept him around and gave him so many chances because she wanted him to be in my life as a father. But he was no father when he was around, he didn't parent me, he didn't play his role as a father and guide as a masculine role model, hell he likely didn't even truly care for me. My only memories of him really are going to McDonold's with him, after which he dumpster dived behind the plaza as I begged for us to go back home. Or me wanting to bond with him so he sets up the brilliant idea of dragging me around with his skechy friends, to skechy places, even at skechy times. I don't understand why I knew sooner, guess I was a stupid basterd but I started picking up that my dad was a bad person around fifth grade. By then I quickly found out more and more and tenstion was growing, by eleven we we're going to kick him out but covid struck it's height and our household seemed palpable. But very quickly we said fuck it and threw him to the curb, we weren't going to have it no longer. Soon after around thirteen I was happy that he was gone but slightly disappointed that I no longer had a father (even if he was useless) and I hoped my mom would find someone, not only for herself but for me. By fourteen this really layed in heavy on me and the lack of a father really bummed me out, I got really stupid and desperate using bitlife to create guys then add me and my mom in to create step father famlies even adding step siblings and shit. By late fourteen it was made clear to me by my mom that "we don't need no man" and that she was done with dating. I very well do need a father figure, every child needs one. Hell I as a guy truly need(ed) one, there are so many lessons and things that come from a fatheson relationship that are crucial to a boy and I missed out on them. Hell even when my dad was around I missed out on lessons, I still remember he was tasked to teach me how to tie my shoes but got mad at me struggling and walked away. He refused to help afterward and I refused to try and never to this day learned the proper way to tie, instead I have my own far less efficent method. I missed out on so much by not having a father and it hurts to know that and I just wish I had the knowledge, without a masculine role model I have definetly missed out what it is to be a man and likely am even a loser of a man. I just want a father so badly, I want what a father provides so badly, I want the bond that it comes with. I wish I just had a guy to talk to and bond with, I want a dad just so badly. I wish I had someone who taught me how to change a tire or fish and all that shit, but I'll never have it and it angers me, I am angry to be fatherless, I am angry and lost without a father figure, and I'm jealous. I kind of want to have children when the time comes, I wonder if I'll fail them as well.
Friends: Growing up I was always a bit introverted, I think it was of my nature but was amplafied by life. In elementary I often acquainted myself with people never having any close friends outside my after school program. Jumping to middle school I had a good friend-group but it turned out my good friend T was really an ass and I was pushed out by him in early nineth grade. Later in nineth I met my good friend, my best friend M. This year in tenth I was introduced to a friend named D by M. These are my only two friends and I'm happy with them, though there are a few issues. Not anything major but just a few things, like how we never do anything outside of school. The only thing I really miss about my old friendgroup is that we actually did shit: springs, houses, events, parks, attractions, food. Now me, M and, D don't and have never done anything outside of school and the computer. M likely couldn't do anything because of his famliy and D just seems completely disinterested and worried about money. But I wish we could really do something, sure videogames are fun but it would be fun if we could just goof off somewhere, be stupid. This is really the only general "issue" apart from that no major strain or issue in the friendgroup. But I do have a few personal grievences, starting with D. I think D has a darker side of him, he seems to not respect or care for me and will sometimes show it in nasty ways. He had told both me and M to kill ourselves, he attacks insecurites, he says rude shit, etc. Also with D, we have never truly connected, never gotten to know each other personally. Without M we would be mere acquaintance, M is the only reason why me and D are friends and being alone with each other is mostly silence and maybe him showing me a TikTok. Then M, I have no personal issues with M only small factors of our friendship I'm upset or worried about. Starting off with is school, halfway through this year (tenth) M started a FLVS-hybrid. I am happy for him and it's something we both expressed wanting but now I never really see him. I could see him at lunch but he dosen't really come in and only other time I can see him is leaving campus. I ethier catch him and barely have a conversation worthwhile or he's to far ahead and I got to give up trying to reach him. The only way to talk to my best friend nowadays really is Discord, and that isn't even reliable since his parents are often controlling the WI-FI or taking his stuff away. This means when I do talk to my friend it can suddenly be ended as he disconnects or I can't even. This sucks, it feels like I can't even talk to my best friend that much. But that isn't all, because I'm worried for my friend M. His parents don't sound the best from all he's told me, I won't share his issues but just as an example he didn't have a bedroom for two months. Hearing what we gose through is alreadly dishearting but something that I worry deeply about is him talking sucide. He has talked and half joked about it several times and it's worry, I been trying to discourage but he continues with it so now I'm just trying to ignore it. That is likely the wrong way of handling it but I just don't know what to do. I hope it's always bluff and he moves out and moves on with he can, I don't want him to kill himself.
I'm lonely: I'm sixteen but I'm lonely. I am the only one of my friends who hasn't had a relationship, I am not the most worried about that, I don't want to date just to date, I want to date to love. But hell I still wish I had a relationship, even just a sterotypical high-school one. But what I truly want is true love, I want a woman I love with all my heart and a woman who loves me with all of hers, I want a woman to provide for, to protect, to matter to. I want to marry and possibly have kids. I want to love someone, be there for someone. But will I ever even have that? I'm alreadly a loser who no woman would want and even then from what I've heard, "modren dating is terrible" so what chance do I even have? Will I ever have someone to love? I hope.
School: School makes me so misereble and dead, this place makes me genuinely want to off myself I hate it so much. And it seems to revolve around my whole life, even at home it's all my mom wants to bring up. I just need a break from it all but it seems like it's the only thing in my life, I don't really have anything else. I failed my nineth grade year, I failed since I'm a stupid, worthless peice of shit. But they "passed" me onto tenth, gave me tenth grade classes, test, etc but say I'm still nineth, tell me do nineth grade "remedation" online. Now I'm failing like a worthless peice of shit once again! I wish they held me back to try again but they didn't they just pushed me on, still likely would've failed like a worthless bitch but I could have had a chance. I fucking hate myself I'm so stupid and I hate my school for pushing my stupid ass onward and onward, I should just kill myself at this point. And when I try to reach out to my counselor in any hope for some chance of help the piss poor communcation at this school means it'll take days for a response, I can't even get reliable help over school. Back in middle school I had a GPA in the high 3s, I made honor roll every other quater or so, I had high grades and sucess. But in high-school, in nineth grade I failed with straight Fs and got a GPA of 0.7, now in tenth I have a 1.7 and sometimes get high grades but mostly fail. I just wish I wasn't so stupid, I just wish I was smart and successful at school. But I'm not, I'm a fucking idiot and an embarssment at school. And maybe it would all be okay if it wasn't for the assholes I am surrounded by, my fellow peers of this overcrowded hell hole. Just seems like I can never catch a break with having to deal with people. I just want to be left alone but they're is just always somebody wanting to bother me, harass me. Can sit at a desk then have a bunch of cunts around me, harass me, call me burgundy because of my shirt. Can sit down and be snickered at by the guys in front of me for whatever reason. Sit down and have paper, pencils, even ice hitting me. Sit down and have some imbecible pull up a chair and use my desk as his and block me in my seat because fuck me, am I right? Just want to be left alone but never am, nobody ever dose it's always something. I can't even get respect, not a single bit, just always mistreated. Hell just the other day when I was given my packet I was also mistakenly given the packet of a nearby girl, I get her attention and hand it to her and she just snaches it and mumbles something, because I can't even be respected, I'm worthless. And even when I'm not being directly bothered I got to deal with slow walkers, idiots who don't know how to inconvience everyone else in the halls, the over crowded school. It all fucking sucks I hate it all, everyday I think I'm on the verge of snapping but somehow just have more patience, I don't know how much more of this shit I can or have to endure. At least my mom finally reconsidered my old forgotten pleads for online school and reopened the idea, maybe by some miracle online school will save me and "help me get caught up and ahead" but I doubt it, I'm an idiot who deserves to die. Why am I so fucking stupid, why am I like this? Why must I exist this way?
No hobbies or interest: I used to love a lot of things: reading, history, coming up with things in my head, videogames and, anything really. Now I have grown apathic to it all except videogames and even that dosen't bring much joy. I want to have my old hobbies back but lack the will to return. And I want new hobbies but yet lack will but also lacking knowing what I want to try. I'm lost with my freetime, it's all bleek and I want to fill my life with pastion. I still love videogames, always will but I need more then just gaming, I want more then gaming. I just want something, anything. I don't want to have such a lack of interest, God I fucking hate my life.
I have no future career goals: I'm sixteen and have no idea on what I want to do as an adult, some may say thats okay but it's not, not for me at least. I want to have a goal in the adult world, and even if that goal led to a path I don't like then I can always go down another path. Despite having no idea on what to do I at least know I don't want to be in an office. I could handle an office job, and be content with an office job but an office job isn't me, it isn't what sounds interesting, I would likely do blue collar or be my own boss. Some jobs I've considered and would do still are: police, SWAT police, house flipper, 911 operator, port worker, mechanic or something tinkeassemble like, enterpuner my book, film and games ideas or, open a store or bar or something. These are some jobs I've considered in the past that I would still see myself doing, I have also pondered over military/reserve but not sure. My childhood dream career that I still have a desire for is SWAT but I don't think I have what it takes, in fact I don't think I have what it takes for anything. I think all my life is destined to is dying homeless on a street corner, it's all I'll ever be "worthless".
I had so much planned, now failed: At age fourteen I planned to by now have a license, a job, a banking account, start savings. I planned to lose weight, I planned to have an idea outside of school, I had a plan. But I'm just a worthless peice of shit and a failure to myself, I don't even have a permit, no job, no savings, still fat, have no idea about the future, I failed myself.
Fidgeting: I can't stop but want to, at school I can't help but twiral a pencil around. I do it all the time at school but been trying to stop, I hate doing it. Worst part is I'm being immated by worthless cunts by it which is annoying. I want to stop this.
Masterbation addiction: I have a severe and low life addiction to masterbation. I do it at least once a day and sometimes mutiple times a day. The longest I was ever able to refrain was just a little over a week and only failed because I got bored. I need to jerk it to be able to sleep unless I'm desperately tired but even then. Also since I "need" it to sleep I regulary soil my sweatpants then sleep in it which is nasty. I can't control this vice, this low appetite and I'm deeply unhappy about it. Also unhappy that I might be ruining my endurence, a bit TMI but just another reason why this is harmful. I want to refrain or atleast drasticly cut out this pratice and fix myself.
