I see a lot of posts on here about whether or not therapists care about their clients or like their clients “really.” I also see posts about paying for the therapy service. I have been a therapist for 10 years and I will share my honest personal experience.
Liking A Client
I really can’t think of a client on my current roster I don’t “like” because I’m truly not thinking like that. The neutrality that people find annoying about therapists can be genuine. I have clients ask me questions like “Do you think I’m crazy/selfish/annoying?” and I have to take a step back in those moments. Not because I am afraid to say yes, but because I am not thinking like that while I have my therapist hat on. I am not judging things as good or bad, I am trying to understand the why. My job in the session is to be curious and judgement kills curiosity. I am thinking “Hmm I just made a suggestion and I sense some resistance here, how can I explore that resistance?” Not “Oh this client is being annoying because they are resisting me.”
I don’t know how to explain it fully, but the vast vast majority of the time I don’t like or dislike a client. There will be that rare client that slips through my screening process that I don’t feel like I understand and that is frustrating. Like everything I say to check for understanding they will say no to. Ex. “So it seems like you are frustrated at your mom?” Client: “I’m not frustrated at my mom I just wish she would…” This is hard because I really try to understand, but I wouldn’t say I dislike this person. I just feel like we don’t get very far.
Do I Care About My Clients?
It’s hard to explain how you can so fully connect and be immersed in someone’s life for one hour a week. It’s hard to explain how you can care so deeply and yet let them go over and over again after every session. Sometimes I think about my clients during the rest of the week and sometimes I don’t, but it doesn’t define if I care for them or not. You learn early on it doesn’t do any good worrying about your clients in your off time. It doesn’t help them or you. I want to be present in my own life when I’m not working. That doesn’t mean I don’t care for or love my clients.
The best analogy I can come up with is that working with a client is like going to their house. I enter their world, with it’s own logic and rules for an hour. In this house you put your coffee mug here, take your shoes off, etc. Every house is different, but I never confuse them, once inside I remember everything. The client has many different rooms we explore in their house. With some clients, I feel like I know every nook and cranny of their house, though I’m sure that’s not true. I can’t know everything. I like stepping into someone’s world/house. It’s interesting, just like walking around someone’s actual home.
Occasionally, I will see that a client has the same rug/towels/fridge as me. I can point this out to the client if I believe it will be helpful, but the client will never go into my home to see my rug. I can only tell them the rugs are the same in a general way. I can tell them this is how I care for my rug, but they will never see me vacuuming. This feels very safe to me. I get to bring my authentic self to session, but I don’t have to show my house, my layout, my struggles. In my personal relationships people come into my home and dirty the place up. I am affected by the behaviors and choices of those in my personal life. I’m not saying that client’s can’t hurt me, they have. It’s just easier to process that hurt because our lives aren’t intertwined. Our selves are intertwined, but not our lives. Being a therapist is a huge responsibility because I know what I say and do can have great effect, but also my clients will never be annoyed with me because I don’t do the dishes before I go to bed. And that’s nice. I would encourage anyone struggling with feeling close to their therapist, but feeling pained the relationship can’t be “more” (more time, friendship, more love from the therapist) to consider how nice it is not to know all the things about your therapist that would annoy the shit out of you :)
Building A Relationship From Nothing
Sometimes in the first or second session I don’t yet understand a client or I don’t feel like they are being genuine with me, so I don’t care about them on a deeper level. I’m just being professional at that point. But pretty much with every client by the 4th or 5th session I’m able to feel like I understand them enough and have developed a deep compassion for them. Sometimes because I can see how hard they are trying, but how scared they are to be in therapy, how much they want change for themselves. If you’ve come to 5 sessions you are generally trying. People who don’t want to put in work drop off after one or two sessions.
I genuinely admire and feel awe towards the vast majority of my clients. It is amazing to see what people survive and how they want to do better for themselves or their loved ones than what they were given. I feel such compassion for their struggles. I feel such love for them. We see a very different side of people, a vulnerable side of people, and when you see that hurt child inside you can’t feel anything but sympathy.
Some clients have really rough exteriors. They’ve never told another person how they feel in an unguarded manner, so it’s awkward or they avoid it or it seems like they hate therapy. In the beginning of my career this was hard to tolerate. I hated those sessions because I felt so uncomfortable. Now, I can honestly say it doesn’t bother me. I know my job in those sessions and I do it, unattached to the outcome of them opening up. Why? Because I know what I can control and what I can’t. Most of the time those clients open up eventually and it’s very rewarding work. Some of the time they don’t make progress either because I’m not the right therapist for them or they aren’t ready yet. And I can honestly say that’s okay. I just had a termination session with a client last week who wanted to place the blame on his external circumstance rather than look at his beliefs and patterns. After months of trying and exploration, I genuinely wish that person well and release them.
Money
I see clients through a group private practice and make a set rate per client hour. I never try to get a client to schedule more sessions for money and if a client cancels I never feel upset losing that money individually. I’ve been a therapist long enough to know that no matter what people will cancel and I take on more clients than I need to to cover the weeks when I have cancellations or it’s slow getting new clients. How often do I think about my clients paying me? Literally never unless they bring it up. I think about it as a cluster. Like I have about 30 clients (some are every other week or monthly). The cluster pays me. I never think about an individual paying me. This may be because I don’t actually charge the clients, my group practice does. I like this because I need to make money, but money really isn’t a consideration in my treatment. I think clients think about the money much more than the therapists do.
