I have a Norco Storm 2, size small, which has a fairly slow step (steep top tube) and narrow triangle. I am trying to figure out what type of frame bag I should make or buy to use the space effectively.
I can remove my water bottle, but need to keep my standover space clear. The angle of the top tube also feels tricky to navigate. I'm tempted to take a short half frame bag and shove it in the narrow triangle, and a separate more wedge shaped one against the seat tube.
Any ideas? How would you utilize the space?
I give up on trying to hotlink sorry

Chapter 1

Alyssa awoke with saltwater in her mouth and nose. She hacked and sputtered, only to realize she was sinking deeper into a pitch dark pool. She closed her eyes against the water's sting, and as her panic rose she flailed with arms and legs. She was desperate to regain bouyancy, even as she choked out the brine from her burning lungs. Determined, she broke to the surface again, gulping in air between ragged coughs as she fought to stay afloat.
Treading water, she opened her eyes and nothing changed. The darkness in the echoing chamber was complete, and she had to fight down another surge of panic as she took in the precariousness of her situation. The cold water sapped her strength, and her heart raced as a sudden scream of terror welled up from within.
Alyssa winced as her own scream echoed in her ears. She choked out the last of the salty water, then took a deep breath, trying to force herself to calm. "Okay, okay," she soothed herself, voice trembling slightly despite her efforts, "we're okay."
After another steadying breath, Alyssa began building a mental catalog of her situation. Her clothes were soaked through, but she wasn't finding treading water to be too difficult, yet; a future problem. Other than her lungs, nothing hurt, and those were recovering. She could still feel her toes and fingers on both hands, meaning no paralysis, that she could find. Nothing seemed to be seriously wrong, except that she had no idea how she'd come to be in a pitch dark echoing chamber filled with water.
Calmer, now, Alyssa tried to recall what she had been doing. The last thing she remembered was walking along the shoreline, feeling immensely lonely. The sound of the waves coming in, closer and closer, was still vivid in her mind. She could still remember the coarse feeling of the sand between her toes. The saltwater air had filled her lungs as she wondered how she could be in such a beautiful place, and still feel so sorry for herself. With a bitter laugh, Alyssa lolled her head back in the water and stared into the endless void. Well she certainly had reason to feel sorry for herself, now. Still, the memory of how she came to be here was distressingly absent.
Drip … Drip … Drop.
As her adrenaline faded, Alyssa could hear the slow, steady fall of water into the pool. Was the water level rising? She couldn't tell without knowing more about the chamber she was in. Determined to push back against her growing despair, Alyssa decided to explore her environment more thoroughly. A shiver coursed through her spine as she felt out to either side as far as her arms would go and couldn't find a wall, nor did she find purchase beneath her feet. After a moment of hesitation, Alyssa expanded her search. She swam forward, keeping her hands ahead of herself.
She didn't have to go far before she bumped into an uneven stone surface. Alyssa wasn't sure in the dark, but judging by the smoothness of the rock she guessed it was some kind of river stone. She followed the stone wall around for a ways before deciding it was curved inward. Pushing off, Alyssa turned and reached for the other side, then followed along the wall and repeated the crossing a few more times. She decided that the cavern was roughly circular, perhaps half again as wide as her armspan at its widest stretch, though without light she couldn't be certain she had ever crossed it straight. She considered her options as she clung to the side of the chamber.
Drip … Drip … Drop.
The steady sound was maddening in its repetition, and Alyssa let out a huff of annoyance. Thinking on it, though, she was sure the water had been steadily falling into the chamber the entire time she was here, and she didn't think the water level had risen. Not that she had any way to really know for certain, but if she was right, it implied there was some way for the water to get back out. Could she get out the same way? Taking a deep breath, Alyssa ducked beneath the surface and swam down. Her kicks were hindered by her sodden skirt, but following along the cavern wall as she descended, Alyssa felt the cavern floor after a depth of maybe twice her height. Ten feet wasn't even as deep as most home swimming pools.
Alyssa gulped down air as she returned to the surface, thinking hard about what she'd found. Another shiver coursed through her veins just before she dove down to explore the bottom further. Like the walls, it was uneven but smooth. She could feel some small cracks, and feel the water rushing past her fingers near one or two of these. That, then, was where the water was escaping to. Frustrated, she resurfaced one more and banged her fist against the stone wall. "Damnit." She knew she wouldn't be swimming her way out of here.
For the third time, Alyssa shivered, and she realised that she was starting to lose feeling in her toes. The water temperature wasn't frigid, but she could feel it sapping her strength. Was it ninety-six degrees for hypothermia? Ninety-five? She couldn't recall, but it wasn't important, without a thermometer. She was going to die, here, if she didn't find a way out, and soon.
Drip … Drip … Drop.
Straining, she tried to focus on the sounds around her once more. The incessant dripping of the cave was her only remaining hope of finding a way out, and she had no idea how to reach the ceiling. Alyssa squeezed her toes in an attempt to restore some feeling, while she thought about the problem. After a moment, she began exploring the cavern walls again, this time searching for something to stand on rather than just learning about her environment. After a few turns about the chamber, she found a small shelf just a few feet beneath the surface, large enough for her to put a single foot on.
She pushed herself up, trying to go slowly as she felt along the wall for anything to grip onto. She couldn't find purchase before her momentum carried her too far from the wall, but she did feel roughly how high the ceiling was just before she splashed back into the pool. "Yes!" she celebrated the small victory as she surfaced, fueling her hopes of an escape with that realization that she could probably wedge herself between the ceiling and the shelf if she was purposeful about it.
Returning to the wall, she tamped down on the urge to shiver again, then surged straight up, putting her hands above her to try and catch the ceiling. Water cascaded around her in a torrent, her water-logged clothing threatening to drag her back to the depths, but she held on until she was steady. Alyssa allowed herself a small smile for her success, though some part of her thought it felt more like a grimace, before she began feeling along the cavern ceiling with her hands. Like the rest of the chamber, the stone was smooth and uneven, but it had sharper protrusions here and there that might serve as handholds. Alyssa was reminded of the wall climb at the local mall. She'd never been great at it, despite her friends dragging her to try it every other weekend during high school.
As she continued exploring the ceiling, another involuntary shiver wracked her body, and she set her teeth against the growing chill. "I'm going to get out," she promised herself, just as her hand found open air where she'd expected stone. She nearly fell, but she caught herself and explored the edges of the hole. She couldn't even reach the entire thing from her perch! The ledge was rugged and sharp, and just barely far enough from the wall that she had to strain to reach it. She explored as far around the hole as she could, certain it was large enough for her to fit through. Excited, Alyssa grabbed onto the ledge with both hands and tried to pull herself up, but her grip wasn't solid enough. She immediately slipped back into the water with another splash.
Alyssa surfaced with a growl, feeling a surge of determination and stubbornness. Reclaiming her perch on the shelf, she pushed up to the roof of the chamber once more. This time she knew her target, so rather than wasting time and grip with exploration, she just focused on steadying herself, there. After a few breaths, she reached up to grab the ledge again, trying to find solid hand-holds.
As she swung out from the wall, her sodden skirt trailed through the water, weighing her down. She held on for longer this time, uttering a harsh noise as she strained to pull herself up. She managed to get her chin to her fingers before her grip failed her again, and the feeling of freefall sent her heart thrilling before she splashed into the cool water once more.
When she surfaced, Alyssa let out a frustrated growl. "I had it!" she admonished herself, before finding the ledge once more. A third time, her efforts were fouled and she fell into the water. In frustration, she peeled her skirt off her legs and abandoned it to the murky brine. With the drag gone, she had an easier time holding onto the ledge, and on her fourth attempt she nearly managed to pull herself all the way up before her arms gave out and she slipped back into the water with yet another scream of frustration.
She knew she was close, but she obviously wasn't going to make progress while her muscles were burning with fatigue. Floating on her back, Alyssa glared up into the darkness as her emotions swirled around her, threatening to drag her into despair. Hope and frustration warred within her, each trying to gain the upper hand. She clung onto the determination that she had almost made it, but as she dwelled on the problem above her, doubts began to surface. What if she couldn’t pull herself out? What if there wasn’t a way out above?
Anger surged through her at that thought, hot and fierce. She refused to accept that fate. Closing her eyes, she focused on the anger and used it as fuel for her resolve. She just needed a moment to catch her breath, relax her muscles, and try again. She was going to get out.
When she swung out for the fifth time, Alyssa’s fingers gripped tightly to the rock above. She pulled herself up into the black with a roar of determination and frustration. She got her chest over the lip, then reached one arm forward hastily in search of a better hold. She found purchase, then pulled a leg up and got one foot on the ledge. With a scream of exultation, she pushed herself the rest of the way out of the chamber and into the tunnels above.
With a feral noise of triumph, Alyssa slid onto the cool, damp stone of the tunnel, then rolled onto her back and lay gasping for air. Her muscles were twitching, and she was still cold, but she was no longer in the water, and that was a massive improvement, even if the dark and damp of the unknown was around her.
Alyssa wasn’t sure how long she lay there on the stone, but as her panting and muscle spasms gave way to shivering and goosebumps, she admitted to herself, “I have to move.” But it was hard to keep going; her body felt heavy and drained from the exertion of just climbing out of the chamber below, and she wasn’t even sure where to go next. With a groan, she pushed herself up to a sitting position, fighting the exhaustion and mounting sense of dread that threatened to claim her.
Carefully, she crawled forward on hands and knees, every movement an effort. She could feel the edge of the hole she’d just emerged from, but that was obviously a deadend. Instead, she pressed on, hunting for an alternative. The rough stone scraped against her palms and knees as she inched along, her progress painfully slow.
The cavern descended, and Alyssa's heart sank when her hand plunged into another pool of water. She pulled back, relieved that the bank was shallow enough she could easily get back out of this pool. Nevertheless, she paused to consider her options, then turned to explore in the opposite direction. After several minutes of fruitless searching, she realized that the water-filled passage was her only way forward.
Alyssa let out a heavy sigh of frustration as she lowered herself into the tepid water. She gritted her teeth as the cold crept back into her bones, but willed herself to keep moving. The tunnel continued its descent, and soon the ceiling plunged into the pool, forcing her to submerge if she wanted to continue. Alyssa hesitated, barely holding back her desperate tears. Swimming blindly through the flooded passage seemed like madness, but what choice did she have?
Taking a deep, gasping breath, Alyssa plunged beneath the surface and swam forward with powerful kicks of her legs. She kept one hand on the stone above and the other stretched out in front of her, searching for obstacles. As her lungs began to burn with the need for oxygen, panic threatened to overwhelm her. What if the tunnel never resurfaced? If she went much further, she was certain she would not be able to make it back. Still, she had no alternatives; no other way to proceed. So she swam forward into the unknown, gambling her life on an exit while desperately ignoring the growing panic in the back of her mind.
A subtle glow in the murky water caught Alyssa’s attention, and the tunnel veered sharply upward. Desperate for air, she kicked towards the light, discarding caution as she propelled herself forward and up with both arms and legs. Hope surged through her as she swam towards the surface.
When she emerged from the water, gasping and sputtering for air, Alyssa let out a cry of relief. Mushrooms! Glowing mushrooms filled the room, their glow dim but omnipresent. She marveled, letting out a delighted laugh at the sight of the water’s reflection erupting into a cascade of colors on the cavern ceiling. Alyssa took a deep breath, and although the air was musty and stale, it had a sharpness and movement to it that the previous chamber hadn’t. Where there were mushrooms there was life, and where there was wind there was an exit. For the first time in hours, Alyssa smiled, as she pulled herself out of the pool onto the bank.