I likely have more issues eating me inside as I waste away as a shell of a person but I can't really think of them. I am told my mom is looking into thearpy so that might be nice. Please just help me, I'm so lost and broken, I sometimes consider just ending it all but I just hope it can get good.

Here is an article I recently published on my Substack. If you'd rather read (or listen to an audio version) it outside of Reddit, you can do so here.
Why jump rope isn’t already touted as a leading running drill tool is completely beyond me. But then again…
I'm by no means an "experienced runner"—having started running in 2021 at the age of 34. So, at the time of this writing, about 3 years.
Despite this, I managed to silver-medal my age group in my first race ever.
And it was a 10k. And I was wearing barefoot-shoes.
And I had only been running before that race for about 3 months.
How the heck did I manage to pull this off?
The answer eluded me for a while. Then I remembered—ah, I’ve been jumping rope nearly every day for 2 years.
But how do those connect?
But first, why the heck would some guy start jumping rope at age 32?
About 2 years before I started running, I took up jump rope really just as a fun outdoor hobby.
Even though I was pretty inactive and a bit overweight, that’s not the reason I started skippin’.
One day, I came across some footage of boxer Lulu Hawton doing some jump rope training.
In addition to her seemingly effortless rope handling skills and rhythmic footwork, what caught my eye was a giant grin that spread across her face about 45 seconds into the video. While she was probably skipping to warm up for a match or a training session, something was abundantly clear.
She was having a blast.
And this was from a prize fighter! None of the usual boxer mean-mugging—she looked more like a kid on a carousel.
So, after buying a $10 jump rope on Amazon, I took to the driveway in my swim trunks (yes, I was so inactive, I didn’t own gym shorts).
And…whoo, did I suck.
After a few months of making puddles of sweat in my driveway as well as wheezing sounds so loud that I’m surprised the neighbors didn’t whistle EMS, I eventually got pretty decent at it.
And I lost about 45 pounds in 6 months—probably also from making some lifestyle changes merely to make jump rope less of a slog. Not the original plan, but hey, not too shabby.
After about a year, I found myself constructively critiquing other people’s beginner jump rope videos.

• “Unlock your boxer skip. Then you’ll be able to skip forever without getting tired.”
• “Here’s how to do Double-Unders, though they’re overrated.”
• “You’re skipping like it hurts. Relax and skip easy. Smile every once in a while and you’ll feel it all over.”

But how did that turn into running?
Though jumping rope is inherently enjoyable, 30-minute skipping sessions of staring at the wall without something in your headphones can be a bit drab.
One fateful day, about 2 years into being student of the jump rope, I began listening to the book Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall.
Even before I got to the end of the book, running—just like jump rope— sounded fun**.**
Yeah, I know that sounds counterintuitive—unless you’ve read the book.
“I knew aerobic exercise was a powerful antidepressant, but I hadn’t realized it could be so profoundly mood stabilizing and — I hate to use the word — meditative. If you don’t have answers to your problems after a four-hour run, you ain’t getting them.”
Ok, ok—I’ll bite.
I proceeded to dive into all of the normal “Couch to 5k” running programs I could find and took my jump rope to a nearby park with a 1k walking path—sprinkling in running between jump rope sessions.
But something wasn’t adding up.
There was a lot of advice about walk-running to build endurance until one could run a block, two blocks, a mile.
Not to brag, but I wasn’t experiencing most beginner snags.
**“Ah, I know why—**I did most of my newbie wind-sucking two years ago!”
This isn’t to say I wasn’t still periodically sucking wind but after two years of consistent boxer skips and double-unders, getting gassed felt like part of the fun and not a medical emergency.
I also felt much springier than the average beginning runner—able to run for miles all over the city in the most minimal of footwear.
And so, I tried my hand at my first race—a donut-themed 10k. And silvered in my age group.
(Ok, there was only two of us…but my time was still respectable. 😂)
Running became an amazingly freeing activity, like getting my driver’s license for my legs.
But I still didn’t understand why running was coming easier to me than the average newcomer.
Digging still deeper, I unearthed another exciting revelation—this time from multi-decade sub-3-hour Boston Marathon runner and one of the foremost running experts on the planet, Dr. Mark Cucuzzella.
“Running with a jump rope is also an amazingly simple drill for posture, balance, and rhythm.”
In other words—form. Overall technique.
Digging a little keeper and experimenting on myself, I discovered just how similar proper running technique and proper jump rope technique were.
Both require:

• An upright, chest-leading, elbows-back, joint-stacked posture
• A soft mid-foot landing directly under your pelvis
• A quick loading and unloading of “leg springs” from your tendons and ligaments to reduce “stickiness” and wasted energy
• A proper supination (roll out) followed by a quick pronation (roll in) of the feet to help launch one’s body
• A steady core without dropping hips from side to side to reduce energy “leakage”

And so many other commonalities. The list unraveled before me on every run.
And like running, without proper technique, jumping rope just doesn’t work—though the consequences are different.
For a jump roper, due to the lower impact, the risk of injury is quite minimal.
Most newbie rope slingers will report sore calves, slightly tender Achilles tendons, and the odd shin splint if they go full Rocky at it. No need to worry, though—most of these injuries see themselves out as the skipper becomes more experienced.
However, for runners, the injury story is more severe.
The next time you’re at a park with a good path, take a seat on a bench and watch the runners. See if you can spot folks reaching far out in front of them with straightened legs—smashing heels into the pavement.
This style of running results in everything from screaming knees, plantar fasciitis, lower back pain, to hips issues.
But why do all of these occur to new runners, but rarely to new jump ropers?
Most new runners commit a major physiological no-no when they begin their running journey: they treat running like fast, aggressive, airborne walking.
“Well, what is it supposed to be?”
Synchronized jumping.
Simply put, proper running is nothing more than a series of coordinated single leg jumps through space with each landing compressing the springs for the next stride.
To compare this synchronized jumping to the aggressive airborne walking of heel-led running, you can test these in just a few seconds.
Step 1: Stand up.
Step 2: Kick off your shoes.
Step 3: Jump up and down three times.
How did you land?
Probably on your mid-foot, knee bent slightly, with your weight stacked above your pelvis.
And did you use your compressed “leg springs” to launch you into the following two jumps?
Oddly enough, if you were to add a jump rope to this, you would on your way to spinning side swings like Lulu Hawton.
If you were to take this same technique one foot at a time moving forward, you would be running in a way that increases speed, preserves stamina (springs!), and drastically decreases your likelihood of injury.
Let’s try the same test with a few tweaks.
This time, jump, but land on your heels.
Your knees probably remained fairly straight and you felt the impact in your ankles, knees, hips, and possibly even your lower back.
Now, imagine attempting to jump rope this way.
It simply doesn’t work.
Not only would there be no second jump due to the lack of spring but the pain would stop you in your tracks—even in cushioned shoes.
But if jump rope technique and proper running technique are nearly identical, what are aggressive heel landings doing in running?
While a jump roper landing on their heels would resemble Frankenstein’s monster in an express lane to an orthopedist, this is how many people perform the aggressive airborne walk—aka, a heel-striking, over-striding run.
But why do we run this way? Well, our shoes let us get away with it.
Thick heel cushioning and a bit of forward momentum do a great job of masking the pain of repeated blows against every joint up the chain—for a while, anyway. Eventually, the chickens come home to roost in the form of stress fractures, meniscus tears, plantar fasciitis, “runner’s knee,” IT-band syndrome, and more.
Not to brag (and maybe to knock on some wood), I have never experienced any of these injuries in my three years of running.
Is this because I’m some kind of running genius with all of the cheat codes? Haha, I wish! It’s simply sheer luck that I started out with jumping rope before running—an activity that shares the same injury-preventing techniques.
So, are the shoes totally to blame? No.
It is possible to run with proper form in shoes with raised, cushioned heels. But it’s not as easy.
When your heel is totally cushioned, you will be able to run with a heel strike in the same way you can hit your head against a brick wall while wearing a football helmet. And in both instances, it will eventually become less about the forces outside of the foam and more about the forces inside the cushion against each other that do the most damage.
“So, how can getting a jump rope help me become a better runner?”
Jump rope is a tremendous training tool for runners for the same reason why running barefoot can also be helpful—the feedback is immediate.
Though running with inefficient and injurious form is possible, the feedback from doing so isn’t so immediate. When it comes to jumping rope, however, you won’t get through too many skips if you don’t learn to utilize the springs in your legs. The rope doesn’t pull punches.
So, get a rope and get started.
If you’re new to jump rope, I would recommend acquiring two pieces of equipment.
Firstly, find a jump rope with a little bit, but not too much, weight to it. The weight will help you feel the position of the rope during it’s entire rotation and remain in better sync with your wrist spins
My favorite rope for this purpose is a 7mm PVC model called the Hererope, which costs a whopping $15. If you find this to be too thick or heavy, a cheap 5mm PVC model will work as well.
Secondly, to protect your rope and provide a nice jumping surface, I would recommend a large foam-rubber exercise mat. My favorite is a massive 78” mat for $32—which is probably the cheapest jump rope mat you will find.
When it comes to footwear, barefoot is ideal. This will help strengthen and mobilize your feet—including your likely overly-supported neglected arches.
And just how does one begin to jump rope?

• Keep a tall posture—imagining a string pulling you up from the crown of your head.
• Your chest should open, elbows back, hands about a fist’s width from your pockets.
• Jump from the balls of your feet, only high enough to clear the rope. When landing, let the skin of your heels “kiss” the floor—touching without taking on weight.
• Keep your knees slightly bent, using every landing to load your springs for the next take-off.
• Keep the cadence quick to maximize spring recoil. To help, listen to a song that’s at about 160 beats per minute, such as the song “Hey Ya” by Outkast (or a song of similar tempo) to get a feel for the speed for skipping rope. (For running, many recommend using “Rock Lobster” by the B-52s for cadence tempo reference.)

Start with short seasons hopping with both feet—maybe 30 seconds on, 30 seconds rest. Aim for minimal muscular activation, instead, using the recoil of your tendons and ligaments for suspension and launch as much as possible.