I hope any of this was helpful!

PART 1

“Don’t touch!” Abe commanded, slapping Max’s hand away. They were both bent over at the waist, admiring.
“Sorry, it’s just… so… what is it?”
“I call it the Alchemic Thaumaturgator.”
“Of course you do. Is that because you couldn’t think of anything simpler, or you just liked the way it rolls off the tongue?” Max smirked.
“Mmm, it’s a work in progress.” He flung a sideways glare at him.
“Sure. So what is one of these?”
“It’s complicated and delicate and to be honest it’s a bit of a mystery, even to me.”
“Right.” There was a moment of silence as they continued scrutinising.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Abe murmured, almost to himself.
“I mean, yeah, of course….”
“Don’t look at me like that, I can’t tell you what I don’t know!” Abe stood up and let out a disgruntled huff.
“Hmm. Well, it’s confusing enough to give you nausea just looking at it so I’m sure they’d love it as an offering for the Nobel Prize, especially with a name like ‘Alcomic Thordy-whatsit.’”
“Well, maybe, if it gets that far. I nearly broke it last week, which is why I’m telling you,” Abe stood up straighter, one hand on his hip and the other pointed firmly at Max, “to strictly to keep your curious hands to yourself, ok? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.”
“Ok ok, I won’t touch it. But really, it looks like it should be in a museum somewhere. Or a Cabinet of Curiosities...”
“Little good would it do in either of those places.” Abe turned to Max and clasped both his hands in his own. “Listen, you are my closest friend and this thing is very important to me. I wouldn’t leave it with you if I didn’t think you were perfectly capable of safeguarding it, so please don’t worry, I know it’s in good hands.”
“If you really think I’m up to it?”
“I do.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment!” Max threw his arms in the air in a sarcastic show of tah-dah! “Go forth, oh Knight of Overly-Complex Science, go do what you have to do and I’ll keep an eye on this beast for you. Shove it on the table and I’ll look after it and Will Not Touch It.”
Abe looked put out, but comically so. “Is that really what you think I sound like?” He laughed. “I’ll put it over here, then. Get in touch if you need me, any time. You have my contacts?”
“I do…” Max fumbled around his pockets. “They’re… here. Got them right here.”
“Good. In which case I’ll leave you to your own devices. See you soon, and thank you.”
“See you soon.”
“Take care. Oh, one more thing. If you talk to it, it talks back.” Abe shut the door behind himself.

***

“So, you’re an Alchronic Thormome… grater? Doesn’t sound right… So tell me, what is one of them?” Max stared at the thing, perplexed.
It reminded him of what the love-child would be between a glass roller coaster and a steampunk jellyfish, though it bore absolutely no resemblance at all to a jellyfish, and fascinated him far more than that nature documentary he had been watching last week ever could. Jellyfish bobbing around and being brainless and boring, and when they weren’t they were stinging people to death and getting eaten by turtles. Even the name is boring. Jelly. Fish. Like those squidgy, dry-goo kids toys that you’re supposed to throw at the window but gets hair stuck to it when it falls on the carpet. Yuck.
Which was weird, considering this monstrosity he had been tasked with looking after was definitely the most interesting and intricate and pretty thing he had probably ever clapped eyes on. It had a heaviness to it, a purpose. And it felt like it was watching him.
Better steer clear for a while. It looks weird, he had been told things that absolutely made it sound weird and to be honest, it frightened him a little.
He wasn’t usually one to be afraid. Hell, he’d always been the brawn of his sturdy group of friends, right since he was a kid. He had worked his way up the proverbial ladder and had been widely recognised as the guy you don’t screw with at his school, though he wasn’t particularly proud of how he got there, (there had been a lot of fights behind the bike sheds and nicked sandwiches under the threat of blackmail at lunch). But he had forgotten all that and settled himself into being the relatively good-looking, popular, flirtatious guy who did a moderately average job in the eyes of his colleagues and had a moderate measure of success with the ladies.
Made no sense then that this contraption he had been lumbered with for a stint had shaken him by its sheer solidness on his front room table. It seemed to be unmovable in its presence, though it was light as a feather when it had been brought in and that fact in itself threw him because how can something that looked so substantial weigh that little? His bloody breakfast weighed more!
“What the hell are you?” Max wondered out loud.
He sat and stared at the thing for the longest time, watching to see if it would move. Only the sparkly inner swirled. Nothing more. It gave him the feeling of lying on the bottom of the ocean, staring at the sun beams though the surface until it started to fade. His eyes stared to fade. His mind went blank. He was being sucked down a long, dark tunnel of still water by his chest, he was sinking and swimming and becoming the empty space around him, it seemed he could feel the particles in the air as they vibrated and resounded in his ears, felt himself being blinded…
Max blinked and snapped back into the room, found himself standing in front of the machine. The studded brass bands holding the tubes together rotated slowly, silently.
Yeah, there’s something not right about that thing. Something unnatural.
Slowly backing out of the room and trying very hard not to show the Alcolic Thormatador… Thermanter… the thing that it was making him uncomfortable, he sidled through the doorway and into the hall. Yeah, that thing is just plain wrong.
In the corridor he paused, tried to laugh at himself.
This thing is just metal and glass and sparkly water, he thought. It doesn’t have the brainpower to understand that I feel some kind of way about it and even if it did, what is it going to do? It’s an invention, a machine and nothing more and machines are made by people, made by my friend, so what the hell is there to be afraid of?