Chapter 2

For the second time in several hours, Alyssa lay on the ground catching her breath and allowing her muscles to relax. The swim through the watery airlock–she couldn’t think of any other way to describe that tunnel–had been far more mentally taxing than the physical exertion of pulling herself up out of the first chamber. Nevertheless, it required a great deal of effort and she was exhausted.
As she lay on her back, Alyssa tried again to remember how she got here. She remembered vividly her walk on the beach, and then … water. There was nothing in between. She wasn't even sure how much time had passed, but judging by the way her stomach was starting to groan in protest, and by the fullness of her bladder, she was fairly sure it had been several hours. On the other hand, she could account for at least two of those since she found herself in the chamber, unless her estimate of time was very off.
Her deliberations were cut short by a small squeaking noise, not far away. Alyssa eased herself up and turned towards the noise. There in the field of mushrooms was a small white and brown mouse, cast in an eerie glow by the mushroom's bioluminescence. Alyssa watched in awe as the mouse nibbled on the mushrooms, waiting to see what would happen. She didn't know enough about mushrooms to judge their safety for herself, but if the mouse could eat them, she figured they were probably safe for her to try, as well. After all, weren't mice used for drug testing all the time?
The mouse seemed oblivious to Alyssa’s presence, and she held her breath as best she could while she counted the seconds, trying to decide how long she should wait before trusting the results. Hours, probably, if she was honest with herself. Just when she was about to give up on the idea, a sudden movement caught her eye. Beyond the mouse, swift as could be, a slithering figure stole towards the unsuspecting rodent. “No!” she called, and her hand found a rock. Hastily, she threw it towards the onrushing creature. The rock went wide, but the serpent’s stealth was spoiled, and the mouse quickly darted away from its assailant, deeper into the mushrooms.
The snake let out a hiss of annoyance, and Alyssa was briefly overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of immense displeasure. She wasn’t surprised the snake was annoyed, but the sheer vehemence she felt was almost as if sensing her own emotions. Its lunch foiled, the serpent turned and slithered away, leaving Alyssa and the mouse alone in the chamber once again.
Alyssa waited, still and quiet, as the chamber settled back into silence. She wondered whether the little mouse had escaped the field of mushrooms entirely, or if it was still here. But something told her to wait; a sense of hesitance and uncertainty that felt sourceless and yet compelling.
Eventually, her patience paid off, and the little mouse poked its head back out of the mushrooms, staring after the snake. It emitted a soft, hesitant noise, then furtively darted out of the field into the open. There, it paused to stare up at Alyssa, studying her with a raw curiosity that nearly overwhelmed Alyssa as much as the snake’s displeasure had. She also sensed gratitude from the little mouse, though how she knew that’s what it was feeling she could not say.
“Are you hurt?” she hazarded, as she leaned in towards the mouse. The little creature took a quick step back, and the curiosity was immediately replaced by uncertainty.
Alyssa straightened up to give the mouse space. The feeling of uncertainty slowly faded, and she tilted her head in curiosity. “Why can I sense what you're feeling?” she asked the mouse, though of course she knew it would not reply.
The mouse watched her for several more moments before taking a single daring step forward. Alyssa sat very still, and after another moment it took a few more steps towards her. Soon, it was near to her knee, its little nose twitching incessantly as it sniffed at her dampened skin.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any food on me,” Alyssa said, still not moving but to talk. The mouse sat back and stood up on its hind legs to peer up at her. Alyssa could sense its curiosity turn to acceptance, and then, before she could protest, the little mouse leapt up onto her leg. She gasped in startlement, surprised at the feel of its soft fur and the tickle of its little claws brushing against her bare skin.
When it reached her hip, the mouse scurried under her tee shirt, and Alyssa made a choking noise of displeasure as it crawled, with quick movements, up her back and out of the tattered collar. When it came to rest on her shoulder, Alyssa held her breath, not daring to move. She watched the mouse out of the side of her eye, and a sense of appreciation flooded into her perception. Slowly, she turned her head to see the mouse staring at her. With a twitch of its whiskers, the little creature poked its nose against her cheek, cool and damp, before turning to look at the mushrooms.
“You think they will be safe for me?” she asked quietly, as she turned to follow the mouse’s gaze. “But raw mushrooms …” she complained, with some disdain. The mouse touched its nose to her cheek once more, and Alyssa sensed insistence. With a sigh, she mumbled, “Why am I trusting a mouse?” before ever so slowly–so as not to dislodge her guest–she leaned forward to collect a handful of the morsels.
Alyssa straightened and studied her collection of mushrooms thoughtfully. Arranging them by size, she selected the smallest and glanced at the mouse out of the corner of her eye once more. "You're sure about this?" she asked, her voice echoing in the damp cavern. The mouse couldn't speak, of course, but Alyssa felt a strong sense of certainty from her tiny companion. Or maybe that was just the discomfort of hypothermia, exhaustion and her painfully full bladder talking.
Hesitantly, Alyssa popped the smallest mushroom into her mouth. It had a surprisingly rich, earthy flavor, reminiscent of the forest after a rainstorm. As she chewed, the spongy texture yielded, releasing a burst of liquid that filled her mouth with a strange, electric tingle. The sensation was not unpleasant, but definitely unfamiliar. She swallowed, marveling at how easily it went down despite her reservations.
Emboldened by the lack of immediate ill effects, Alyssa quickly consumed the other mushrooms. With each one, the tingling sensation spread, until her whole body hummed with a kind of vibrant, restless energy.
Cupping her hands together, Alyssa scooped up some of the cool water and drank deeply. The liquid soothed her throat, but did nothing to quell the building sense of excitement and unease. She leaned back against the rock, trying to steady herself as the mushrooms’ effects took hold.
It wasn't hallucinations, but a profound shift in Alyssa's perception. The cave seemed to come alive around her; the rocks and water pulsed with a subtle, resonant energy. She felt a surge of confidence and clarity, as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes. With trembling hands, she tore a strip from the bottom of her t-shirt and fashioned it into a makeshift pouch. She wasn't sure what lay ahead, but having a source of food could prove useful. She filled the pouch to the brim with the glowing caps, marveling at their strangeness, before tying it securely to her hip.
"Okay," Alyssa whispered, her voice sounding strangely amplified to her own ears. "I guess we follow the snake." The thought of the serpent sent a ripple of fear through her companion, but she reassured him, "Don't worry, I won't let it get you." The little mouse was still afraid, but it seemed to understand her meaning, and nestled up against her neck, soft fur gentle on her skin.
With a deep breath, Alyssa rolled to her knees and stood, her legs trembling slightly. The mouse clung to her, its small heartbeat echoing her own. Alyssa could feel its mix of curiosity and trepidation, mirroring her own complex emotions. "Come on," she muttered, "let's go." She started forward into the gloom, following the serpent's path and the promise of fresh air. Using the glowing bundle on her hip as a makeshift light, Alyssa navigated the narrow tunnels with confidence. Her bare feet found easy purchase on the cool, damp stone. She progressed at a much more comfortable pace than the slow, exploratory crawl she'd been limited to in the submerged chamber. As she followed the winding tunnel, it sloped gradually upwards, and a light fog crept in, curling around her ankles. Alyssa's heart quickened. She dared to believe she was nearing open air, and a potential end to this nightmare.
Yet even as hope blossomed in her chest, each step brought a growing unease from the small, furry companion on Alyssa's shoulder. The mouse huddled closer to her neck, its nose twitching incessantly. As they rounded a corner, a new scent filled Alyssa's nostrils: earthy mud and a hint of ozone, in stark contrast to the mineral-rich dampness of the caverns. The tunnel widened sharply ahead, seeming to fall away into a murky expanse. Through the haze, the silhouette of a massive tree trunk promised an escape from what she had almost believed might be her tomb.
"We made it," Alyssa breathed, a swell of triumph surging through her. The mushrooms' influence still thrummed in her veins, confidence mingling with her own burgeoning anticipation. She quickened her pace, emerging from the cave mouth into the cool, damp air. Alyssa paused there, one hand on the stone wall, as she breathed in the scent of her freedom.
A twilit forest stretched out before her, dotted with towering trees that reached for an unfamiliar sky. Alyssa tilted her head back, marveling at the stars glimmering above. Their patterns were strange, yet mesmerizing; their strangeness only matched by the comfort they brought her. Alyssa knew the constellations were wrong; that they matched nothing she'd ever seen before, but right now all that mattered was the comfort in knowing that she would not die in that cave.
A squeak of pure terror from the mouse jolted Alyssa from her reverie. The force of her companion's fear nearly knocked the wind from her. Alyssa swiftly sought the source of the mouse's fear. There, beside the nearest tree, stood a tall, gaunt figure, a serpent slithering up its leg. The figure's cold blue eyes glared at Alyssa with a chilling intensity.
As the snake continued its ascent, the figure lifted a hand, guiding the snake to wrap about its too-long neck. Subtle, thorny protrusions emerged from the figure's chin, and the snake rubbed itself against them, hissing as it impressed its displeasure upon the figure, no doubt casting Alyssa as the villain in its tale.
"H-hello," Alyssa stammered, suddenly acutely aware of her vulnerability. She took a guarded step back and brought her hands up defensively. The figure's presence was oppressive, suffocating. Even in her desperation, Alyssa knew she wanted no part of any help they might offer. Still, she needed time to think. She had to find a way past them without provoking their ire, and an attempt at being polite was all she could come up with in the moment.
The figure spoke, its voice a grating rattle. "You have violated the ancient agreement, and trespassed beyond the barrier." Alyssa was sure she didn't know what any of that meant, but before she could say so, the figure continued, "There are consequences for your meddling, child, and I am come to deliver them."