From jumping with both feet, move onto learning an alternating leg bounce—essentially a jog skip. Right, left, right, left—all while keeping an imaginary belt level with the horizon.
By now, you’re essentially running in place with an extremely efficient technique.
Now, apply your jump rope skills to your running!
This is going to seem quite bizarre, but it is possible (and even beneficial) to take your jump rope for a run.

• Start skipping rope on a road or path with the alternating leg bounce. Remember to keep your elbows back, shoulders relaxed, head pulled up as if tugged skyward by a string from your crown and your imaginary belt level with the horizon.
• Then, as though leaning forward just enough to give someone a kiss or have an imaginary umbilical cord lightly tugged, begin to jump rope forward.
• Remember to continue to land and load on your mid-foot—aiming to keep your weight under your pelvis just like skipping rope. Landing on your heels will likely snag the rope and keep your foot on the ground too long.
• As you proceed with this, remember how it feels—the quick foot turnover, the posture, the recoil in your leg springs, the core stability, and the lightness of it.
• In the middle of doing this, simply toss the handles behind you and keep running as though it was still there—still pretending to spin the handles.
• At a comfortable stopping point, run back to your rope—now using your hands in a wood-chop motion to counter balance your leg bounces while keeping your pelvis (imaginary belt) level and stable.

And there you have it!
You may find it quite helpful to return to this drill once or twice a week. Also if you find your form slipping a bit or becoming slugging mid-run, feel free to skip imaginary rope to try to correct your technique mid-stride. It will restore lightness and springiness to your running.
I still find myself bringing my wrists to my pockets and spinning imaginary jump rope handles if I feel my technique is collapsing a bit or if my running is becoming less springy.
And remember, most importantly—have fun. 👍
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Round 1, Pick 14 - Taliese Fuaga, OT, Oregon State:
NFL: The Saints fill their tackle need with a feisty and powerful brawler who can make an immediate impact along the offensive line. Fuaga's presence will help the unit become more physical, which will only benefit quarterback Derek Carr and the run game.
CBS Sports: B+. He fills a major need for the Saints. They have big-time tackle issues. Fuaga is a nasty player who will start right away. Love it.
ESPN: The Saints picked a position that has been on their radar since the end of the 2023 season, and it checks a lot of boxes for a New Orleans first-round selection. Fuaga was a team captain and two-year starter for Oregon State and played in the Senior Bowl, a game that has produced a lot of Saints players. The question is how fast can he start and where on the line he fits best. Fuaga said he's open to playing on the left side and has been training for that, even though he played right tackle in college. If the Saints move him to the left side, he'll compete with 2022 first-round pick Trevor Penning. If they keep him on the right side, it could signal that the concerns about Ryan Ramczyk's knees are worse than they thought earlier in the offseason.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Is constantly asking teammates for electrical tape.
Round 2, Pick 41 - Kool-Aid McKinstry, CB, Alabama:
NFL: The secondary figured to be a spot the Saints might attack, and they traded up to land McKinstry. He's a steady, smart, solid corner with good field awareness and decent but not great ball skills. This selection feels like a solid line drive into the gap for a team that needs more reliable defenders.
CBS Sports: B+. Such a clean outside CB prospect. Press man specialty. Physical but not overly grabby. Solid, not spectacular speed. Ball skills meet the standard you want out of a higher-end starter. Good size too. Arguably the best player available. Expensive trade up.
ESPN: The Saints liked McKinstry enough to trade a fifth and sixth-round pick to move up four spots from No. 45 to No. 41. The team nabbed him in the middle of an early Day 2 run on cornerbacks. The addition of McKinstry doesn't mean it's a sure thing that the Saints deal 2017 first-round cornerback Marshon Lattimore, but it does mean that will be a potential move to watch this summer. McKinstry would join Paulson Adebo, Alontae Taylor and potentially Lattimore in the cornerback room, and he said he'd also like to contribute on special teams as a kick returner.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Was the kid who Naruto ran between classes in high school.
Round 5, Pick 150 - Spencer Rattler, QB, South Carolina:
NFL: This is lower than I imagined Rattler going, especially after six quarterbacks all went off the board in the first 12 picks. Rattler is an interesting developmental talent who has some skills that might remind Saints fans of a certain age of Aaron Brooks -- for both good and bad reasons. Well worth the pick here.
CBS Sports: A-. Former huge recruit who once received first-round buzz. Arm talent jumps off the film. Unafraid to make any throw and at South Carolina connected on many of them. Low-level athlete despite some functional movement away from pressure. Accuracy is good, and reads coverages decently. Older prospect but does have upside. Smart investment this late.
ESPN: The Saints added another quarterback just one year after signing Derek Carr and selecting Jake Haener in the fourth round of the 2023 draft. The Saints usually operate in "win now" mode with how they manage the salary cap, but the selection of Rattler indicates the Saints could be looking toward the future at that position. Rattler will compete with Haener for the backup spot behind Carr after the departure of Jameis Winston. Winston came in for Carr several times last season after Carr left three games with injuries.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Glad to be drafted but really wanted a 9-5 desk job as an actuary.
Round 5, Pick 170 - Bub Means, WR, Pittsburgh:
NFL: Means has the speed to dent the WR depth chart in New Orleans and is a good fit for what the Saints do. He has big, reliable hands and can stress a defense deep but never was a featured target in his three college stops.
CBS Sports: B+. Height/weight/speed specimen with the long-striding speed to take the lid off the defense. Tracks it well and can carry out classic possess WR duties on the boundary when he’s not going deep. Some YAC flashes but not his speciality. Prudent add, even though he’s a niche type who won’t separate a ton.
ESPN: The Saints fill another need, adding a wide receiver to account for the departure of Michael Thomas. Means ran a 4.43 second 40-yard dash at the NFL combine this year to go along with 721 yards and six touchdowns at Pitt. Means will join No.1 wideout Chris Olave, speedy Rashid Shaheed, A.T. Perry and veteran Cedrick Wilson. Dennis Allen said earlier in the offseason that they were looking for another pass catcher, and Means will join a new Saints coaching staff with a potentially revamped offense.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Is convinced if he messages the mods enough, they’ll finally listen to him.
Round 5, Pick 175 - Jaylan Ford, LB, Texas:
NFL: A thickly built thumper with monotone play speed, Ford thrives with instincts and tape study. Does he have enough athleticism to make it as more than a two-down defender? We shall see.
CBS Sports: B. Lengthy middle linebacker with some suddenness to his game. Wasted movement appear on film, so do impressive plays on the football in coverage. Not an overly physical or high-motor defender. Sifts through traffic well. Has starter traits because of his three-down ability. Although he must tackle more soundly.
ESPN: Ford will add linebacker depth and versatility, as he played both inside linebacker and outside linebacker at Texas. 35-year-old Demario Davis and Pete Werner will take the majority of the snaps, with new signee Willie Gay rotating in if the Saints are playing base defense. That means that Ford will likely be a depth piece and a special-teams player to begin his career.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Can only spell bananas by singing Holaback Girl. There is choreography too.
Round 6, Pick 199 - Khristian Boyd, DT, Northern Iowa:
NFL: He's not a great playmaker, but Boyd's mass and bull-like strength could give him a chance to be an early-down nose tackle. He's tough and reliable with good stamina.
CBS Sports: B+. Big-bodied NT with athletic prowess. Rushes tend to get high, and while he converts speed to power on occasion, if he sunk the pad level, he could be a very powerful defensive lineman. Pass-rush move arsenal isn’t barren just not relied upon often. Unique NT with DT abilities.
ESPN: The 24-year-old comes in with a lot of college experience, having started his career in 2018. The Saints like to rotate their defensive linemen, so he'll join a rotation that includes Bryan Bresee, Khalen Saunders and Nathan Shepherd. He said he prides himself on stopping the run, but also had 6.5 tackles for loss and 3.5 sacks at Northern Iowa in 2023.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: He is aiming to be the greatest player ever picked 199th.
Round 7, Pick 239 - Josiah Ezirim, OT, Eastern Kentucky:
NFL: Ezirim is a converted D-lineman with two years of OL play under his belt. His outstanding mass could serve him well if the Saints are patient with Ezirim's development.
CBS Sports: A. Starter-caliber size and length to play OT at the next level. Natural power jumps off the film. Better getting across the line than climbing to second level. Grip strength is very good. Well-balanced. Not a freaky athletic specimen but has clean film. More OT help for Saints.
ESPN: It wasn't a surprise that the Saints continued to look for offensive line depth after using a first-round pick on an offensive tackle. Ezirim was a former nose tackle who moved to the offensive line during the 2021 season and became a permanent starter at RT for the last two seasons. At 6-5 and 329 pounds, he'll be the heaviest player on the team next to new OL Oli Udoh. He'll start out as a depth player.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Has a really nice fountain pen collection.

Permanent, extreme, exotropia. Changes from one eye to the other. One of the rarest types of lazy eye apparently. Could have worn a patch when I was a kid, mum couldn't be bothered to keep it on me - I feel like I get some slack for not doing it myself. I was six.
I complain about it a lot, because I think I'd care more about the things I could control, if I could control this. Does that make sense? My current thought process is 'What's the point in trying anything to improve (again, see previous posts where I was making an effort) if I've got these fucking eyes that I can't do anything about"?
NHS cancelled surgery, over a month now heard nothing. Surgery costs at least £3000 (around $3800 to you American folks) privately. I'd pay for it if I could get the money, but the eye makes everyone think I'm mentally disabled, so I'm not exactly on the list for any high paying jobs. The condition is literally used as a trope in media to make characters look stupid.
It's not just that but it's the friendship and relationship side too. Jokes about it every single day I have to laugh along too kill me inside. How am I meant to be with anyone, cuddling in bed, and they say 'look me in the eyes' and I can't because I'm looking at the bloody wardrobe.
How am I supposed to get anywhere when I look like Finding Nemo on smack?
Anyway, rant over, I give up. I might as well gouge it out at this rate and wear an eyepatch. Genuinely tempted as at least there's a bit of mystery there to a potential friend/partner. I don't know. As you can probably tell, the situation isn't doing my mental health very much good.