He reached the kitchen, surprised at his own existential awareness that seemed to come quite fluidly, which was most unlike him. Maybe he was getting soft in the head. He heard that happened at a certain time of life but that phenomenon would be a bit premature. He wasn’t much past his third decade, thank you very much!
Max filled a mug from the water boiler and threw in a teabag and a few sugars. He squeezed the bag against the side of the mug until the dregs started dropping, plapped it in the sink and poured in milk. He stirred his tea well, just as always, but now the clinking of the mug took on an added layer of comfort when he knew what was in the front room. He wasn’t in a dark tunnel where he couldn’t do anything but watch, he was in his own kitchen that he had had rebuilt last year. He picked out the worktops and cupboards, he chose the shiny silver appliances, he bought the gourmet herbs and put them on the window sill, slightly over-watered and flooding their drip trays until they almost overflowed. He was in his own kitchen, familiar down to the millimetre, and solid. Nothing could touch him here.
No, he thought, it’s just an invention. A thing.
He put the spoon down with certainty on the worktop and squared his shoulders: he marched down the hall towards the front room with his tea in his left hand and the right balled up into a fist. He paused for a second outside the door. No sound.
This is my house, I won’t be intimidated in my own damned house.
He rounded the corner, planted his feet wide and glared hard at the thing.
“Look, I don’t know what you are,” he said to the machine, “but you don’t look dangerous. And seeing as we’re going to be spending some time together, I’m just going to ignore you and you can ignore me, ok? No making me feel like I’m being watched, no making me feel like I’m swimming around somewhere in space, no more weird stuff and I won’t put you in the loft. We’ll coexist in blissful harmony, like water and jellyfish.”
The Alchemic Thaumaturgator just sat there, glistening.
“Ok. Good. Fine.”
He grabbed the fern and the shamefully stunted lucky bamboo (that damned plant his cat was always rubbing his face on) that were perched next to the door and shoved them onto the table in front of the machine, mostly obscuring it from view. Better.
Max backed up and sat on the couch under the window, across the room from the table and that freakish unicorn turd of a contraption. He wrenched his eyes away for just long enough to put on the television and throw one final look over at the thing on his table, searching for it amongst the foliage. It hadn’t moved. It just sat there. He gestured at it rudely with a slightly shaking hand.
The soothing sound of the narrator drew him back into his TV and another nature documentary, this time about the great apes of the rainforests of Western Africa. This was much more interesting. He swivelled sideways in his chair to face the screen directly, sipping away at his tea.
“See,” he said towards the table, “this is exactly what…”
He glanced back and promptly fell out of his chair. His tea went flying as his mug thudded to the floor in an all too under-dramatic fashion compared to what his adrenaline was doing.
The thing was lighting up! It was glowing! Only a little bit but it was actually putting out light!
“Jeez!” Max shouted at it from the floor. “What is that? How is that happening? What is it doing? Stop it! Stop it!”
He scrambled around, on his hands and knees and still on the floor, trying to shut off the sounds of viciously shaken branches and primates howling at each other. The screen mercifully emitted a heavy click and fell into blackness as the remote fell to the floor. In the resounding silence of the room it was just Max, his adrenaline-fuelled breathing and the glass machine.
He stared at it. It absolutely was staring at him, even from between the leaves, there was no doubt, the liquid in the middle was pooling and somehow gathering at the front of the tubes facing the room. The glowing light had already started to fade and the liquid lost concentration and dispersed again, slowly swirling around in all its glittery glory, just as it had before.
Max was still splayed out on the floor, his breathing struggling to return to normal. He stood up and flattened himself shakily against the wall.
“What just happened?” he muttered under his breath. “What the hell was that…”
The thing looked at him, ‘nothing to see here,’ it said, feigning innocence.
“Whatever you are, just stay the hell away from me!” Max shouted at the machine as skirted around the walls until he got to the doorway. The door was ajar but, because his eyes were fixed in horror at the fragments of the machine that were exposed from within the plants, he bumped backwards into the door, nudging it closed and clicking it shut. Fumbling for the handle he tried to wrench it open, only to find the handle in his hand, horrifyingly detached.
He was stuck in there with it.
Panic flooded his body. A sharp twist in his gut and sweat poured from every millimetre of his skin and a faint whine emitted from his mouth.
Deep breaths, he told himself. Deep breaths, you can figure this out. It can’t hurt you, so just sit down and figure it out.
He sat himself back on the sofa, pushing it further back and rucking up the rug into waves in front of him with his feet. Never had he been so afraid of an inanimate object before. Spiders, yes. The open ocean, yes. Heights, yes. But this?
He sat staring at it, filtering his brain through his usual coping processes. He couldn’t beat it, like he had done in school. He couldn’t charm it, like he had done at the office…
“It’s an elaborate Newton’s Cradle, for Christ’s sake! A fancy-man’s Rubik’s cube!” he told himself. “Some science experiment that a five year old could have done. Yeah, I bet he just put some glow stick stuff in the water and mixed it up and told me it’s real to scare me. It doesn’t even look that bad.” He stood up and took a hesitant half step towards it on quavering knees and reluctant feet, fighting the ‘flight’. “See? Can’t hurt me.”