Preferably ankle or short boots no lace zero drop/wedge & non steel/comp/met guard
Will be : welding, wood work, some construction, mechanic, & driving heavy machinery along with working on a farm. Specifically looking at 4-6" cellstretch wedge boots but open to others as long as they meet the criteria I need
Needs to be comfortable and durable. Would like to work outside then be able to walk in church in em right after. (I mean, in Alabama folks don't care but I do. I'd still like them to look nice with jeans & a cap)

Narrator: It was an early September morning. The sun was starting to rise, and the townsfolk were starting to wake up and do their usual routines. One of these townsfolk just happened to be a police officer. They were called into the station, and came as soon as they could. They stepped out of their parked car and walked over to the entrance. Before they entered, they would quickly fix their hat and tie.
Once inside, they would pass the lobby and go to the counte reception area. On the other side, stood a deputy with black, short hair and black eyes. They wore a blue button up with a police vest, blue jeans, and black shoes. A walkie talkie was attached to their vest. This deputy’s name was Jack. When he saw the police officer before him, he smiled.
Jack: Hello Sofia. Glad you could come.” (Happily)
Sofia: “Of course. From what I could tell by John’s tone during the call, it’s something very important.”
Narrator: The officer’s name was Sofia Asturias. Sometimes, she was called, officer Asturias. She had black eyes and medium blonde deep red hair. She wore a blue collared uniform, a cap with a black rim and a badge in the center of it. A black tie, pants, and shoes. She carried a glock firearm, a taser, a radio, and handcuffs at all times. She has been a part of the force for some time now.
Jack’s demeanor changed when he heard what Sofia had inferred.
Jack: It is, Sofia. Let me take you to the evidence room where John is currently. He’ll explain more about what’s happened. (urgently)
Narrator: Sofia nodded and entered the reception area. Together, she and Jack went over to the evidence room. Jack softly knocked on the door, and heard
John: Come in (lost in thought)
Narrator: Jack opened the door and entered with Sofia.
Jack: Officer Asturias is here, John. (presenting)
Narrator: John turned around to face the two. He had brown curly hair and a mustache, his eyes were black. He wore a black shirt and dark blue jacket. A black belt for his brown jeans, and had on black shoes. He currently has a cigar in his mouth. He took it out to talk.
John: Officer Asturias, I know that we just recently talked on the phone, before you came. Though now that you’re here, I’ll be giving you the bigger picture. (serious) Sofia: I understand. What’s the bigger picture then? (curiously)
Narrator: John motioned her to come to his side, before he pointed to a picture on the investigation thread they were producing.
John: Last night, a mutilated body was found in an alleyway. One of the victim’s arms and legs were missing. They also had a stab wound on their back. (Explanatory) Right now, we don’t have any leads, whoever did this left no trace. (frustrated)
Narrator: Sofia looked at the gruesome picture, and listened to what the sheriff had to say. Focusing on the important details.
Sofia: This is the first case of mutilation, correct? (Questioningly)
John: Correct (confirming)
Sofia: How can I help with the case? So we can make sure that this doesn’t happen again. (interested)
John: For now, be vigilant. Especially on your night shift. Hopefully we can gather more clues in the time being before this perpetrator strikes again. (Serious and urgent, with a sense of caution and concern.)
Sofia: Alright, I’ll make sure that nothing slips by me, specifically anything suspicious. I’ll leave you and Jack to it then. (cooperative)
Narrator: Sofia would turn around and leave John, and was facing Jack.
Sofia: I’ll see you later.
Jack: See you, Sofia (friendly)
Narrator: Sofia would exit the evidence room, after giving Jack a smile back, after he gave a smile to her. She left the way she came and entered her police cruiser. She was lost in thought for a bit. She needed to ensure this didn’t spiral out of control. She had a family to think of. A whole town she needed to ensure stayed safe. She now had a clear objective, as she left the parking lot and onto the streets.
It was still morning. In one of the houses of the town, the Rosendale family dweled. Sofia knew them well, because they were her family. Her niece was Evelyn Rosendale, a female teenager. She had green eyes and black hair. She wore a high neck lantern sleeve sweater, flap cargo pants and wedge boots. She was the youngest, two years younger than her older brother. Sofia’s nephew was Toby Rosendale, a young adult male. He had hazel eyes, and rich auburn hair. He wore a plaid drawstring hooded shirt, navy blue jeans, and blue sneakers. Sofia’s brother in law and the father of both Evelyn and Toby, was Andrew Rosendale. He had brown eyes and brown sable hair. He wore a plain color lapel part zipper shirt, with pants and shoes.
At the moment in the household, Evelyn was getting ready for school, while Toby was getting ready to head to his college classes. Their dad was cooking breakfast for them.
Toby: Sis, hurry up. You still have to eat breakfast before going to school! (calling out)
Eveyln: Speak for yourself, you have to eat breakfast too. I’m not the only one at risk of coming late to school! (calling back)
Andrew: Breakfast is ready! (announce)
Narrator: Soon the two siblings raced down the stairs and to the dining room. Where their dad had placed the two plates full of food on the table.
Evelyn: Looks delicious, dad. Thanks. (grateful)
Toby: Thanks, dad. (grateful)
Andrew: Of course. (happily) Now eat up, I don’t want any of you to be late for your classes. (sternly)
Both: Yes dad (in acknowledgement)
Narrator: After the two were done, they stood up with their plates and utensils and placed the items in the sink. Before grabbing their bags.
Toby: Bye dad. (in a rush)
Andrew: Bye son (warmly)
Narrator: Evelyn hadn’t left yet. She wanted to tell her dad where she planned to go after school. She came up to him.
Evelyn: Hey dad? Would it be ok, if after school, I went to the candy club? I just want to get some candy. (Polite and slightly tentative)
Narrator: Andrew thought for a moment. He saw no harm in Evelyn doing so.
Andrew: Yes, you can go. As long as you have the money buy some candy and don’t come late. (granting permission)
Evelyn: I do and I won’t. See you. (happily)
Narrator: Evelyn left with a smile on her face, she was on her way to school. Andrew would clean up the plates and utensils and get himself ready for work. He put on his suit, ready for another day at the bank.
Script 3:
Narrator: It was late afternoon, close to evening. Evelyn had left school and was on her way to the candy club. She had her backpack on her. One of the arm straps was on her shoulder. At the entrance of the store, there were giant lollipop displays, a display of donuts, and cookie bars. A glowing sign above in pink with white letters, that read: -Candy Club-
Evelyn smiled and walked in. The store was filled with candy and sweet treats. The aroma was one of sugar and baked goods. The music was soft, yet cheerful. Behind the counter, was a young man with black hair. He wore a white button-up shirt with a single pink stripe on both sleeves, a pink bowtie that resembles a taffy wrapper with a white swirl on it, a white employee cap, light blue pants, and black shoes. His name was Kevin.
He saw her walk in and greeted her with a friendly smile.
Kevin: Hey Evelyn. Nice to see you again. (Friendly)
Evelyn: Hi Kevin. Yeah, it's been a while. How are you? (Friendly and warm)
Kevin: I'm doing well. As well as I can anyway with this job. You know how some kids are. (Slightly resigned, with a hint of humor)
Evelyn: Mhm. That's good to hear, and just think of it this way. You're bringing delight to everyone with these sweets. Even though you don't make them, people still have to buy it from you. (Encouraging)
Kevin: True. Though sometimes dealing with certain customers can be a pain. (conversational and mildly frustrated.)
Evelyn: I can sort of relate. I worked in retail last summer. There were so many times where I just wished to disappear or just tell the customers off. (Empathic and reflective)
Kevin: (chuckled) I can definitely imagine what you might've told those customers if you had the chance. (lighthearted and slightly teasing.)
Evelyn: (laughed softly) Yeah, I would've left them stunned. Anyway, I'm going to see what candy I'll get. (Confident, then casual)
Kevin: May I give you a suggestion? (Politely)
Evelyn: What's your suggestion? (Intrigued)
Kevin: I suggest you get Zoots. They're sweet at first, but then turn sour quickly with some tiny pops. (Informative, and enthusiastic)
Narrator: Evelyn was shocked, but grinned. She playfully slapped one of his hands. Which was on the counter.
Evelyn: Kevin (shocked)
Kevin: (Laughed) Ow (playfully) Or you can get another candy. (Open-ended)
Evelyn: (gigled) I'll think about it.
Narrator: Kevin smiled, as he shook his hand after getting it off the counter. Evelyn would look around and would pick out the candy. She got a chocolate bar, a pack of bubblegum, a bag of gummy bears, and a small bag of Zoots. She placed them all on the counter.
Kevin: So you did pick out Zoots after all. (Smugly)
Narrator: Evelyn playful rolled her eyes, before taking out the cash to pay for the candy.
Evelyn: I did. I just had to, after hearing the description of the candy. Here you go. (Slightly playful)
Narrator: Kevin took the money and placed it in the cash register.
Kevin: I know you'll enjoy them. Would you like a bag for the candies? Or are you going to place them in your backpack? (Considerate and curious)
Evelyn: I'll place them in my backpack. Thanks. (Appreciative)
Narrator: Evelyn would grab the candy she bought and place them all in her backpack. Once her backpack was zipped up, she put it on her back again.
Evelyn: I gotta go now. It was nice talking to you Kevin. Thanks for the candy. (Friendly and appreciative, with a casual undertone)
Kevin: It was nice talking to you too. You're welcome, hope to see you soon. (Friendly/warm, with a hint of anticipation)
Narrator: After they exchanged goodbyes. Evelyn walked out of the store with her candy. Now heading straight home.
What the police would find the next morning, would be another body.
Bob/Devil: (Evil laughter) echo sound effect