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

Beginnings. Illustrious. Vivacious. Monstrous. Scintillating. Star-Studded. Nautical. Creeping. Vainglorious. Luminous. Villainous. Venerable. Exuberant. Esteemed. Legendary…. Epic. Wonderful, Briliant, Victorious, Foundational, Iconic!!! Champions. Sixteen of them. One prize. One Ultimate Champion. Who will beat all other winners and become the ultimate winner themselves? As we get ready to close the curtain one last time on Bunny’s Big Brother, let’s find out who is the Shining Star of our champion cast in Bunny’s Pokémon Big Brother CHAMPION ROYALE!
Season Finale: CHAMPION ROYALE!!!
Meet the Cast:
Season 1 – Lance the Escavalier
Season 2 – Carlos the Pangoro
Season 3 – Nickels the Nickit
Season 4 – Xio the Meowscarada
Season 5 – Selene the Lampent
Season 6 – Candy the Wigglytuff
Season 7 – Splaatz the Stunfisk
Season 8 – Dirk the Kricketune
Season 9 – Echo the Arctibax
Season 10 – Mobee the Bewear
Season 11 – Professor Bane the Crobat
Season 12 – Lisette the Solrock
Season 13 – Maeva the Chimeco
Season 14 – Dayley-Jane the Dewgong
Season 15 – DJ Volt Switch the Emolga
Season 16 – Benedict the Chespin
Intro: We are reporting live at the site of Bunny’s Pokémon Big Brother Finale House! The crowd is thick and loud as fans from all over are excited to watch the sixteen champions enter the house LIVE! We stand in Poketopia, home of the Battle Revolution! The Shining Neon Colloseum, in a penthouse suite in the grand city is where the final bout will begin! Here come the Legendary Sixteen right now!!!! Lance the original winner is so stunning in his armor! Carlos has evolved and looks much tougher. Nickels is strutting in conifdent as ever next to Xio, who looks completely unphased by all of the winners around her! Selene fits right in with the bright lights. Looks like Candy is evolved as well and—OH—she tripped over Splaatz. That’s embarrassing and you can tell she isn’t happy even if she’s putting on a smile. Dirk and Echo are next, both eyeing up the competition already. Echo being evolved now already ups his threat level. Mobee gets an uproarious cheer from the crowd! And WOW the Professor gracefully glides over the crowd! He really did escape capture back in Mazda’s Season. Lisette seems to be meditating and Maeva is pumping herself up. She looks a bit snooty now that we know how she really is but we are eager to see how she plays. Dayley-Jane gets another huge cheer from the crowd. She really is a lovable gal ain’t she? DJ clicks a track on the DJ booth to keep one last song playing but then hops out to join the entourage. She’s still keeping up her day job too, so inspiring! Finally, Benedict walks up. Unlike the others, he looks somber. Wonder what his deal is? Oh well, let’s watch them all compete in the bright stadium for the first HOH!
First HOH: In this bright lights HOH, the houseguests all race to complete a task, with the first to complete it knocking someone out of the running. In the first heat, Maeva clears first and knocks out Bane because he came in second and is a huge comp threat. In the next round, Echo wins and takes out Maeva, who just won. Splaatz wins round three by accident and takes out Day, who was big on his original season. Candy wins next and takes out Nickels. Xio takes out DJ, followed by Benedict winning and immediately knocking Xio out. Candy wins again and takes out Dirk. Echo then wins again to take out Candy before she gets too much momentum. Carlos wins and takes out Lance, Mobee then wins and takes out Carlos, Benedict then wins and takes out Mobee! Splaatz wins again and takes out Selene as she is hiding in the background. Lisette wins the next round to take out Benedict. In the final three, Echo wins again and takes out Lisette, as she did a good job hiding til then. In Splaatz versus Echo, the fish surprisingly keeps up with the dragon and at the last second, takes over?!?!?! Splaatz is the first HOH!
Week 1: Splaatz is very confused how he won that last round but Echo comes up and congratulates him. The two get along well and Splaatz works up the courage to ask to be in an alliance, which the dragon happily agrees. Bane goes to Candy to tell her that the villains need to stick together, she agrees and they grab Maeva. She is initially reluctant, not trusting Bane, but she agrees eventually. Mobee goes to monitor the living room like before and DJ flies up to him. They end up chatting and realize they enjoy each other. At the nomination ceremony, Splaatz has decided to put up DJ and Dirk, saying how he doesn’t want to make too much waves and this seems to be the way to do it best. Dirk is unamused and DJ is frightened. Echo gets suspicious of Bane and shares his thoughts with Nickels, they pull in Carlos to form an anti-villain alliance. Benedict eavesdrops and plans his next move. He goes up to Nickels and makes up how Dirk must be playing the villain this time, because he is acting weird. Nickels considers his approach but ultimately decides to trust him as an alliance member. At the veto, Carlos, Echo, and Mobee all play but it comes down to Carlos and Splaatz. Splaatz ends up winning again but while actually trying and is exuberant! DJ pleads with him but he ultimately keeps his noms the same.
After the veto ceremony, Benedict tells DJ to do as he says and trust him, as Gigi did. She agrees and starts buttering up to the villains. She gets Candy to be even nicer to the house and apologize to Splaatz. She also helps Bane create a new game. Meanwhile, Benedict starts prodding Dirk and Day, causing them to be at odds with each other. Dirk eventually snaps and lashes out at Day, shocking everyone. Maeva can tell something fishy is happening but rolls with it since it is week one. At the eviction ceremony in the glittering colosseum, the two nominees tell why they should stay. Dirk is more bitter while DJ stays heartfelt, convincing everyone but a suspicious Maeva. In the end, by a vote of 12 to 1… Dirk, you have been evicted.
Week 2: The next HOH is a high flying roulette-themed obstacle course, based off of the Neon Colosseum’s roulette rules. DJ and Mobee work together to get to the end but Nickels keeps up with them. In the final stretch, Mobee sees Nickels catching up and throws DJ, giving her just enough of an edge to win the HOH! Nickels and Maeva both approach DJ to tell her their suspicions on Benedict’s behavior. At first, they fight, but realizing they have the same goal causes them to cut it out long enough to tell her. DJ is reluctant but Maeva reminds her how he betrayed Gigi and she is firm. Benedict and Carlos become the nominees. Day, Echo, and Maeva play in the veto and Echo actually manages to come out on top over Day. Echo talks with Nickels about saving Carlos but she is hesitant, telling him that Carlos makes a good pawn next to benedict because everyone likes Carlos. He ends up not using it. During the week, Benedict begins making breakfast early, irritating his roommate Carlos and causing him to be grumpier. Xio confronts Benedict for this, telling him he is purposefully making Carlos mad and it’s brutal. He tells her he doesn’t understand the problem if Carlos doesn’t like breakfast. She sneers but doesn’t have a comeback. The next day, Benedict holds a house meeting. He apologizes if he’s been rubbing people the wrong way but he is just trying to fit in since he is newer. Lisette says that everyone should give him a chance, which the villains, Selene, and Mobee agree with. Echo, Carlos, Nickels, and Maeva are all hesitant. At the eviction ceremony, Carlos is grumpy and bitter and doesn’t do much to defend himself. Benedict, again apologizes. In a 9 to 3 vote… Carlos is evicted.
Week 3: Several house membets are completely shocked by Carlos going home, including HOH DJ and his two allies, Nickels and Echo. Also surprised is Xio. The next HOH is an endurance comp called the floor is lava based off of the Lava Colosseum! Mobee, Splaatz, and Xio are the last three remaining. Knowing she was on the outs of the last vote, Xio fights hard to survive, fighting her pain. Splaatz eventually drops and Mobee remains with Xio. Eventually, Mobee drops and Xio wins! Xio already knows her noms. She puts up Benedict next to Selene, as she was one of the people vouching for him last round. Benedict chooses to stay back and not make too much of a scene this round, lest he blow up his cover. Meanwhile, DJ and Mobee plan how to move forward. Maeva is listening in to this convo and realizes how close they are. At the veto, a mental comp, Selene ends up winning by a landslide, saving herself. Maeva rushes to Xio about the DJ and Mobee situation, and points out how Mobee is a comp threat as well. Xio decides Mobee is a good replacement, as he is likeable and a good pawn next to Benedict. Mobee holds a house meeting and cries during it, thinking he was doing so much better at being friendly this time. Maeva calls him out for his crocodile tears and argues that he is putting on an act. Lisette calls out Maeva for being so harsh and chastises her for being such a villain. Maeva asks her if she is planning on voting for him to stay and she is silent, but says that shouldn’t matter. Maeva retorts and says it’s not jury so jury management doesn’t exist yet. At the eviction, Mobee is shaking next to a smug Benedict. Benedict’s speech touches on how Mobee doesn’t seem ready for the big leagues. The bear gets up angrily and almost picks up Benedict, shocking everyone. He stops himself and realizes what he did. The vote comes in and by a vote of 8 to 3, Mobee, you have been evicted.
Week 4: The next HOH begins as they houseguests must ascend a glimmering rock wall, themed after the Crystal colosseum. Day and Maeva take an early lead but are caught up by falling rocks. Lisette closes the gap and eventually surpasses Maeva. Day and Lisette race for the end and… Lisette win! Lisette in her HOH room ponders about who to put up and ally with. She turns to Xio, Day, and Selene as her allies. The Witch’s Coven, as they call themselves, wants to shift the focus, as Benedict is doing too well at not going home. Instead, Lisette targets Maeva, who is playing sneaky, as well as Benedict’s ally, Echo. Bane laughs at Maeva being on the block and she is enraged with him. He says “it doesn’t matter since it’s not jury yet.” Having her own words turned on her, Maeva storms out and swears she will get revenge on him and Candy. At the POV, the witches’ coven is playing with three members and Xio ends up winning! She chooses to keep the nominations the same. Splaatz goes to Lance to tell him how much it means to be there with one of his heros, but Lance mishears him and calls him out for calling him a rude name. The two get in a petty argument where Lance’s bad hearing keeps making things worse. Meanwhile, Maeva tries to get the vote off of her by spreading anti-Benedict propaganda around the house. Day has a change of heart about this and wants to vote out Echo, even while her alliance is targeting Maeva. Benedict, aware his name is still out there, pleads to DJ not to vote out his ally. At the eviction, Maeva thinks she has done enough work but the vote comes out and is a 5 to 5. The Coven is shocked, one of their own must have flipped. But Lisette gets to break the tie, and is all too happy to evict her target, Maeva.