Max blinked. The thing hadn’t even moved. What was so scary about it anyway? The glowing? It was probably the reflection off the TV. He moved the plants from in front of it with outstretched arms and stepped back as far as he could go.
“I’m going to call you Ruth,” he said, getting bold and pointing at it, “because Alcoholic Thermo… whatever is just ridiculous. Ok? And Ruth was my grandma’s name, and I liked her, she was safe as houses.” Sure, his grandma had died of an embolism nearly ten years ago, but he wasn’t going to admit that to this thing that he didn’t even know what an embolism was. Ruth was a safe name and the familiarity was comforting.
He felt the liquid moving towards the front of the glass again, shimmering and pulling him in. He felt his fear spike, then dissolve. It couldn’t hurt him. He was safe. He was in control.
“I think it was mean of him to call you something so ridiculous. But I suppose if he’s going to go for the Nobel Prize they like that kind of thing, don’t they?” He half laughed, took another step towards it. “Those competitions are always stupid though, nobody ever comes up with anything really new, it’s not like they’ve invented hovercraft cars or machines that can take you on holidays to the afterlife, is it?” He had nearly reached the table now. The tubes were glowing a little still and he could see something moving in there. His curiosity peaked over the top of his fear and had a good look at the prospect of getting closer. Curiosity decided to get closer.
Max leaned down, hands on knees, and stared into the ever-moving swirls that flowed through the glass tubing. Arms extended to their full defensive stance, he gently nudged the plants out of the way and took a good look at Ruth. He remembered his friend saying something about studs and elements.
“Hey, there they are! I didn’t see these before! So those… those are elements? Are they elements?” He asked the glass, dumbfoundedly pointing at the stuff he had assumed was glitter but now wasn’t half as sure. He had never seen elements before…
Ripples glowed in the liquid: it had heard him. They moved closer and were warming now, somehow.
“No way!” Max exclaimed, his mouth hanging open. So this is what Abe had meant! “It’s not possible! It’s not real! Is it real? Are you real?” He asked. “Of course you’re real, you’re sitting on my table! Ha! What a stupid question Max. So, if I ask you a question, are you gonna answer me, huh?”
The glass glittered at him, but nothing else.
“Ok, are you alive?”
Nothing.
“Hmph. Maybe it was a trick of the light.”
No answer.
Max flopped into the sofa, his brows furrowed at Ruth.
He found himself talking to himself, trying to dispel the weird energy that his friend’s invention had brought with it.
“This thing is strange. He said if I talk to it then it responds, but I asked it a question and it doesn’t do anything, but when I was watching that monkey progr…”
He stopped short.
“Yeah! Let’s shove that chimp documentary back on, shall we?”
Click, the screen shot into life of every colour of the rainforest, the howls echoing around the room. But Max didn’t watch the TV, he had his eyes firmly fixed on Ruth, remote still in hand in front of her, waiting expectantly.
Nothing. Dammit. Just the glittery same as glittery before.
Max tried not to let the tidal wave of disappointment wash him away. Maybe it wasn’t the show. Maybe it was a prank, a trick of the light after all.
Max bent to put the remote on the arm of the sofa. The light from the TV shone onto the table and Ruth crescendoed into life and started throwing out beams of light that looked like the solar flares he had seen on that awful show about space and rocks and stuff he wasn’t in the least bit interested in but had watched anyway.
But he had figured out the key: he was standing in between Ruth and the screen and his shadow had been overcasting the table! Ruth needed a full view to do… that thing… whatever it was that she was doing with the light.
Ping, pong, ping, pong, his eyes went between Ruth and the monkeys sailing through the trees by their ridiculously long arms, right up until the credits started rolling and she faded to a faint glow again. She still glittered but it wasn’t the same. She definitely needed encouragement. Inspiration, if you will.
Max flicked across through each channel, watching Ruth closely for any changes (of which there were none,) tock, tock, tock went the remote until he found a different channel, one that was obviously designed for people with limited imagination, because wow, even he can outpace the monotonous nasal narrator and he didn’t consider himself a particularly clever man! He wasn’t stupid either, but on the last one when they started to explain what a bacteria is he had lost his rag and shouted at the screen a bit.
“Everyone knows what a bloody bacteria is!” he had yelled. “Tell me something I don’t know, yeesh! Whoever said these documentaries were supposed to be informative obviously hadn’t got two brain cells to run together.” But the cinematography was nice. Lots of nature-looking things to watch, the natural world an’ all.
This time it was about walruses. All flopping around on the sea shore, getting sunburned and jabbing at each other with their overgrown chompers. He had seen this one before, it wasn’t as patronising as the others. Predictably narrated, yes, but not patronising.
He turned up the volume and spun round to look at Ruth.
She was throwing out flares again, hundreds of short wisps!
And just to test the theory, he tocked across onto the menu screen and selected a random game show that he had never heard of. True to form, Ruth dimmed back to her uninspired state of simple glitteritude.
“AHA! I knew it! You’re a sucker for the nature channel too! Aha! Ahahaha!”
Max threw up his arms in celebration, the remote going flying, cheering into the emptiness of the room. Empty, except for him and this thing which apparently had a liking for chimps and sunburnt sea mammals.
Damn, this thing is incredible, he thought. Why the hell, how the hell does it…?
He sat, flabbergasted, mouth agape.
Suddenly he jumped up, scrabbling around behind the sofa trying to find the remote again, where is it where is it where is it…
He flicked the volume up and down and Ruth still put out light. She shone and shone, the beauty!