First...Previous
Colonist Booker Smith
UNS Lightbringer
Of all the skills I’d picked up throughout my short lifetime spent back on Earth, I never would have guessed that the ability to mix up homemade hairspray would prove to be so useful. Looking over myself in the captain’s bathroom mirror, however, I could hardly deny the results. Though our faces looked rather different, if one were to judge purely based upon hairstyle, Theruf and I would be indistinguishable.
Adjusting the newly-shortened cuff of Theruf’s uniform sleeve, I exited the lavatory and at a brisk clip took off back toward our ship’s medbay. Stepping inside the room, I watched as Emma and a newly-thawed evolutionary biologist with thinning hair carefully carved into one of the corpses produced during our recent confrontations with the Phylix. Meanwhile, against the room’s far wall, a tall, lanky electrocranial engineer formerly employed by Cogitolink could be seen hooking up various wires to a sedated Theruf whilst John kept watch.
“What all do we know?” I asked, stepping over to the dissection table and taking in its scent akin to that of rotten vegetation mixed with maple syrup. If we were to successfully blend in with Phylix civilization, adequate biological knowledge would be every bit as important as cultural.
“I’ve never seen anything quite like this!” Replied Em, her tone absolutely giddy as she looked up from the microscope under which rested a clump of Phylix ‘flesh’. “Sure, they might look Human on the outside, but internally the differences between us are staggering. For example, while they do obtain a vast majority of their energy from the consumption of organic matter, Phylix also appear to be capable of sophisticated photosynthesis.”
While surely for someone more well-versed in life sciences all this would be incredibly fascinating, I as a hairdresser was far more interested in things that would aid me directly. “And how do they match up in comparison to us?” I asked, hoping to more fully understand what we were up against here.
Experienced as Emma no doubt was in dealing with plants, comparing and contrasting different organisms was far more in the evolutionary biologist’s domain, and as such it was him who next spoke up. “Their bodies appear to prioritize energy efficiency above all else, with some concessions being made for reflex speed,” he began, carefully analyzing an extracted strand of alien sinew as he spoke. “They require fewer than half the calories we do in order to function at optimal capacity, and a small portion of that is covered for by their photosynthetic skin.“
“So we need to eat more than they do. What else do the Phylix have over on us?”
“Let’s see… Phylix skin is tougher than ours, and they appear to possess powerful regenerative abilities almost like those of bamboo. We have them beat at just about everything else, however…” The biologist half-smirked, glancing over at a computer screen loaded with variables beyond my understanding and typing in yet another set of data. “Their reflexes, while rather fast given the gravity of this planet, are nevertheless inferior to our own. We also far outclass them in terms of strength, speed, and endurance.”
“Their central nervous system is different too,” murmured the electrocranial engineer, looking over a three dimensional model presumably of Theruf’s brain—its central mass sequestered inside his skull with roots extending outward from it to form what we Humans had at first mistaken for hair. “I’m seeing signs of both repaired and newly-created neurons within this one’s brain: Humans can’t do that. Phylix neuroplasticity is also off the charts, indicating an enhanced capacity for learning and the ability to adapt to whatever brain damage can’t be healed.”
That was good news for Theruf, at least, given what we had done to him when first obtaining a root sample. If there was one thing I knew about evolution, however, it was that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. “What’s the trade off?” I asked, hoping for something else that we might be able to leverage against the Phylix.
“I’ll need more specimens to say for sure, but looking at this one, my current hypothesis is that they traded away much of their pattern recognition.”
This insight, while much appreciated, was not why we thawed out a Cogitolink employee. “Will you be able to download his memories?” I asked, tapping repeatedly upon my forehead for emphasis. Initially, I had planned to simply interrogate Theruf for information on how to blend in, but threatening a fanatic with martyrdom was about as effective as threatening an alcoholic with a second gin and tonic. Having all the soldier’s knowledge loaded into my GRIM would allow me to blend in seamlessly with his kind, eliminating much of the involved guesswork.
“That depends…” Replied the engineer, his tone unnervingly somber as he navigated to yet another screen. “Their neural structure is too different from ours for a direct transcription, meaning I likely won’t be able to get anything more than basic information… Unless…”
“Unless what?” John growled, looking down upon our unconscious prisoner with icy disregard.
Following a long moment’s hesitation, the engineer eventually relented and with a heavy sigh imparted upon us our second option. “If we run a high-power charge through his brain, the computer will be able to map almost the entire thing. We’ll be able to blend in with his kind perfectly…”
“Lemme guess: there a big fuckin’ catch, isn’t there?” John half-groaned, staring down the former Cogitolink employee as he awaited the inevitable affirmation and elaboration.
“If turning his brain into a heap of organic mush is what you’d consider a drawback, then yes.”
Silence fell over the room as we all contemplated the weight of such a decision. Killing in self-defense was one thing, but the borderline execution of a sapient being, no matter how vile, was another matter entirely. All it took to shatter this quiet, however, were two words from the commodore’s mouth. “Do it.”
Again, the engineer hesitated. “Are you sure?” He asked, his fingers remaining at rest in spite of the order. The rest of us, meanwhile, were too stunned to speak out.
“Don’t you lot forget the contract we signed!” Barked John, his tone booming with power and authority befitting a military man. “Humanity’s survival is our top priority. At all costs.”
At last regaining her voice after several long moments of speechlessness, Em stepped past the commodore to stand in solidarity at the engineer’s side. “Theruf is a brainwashed victim of his own society—we can’t just murder him for following orders!”
“Let’s not be overdramatic here!” Cautioned the biologist, his expression utterly unfazed by the notion of putting down our prisoner. “He’s a fascist soldier who’d kill every last one of us given half a chance. At least this way he’ll die for a good cause.”
Indecision immobilized me amidst my fellow’s colonists’ arguing. Back when I first pressed Theruf’s own gun to the back of his head, the urge to end him on the spot had been palpable. Now, however, given the chance to put things into perspective, I wasn’t sure what we should do with the captive. So I remained silent as the lot of them continued their impromptu trial of the unconscious Phylix.
“I’m not so sure I’m comfortable doing this…” The engineer winced, his hands falling away from the keyboard as he cast down his gaze from the waiting commodore’s glare.
“Fine…” John growled, taking a step towards the surgery bay computer and placing his own hand upon it. “Just tell me what commands to type in and I’ll do it. No blood on your hands, right? Just mine.”
Evidently dissatisfied with this rationalization, Em rounded the dissection table and began to approach the commodore as though to stop him manually. Her efforts, however, were thwarted when the biologist moved to intercept her. “We can’t take any risks here!” He sighed, outstretching an arm toward me for emphasis. “If Booker’s disguise fails, it’s game over for us, for the colony—maybe for humanity for all we know!”
“Listen to your fellow scientist,” sighed John, regarding Emma with a confusing concoction of warm understanding and cold, ruthless utilitarianism. “If you think I get some kind of sick kick out of this, then you’re dead wrong; but I swore an oath to keep Humanity safe, and if I have to kill a million of these bastards to do it, then I will not hesitate.”
“Wait!” Stammered the engineer, grabbing John’s arm as though to prevent him from pressing any of the keys. “There might be another way. If you guys can obtain a few more living samples for me, I might be able to calibrate a non-lethal mapping charge.”
“And how many ‘samples’ is that going to take?” Asked the biologist, his tone dripping with skepticism.
For a moment, the former Cogitolink employee hesitated to provide us with an answer to this fairly straightforward inquiry. Eventually, however, he relented in his secrecy. “Forty… Maybe fifty?”
“Getting that many captives would take time that we don't have, Manley!" John barked, offhandedly referencing the engineer's surname amidst his admonishment of the idea.
This argument continued for what must have been half an hour, devolving at times into a shouting match between Emma and the commodore before then cooling off yet again into cold, yet relatively-peaceful periods of debate. This rhythm of argument was disrupted, however, when Em jabbed her finger towards me. "Booker is the one whose going to be wearing Theruf's appearance: it should be his choice whether or not to sacrifice him."
Whereas before the group had been divided into two sides, on this matter Manley and the biologist seemed to agree with Em, deriving a somewhat frustrated sigh from the commodore as he suddenly found himself outnumbered. "Fine..." John conceded, searching my expression for any indication of what route I might take here. Unfortunately for him, even I had not a clue at the moment what to do. "Booker: you've heard our cases for and against this plan, so what do you think we should do?"
If I'm honest, I would have been perfectly happy to let this debate play out entirely without my input. If I agreed to this plan, then the sap of our prisoner would be on my hands; yet if I declined and we wound up failing, then it would be my bloody signature upon the colony's death warrant. The decision was by no means an easy one. Perhaps from an outside perspective, John might seem to be overly callous, but to those of us in that room it was abundantly clear that his actions stemmed from a genuine desire to protect the colony.
Before the lot of them dragged me into this debate, I'd have been perfectly fine with either decision, but now that it was my finger on the trigger, I simply couldn't bring myself to pull it. "We can work with the basics," I confirmed, prompting from the engineer a sigh of relief as he began calibrating a weak mapping charge that would only penetrate the most well-trodden of our prisoner's neural pathways. "We're going to need more identities to infiltrate the camp with anyways. Theruf's people should come looking for him soon: I'll play the part and draw whoever shows up back here so we can capture them."
"And what do you propose we do with them once they're in our hands?" Growled John, still evidently not quite sold on this idea. "We don't have the resources to keep them locked up for long."
"We could use the cryopods!" Replied the botanist in my stead—Fortunately so given my lack of a workable answer. "Judging by Phylix cell structure, they appear to be capable of hibernating to a certain degree, much like certain plants on Earth. So long as we keep the cryopod temperatures in the correct range and thaw out any prisoners once in a while to ensure they don't break down, it should be enough to keep them sedated or at least docile." Em concluded, her expression hardened by newfound acceptance of our circumstances.
Completing his setup of the charge to no fanfare from the rest of us, Manley typed in one final chunk of commands before pressing down upon the terminal's 'enter' key, causing Theruf's body to twitch slightly as a loading bar appeared on screen showing the download progress. When at last the final pixel of white was overtaken by green, my GRIM was quick to notify me of the database's new addition.
Gently pulling Theruf's gun from its holster at my side and turning it over in my grasp, my brain tingled in response to the artificial neuron stimulation of Theruf's implanted memories. Gesturing for the others to follow me, I once again traversed our ship's hallways until the night sky's glittering canvas shone overhead.
Back when I had first held Theruf's weapon in my hands, it had felt completely foreign to me. The mechanisms on it made nary a lick of sense, and in all honesty I probably couldn't have fired it if I tried. Standing amongst the skin trees with our prisoner's memories in my mind, however, I was able to draw the gun and flick off it's safety in a single fluid motion. Behind me, the other colonists watched as I put three shots into one of the trees in front of us, aiming for a large central scab eerily reminiscent of an eye. Trails of crimson dripping from tree's flesh marked where my shots had landed., and though none of them actually hit their mark, the fact that all three bullets even hit the tree at all despite my never firing a gun in my life was in itself evidence of the download's success.
"Not bad..." John chuckled briefly, stepping up beside me and drawing his own gun before planting three shots square in the scab's center, causing it to burst like a blood-filled balloon. "Your aim still needs work, though."
Studying for a moment the bullet holes left behind by my demonstration, Manley hummed in contemplation. "Muscle memory transcriptions are never perfect," he explained, looking curiously upon the weapon as I returned it to its holster. "They can't override more powerful neural connections for example, which is why John's aim is still superior. That being said, Booker, I'm more concerned about what you know than what you can do. The chip should provide you with context when you encounter situations common to Theruf, but it's unlikely you'll be able to recall complex details. You know how to use that gun, sure, but I'd wager to guess you still haven't a clue how it works."
He was right, of course. I knew that I had to hold down the weapon's trigger for at least one second in order for it to fire properly, but I still hadn't a clue why that was the case. Closing my eyes and concentrating upon the information newly nestled within me, I cleared my throat and assuming a rough approximation of our prisoner's voice spoke out. "I am he known as Theruf..." I began, mentally exploring every available aspect of this newfound role dictated to me by the GRIM. "I was raised in the small town of Dzidra. My father works as a mechanic and I have two siblings: Mathul and Zekari... John: get everyone inside the ship and prepare your men for an ambush. I'll go back to the ridge where me and Boris first saw the Phylix and wait for more soldiers to show up, then I'll lure them back here to be captured alive. Can you work with that?"
"Are you seriously asking if I can prep a simple ambush?" Began the commodore, sounding almost offended by the notion of such a thing being in question. "Don't worry about us, 'Theruf': just bring some guests and I'll throw the damn party!"
Satisfied with our plan, John gave me a pat on the back for good luck as I set off once more into the night, weaving between skin trees until our ship’s lights faded from view altogether. At last arriving once more at the overlook, I sat down a few feet from the ledge and there awaited the arrival of Theruf’s fellow soldiers.
Glimmers of new dawn peered out from under the distant horizon amidst my watch, casting shadows upon Theruf's wicked workplace as though to hide its atrocities from the judgmental light of day. Only just had this planet's parent star crested into view when at last were the forest's rhythmic respirations interrupted by a distant grinding of tires against dirt.
Rising to my feet and making my way toward the noise's source, I soon enough found myself stood at the edge of a hitherto-unseen clearing. Hiding myself from sight behind a nearby skin tree, I watched as a bulky military vehicle trundled uphill to then find rest upon the relatively-level forest floor. No sooner had this vehicle come to a stop than did three soldiers clad in uniforms not unlike Theruf's step out. "This is where our brothers in arms were last known to have been," began one of the men. "We should fan out and search the area."
Sounds like that's my cue... Taking a deep breath to steel my nerves, I dramatically limped out into the clearing, waving frantically to my supposed comrades. Though at first they had raised their guns to the noise of my stumbling out, these soldiers were quick to lower their weapons as they got a good look at me.
"Theruf?" One of the soldiers called out, stepping toward me without hesitation. "Good to see you well, man: where are the others?"
"They need help, Fhasda!" I sputtered out in a tone of faux-panic as Theruf's memories filled in the gap of this one's name. "We were investigating a strange object crashing into these forests... And we found something!"
"What exactly did you find?" Asked one of the other soldiers, looking upon me with newfound skepticism.
Staggering back into the forest with a gesture commanding these three soldiers to follow, I turned back around to conceal a grin as they did so without hesitation. "Let me show you: they're this way!" I exclaimed to the unwitting Phylixm, deliberately remaining vague with my explanation so as to keep their curiosity piqued. When at last the ship's lights came into view, I slowed down to allow for Fhasda and the others to catch up as the four of us continued on toward the now vacant entrance ramp. "They're in here!" I told them, pointing toward the open entryway.
Gasps resounded out from the trio of guards as they looked upon the Lightbringer in total disbelief. "What is that thing?" One of them asked, prompting from Fhasda an unsure shrug as he recklessly approached the main ramp.
"We don't know!" I lied, leaning back against a skin tree to signal my exhaustion. "I know they were brought here by whatever attacked us. I think it's gone for now, but I'll keep watch out here in case it comes back!"
"Good idea," Fhasda affirmed, gesturing for his men to take formation around him as without another moment's hesitation they walked up the ship's entrance ramp and entered into the jaws of a waiting ambush...