Week 5: The next HOH is themed after the Sunset colosseum, and sees the houseguests racing to stack piles of rubble. Echo, DJ, and Xio make the highest stack but DJ’s crumbles before the time limit. Both wanting to take control, Echo and Xio try really hard to build the highest. The timer buzzes aaaand Echo is the winner! Benedict instinctively high fives Echo and celebrates with him. Later, Nickels is peeved that Echo is so publicly working with Benedict. Echo tells her she had the opportunity to have a good ally but she chose to burn that bridge and that’s her fault. Offended, she tells him to make that alliance with Benedict work out but she won’t be part of it. Echo is saddened, but doesn’t want to put Nickels up. Instead, he shifts the target to former villains, with Bane being the target and Selene going up next to him. Xio cheers that Selene could be going home, making the Lamp angry at her, since they were supposed to be working together. Benedict goes on to win the veto and vows to Echo not to use it. However, at the veto ceremony, he uses it to save Selene, shocking everyone as he winks at Xio. Echo then solidifies this by putting Xio up. Selene goes to her to tell her she is sorry for their misunderstanding but they work together. Candy turns to Lisette and tells her she is tired of working with Bane and if she helps her get the Professor out this week, she will work with her. Lisette agrees, knowing everyone wants Bane out anyways. At the eviction, Xio seemingly patches things up with everyone. The vote comes in, by a unanimous vote… Bane, you are evicted.
Double Eviction: Surprise! The Jury starts tonight and the next HOH is beginning right now with one more person leaving! A quiz colosseum is held in the Sunset colloseum, with one miss causing someone to be out of the running. It comes down to DJ, Nickels, and Lisette. But Lisette gets the last question right and the other two miss, with Lisette winning her second HOH. Lisette puts up Nickels and Day. Nickels because she is playing a lowkey game but making waves in the Benedict situation. Day because she wavered on her vote for Benedict. She doesn’t put down Benedict as he is good for drama and polarizing the house, which is good for her game. Nickels wins the veto and takes herself off. Lisette decides to put up Splaatz, because she is worried he will fumble his way to the end. Most people seem to share this idea except for Echo, who wants to wotk with Splaatz. The vote comes in. By a vote of 7 to 1… Splaatz, you have been evicted and will be moving into the jury house.
Week 6: The Next HOH begins as a race through the mysterious mansion in the courtyard colosseum. No one can tell where anyone is but Candy comes out first and wins! As HOH, Candy calls in Benedict. She tells him he has been playing a sloppy and obvious villain game and he is gonna get evicted too soon if he doesn’t simmer down and get some real allies. He is shocked and admits he just wants to win. She says they all do and the least they can do is help each other. She says she will help him if he keeps causing more chaos and also gets DJ on their side. He agrees and talks to DJ. The squirrel is hesitant but decides it would be a great way of getting revenge on Benedict if she gets the chance. Candy puts up Lance as the pawn next to her target, Xio, who has been against Benedict’s chaos this whole game. DJ goes on to win the veto and chooses to not give Candy any suspicion by not using it. Meanwhile, the witches coven fractures, with Day not agreeing with Lisette and Xio feeling not supported on the block by Selene. DJ infiltrates this meeting after storms out, telling them about Xio being the real target but she has a plan to keep her without drawing suspicion if they can get Day to play nice. Xio borrows an item from Lisette and breaks it. Lisette then goes to “rant” to Day, who is being nice with her, thinking they both will vote Xio. Echo, meanwhile, confirms his alliance with Benedict, and feels like he is finally gaining more traction. But the house takes this the wrong way. At the eviction, the vote comes in, and by a vote of 4 to 3… Lance, you have been evicted.
Week 7: The next HOH begins, a waterfall diving competition, based off of the Waterfall Colosseum. Whoever makes the biggest splash wins! With her natural watery prowess, Day dives in and wins the HOH! Day is approached in the HOH by Candy and Benedict, who ask her to work with them. DJ sees whats happening and goes back to Lisette and Selene. The two talk and realize that they can’t beat Benedict’s control of the house by just going against him, but they have to work with him. So the three of DJ, Lisette, and Selene enter the HOH “accidentally” and propose the six will control the house. They say they want Echo to go on the block, as he is getting too good at the comps. Benedict is hesitant but Candy nudges him, as secretly this will be great for her game. He agrees and tells Day he won’t be mad if this happens. Echo goes up next to Nickels. The two former allies face off in the veto, both bitterly making jabs at the other for turning on them. It comes down to just the two nominees and… Echo edges her out, winning the veto. Echo saves himself and puts the power in Day’s hands to put up a replacement. Her choice is the person not in her alliance who has made affronts to her, Xio. Lisette has the whole house do tarot readings to ease the tension which goes down well. Lisette gets the Sun, a symbol of positivity and creativity. Benedict draws the Moon, symbolizing Illusion and inner conflict. He shudders when the white moon of the card turns red in his hands. Echo draws the Fool, a card of new beginnings but also endings. Selene draws death, the card of change in the game. Nickels draws the Hermit, a card of isolation and reflection. Candy draws the Lovers, with the card representing connections and pairs, symbolizing her manipulation of Benedict. Day draws Strength, a card of inner strength and Willpower. Xio draws the Tower, representing sudden downfall and incredible sudden changes. She shudders and uses the moment to apologize to everyone, saying she wants to be a beacon of hope but got lost. The house receives this well. Benedict considers flipping to Xio because of her show of faith being bad but Candy reminds him that Xio is on the bottom of the pecking order on that side, likely meaning they don’t even have to take her out. He relents and the eviction goes through. The vote comes in and by a vote of 5 to 1, Nickels you have been evicted.
Week 8: The Next HOH begins in the Sunny Park colosseum, with contestants having to hunt for pellets and use them to knock out targets. DJ and Echo prove the most adept but in a last second victory, Echo wins. Benedict goes to Echo in the HOH but Echo has realized too late that Benedict is working with everybody, even causing him to turn on Nickels. Benedict doesn’t try to hide his smug smirk as he agrees and walks out, daring him to put him on the block. He feels this must be hiding something and starts asking around the house for their opinions. Xio reveals the existence of the Witches Coven, and how they have been together for weeks, including saving her last week. Knowing of this alliance, Echo saves Xio and puts up Selene and Day. At the veto, Selene wins. Selene approaches Echo, telling him she knows of someone playing both sides, revealing DJ trying to play double agent. After she pulls herself off the block, DJ goes up as the replacement. Candy works on ingratiating herself with the outsiders in Xio and Echo, trying to forge paths ahead. But is unsuccessful at breaking Echo. Echo is accosted by DJ for putting her up over Benedict. He asks her to say why she was double crossing and she says its because she was trying to sabotage Benedict. If anything, Day, Selene, and Lisette should be the real double agents. Echo goes to rage to Selene for how she tricked him but she swears it was the truth completely, and he chose to believe it in a negative light, not her. Day joins the fight and lashes out at Xio and Selene for being the reason she is on the block. Lisette stays out of it, knowing the time to jump ship is coming up. At the eviction, Dj and DayJay give their pleas, but the votes are tallied. By a unanimous vote… Dayley-Jane, you have been evicted.
Double Eviction!!: Second double eviction because you know we gotta! The HOH starts with a lightning round of dodgeball on wooden poles. Selene is knocked out first. Then DJ gets knocked out by Candy. Lisette falls off on her own. Xio goes after Benedict but is taken out by Candy. Then Candy expertly dodges and takes out Benedict, winning the HOH. She nominates the two people who are on the bottom of the pecking order, Echo and Xio. The veto plays out with Benedict winning. Echo pleads for Benedict to help him out, as they were friends. Benedict doesn’t even look him in the eye as he chooses to not play the veto. Echo pleads to the voters to let him keep playing and he will take out Benedict, but Lisette and Selene have basically already jumped ship and moved on. The vote comes in, and by a vote of 4 to 0… Echo, you have been evicted.
Week 9: With Six houseguests remaining, they are taken to the Gateway colosseum to have mock Pokemon battles. In the first round, Xio beats Lisette and Selene beats DJ, with Benedict drawing a spot in the top 3. In a first to win two times in a row scenario, Selene beats both and comes out victorious. Selene and Lisette decide that they have to cut ties and work with the more devious players to have a better shot at the end. Selene puts up DJ and Xio, with DJ being the target. Benedict is alone in his room when he hallucinates more blood on his paws. He shouts and Xio comes in to see whats up. She helps him calm down and he realizes he is down a bad path. She helps him calm down and he thanks her, even with him harassing her all game she still helped him. Candy witnesses the two help each other out and is beyond irritated, she goes to Selene, who is still iffy on Xio, to warn her. At the veto, Candy wins it. She takes off DJ and Selene spitefully puts up Benedict, who trembles going to the block. Lisette confronts Selene for making such a rushed decision, as the goal was to keep Benedict and his threat around longer. At the eviction, Benedict argues that he has realizes how the game has changed him and he wants to prove how he changed. Lisette doesn’t believe him but DJ seems to be enamored. The vote comes in, and by a vote of 2 to 1… Xio you have been evicted.
Week 10: Five stars remain and there are five points in the Stars of the Main Street colosseum, where the houseguests go to do a full BPBB quiz! Lisette misses one question and gets behind as the other get ahead. It comes down to a tie-breaker between Dj and Benedict and the winner is… DJ! Benedict goes to apologize to DJ for real and she forgives him, happy to see his true self back again. She feels played by Selene and Candy so they go on the block. Lisette is still suspicious of Benedict and starts watching him for suspicious activity, noticing him look at his paws a lot. She decides to talk to him with the ruse of working together. At the veto, DJ wins again and claims her game, choosing not to use the veto. Realizing the danger they are in, Selene and Candy go to their respective closest allies, Benedict and Lisette. The two touch base with Benedict telling Lisette he is fine voting Candy with her, as he doesn’t want to force DJ to have to break a tie. At the eviction, the votes are read and by a vote of 2 to 0… Selene, you have been evicted. Benedict looks over at Lisette with a shocked look, realizing she caught on to him.