He started singing to her, “shine on, you crazy diamond!”
She seemed to like that, too.

Yes other post regarding hypocrisy and the Starbucks situation. I know people are tired of this, but i have to get my feelings out since i've been thinking about the hate Somi got compared to other idols almost 6months now. And it's not stopping for Somi even when it never happened again. But does anyone remember the other idols from half a year ago? Do they get mentioned anymore? Answer in most cases is no.
I just dont get how Somi got SO much more hate than other idols. In international stan twitter her reputation is absolutely ruined. I think she was just easy target, being soloist with no huge fanbase. Because idols that speak decent english and are more hated didnt get the same reputation (BP girls, Wonyoung etc) (as they shouldnt!)
Just now i saw Somi in a list of idols that support Israel list, in next to idols that have actually explicitly shown support for Israel. Oh and it didnt include other idols that had starbucks or have endorsements with boycotted brands. She is called zionist everyday for a tiktok with reusable Sb cup.
Like massive hate every day ever since. People just ran with it that she was paid?? Nothing ever indicated that. Even in reddit where people didnt think that drinking SB was sign of zionism zeroed in that she was the only one paid, with 0 proof. She did sparkly make-up since she had highlight palette coming and just used a sparkly mug. Ofc we cant ever know if anyone was paid but people cant just run with it that Somi specifically was paid.
And then there is the chronically online part. People pretended that they know exactly how her social media usage is compared to other idol, just because she had couple times answered fans on social media.
The hypocrisy is the part that pisses me off. Hate Somi, i dont care, but either admit you always hated her or that you hate every idol that did same thing as her. You can see the people that hate her are supporting groups/idol that did the same and never acknowledged it. Somi deleted her post, just like most idols (not everyone even deleted). And wasnt seen with boycotted products ever since. Even idols that posted boycotted brands after the initial wave didnt get as much hate (Apart from Yunjin)
And she was someone who relied on the casual support. But now that she has been labelled as problematic, people who casually enjoyed her wont publicly do it anymore, even if their faves did the same, because Somi is seen 'bad', but other idols got swept under the rug. It's not about the starbucks anymore, it's about looking righteous. Not that anyone needs to show her support, but it sucks that some people only stopped talking about her since she is 'soft-banned' not because they really care, only care about things that make most noise.
Also there was like 2 idols that apologized, and rest have been quiet that were called out but Somi gets way more hate than any idol. (Again apart from Yunjin, but she also has a fanbase to soften the hate a bit, Somi doesnt. The only time Somi actually had people question the hate she gets was when people were also defending Yunjin). And with the initial wave, people were spamming bubble/weverse etc. for every idol that got 'caught with SB' so its not like she is the only one who knows about it after it happened and acted normal in social media. But pretty much only her was expected to make apology/statement.
You can hate her or dislike her, but please just ignore her then. People that send massive hate on her, death threats, go after her little sister and comment under her every tiktok/twitter comments 'where is your starbucks' are NOT helping any cause. I'm not saying you can't dislike Somi because of this, but ignoring is the way to go. And dont be hypocrite.

Other stories by TheMaskedOne2807: The Oil Chapter 1 (Getting Back)
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“How magnificent, wouldn’t you agree?! Jasha asked with excitement, swinging on a trapeze line. “I must say, when you fought that golden turd, and I made you see some sense in your idiocy, I had been hoping for this.
“No more lies of morality to hide behind. Just raw brutality as you fight for your life and, of course, so I won’t make you feel too bad since I think you deserve it, the lives of others.”
Sitting in the audience seat surrounded by shadowy figures, Kenneth let out a tired groan, hoping she’d fall. “Hey! Cirque du Soleil! Is there a point to this dream, or can you just let me sleep?!”
Smirking, Jasha picked up momentum and flipped toward another trapeze. With her arms outstretched, she only managed to scratch the trapeze with her claws as it became clear she mistimed her jump.
Falling toward the ground the crowd gasped while Kenneth yawned. However, from the obscured and shadowy big top of the circus tent, appeared on a trapeze line of his own, Kenneth’s younger self.
Reaching out his hand, he caught Jasha and tossed her toward the trapeze she’d failed to catch this time making it. “If you want to sleep, that can be arranged, but I thought it would be nice for the two of you to talk since it’s been so long.”
Eyes locking, Kenneth watched his younger self vigilantly like a hawk as he swung toward him. It may have been a while, but he still remembered their previous interaction, and he wasn’t looking forward to this one.
Letting go of the trapeze, his younger self hurled toward him as the crowd gasped with distinct screams of women and a few cries from a baby. With a heavy thud that destroyed the seat in front of him, his younger self glared at him.
Glaring right back, Kenneth couldn’t help but notice his younger self looked a bit older than the last time he’d fought him.
“Hey sucker, you are not as dumb as I thought, his younger self said in a surprisingly calm tone of voice. “You finally taught all of them a lesson they won’t forget. I might not have to lock you away at all.”
Leaning forward in his seat, Kenneth got right up in his face. “We both know what happened last time you tried that.”
His younger self narrowed his eyes as he stuck out his tongue. “Stupid frog-sucker, didn’t you hear? I said I might not have to. Just don’t forget they should fear us.”
“Is there anything more you want to say?” Jasha asked, hanging onto the trapeze with her knees. Grunting, his younger self ran off, disappearing into the shadows.