Whenever I wear pants or shorts with holes in them I often will put things like my phone, chapstick, debit card through a hole instead of in a pocket if I’m not actually looking when I put the thing away. I don’t notice until I hear it drop on the ground. One time I didn’t hear it fall when I did this with a debit card. Today in the mall I did this with my phone but it happened to stay wedged in the hole and I walked around like that until I got back in the car and noticed when I saw my legs while putting my seat belt on. Also another thing, within this month alone TWICE I bought clothing and the cashier forgot the security tags! I’m just wondering if it has to do with me. Maybe I do things in a disorganized manner and it leads to people forgetting security tags?

Another side quest. I think I'll finish it before taking on the big boss. That way I can up my stats, maybe level up.
I always skip through the cut scenes. I know it's important but, once I'm in the middle of a mission, it doesn't matter anymore.
I can't pretend I didn't hear you yelling from the bathroom. I turned the volume up on my headphones and decided you didn't have toilet paper.
But you were in there, suffering.
My PS remote decided to die in the middle of gameplay and my charger is too short. I had to get up, and unfortunately, hear your cries.
When I knocked, I realized you had fallen, and wedged the door shut. I knew you were overreacting again. Turning me against you even more. I think you heard me laughing.
Your suffering is justified, I'm afraid.
I kicked the door in. Hard enough to come in contact with your head. More angry that I couldn't pause the game vs your pathetic howls.
You pretended to bleed. Blamed all your suffering on me, again. Trying to convince others I did it on purpose (I did). But damnit, I just got the DLC and paid for PS premium.
The doorbell rings, the dog barks, and I straighten up. Beg the EMS to take you away forever. Because you had your phone on you the entire time. I just want to play my game in peace.
You leave. Screaming nonsense as the ambulance rolls out of the driveway. I never asked you come over, you just show up. Dramatically begging me to wait until later to power up the console.
Please understand, I have a limited amount of time to beat this game. Your real-life obstacles are imaginary, and I'm not talking about it, ever. Now I have to wait on an update.
I'd rather watch it download, than worry about your issues.
You will probably be upset to know I finished the game. One hundred mother fucking percent. And you never came back to bitch about it.
Now, I have someone to play with. But I think I hear her crying in the bathroom.