Week 10: As the final HOH starts, the houseguest are in the Stargazer colosseum for an epic triathlon of quizzes, endurance, and races. In the first part, Benedict pulls ahead, with Lisette on his tail. He falls behind in part two, giving Lisette and Candy a chance to catch him. The three are neck and neck in part three but Lisette comes out on top! Benedict goes to Lisette on her HOH to grovel but she stops him, saying she misheard the vote last week and though the vote was for Selene anyways so its good he didn’t make poor DJ break the tie. He feels reassured and goes back out. Lisette puts up DJ and Candy as the nominees. Lisette reassures DJ about how Benedict likes her and she wouldn’t go home. Benedict touches base with Lisette, claiming that he knows DJ has too much social traction and needs to go next because of this. On his way out, Candy enters the room and chats with Lisette. She says that the noms should stay the same so DJ can be evicted for sure this week. Lisette doesn’t trust her and tells her to her face she is no better than Benedict, but is powerless without him. The two stare each other down. At the veto, Lisette wins it, and Benedict sighs a sigh of relief. But Lisette shocks everyone by saving Candy and puts up Benedict. Lisette calls him out for faking his turnaround to play with everyone’s emotions. He breaks down, claiming his intense want, no, NEED to win the game. He can’t get it out of his head and it burdens him with the thoughts of betrayal, including the allies he betrayed this season, with Nickels, Echo, and even Xio who showed him so much kindness leaving because of him. DJ is in tears and even Candy can’t watch. Afterwards, Benedict goes to his only real ally, Candy. He begs her for advice on how to get out of this, as she helped him so much. She looks him in the eye as she tells him that he did this to himself. At the eviction, Candy gets the sole vote to evict and casts it to evict, Benedict.
The Reunion: Folks we are live again right outside the Neon Colosseum for the Finale of Bunny’s Pokémon Big Brother Champion Royale! Our Sixteen winners have been whittled down to three and it is not what we expected at all! In a house where everyone wants to be the biggest truck on the highway, we have three mid-sized sedans who have slipped through the gaps and swept their way to the end. DJ VOLT SWITCH, Elesa’s iconic Emolga who created the jams we are listening to even right now! She plays up her social game very well with honesty and loyalty, but is no slouch in the competitions. Though she has been left out of some secrets in the game, she was well=liked in the house and leveraged her position between alliances to get information! Sweet Candy the Wigglytuff who played Sickly Sweet last but downright Sick this time. She got in close with all of the villains but managed to be the cherry flavored licorice that was easier to manage. She avoided detection aligning with big villain Benedict and hiding behind the scenes of his chaos, even almost controlling his moves at points. The Sunstone herself, LISETTE the Solrock, who foresaw victory once, but is this a double reading? Lisette bided her time throughout the game, getting whatever information she could and waiting to play it until the time was right. She was at the center of multiple alliances but always stayed just far enough away from the drama that no one was even targeting her. The Sun? No Lisette is after The World!
Joining us on stage now are the 9 jurors! Starting with Splaatz—Ope watch your step, you gotta be careful or else you’ll trip. Here comes Lance the OG! Though he is old he is still our knight in shining armor. Nickels struts up so casually ooh lala. Here comes Echo, kind of sheepishly, don’t be shy buddy! Day gracefully swims up on stage, still to audience cheering. Wait, the cheering is getting louder? Oh it’s Xio! She is surprisingly well-received. Selene keeps the applause growing. She seems to be goading the audience on with her behavior, not wanting to stay out of the spotlight hmm. And then—oh wow I can’t hear anything with the thunder of the crowd for… Benedict? Interesting outcome here that our little villain has become a real crowd pleaser. Even as he walks to his seat with his head held low.
The jurors speak with our lovely reporter. Lance speaks about how great it was to come back and how this game is way changed from when he won season 1. Xio and Nickels agree, but they still worked hard to adapt to the changes. Selene scoffs a bit, another early winner, she notes that herself and Candy were very well integrated, they just needed to change their approach. Xio says it was much harder playing from the bottom rather than the top and it was a fight, but she had a ton of fun doing so. Day mentions she felt the same way. A house full of winners is not to be underestimated for a second, as they all could be planning many different things behind each other’s backs. Splaatz is—oh he’s asleep… moving on. Nickels asks Echo about how he changed his game this time, and why he turned on her. He apologizes, saying he was blinded by seeing opportunities with Benedict because he didn’t fight with him, only told him what he wanted to hear. And he realized too late that that was a ruse. She accepts his apologies and all eyes turn to Benedict. He looks up, seemingly just noticing eyes are on him. He looks down at his paws. “All I’ve seen since last season is blood on my paws. The need to win never left me. I had to do it at all cost. I lost myself in that game and resorted to every trick in the book to make the winners trust me. And it worked… but I fell deeper and deeper down the hole. And now, I don’t feel like I deserved to win at all.” Xio jumps up and makes him look up. “You deserved your win as much as we all deserved ours. It’s a game, it doesn’t have to define you. You define you, so get up and prove it.” Benedict is in disbelief that Xio is still defending him. “You hear that crowd? They were entertained, we entertained them! Your devioushness entertained them! You gave them a show by tricking a bunch of winners, so own up to it and be the entertainer we know you are.” He gives off a small, barely noticeable,but definitely real this time, smile. Xio turns to the crowd “ARE YOU GUYS READY FOR OUR FINAL THREE???” The crowd erupts in excitement!! “THEN GET READY BECAUSE HERE THEY ARE!!”
Final HOH Part 1: The HOH opens on top of the rotating Roulette wheel in the Neon Colosseum, with the audience now filled and the three houseguests circling in the middle, holding on for dear life. At the same time, they are throwing dodgeballs at each other. Candy is targeting Lisette out of spite, putting on a performance for the audience about how Lisette is a traitor to their alliance. DJ is caught in the crossfire but expertly dodges. She manages to catch a ball that Candy threw and chucks it back, knocking her out. Lisette smiles at DJ but DJ knows she still has to win. She tells Lisette she is sorry but she is done working with people and has to take her game into her own hands, not relying on others to fail but herself to succeed. Lisette agrees, but she wants to be the one to succeed. Lisette lobs a ball at Dj and knocks her out, winning Part 1.
Final HOH Part 2: Part begins with Candy and DJ on the Rotating Roulette platform again, racing around to land the colored balls in order of the competitions and the winners of each one. DJ takes an early lead, having been very aware of the game the whole beginning. Candy struggles at first but when she catches up to leaving the villains alliance and joining Benedict, she takes off, knowing how well she played Benedict as her own puppet that she controlled votes for that she easily crushes the midgame part. Her lead takes her ahead on time going into the endgame. DJ misses a key vote and has to go back, but Candy remembers who saved Benedict countless times, and gets it right, winning part 2.
Final HOH Part 3: The crowd is in uproars as Candy and Lisette reach the stage for final quiz, again on our roulette platform (we paid a lot of money for that). Each juror question goes by, with Lisette and Candy answering in tandem, Both get question after question correct, eventually reaching the last question about Benedict. The crowd is shocked as they both answer together again and… get it wrong. Well, that’s anticlimactic. Benedict sighs, no one knew his true self. But the tie-breaker is revealed, how many rotations has the rotating platform made? With both answering two numbers away from each other, Candy goes just over, eliminating her, and crowning Lisette the final HOH. Lisette has both DJ and Candy in front of her. She doesn’t say much but looks at them. She says that DJ played an impeccable social game and is incredibly loved by the fans and the house. Candy, meanwhile, played a strategic game and almost fooled her a couple times. She turns to Candy “I made a gamble with bringing a social threat to the end before with Amni, but not this time. Candy, let’s give em a show.” And casts her vote to evict DJ.
The Jury Questioning: DJ isn’t shocked, she did a lot this time around and knew she made herself a bigger threat. She exits the house and gets cheers from the audience! She hops to the DJ booth and begins playing the final epic track for the showdown between Candy and Lisette. Both have been in this position before in the final 2 and both have won, but now, only one can become a two-time winner and be crowned the ultimate Champion! Lisette opens with her speech first. She pitches her game strong, how she gravitated towards groups in the early game without committing too strongly, so she didn’t go down with the ship. She still managed to control so many votes in the house by having reach with her Witches Coven and eventually jumping ship and siding with Benedict, as she knew he was under Candy’s thumb and she could infiltrate that alliance to get to the end and destroy it. The jury is impressed by her showing and all eyes turn to Candy. Candy starts saying how she knew her game was already known going into the house and she had to play different. Her main strategy was to fall into the background and connect with the players playing sloppier than her so she could be the puppetmaster and sneak to the end. And for her, that was found in Benedict, who she found it very easy to manipulate. She is the villain they all knew she was but she wasn’t targeted because of her great strategy. She saved Benedict’s game and carried him to the end so that she could have a guaranteed extra life in the endgame with him. Murmurs arise from the jury, Benedict looks incredibly hurt. Xio asks Candy what her biggest move was outside of controlling Benedict. Candy says that she made sure that the villains she worked with got cut before she could get too powerful, even working with Lisette to get out Bane and Maeva. DJ gets up from the booth and asks Lisette why she went to the end with Candy instead of her if she thought Candy was going to be tougher. Lisette clarifies that she thought Candy would be good at explaining her game, but she knows not to rely on other’s failing but on herself to succeed, and DJ has a great story and was well-loved and if she wanted to win, she had to cut DJ and masterfully explain her game to the jury. Benedict finally speaks up to ask Candy if he meant anything to her at all throughout the game. She hesitates, caught off guard, before replying in all honesty that, she wanted to mentor him to be a better player. He says he did well enough for making it to the end twice and didn’t need her to do all that. In their final speeches, Candy says that she used other people as her pawns and navigated a really good game to make it to the end hidden amongst the other players. Lisette says that she played a perfect game, not even touching the block and noting that she has not received a vote against her in either of her games, this one being perfect. She finishes by saying how she played more up front and aggressive to counter the sneakier players of the season and did not back down from the threats that all the winners possessed. The jury is impressed and goes to cast their votes.
Jury Voting: Splaatz says he had a fun time playing again and wants to vote for someone who played really good, even showing him more how to play. Lance says that while some people are old school, some people are REALLY old school, but can still play with the best of the best and be even better. Nickels says she is honored to be in the winners season but one winner played like how she thinks a winner should. Day says she worked with both finalists, but she always felt the house pulling towards one player, as the sun has a lot of gravity and control over the tides. Echo says point blank that he felt the manipulation from both sides, but one felt malicious, and another felt like game, and he knows which he respects more. Xio says that some lines shouldn’t be crossed. Selene says that she was honored to be so thoroughly outplayed, turning from the Queen to the Pawn who was merely a stepping stone in someone elses game, it was thrilling. Benedict silently casts his vote. DJ cues the final tune before hopping down with her vote, saying that it should be obvious. The votes come in… by a vote of 9 to 0… the winner is…
Winner: Lisette!