Arching her back, Jasha once again picked up momentum. The crowd held their collective breath as she let go of the trapeze and flipped through the air. However, her destination wasn’t another trapeze but Kenneth.
As the shadowy audience members that surrounded him fled, Jasha landed with a heavy thud.
“Was that supposed to scare me?” Kenneth annoyedly asked.
Standing above him with her legs spread and feet on the seats next to him, which were utterly destroyed, Jasha smirked. “So, how would you rate me on a scale of one to ten?”
With disdain, Kenneth rolled his eyes and adverted his gaze so as not to blatantly stare at her crotch. “It was shit.”
Placing her hands on his shoulders, Kenneth’s eyes went wide as Jasha straddled him. “Realy, only two? I’ll admit my form wasn’t the best, but the suspense and execution should at least award me another douche and a tinkle.”
Glancing at his shoulder, Kenneth’s heart raced. For the first time, he could feel her touch. Balling his hands into fists, he’d like nothing more than to punch her.
“Surprised? Jasha asked as she leaned back and started tracing her claw across his jaw. “To be honest, I think this is the first time I’ve been so close. You want to hit me, don’t you? Your eyes tell me as much.
“But I can also see you know it’s pointless, just like every other time you’ve tried. However, believe it or not, I was so entertained by the last episode that I’ll give you one for free. A bit of positive reinforcement.”
‘I-is she telling the truth? Kenneth wondered for the briefest of moments, his fists shaking with rage before falling limp. ‘Yeah, right. She’s just lying.’
“hm… nothing, really? Perhaps I need to annoy you a bit more?” Jasha smirked as she brought her finger to his lips, slowly pushing past them and wiggling it inside his mouth.
Regardless if she was lying or not, Kenneth wouldn’t take this from her as he slowly focused on her hand. With a sudden chomp, he bit down as hard as he could.
“AAAARRRGGG!!!” A sudden scream of pain erupted in front of Kenneth. In utter shock and disbelief, he was overcome with a sense of jubilation he’d never felt before. However, to his sudden confusion he could hear laughter.
Suddenly feeling himself slumped over, Kenneth sat up and rubbed his eyes through his mask, alleviating some of the blurriness that filled his sight. ‘Guess I woke up. Still tired as hell, but it’s better sleep than I expected.’
As everything came into focus, the first thing Kenneth noticed was Kila hunched over with a few people standing behind him. The second was something hairy in his mouth.
Suddenly realizing what he was biting down on, Kenneth eased up on his bite at which point Kila pulled his finger out of his mouth and subsequently yelled. “By Akina, how can dull teeth hurt so much?!! What's wrong with You?!! You don’t just bite someone!”
“What's wrong with me? Kenneth rhetorically asked. “Probably a lot, but at least I don’t go around putting my finger in people’s mouths while they sleep.”
Stepping forward, Fenik padded Kila on the back while she barely held back her laughter. “Don’t be so angry; your idea to wake up Kenneth worked, you brilliant genius. Now, wasn’t there something you wanted to ask?”
Groaning, Kila held up his other arm, showing Kenneth a decently deep wound. “Could you heal it?”
At a glance, Kenneth could tell it needed stitches to be closed, which wasn’t a problem, but he was a bit taken aback since if he remembered correctly, this was the first time someone had approached him to be healed as opposed to Kica. “Sure, no problem.”
Reaching into his bag, Kenneth got the tools he’d need. He was about to inject Kila with some local anesthesia when all of a sudden, he said. “Wait. I don’t want the pain to go away, pointy thingy.”
Feeling tired, having a headache from just waking up, and tasting a few hairs in his mouth, Kenneth didn’t see any point in arguing. “Just don’t complain about the pain, and try not to move.”
Getting to work, Kila made more facial expressions than he thought an Aki was able to while Kenneth’s mind had slowly begun the process of waking up.
With his dull senses getting a bit sharper as time went on, Kenneth, for the first time since he woke, realized he wasn’t home but in the great hall. ‘Oh right, I’m here. Hmm… why do I feel like I’m forgetting something?
‘Let me think. I woke before the sun rose from Nokstella biting me in her sleep. Forced myself out of bed and went to the well to get some water to clean my clothes. On the way back exchanged pleasantries with Hali, who was on his way to the great hall to prepare breakfast.
‘Then I got back home and accidentally woke Nokstella and ended up giving her a bath before washing my clothes. Still tired, I tried to get some sleep, failing miserably. Then Nokstella’s stomach started to growl, and I thought, why not? And took her to the kitchen.’
'I gave Hali a hand by cracking a few bones while telling him about how to smoke meat. We ate at which point the sun started to come up. Looking thirsty, I took Nokstella to the well to get her some water, where I met Selisio, who was bringing some to Jinki. We talked and walked while I tried to keep my eyes open.’
‘I don’t even think I remember what we talked about, but I’m pretty sure I ended up dropping Nokstella off at the nursery and then made my way back here before I fell asleep on the table. But then why do I still feel like I’m forgetting something…? Hmmmm… well, it couldn’t have been that important if I can’t remember it.’
Tieing the final stitch, Kenneth cut the threat, at which point Kila, who looked about ready to cry, jumped up in celebration, showing off his stitches to the people behind him. “Ha! Who’s tougher now?! I got one, too!”