https://ibb.co/hBkNhTP
https://ibb.co/HHVmgwL
Been a fan since 2014, finally flew half way around the world to see his show. He literally just walked out and started playing unravel! No talking, no opening act, just TK music at its finest. For an hour and a half just killing it on the guitar and singing. Peak moment for me was when he played Signal, Copylight and Dramatic Slow Motion one after the other.
Other things I noticed/thought was interesting:

• The concert started at 6pm, done by 7:30pm so people can get dinner and go home. I liked it better this way. Where I'm from, there's the opening acts from 6pm, main act at 8pm and finishes at 9:30-10pm.
• Mandatory overpriced drink coupon you have to purchase when going in. I didn't know and held up the line and the woman at the entrance said "must pay!" and was quite rude about it. I did like the fact everyone had a drink in their hands and drinks when TK drinks
• Depending on when you buy your ticket, you get a number and everyone was outside waiting until their number is called. If you bought your ticket closer to the concert date you go in later (Mine was 720). That meant I was close to the middle of the floor.
• Getting a ticket is abit difficult if you dont have a local japanese number and bank card. I luckily got a local friend to help me. I picked up my ticket from Lawson before the concert
• People usually stay in 1 place and not push and don't squeeze through people. When you go in, wherever you end up is where you should be. Very orderly. Very mild head banging and no dancing around.
• No photos during the concert, only before and after he goes on stage. Apparently it's because they are very protective of the artist/band's image here, plus I think they want to sell the official concert dvd lol.
• TK was sweating ALOT so he wipes himself almost after every 2-3 songs. I mean he goes 287% when he plays the guitar.
• Alot of people buy his merch and alot of people dress up like him with similar hairstyle. There were afew times after the concert that I thought I saw TK walking past
• I really wanted to hear his guitar playing as I play also but I felt like alot of the times he was drowned out by the drums.
• Encore is to be expected here but it took what felt like 10 minutes of clapping before he came back to play 2 more songs.
• The stage lights with TK's music was incredible and honestly one of the best concerts I've ever been to.

Also does anyone know what brand TK wears and where I can buy? I love his round collar long shirts like this one: https://ibb.co/DkKWN3c I will be in Tokyo in afew days. On stage he was wearing something like this but short sleeve

Infiltration

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
[First] [Previous] [Next]
Mik
The clock was ticking as she moved quickly but carefully around the building until she reached the point she was aiming at: an area of blank wall, with no entry points and thus no security cameras. She’d known where it was, having scoured the overhead imagery to the very limit of its resolution capability. More to the point, she knew what was on top of the building.
Here was where the mindsets of the Cyberon employees who had built and were staffing the structure would inevitably fail them. They had to breathe oxygen-laden air, and in fact required in the region of a full thousand millibars of atmosphere surrounding them, otherwise various nasty things would start happening to their bodies, starting with depressurisation and ending in death. To this end, while outside they were obliged to wear EVA suits which, even after decades of settlement on Mars, were still relatively bulky and clumsy.
As such, anyone (apart from Mik) attempting to gain surreptitious entry to any airlocked structure on Mars would have to go in via ground level, or use stairs to access the roof. The concept of free-climbing straight up the side of such a building, out of the sight of cameras, simply didn’t occur to Earth-normal humans. The thick gloves and heavy boots built into such suits had minimal chance of allowing someone to climb even a conveniently placed rope.
When she reached the base of the wall, Mik took a moment to pull off her boots, and hung them from her belt by the laces. Thinking ahead, she picked up a rock and dropped it into her pocket. Then she reached up, hooked her fingers into a couple of convenient crevices, and started to climb.
The concrete, as with most large structures on Mars, had been poured in a rough and ready manner. Outward appearance didn’t matter a great deal, and certainly held less importance than the ability to consistently hold air pressure. So external flaws such as crevices and shallow cracks (unfortunately common with some of the temperature shifts) were overlooked as being superfluous to the security and safety of the buildings.
Mik aimed to prove them all wrong.
It wasn’t so long ago, she mused as she steadily made her way up the vertical surface, that she’d told both Professor Ibrahim and Dani how she wanted to free-climb the wall of Valles Marineris, near the complex where she’d grown up. She probably never would do that now, but this was an acceptable substitute, especially if it got Dani safely away from the clutches of Cyberon. Making that a permanent situation still wasn’t a guarantee, given how they’d almost managed to kill her with a spread of gravel inside Lunar orbit. If that was any indication of the reach of the rogue Martian megacorp, it was frighteningly long.
But one issue at a time, as the professor had been in the habit of saying.
Her internal clock wasn’t perfect, but she was pretty sure that by the time she reached the top, the three minutes she’d allowed Pete were up. This meant his part of the distraction was due to start, and the window of success was going to start closing soon. Pulling herself up to the top of the roof, she paused to survey the expanse.
Signal dishes, check. Airlock for roof access, check. Total lack of guards on top of the roof, check.
Okay, let’s do this thing.
Still barefoot, she darted across to the nearest signal dish and examined the box built into the base of it. One of her jobs back in the Valles Marineris Research Complex had been to check on the various dishes on the roof, especially after a dust storm came through. That hands-on experience, plus the formal tutelage from half a dozen brilliant minds, had left her with a thorough understanding of how such dishes worked … and how to most easily simulate an equipment malfunction.
With this in mind, she popped the cover off the control box, examined the fuses and breakers she found there, then grinned and pulled one out. That particular brand of fuse was finicky as hell, and always needed to be firmly seated or it would play hob with the signal. Removing it altogether would be a dead giveaway that someone was up there on the roof, but if some unkind person blew fines into the socket—Mik wiped some off the sole of her boot onto her fingertip, took a breath from the pony bottle, and did just that—then replaced it, then it would look perfectly natural.
Fines, the ever-present Martian micrometre-scale ‘dust’, got everywhere, after all. Proofing her body against them had been one of the tougher challenges, or so Kathy had once told her. It was one of the things that would’ve propelled the Martian Walker program (and, by association, the Tharsis Corporation and Mik herself) into the forefront of the terraforming initiative.
With the fuse back in place and the box partly open as though left that way by a careless technician, she scrambled up on top of the roof exit airlock and set about putting her boots back on. The airlock would be electronically secured from the inside, of course, but the thing about boredom was that it made people lazy. She’d seen it herself a dozen times; if someone was just ducking out for something, they’d leave the outer door open, because why bother closing it when it was just going to be opening again in a minute or so?
Thirty seconds after she finished lacing up the second boot, the airlock rumbled open. Someone in an EVA suit stepped out, carrying a toolkit. Predictably, he headed straight for the dish she’d sabotaged.
EVA suits were utterly shit for peripheral vision, but Mik didn’t waste any time. Grabbing the upper edge of the airlock, she swung down and in, then slapped the button to close the outer door and cycle the lock. Her sinusoidal channels registered the rise in air pressure, and soon enough her sphincters relaxed, as did her abdominal muscle bands.
She stepped out of the airlock, then took the rock from her pocket and wedged it into the channel to block the inner door from closing all the way. The safety interlocks would kick in at that point, preventing the outer door from opening. It was an old trick, dating from the first days of the Martian colonies, but it was still an effective one.
While she didn’t have anything in particular against the guy who’d gone to repair the dish, he was one of the assholes holding Dani captive, so keeping him out of the way was a good idea. By now, Pete would’ve knocked on the front door, so the timer really was ticking. Reaching up to her ear, she activated the mastoid earpiece, so they could talk if necessary.
Step One: infiltrate the base. Done that.
Step Two: find Dani.
Okay, so where are you?
*****
Pete
The last few seconds of the timer in Pete’s suit chrono ticked down, and he took a deep breath. Okay, showtime. He was fully aware this was not part of his job description—*I’m Orbital Rescue, not SpecOps, dammit!—*but this was where the rescue operation was so he was just gonna have to man up and do the job.
Holding the inflated suit meant for Danielle Connaught in a way that made it look like there was someone inside and he was helping them along, he headed for the airlock Mik had already spotted. When he knew he was within range of the video pickup, he waved his free arm and activated his radio on the universal Guard channel. “Hey, help, can you see me? Need help here! Crashed our transport and the kid’s hurt!”
Nobody had answered by the time he got up to the airlock, so he hit the oversized entry button. It depressed but the airlock didn’t open, as he’d figured. He didn’t even try to figure out the coded keypad, instead slapping his palm on the exterior alarm panel. That would sound a loud buzzer inside the complex, indicating that someone was locked out and needed to get in.
“Hey!” he called out over the radio again. “Help! I need help out here! I got a hurt kid! We need medical attention and we need air! Help!”
Four things were working in his favour here. The first was that this secret facility was trying hard to pretend not to be a secret facility. Second, the EVA suit meant for Danielle, and the mention of a ‘hurt kid’, would throw them off the track. Third, the people inside would want to know who had been wandering around in their back yard, and why. And as for the fourth, it was simple. He’d been born on Earth, and had spent an extended period of time down on the surface a lot more recently than any Cyberon employee he was likely to encounter.
The light over the airlock door turned green, then the door itself rumbled open to reveal an EVA-suited figure. “Come on in,” said a masculine voice over the same channel. “Bring the—”
He got no further than that, because Pete had dropped the suit and launched himself into the airlock. Orbital Rescue pilots had to be fit and good at hand-to-hand combat, both in and out of EVA suits. They weren’t combat troops, but it wasn’t unknown for potential rescuees to act thoroughly unreasonable in the face of extreme stress, up to and including physically assaulting the people trying to rescue them.
When it came to subduing people in a hurry, Pete knew the value of depriving them of their own breath, so he led with a sucker punch to the solar plexus. Letting out a pain-filled gasp, the Cyberon goon doubled over, allowing Pete to smack the close-door button with his elbow. In the interval before the airlock finished cycling to full pressure, he lifted his involuntary dance partner up against the side of the small compartment and gave him another couple of gut punches to keep him honest.
When the inner door opened, he pulled out the foot-long metal bar he’d stashed in his leg pouch and came out swinging. There were two men waiting for him, neither one in an EVA suit. Both were wearing uniforms with Cyberon patches, which only confirmed what he and Mik had already known.
His swing took the one on the right in the left shoulder, and Pete felt the snap of a bone transmitted through the bar. The guy screamed and fell away, giving Pete the leeway to turn his attention to the third guy. This one started backing away; he’d clearly been prepped to grab and subdue a man and a child at three to two odds, and this was not turning out that way.
Suit-clad, even if he wasn’t outside anymore, Pete knew damn well that he was slower than anyone wearing normal clothing. His peripheral vision was also limited due to his helmet, which meant that he had to finish this fight fast. His one big advantage was his strength, incidentally allowing him to also move more quickly than expected in the EVA suit.
The guy he was heading for pointed something at him, and for a moment Pete thought they’d miscalculated badly and he was about to be shot. But instead he faintly heard the warble of a wireless taser, and felt the vague tingle of a charge passing across the outside of his suit. But just because the guy had tried something that wasn’t going to work didn’t mean Pete could relax. Lunging across the intervening distance, Pete grabbed him by the front of his shirt, spun him around, and slammed him against the wall.
Only because he was facing in the right direction did he see the one in the EVA suit coming out of the airlock. Still hunched over a bit from the gut punches, he was clearly recovering by the second. Worse, Pete could see his mouth moving inside his helmet, indicating that he was on the radio to someone.
They were far too close to Burroughs to want to play hide-and-seek with Cyberon security, so he had to shut this down now. Swapping the bar to his left hand, he swung it hard at the side of the guy’s helmet. He wouldn’t do more than dent the metal frame, but the antenna was on the outside of the helmet where it could easily be serviced or repaired, and there were several chips in there that did not appreciate rough handling. While the apparatus was protected by a hard plastic shell, this didn’t make it proof against someone hitting it with a piece of metal.
As an added bonus, a hard enough smack on the side of the helmet would cause the guy to hit his head on the inside of the helmet, and put him down for at least a little bit. He swung with all the force he was capable of; the impact travelled back up his arm with a clang, and the guy stumbled sideways and fell over.
Pete turned to check on the one whose collarbone he’d broken, and found him just climbing to his feet. He didn’t trust the guy to not cause trouble anyway, so he towed his current captive over to the injured one, and kicked the second one’s legs out from under him. Then he unsealed his faceplate and flipped it up. “Danielle Connaught!” he shouted. “Where is she?”
“Wh-what?” asked the one who had just hit the floor again. “Who?”
“The Earth girl!” Pete was starting to lose patience. “If someone doesn’t give me a straight answer, I’m gonna be tossing one of you in the airlock and cycling it, see if that wakes the other one up!” He wasn’t sure if he’d actually be able to do it, and he hoped fervently that they wouldn’t make him find out.
“Oh, that Earth girl,” the guy who’d tried to taser him said in tones of enlightenment. “Yeah, she’s in room ten-thirty-eight.”
Pete flipped his faceplate closed again and keyed his radio. “Papa Juliet calling Mike Whiskey,” he said tersely. “I’m in. Guy here says she’s in room one-zero-three-eight, do you copy?”
*****
Cyberon Headquarters, Burroughs
CEO’s Office
“What do you mean, you’re under attack? Is it the specimen? Is it there?”
Adrenaline flushing through his system, he stood up from his desk. At the same time, he slapped the privacy button, so that the door to his office shut and locked. While there were none under his employ who would dare gainsay his right to do anything he wanted in the interests of furthering Cyberon’s market share, it was still a good idea to ensure that nobody heard any details of things they weren’t cleared to hear.
The voice he was listening to was pained and labouring, but still audible. “No, sir, I haven’t seen it. Just an Earthman, on foot, in the chaotic terrain. Said he had a hurt kid, then he gut-punched me. Hits like an ore-loader.”
“A hurt child?” He zeroed in on that, to the exclusion of all else. “Did you see the child?”
“No, just a—” There was a burst of static, then silence.
“Say again your last!” he snapped. “Just what? What did you see?”
But the signal had cut out. He was talking to dead air.
Slowly, thinking furiously, he lowered himself back into his chair. It was the specimen. There was no other possible reason for that specific complex to be under attack by someone from Earth. The specimen had gotten as far as Orbital Rescue and had somehow suborned them to aid it in its misguided efforts. It was the only scenario that made any kind of sense.
Fingers moving swiftly, he called up the radar imagery over that area for the previous two hours. No unexplained ships had landed anywhere near the facility in that time; everything that had touched down anywhere in the vicinity was accounted for and squawking the appropriate transponder codes. For a moment, he glanced at the trace of a meteorite that had come down on Hesperia Planum, far to the north-east of Hellas Basin. Then he shook his head; the thing had massed no more than a thousand kilos, far too light for any kind of assault lander.
The only viable explanation was that the specimen and its Earth patsies had come in via ordinary channels and his precautions had missed them altogether. Once it was captured, he would have to see about backtracking its movements and arranging a suitable punishment for those who’d been asleep at the switch when it came through. But for now, he had to make sure it could not get what it wanted.
He didn’t have anywhere near total control of the facility, given that it was outwardly supposed to be owned by interests opposed to those of Cyberon. But he’d arranged the security precautions around the Connaught girl himself, and those he could access and activate. Calling up the appropriate screen, he checked the camera views around the purpose-built cell—originally intended for the specimen itself—then entered a specific command.
While the cell itself was airtight, the corridors around it were now a trap. The moment anyone who wasn’t authorised to be there showed up on camera, vents would kick open and the atmosphere around the cell would be reduced to that of the outside pressure. If the Earthman had taken off his EVA suit to get to her (and Earthmen always got out of their suits as soon as they could), he would die in the near-vacuum of Mars-normal atmosphere. On the other hand, the specimen would survive, but it would be forced to stand helplessly outside the cell in the knowledge that there was no way of getting the Earth girl out without dooming her.
With that taken care of, he sent off pre-prepared messages to his security people. They were to flood the facility and take all intruders prisoner. None but the specimen needed to be taken alive, and even it could die if necessary. Once it (or its body) had been secured in Cyberon’s deepest laboratories, the superfluous captives could be disposed of in ways that would obscure their origins and actual cause of death.
He smiled coldly, flexing his fingers against each other in anticipation of victory. Who said good things didn’t come to those who waited?
[First] [Previous] [Next]
[A/N: Another chapter coming very shortly. The whole thing came to over 6500 words, so I decided to cut it in half.]