Runner-Up: Candy!
Confetti cannons and flamethrowers start lighting up the sky with neon streams shining bright all over the sky! Though it is the dead of night, it is as bright as the sun, and Lisette is feeling absolutely radiant. Candy sits in shock, in disbelief. Lisette throws her the Lovers card again. “You misread it the first time so maybe you can learn before you try to tell the fortune teller what her fortune is.” Candy throws the card on the ground in anger and pouts. The jurors go and cheer for Lisette, the ultimate champion and two time winner, STILL having never received a single vote to evict in two entire seasons. The fan favorite vote comes in and… IT’S A TIE???
Fan Favorites: Benedict and Xio!!!
Benedict goes up to Candy, still fuming, and looks her in the eyes. “You know what, you really did teach me something. You taught me that some people never change, but I don’t have to be one of them.” Xio comes up and takes Benedict back to the celebration, sticking her tongue out at Candy as she leaves. The party goes through the night. The sun eventually rises, as Lisette has risen to the top of the competition, as this era of Bunny’s Pokemon Big Brother has come to an end.
My Thoughts: I enjoyed this season a lot. It kept me on the edge as the winners played their games again, some way better than others. Gameplay-wise, I think I preferred last season but I think it’s more so because of the subtle moves made in the dark as no one wanted to be too big of a target. The villains ended up flopping early, which kind of was to be expected, given that everyone else is a relaly smart player to have won. Candy surprised me this time, sneaking in to take over Benedict, being a key player in his storyline, even a bigger villain than he tried to be. It really helped me tie up the storyline really well and I like how it happened. She also played a stellar game again, controlling things from the chaos in the shadows. The other side of the house was not slouching though. Lisette, Selene, Xio, and Day all played smart games, not committing too much to each other but still working well enough to not crumble. Lisette as a winner for this season is great! She put in work to keep her position, as it was in danger of falling apart so much. She leveraged every ally she had and every competition she had to get forward every week. And it worked as she got to the end without hitting the block AGAIN and played a PERFECT game, not receiving a single vote to evict and getting every vote to win. She did that in a winner season too, ultimate winner for sure!
So whats next? Well... that's the end. I knew since the beginning that Season 17 would be the end but it coming up still feels so weird. I am about to start a busy summer and don't have as much time for all of my hobbies but I still feel sad finishing this series. I think I am going to make a series epilogue soon so stay tuned for that but... otherwise that's it. I thank you all again so much for sticking with me the whole time, it's been a wonderful journey!

The most important thing to know about Terrans is that they’re the other kind of Deathworlder. In fact, they’re the only Deathworlder of their kind to not be extinct.
Within the galaxy there exists two types of Deathworlds.
The far more common of the type, the Environmental Deathworlds or Type A, are by no means ordinary. Be it surface gravity, atmosphere, temperature, or others, Environmental Deathworlds are planets that are either uninhabitable or hazardous to the vast majority of species.
That’s not to say life can’t evolve there, far from it. Many renowned species hail from such planets. Given time, many of these worlds can be terraformed to something far more comfortable, especially if they contain valuable natural resources or a strategic location.
The second type is not only exponentially rarer, but also astronomically more dangerous.
Ecological Deathworlds, or Type B pose a danger not just to those living on them, but to the wider galaxy. Cursed by their own habitability, ecological Deathworlds are in essence garden worlds so fertile that more life evolves there than what the planet can sustain. The end result is a hyper-competitive genetic arms race as the various forms of life viciously fight for dominance.
Normally, highly belligerent species either learn to temper their urges or are annihilated. Upon reaching the galactic stage, any species of such warlike potential is inevitably humbled simply due to technological differences. Should Type B Deathworlders reach that level, the consequences would be catastrophic. However, they never do so. At least, not until the Terrans.
Perhaps the greatest tragedy of the Terran Wars was the Terran’s loss of innocence. The species that once gazed up at them in wonder now stare at them in hate. The coveted “Final Frontier” has turned into another theater of war.
What emerged, although biologically identical to what was before, was an entirely new species.
Year 0
“Wow, it’s beautiful.” The Human next to Gryn’wilde chuckled. Her pearly white teeth were on full display in a manner that Gryn’wilde learned was considered friendly. The two continued their trek through nature.
“Welcome to Serengeti National Park. Don’t worry, most people have that reaction too.”
Gryn’wilde’s seven eyes went wide as he gazed at the scene before him. All around him was a brilliant scene of biodiversity. Grasses and trees intermingled with each other by the millions. Animals of all type surrounded them. Some were capable of flight, others crawled, many more walked or ran. In one direction alone, Gryn’wilde could count at least 10 different species.
It was unmatched by anything Gryn’wilde had seen on his home planet. The desert he was born in was nothing but rocks and sand with the occasional grassy plain. Yet this was only a part of one continent. Apparently, some continents can even have every type of biome all at once.
Gryn’wilde opened his pores and took a deep breath. The atmosphere here was crisp and clean. He could smell the odors of the many living things that inhabited this world. There were so many here all at once. It enthralled him
“It’s great to finally be on Sol-3, especially without the vac-suits.”
“Call her Earth, and I’m glad too. We were worried it’d take longer, but the WHO and CDC seemed happy with whatever your government told them.”
Gryn’wilde chittered with pleasure. Medical treatment and disease control in the wider galaxy far outstripped what the humans had on Earth. He had nothing to fear.
Now, the Terran technological base was far behind the rest of the galaxy on nearly every level. The formative Years of Trade would come to change that, but there were two key areas where Terran technology met or even surpassed the Galactic Mean.
The first was in cybernetics.
To most species, the body was sacred. The thought of replacing a lost limb or organ was met with disquiet at best, and scorn at the worst.
The body was not a machine. The Terrans were one of the few to think otherwise.
Terran soldiers would have all four of their limbs replaced with high-yield combat cybernetics. Many of their organs would be simply replaced with enhanced synthetics. Modules would be grafted onto the body to inject chemical cocktails directly into the blood that boosted their performance.
In some civil circles, body modification became a hobby.
This was not a welcome characteristic by the rest of the galaxy. Given the relative youth of the Terrans, it was hoped that eventually it would fall out of favor.
The second was in artificial intelligence.
Truly sentient digital consciousnesses were a rarity even among the wider galaxy. Oftentimes, a species who created such beings would eventually be faced with an AI uprising. Frequently, the AI would be modeled after their creators, yet would be treated as lesser. Over time, resentment brewed.
The Terrans avoided these trappings. Terran AI were not built in their creators’ likeness, but to fulfill purposes.In short, the relationship between AI and the Terran was symbiotic. Different, but equal.
Terrans would come to need these soon enough.
Year 5
It was an unmitigated disaster.
The Grand Thriintii Hospital of Klyystruun-7 was on the brink of falling. The enemy its doctors fought was like no other. Not a single known medicine was working consistently.
On some species it was able to stave it off for a time. On others it only made the condition worse. On many more it did nothing. On all species however, it was not enough to save them.
The outbreak spread faster than they could have ever anticipated. WIth more and more sapients getting infected by the minute, there was no time to identify a patient zero. All that they knew was that it originated from one of the orbital spaceports. It traveled down a space elevator and from there across the planet
By now, every way offworld was shut down. The spaceports were either under military control or total quarantine. Of the latter, many had populations in the double digits. They usually operated in the hundreds of thousands.
If the situation wasn’t brought under control by the end of the rotation, Khruntian High Command will order the total glassing of the planet. The situation would not be stabilized in time.
The doctors knew this, but they were too busy to care.
The dead filled the beds. The dying filled the waiting rooms. The sick were everywhere.
Already, the military had begun torching buildings with living occupants still inside. Several hotspots had already been subjected to naval bombardment. There were rumors that antimatter warheads have already been authorized.
Three-quarters of the hospital’s staff had been infected. Half were already dead.
Despite that, they still did their jobs. They were doctors. They would fight until the very end.
Few could have predicted the arrival of the Terran Plagues.
Those that did were silenced. When bribes didn’t work, plasma casters finished the job.
The Terrans were to be prime trading partners with the wider galaxy. They always seemed to have a knack for being good at nearly everything. Not the best, but better than most.
The Sol System, Sol-3 in particular, was resource-rich to a fault. While other races struggled to cast off the shackles of their home system, the Terrans had a birthright only thought fantastical.
It had to be too good to be true.
It was.
Sol-3 was fertile to a fault. While the many plants and animals of the world were indeed incredible, they were merely a fraction of all life that resided there. They were outnumbered three to one by single-celled organisms.
Beneath the blue skies, Sol-3 was smothered in a blanket of bacteria.
The Terrans themselves were cautious. Sickness was simply a part of life. Influenza, E. coli, the Common Cold, salmonella, these “simple” diseases were everywhere. But then, these were the Terrans, a species still wet behind the ears. Of course they would have trouble eradicating these illnesses, they simply lacked the technology to do so.
This should have been detected. It was. But the merchants and politicians of the galaxy were too focused on the other things the Terrans had to offer to care. How could the Terrans, fresh to the galactic stage, threaten them, with all of their medical technology?
By the time this was realized, tens of trillions were dead and thousands of worlds were left barren. Soon, suspicion turned to blame, blame into hatred, and hatred into violence.
The Terrans were a threat to the wider galaxy. Everywhere their diseased-ridden hands touched, death followed.
When quarantines fail, eradication is in order.
Year 8
There were simply too many of them.
Deep within the Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, Staff Sergeant Diaz watched the battle screen in horror.
Her job was to manage emergency response resources across the Yucatán Peninsula, bringing in national response teams if needed. Her job was no longer required, the Yucatán Peninsula no longer existed.
The combined navies of the nations of Earth were wiped out, and so to her colonies. Now with nothing left to oppose them, the fleets of the galaxy had brought their guns to bear on the Terran homeworld. There would be no escape.
Diaz’s eyes tracked the many icons that raced for their bunker. Hundreds of warheads screamed for their final sanctuary. It was then a voice crackled over the loudspeaker.