Looking slightly pouty if Kenneth read the expression correctly, Fenik crossed her arms, turning her head away. “Fine, you are not a coward.”
To Kenneth's slight bewilderment, when he was about to put away his tools, the Aki that accompanied Fenik and Kila suddenly stepped forward with wounds of their own.
As any good doctor would, he stitched them right up, but just like Kila, they refused local anesthesia and celebrated when he was done.
Looking more so annoyed than anything else, Fenik stared at Kenneth, asking, “Did you do something different with me when you healed my wound? Because I know that liar couldn’t handle that. Why not do that pain sound thing again and see who lasts longer without shielding their ears?”
“Why so angry? Kila smugly asked. “It isn’t his fault. I’m just able to handle pain better than you.”
“Oh, I’ll show you pain, Fenik replied with a rather angry and annoyed look in her eyes. “You! Me! Sparring arena! Now!”
Before Kila even had a chance to reply, Fenik grabbed him by his neck hairs and dragged him away while he muttere “ow” over and over again.
“Guess I’m a way of proving your toughness now… It’s a step in the right direction, at least,” Kenneth muttered as he noticed Kica walking passed the small group toward him.
Sitting down right across from him, it was clear she looked just as tired as Kenneth felt. “I see you finally managed to give those three the slip. It must be annoying having…”
Looking at Kenneth, her eyelids halfway closed, Kica reached over and gently grabbed his hand. “Before you say anything more, I want to say thank you.
“I don’t remember much of what happened, but I know that without you, I’d be dead or worse. For that, you have my eternal gratitude… and my deepest apologies for putting you in danger.”
While her soothing words comforted him Kenneth couldn’t stop feeling a pang of guilt for what she had to endure by healing him. “Listen, that Nok just appeared out of the blue and took you. I might have taken a beating, but--”
“No, Kica interrupted, lowering her head and growing a bit teary. “It was after the Nok when I woke up. I told everyone I had lost my ability to heal, and Kiki started talking about killing you, calling you a traitor who worked for the Nok, and I said nothing.
“If Commander Jinki hadn’t appeared when he did, I don’t know what would have happened.”
“Woah… woah… woah,” Kenenth said gently, caressing Kica’s hand, trying to calm her down. “Listen, a lot of things happened one right after the other, and you can’t blame yourself; I certainly don’t. If anyone is to blame, it’s me for giving you that caffeine pill.”
“What do you mean you are to blame? Kica questioned as she raised her head and dried her eyes. “That little white thing made me far better at healing. I was almost done with everyone before you returned.”
“I only realized this when I was lying in bed, and my head wasn’t filled with a thousand thoughts, but the caffeine must have kept you energized and awake; Kenneth explained, “You always fall unconscious when you heal too much, but the caffeine must have prevented that.
“And if I had to guess, the reason you couldn’t heal while still being awake was because you just reached your natural limit or at least as close as you can come to it. At that point, you probably just needed time to rest like always before you could start healing again.”
“Time and rest, Kica repeated in disbelief. “Was that really all I needed? Did I make everyone worry, put you in danger, and make Zilika hurt herself over and over all because I couldn’t wait? By Akina, how stupid can I be?”
“Kica, you shouldn’t call yourself stupid, Kenneth said in a reassuring tone of voice. “How could you have known this when every time you’ve approached your limit, you just passed out? This was new territory for both of us in the fields of medicine and magic.”
Looking at him, Kica gave a slight chuckle and smiled halfheartedly.“You sound so hap--"
“There you are!” Pilu yelled as she stomped across the room over to their table with her entourage in tow. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten healer, but the commander’s orders were for us to escort you and ensure your safety!”
“Oh dear lord above, Kenneth sighed in pained frustration as he rubbed his head to reduce the Pilu-sized migraine he’d just gained. “Haven't your duties been made redundant after I fought off a Nok to save Kica?”
“Lie as much as you want; the commander is going to punish you eventually, Pilu replied with a smug expression. One which quickly faded into disbelief when one of the Aki standing beside her whispered into her ear. “Even so, that only proves we need to protect her at all times! Who knows what you’d do if given the opportunity.”
Wishing a mute button for people existed, Kenneth got to his feet. “I do think I’ve been given a fair few of those opportunities to do a lot, but hey, if you want to justify your lazy and redundant duties, be my guest.”
Growling, Pilu stomped over to the back room, kicked the door open while looking at Kenneth, and pointed inside. “I do my work, so go do yours right… YIiiiip!!!”
Jumping away in shock, Pilu drew one of her daggers and threw it into the back room. Landing on the wooden floor panting, her eyes lingered on what was inside as her tail stood standing twice its normal size.
Everyone rushed over with their weapons drawn, equally as shocked as Pilu to see a Nok lying inside the back room. All except Kenneth.
“Ohhhhh… that’s what I forgot, Kenneth said out loud in realization as everyone turned their eyes to him. “Honestly, how could I forget something like this? I must have been really tired.”
“What is this?! Pilu screamed, pointing at the Nok with her dagger. “Why have you brought a heretic inside these walls?!”
“Well, as you may remember, Kica and Aloko both expressed concern regarding their inexperience with anatomy. Kenneth replied. “And well, that was the most put-together cadaver I could find for today’s lesson.”
***
While Kenneth was being yelled at some more by Pilu for unintentionally scaring her half to death, something interesting was happening passed the thick foliage of the forest and a vast distance of land.