I’ve spent a lot of May being caught up in Hugo reading, but I’m still plugging away with my regular magazines, and I’ve found at least one story that I expect will be in the front of my mind when thinking about Hugo nominations for next year. So let’s get to it!

Clarkesworld

The May issue of Clarkesworld features three novelettes wedged in the middle of five short stories, opening with Fishy by Alice Towey, which features a woman combing through her late father’s office for information about a research breakthrough he’d been hiding from a predatory business partner, all told through the eyes of an underutilized AI fish-finder. It’s not really a story that’s going to surprise an experienced genre reader, but while it may play close to type, it’s an entertaining way to spend a few thousand words, with a satisfying ending.
Next, Fiona Moore returns to the post-apocalyptic world of “The Spoil Heap” and “Morag’s Boy” with The Portmeirion Road, a third functionally standalone tale about a woman with a knack for fixing up old tech in a world that isn’t producing anything new. This installment sees Morag traveling to a nearby city in search of a group of archivists whose pharmaceutical knowledge may help a sickly child, but remaining leery of the archivists wanting something from her as well. The immediate medical concern may make this a tad less slice-of-life than “Morag’s Boy,” but it continues the trend of pleasant reads focusing on making everyday life work in a radically altered world.
Next, In Which Caruth is Correct by Carolyn Zhao imagines a world in which people relive their past regrets by entering—and sometimes forever disappearing into—time loops. This story features a lot of therapy, as the lead tries to respond to the singularities that seem to arise so regularly in her life and have been responsible for the disappearance of so many of her family members. With a twisty and wildly creative sci-fi premise and plenty of time spent digging into difficult relationships with an absent mother and present father, this was a real pleasure to read.
Also a pleasure to read was the issue’s first novelette, the slow, contemplative The Brotherhood of Montague St. Video by Thomas Ha (incidentally, it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize the video store was on Montague Street and was not in some way saintly). In a world where almost everyone experiences their lives filtered through some measure of augmented reality, the lead is baffled to find an old book that doesn’t seem to engage with any tech. A trip to the restoration specialists working on his late mother’s old videos is enough to warn him that there are those who don’t take kindly to such artifacts, kicking off a thriller-shaped plot that is anything but a thriller in tone and mood. Instead, there’s lots of reflection on memory and preservation, particularly surrounding the bittersweet or defective. There were moments where the thriller plot felt a bit too hard-to-believe, but the uncanny atmosphere, messy familial and romantic relationships, and fascinating themes make this my early leader for favorite novelette of 2024.
The Texture of Memory, of Light by Samara Auman also features a world with augmented memory and a character driven in large part by the memory of her late mother. But unlike the previous story, it’s less about preserving memory and more about working through it, with the lead struggling to bear her mental burdens and figure out how to live in light of her past. There’s a lot of messy interiority here, as well as a significant organized labor subplot, and it makes for an interesting read, though one I found myself wishing had been fleshed out more, especially toward the end.
The issue’s final novelette is The Blinding Light of Resurrection by Rajeev Prasad, another tale located pretty firmly within the familiar, though quite a bit less upbeat than “Fishy.” Instead, this is a cost of obsession story, as a brilliant pioneer of medical technology breaks all the rules to keep his wife from succumbing to terminal cancer, no matter what the cost. Veteran genre readers have surely encountered stories like this one before, but it’s an engaging one that makes it easy to see both the lead’s perspective and the wrongheadedness of it.
The final two short stories were some of the highlights of the issue, beginning with The Weight of Your Own Ashes by Carlie St. George, which starts with the stunning opener:

Alice wants to hold a funeral for me, which is disconcerting because I’m not dead.