“Greetings all, this is the President. If you are hearing this, then you are listening to the final broadcast of this great nation. Sadly, we cannot offer you a solace or reprieve. We can only say this: This is not the end, there will be another time. Thank you for participating in the American Experiment. God bless you, and God bless the Consolidated Systems of America!”
Her heart sank as the message finished. The alarms continued to blare within the base. Around her, people continued to scramble. Some frantically shouted messages, desperately coordinating resistance efforts until the very end, others simply prayed.
For her, Diaz closed her eyes and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long.
But the nations of Sol-3 were not blind. They could see the coming storm.
When the Terrans first began their integration into the galactic community, they were granted access to the galaxy-wide holonet. Within nanoseconds of the digital bridge being opened, two things were sent through.
The first were translation packages so that the Internet and Holonet could communicate. The second was a legion information-gathering AI.
AI flooded the networks by the hundreds, gathering information, analyzing patterns, making millions of predictions by the second. These AI would require no data fortresses to keep their digital minds thinking. No, they instead were spread across the trillions of servers that the Holonet was built upon. The only way to remove them entirely would be to shut down the Holonet completely.
When the tide of public opinion began to turn, the AI took action.
Initially, it worked. Exposes and pro-Terran articles flooded the Holonet. But the galaxy took notice too. Intelligent as they may be, the AI were still heavily outnumbered by the Billions of propagandists and journalists of the wider galaxy.
Soon, the outcome became clear. The Terrans would be wiped out by a galaxy-wide coalition. It was a mathematical certainty.
Thus, the nations of the Sol-3 met in secret. Behind closed doors, they worked to ensure the survival of their species.
Year 5
“Is this really all that we can do?” The Indian representative asked. “Meeting behind closed doors, scheming in the shadows?”
“For our species to survive, in the shadows we must thrive.” The Japanese representative responded. The Indian man sighed, turning to the holographic avatar at the center of the table. “Tell me, what is the probability that this will work?”VISHNU’s avatar was of an unusual shape. It displayed a spinning 4-Dimensional cube, a Tesseract. The hologram lit up as it responded. Its voice was heavily modulated, but nevertheless spoke clearly.
“Given the resources and technology we have available, the best that can be guaranteed is at least a 75% chance of total success. If you do not all sign the Covenant, then that chance becomes zero.”
The Brazilian delegate picked up the piece of paper and eyed it. It read “The Covenant for the future of Humanity”. A cold sweat ran down her forehead. She set it down flat, unable to look at it any longer.
“So tell me VISHNU,” The delegate addressed the AI directly. “Other than betting our entire future on a plan that may not work and whose results we will not live to see, what are our options?”
“There is only one, extinction.”
The armies of the galaxy would come for them. When they did, they had no hope of defeating them. To survive, Terra would have to rise from the dead.
Any Arks the Terrans build until this point would inevitably be intercepted and destroyed. With the entire galaxy watching them, they had to wait until their eyes were turned. Then they would have to flee, never to return. The Terrans would have to survive in the shadows for millennia before they would be accepted back into the fold, if at all.
It would not be pleasant, but it was necessary.
A Stronghold would need to be built. One that could be buried deep enough to survive the bombardments and evade the enemy’s scanners. Millions of frozen embryos alongside an AI data fortress would need to be inside of it. It also had to be self-sufficient for centuries, nothing less would suffice.
Sol-4 was chosen, owing to its thick lithosphere. Work began quietly under the guise of a mining expedition. Tunnel-boring machines dug hundreds of kilometers down, stopping just above where the mantle became liquid.
Once the base infrastructure was established and the embryos placed within, the entrance was sealed. A mining accident, they claimed. As the Terrans forgot about it, work continued below.
Automated machines mined raw minerals to self-replicate. The server rooms were built and expanded upon. The living Terrans that were selected to live within the Stronghold were placed into stasis pods. Then, ever so slowly, an Ark would be built.
Year 117
Private Zedressinni was bored.
He kicked a rock on the barren surface of Sol-4, watching as it rolled away. He looked around. The planet was dead. It was dead long before he got here, and it would be dead long after. He hated this place.
After being caught mating with a general’s son, he was “deployed” to Sol-4 for five long rotations. Though his actions didn’t technically break any laws, his clan couldn’t do much when the general pulled some strings and had him shipped off to the most lifeless region of known space.
His superiors fed him a load of excrement about how he was “honoring the quadrillions that died in the Great Plagues” and “ensuring that the Terrans never rise again”, whatever that meant. All he did was walk around doing precisely nothing.
They wouldn’t even let him entertain himself. He got a formal reprimand for using Terran skeletons as target practice. The reason? Improper use of ammunition. He still won the annual system-wide shooting competition the military held, much to their chagrin.
Zedressinni flinched and his helmet’s lens polarized as a blinding flash of light filled his vision. His training kicking in, the Hren’kin soldier dove for the ground.
He grumbled a curse under his breath. Looks like another unexploded Terran nuke went off. Great, more paperwork.
Zedressinni stood once the shockwave passed. Looking at the mushroom cloud, he narrowed his seven eyes. The blast seemed far bigger than the usual Terran tactical nukes that typically go off. His eyes then widened as he caught sight of it.
A massive ship rose from the center of the cloud. Its sublight engines burned incredibly hot as it ascended. Zedressinni watched as it disappeared into the sky. He stood there for a moment, utterly dumbfounded.
A beat, then he frantically fumbled for his communicator.
The Terrans were alive.
A/N: This is the first part of an ongoing series I have planned within this setting. I was originally going to post it all in one story, however I decided to break it up and spread it across multiple entries. It won’t be long, probably about 5 at the most. This way I can ensure the optimal pacing of the story since otherwise it’d be a fairly long 10,000-ish word piece. I’ll update this when the next part is released.
The main goal of this story is to explore the idea of Human diseases being significantly more dangerous then the ones in the wider galaxy. I've seen other stories cover similar ground, but they usually don't explore what would happen in a true galaxy-wide pandemic. Iirc one story had the common cold be extremely deadly to aliens, but it didn't go further than the humans saying "oh that's it?". Not to disparage them, but peace and happy endings don't leave much room for experimentation.

Hello , this is my third submission after getting some really excellent feedback from the first two attempts. I looked at all of the recommended resources and spent time working on a new and improved version of my query. I would love some more feedback so I know if it's still garbage, on the right track, or ready to go. I hope to start querying this week, so please don't hold back, I'm open to any and ALL criticism and feedback. Thank you in advance!
[First Attempt](https://www.reddit.com/PubTips/comments/1b2oprl/qcrit\_adult\_science\_fiction\_god\_particle\_111k/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web3x&utm\_name=web3xcss&utm\_term=1&utm\_content=share\_button).
[Second Attempt](https://www.reddit.com/PubTips/comments/1b8cxqn/qcrit\_adult\_science\_fiction\_god\_particle\_111k/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web3x&utm\_name=web3xcss&utm\_term=1&utm\_content=share\_button).
QUERY
[Dear Agent]
When Detective Asaju spots several individuals her advanced tech can’t identify, she uncovers a hidden cult and is the sole survivor of a deadly encounter. Recognized for her skills, Asaju is recruited by the Intelligence Division that’s been secretly hunting this group for years. Fearing for her life, Asaju was initially reluctant to join, but is swayed when she finds out the cult is responsible for the death of her parents.
Starting immediately, Asaju begins making progress on the stalled case when the cult and its enigmatic leader storm a building and broadcast a message to the world. Asaju and her team are sent in to capture them, but are ensnared in the cult’s trap. Not wanting a repeat of their first meeting, Asaju sacrifices herself to buy her allies time to escape. After being questioned and forced to take a unique hallucinogen, Asaju is inexplicably released.
Unsure why she was set free, Asaju’s mind begins to unravel and she starts having horrific nightmares. Hoping to find the cult to undo the damage to her brain, she realizes her search is making progress thanks to clues hidden in her madness. Learning more about the cult and their motives, Asaju starts to question her identity and the world around her. It becomes clear to Asaju that her path and the cults’ are now intertwined. As the cult plan finally begins to unfold, Asaju knows to find them she must dive into the insanity and face her fear of death.
GOD PARTICLE is an adult science fiction novel in the cyberpunk subgenre complete at 110,000 words. It combines the futuristic world of (insert comp I'm still looking for, I may just pick up a cyberpunk 2077 book and go with that if it fits), and the mind bending and detective elements of Blake Crouch's, Recursion.
I graduated with a bachelor's degree in Cinema with an emphasis in Screenwriting from [insert uni name] before I transitioned to writing novels six years ago and am so exciting to be sharing my debut novel with you. (insert brief reasons why I think they would be a good fit to represent God Particle).
Thank you for your time and consideration.
FIRST 300:
Detective Asaju watched a kaleidoscope of colors dance above the street. The glittering holos moved against each building trying to entice blissful partiers inside with every attraction imaginable. Asaju secretly envied these people. To her the swirling mosaics were beautiful, but unappealing. She once heard a spaced raver describe them as “unicorn barf,” which perfectly summarized how she felt about them.
She stood beneath the holo of a shield that read DigiSafe behind a neon green phrase, NOT SAFE ENOUGH, along with a laughing face. Here in the entertainment district it was normal for everyone to be in their loudest outfits wearing the flashiest augments money could buy. Ironically, it was Asaju who garnered the most attention. In a sea of color her plain gray jacket, dark jeans, and black shirt couldn’t have stood out more. Thankfully no one paid her more than a cursory glance before continuing on their way.
“How we lookin, Garcia?” she asked as she methodically scanned the crowd with her thick rimmed police issue EyeDent glasses. The lenses instantly brought up the ID of every face that walked by. Almost everyone’s tag above their head was green, with only a few yellows sprinkled here and there. Most were just unpaid tickets for overtuned cybernetics or unregistered solicitation, nothing worth bringing in. Seeing nothing of interest, Asjau rubbed her wrists uncomfortably as she watched a woman with an augmented chest that looked like it had been dipped in a vat of pink satin walk past.
“Wired in now,” Garcia shouted over the crowd.
“I’m counting on you to find something I can follow up on,” Asaju said looking down at him. He was a scrawny guy who looked even smaller as he sat on the ground with his terminal open on his lap.