What follows is some delightful alien strangeness, centered on a person whose species lives their lives spread over multiple bodies. There’s a pretty overt message here about accepting those who are different, with an explicit tie to gender minorities, but the delicious messiness of the relationships offers plenty of tremendous complexity underpinning a straightforward theme.
Finally, Our Father by K.J. Khan is a very short story told in second-person to the narrator’s departed mother. The description of present-day family is interspersed with memories of a lengthy and difficult journey through space, a journey fraught in ways revealed to the lead only through hindsight and the wisdom of age. Tremendously affecting for such a short piece, it reminds me something of a complement to Thomas Ha's “For However Long,” another compact and deeply family-oriented story that was one of my favorites in 2023.
The non-fiction section includes a fascinating editorial diving into Neil Clarke’s attempts to fight AI-generated spam. It’s very much not a solved problem, but Clarke offers lots of information on what has worked so far and what the downsides are, in hopes that it will help spur the industry into ever more effective strategies.
There’s also a piece on bees in real life and in science fiction, along with interviews with Andrea Hairston and Andrea Kriz. This is one of the rare months where neither author interview added to my TBR, but they’re still a lovely window into how writers see their own work and a great opportunity to get a sense of what’s out there beyond the handful of books getting the biggest marketing pushes.

GigaNotoSaurus

This month’s longish short fiction from GigaNotoSaurus is the short story Lacquer Box Trick by Eris Young, a story about feuding magicians thrown together against the societal prejudices plaguing them all. There’s no single element here that truly steals the show, but it’s an all-round solid, enjoyable story that will be of particular interest to fans of period English settings and tales centering racial or gender minorities.

May Favorites

• "The Brotherhood of Montague St. Video" by Thomas Ha (novelette, Clarkesworld)
• "Our Father" by K.J. Khan (short story, Clarkesworld)
• "The Weight of Your Own Ashes" by Carlie St. George (short story, Clarkesworld)

So I cut my afro hair some time ago and I personally don't like having it out, so I got box braids but now they're falling off. I was thinking cornrows might be a better protective hairstyle what won't fall off or loosen in less than a month, it might need some extentions, idk. So what do you think are the cornrows a good option oand what other options would you have?

I am not the OOP. The OOP is u/Icy-Frame-666 posting in AITAH
Ongoing as per OOP
Mood spoiler - mildly infuriating
1 update - Medium
Original - 22nd April 2024
Update - 25th May 2024
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AITAH For telling my husband that his affair child is not welcome in our home and if he wants custody he will have to move out?
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My husband and I have been married for 9 years. In 2021, we found out my husband was being sued for child support.
Turns out my husband had an affair shortly after we were married. It nearly ended our marriage, but we went to counseling together and I agreed to stay in the marriage with the following provisions:
My husband was to get a second job so that his child support payments did not affect our household budget and that at no point in time would I ever consider having a relationship with this child. If he wanted to pursue one with them, fine. But I have absolutely zero interest in this kid.
So my husband has been getting to know his kid over the past couple years and recently my husband came to me and informed me that there was some sort of baby mamma drama. Apparently, she has to self-surrender in May and is going to be incarcerated for 8 months.
My husband told me that he needed to take custody while his affair partner is locked up, otherwise the kid would have to go to their grandparents who basically live on the opposite coast from us. Their kid doesn't want to have to change schools or be so far away from their friends, dad and mom (she will be doing her time fairly local to us).
So, after my husband told me that, I got up and left the house. I went to the grocery store on the corner and grabbed a copy of our area's apartment guide went back home and handed it to him.
He asked if I were serious. I told him I still felt the same way as I did 3 years ago. He said he didn't think that was fair considering the extenuating circumstances.
I told him I don't care about the circumstances. His kid is not welcome in my home, if he wanted to take custody I will grant him an amicable divorce, but I am not changing my mind. I am not taking care of some other chick's kid.'
EDIT - For all the people concerned about what a whip cracker I am in making my poor husband work 2 jobs... He has never had a fulltime job since we have been together. He works 2 part time retail jobs now that add up to 40-50 hours a week.
He currently only has supervised visitation with his kid. The see each other once or twice a month for a couple hours with a social worker present.
And for those who seem to think that I need to be the one to file for divorce. No. I will not. I am not the one who created this situation. If my husband wants to pursue custody, I have told him I will not fight it. I will grant him an amicable divorce and let him be on his way.
However, I am not going to waste my own time, energy, and money to do so! He is responsible for getting his own ducks in a row for the situation he created. That includes being the one to go through the headache of filing.
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Comments
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Major-Distance4270
This marriage should have ended years ago.
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VerbalGuinea
The counselor is too good at his job.
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donalddick123
You ever get in a cab and they take you the longest way because they get paid more the farther they go?
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ms_eleventy
The child will always be there. Seems like you should cut your losses and move on from this relationship. Sad but you will probably but happier in the long-run.
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shyladev
What’s your reasoning for staying with your husband at this point though?

OOP: Love and companionship. The affair and my boundaires about his affair child aside, we actually really do love each other.

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ZiaMituna
OP did not mention if they have kids but it doesn’t sound like they do. If she asked her husband to get a second job to support his affair child, he won’t have any time or energy to spend any quality time with her (and their kids). Then why keep a husband like that around? The child will be a hard wedge between the two forever. OP, divorce his ass and move on with your life.

OOP: My husband was not working full time hours when I requested he take on a second job.
He now has 2 part time jobs that equal to full time hours. I work full time and generally more hours than him per week.
Our time together has not been diminished by his working 2 jobs. His online gaming time was the only casualty there.

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karlmarx961
Imma keep asking cause whether your the AH doesn't matter at this point. Why do you refuse to initiate divorce? Why does he, in specific, have to do that?

OOP: Because I am not going to solve another one of the problems he created.
He knows my boundaries and requirements for him to stay here. He either agrees with them or he doesn't.
If he doesn't he is the one who is responsible for getting all his ducks in a row.
I won't fight the issue, I won't make things difficult for him.
But the fuck if I am going out of my way, and spending my time and energy to make it easy for him.

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​
Update - 1 month later
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After posting, my husband and I continued to discuss the situation. I held firm and iterated again I will not live with a child and if my husband wants to pursue this, he will have to find other housing
We discussed divorce. We discussed temporarily separating. We discussed a lot. We sat down and had a pretty big financial talk (he is not involved in our financial planning) I showed him the numbers he realistically had to work with.
I told my husband the truth, that while I love him, I won't lose sleep if we divorce. He has to do what's right for his own happiness and his kid.
My husband had a bit of a breakdown over that. There was a lot of crying and him telling me that he loved me and didn't want to lose me. I broke down myself. We had a real good cry together. He asked if we could go back to our marriage counselor.
So, I made an appointment. We went. We discussed the same things above but with a counselor present.
It basically boils down to my husband being very overwhelmed and conflicted about everything. He confessed he didn't really want to be an active parent but feels like he is supposed to (there's some deep stuff in there about his own family and race tied into that. So complicated emotions). He is terrified of losing me. He wants to prioritize our marriage. Hearing me say that I wouldn't lose sleep over divorcing left him shook.
Our counselor strongly suggested that my husband get into individual therapy and gave some referrals. My husband has not pursued that.
It did become pretty obvious to my husband that he was not in a place mentally or financially where he could take full custody though. So the kid is now in Virginia with maternal grandparents.
My husband was actually going to go and visit the kid for their birthday this weekend. I gifted my husband some of my airline miles to buy his plane ticket. I did his laundry last night while he was at work so he'd have clean stuff to pack.
However, my husband dropped the ball on his trip. I had a plans for this afternoon that I left early for so I wasn't home when he was supposed to get up and leave. He stayed up late playing video games last night and overslept. Ended up missing his flight and couldn't afford last minute tickets on another. He's in a pissy mood and is playing elder scrolls now trying to get his mind off of it.
I've got my sister and some friends coming over in a few for a salsa canning party in a bit so I'm hoping he gets into a good grove with his game because I am going to have so much margarita.
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Comments
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angrymom284710394855
OP. Wisdom is chasing after you, but you’re clearly way too fast.
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CanofBeans9
I'm going to save this saying in my memory for later use
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RaymondBeaumont
he cheated on you
he has never had a full time job
he can't adult
why are you married to him, again?
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MonteBurns
Her reasoning in the original post is so pathetic.
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Common_Vagrant
Wait what was her reasoning? She said she loved him but is that her reason?
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Sunset-Papi
She said she wouldn't file because she wasn't the one who created the mess
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EQ4AllOfUs
You did his laundry and gifted him air miles. He stayed up late playing video games and missed his flight. He’s upset so he’s playing a video game to take his mind off of the situation. I think he derailed his trip on purpose.
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NoeTellusom
Right? This guy is an adulterous loser. Why the hell she's sticking around is literally beyond all sense.
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PrideofCapetown

”He confessed he didn't really want to be an active parent”

Perhaps he should have thought about that before shoving his peepee into someone who isn’t his wife? Honestly, what does OP see in this manbaby?
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I am not the OOP. Please do not harass the OOP.
Please remember the No Brigading Rule and to be civil in the comments