With gleeful excitement that only a child could ever experience, Kulo ran around inside the bumping wagon on all fours, yelling. “We are almost home! We are almost home!”
With a good eye and quick movements, Solk caught his son. “I know you are excited son, but only newborns still learning how to stand and beast traverse in such a manner.
“It’s important that you do not do something like that in front of anyone. We may be of the lowest standing among royals, but we must still present ourselves in a dignified manner.”
Still looking excited but also a bit saddened, Kolu replied. “Yes, Father, I won’t do it again.”
“That’s good, my son,” Solk smiled as he placed Kolu down on the wooden floor. Just as he did, the wagon went from bumping up and down to rolling smoothly. Overcome with excitement, Kolu started running around like before, this time on his feet. “We are here! We are here! The capital road!”
While he wasn’t being perfectly dignified, Solk couldn’t help but share his excitement, knowing they were so close to home. It wasn’t long before the wagon came to a complete halt, and Solk knew they’d reached the gate.
Stepping outside, he looked back at the line of wagons behind his. Of course, as per his instruction, the supplier wagons were just behind his, while the inventor and discovery guild’s wagon was all the way in the back.
Satisfied, Solk finally allowed himself to marvel at the gigantic wall that surrounded the capital. It was a feat of construction that had endured the test of time, spanning centuries before the war with the heretics.
Its stature was only rivaled by the king's castle as the only other construction tall enough to block the view of Ki when one stood before it.
As a child, he’d often wonder how many wagons he’d have to stack on top of each other to see above it, and even as an adult, each time he made it home, he couldn’t help but ponder that very same question.
“So you made it back in one piece again!” The green-furred and red-spotted city guard at the gate yelled. Like every other city guard, he wore a helmet with holes big enough for his ears to move around, along with a breastplate and two sets of Vambraces and Cuisses.
Meeting him with a friendly smile, Solk walked over to Heebee and exchanged the standard greeting, a formality more than anything between the pair. “And I see you are still guarding the gate. I’ll sleep far easier knowing you are still in charge.”
Heebee gestured for his surrounding men to move ahead and inspect the wagons. “I’m guessing you must have a few stories to tell. If I remember correctly, you used to have one more wagon and that Qsiosija wasn’t with you when you left.”
Chuckling, Solk glanced back at the massive creature pulling the wagon, feeling a slight bit of pride. “It was my son's idea. He somehow made friends with it and managed to convince it to pull one of our wagons.
“But would you believe it if I told you that was only the least interesting thing I’ve experienced on this journey?”
Raising an intrigued eyebrow, Heebee wiggled his nose. “Now, this I must hear.”
Gesturing for him to come closer, Solk whispered into his ear. “I met a man that had nipples.”
Pulling back in slight surprise, Heebee gauged Solk’s facial and tail expressions before he had to ask. “Like a woman?”
Reminiscing, Solk kept going. “He was quite the strange one and very slow to anger, but it was quite a sight to see him fight after being challenged to combat in the name of Giga’s blood.”
Going from surprised to shocked, Heebee exclaimed. “The goddess’s blood! You are not pulling my tail right now, are you?!”
Stroking the underside of his jaw, Solk smirked. “I dare not say any names, but it’s true, and I might tell you the whole story when the light of Ki leaves us at one of the local establishments.
“Of course, the more time I spend waiting here, the sooner the light will leave us, and who might know when my mate will let me out of her clutches? It might only be when Di trades places with Ki.”
“That eager to see that mate of yours again, even after mating season? Heebee chuckled as he called his men back mid-inspection and yelled with bellowing might.“OPEN THE GATE!!!”
Watching as the massive wooden gate slowly opened, letting the light of Ki shine through the slowly growing crack, Solk let out a little relaxed sigh. “I’ll see you at the Sharp Fang Tavern then.”
“Afraid not. Heebee replied. “Someone burned it to the ground during mating season.”
“Really?! Solk responded in shock. “I know the only reason anyone put up with the barkeep was because he had the best floor juice, but even so, I don’t see anyone wanting to burn that place to the ground.”
“From what I know, it’s much more than someone finally having had enough of the old barkeep or some simple accident, Heebee replied with a solemn expression. “I was guarding the gate like always when I heard yelling and saw the flames. By the time I arrived, the fire was already out of control, and all we could do was make sure it didn’t spread.
“Afterward, we searched through the rubble since no one had seen the barkeep or his family. All we found was a body so badly burned we couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman with a dagger through their chest.
“Of course, we tried to investigate, but whatever clues there might have been were destroyed by the flames. For some time, it was the talk of the capital, and everyone had heard a rumor or had a few to tell themselves.
“Most seemed made-up, like the barkeep's mate and his oldest son having a love affair and running away after killing the old barkeep. However, one particular… well, not rumor, but whisper caught my attention.
“Some down in Underfoot are saying that heretic cultists are responsible for the fire and the disappearance of the barkeep and his family.”
With a slight expression of unease, Solk took a moment to digest everything he’d just heard. “Heretic cultists…? Are you certain…? I thought all of them had been killed decades ago.”
“They were, Heebee replied as his tail went limp. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring back old ghosts. The disappearance of the barkeep and his family, the dead body, and all those rumors. All of it has been weighing on my mind.”
“Sounds like you need to drink some floor juice and forget your troubles, Solk suggested. “As a thanks for letting me through so quickly, why don’t I buy the first few mugs.”
“Only the first few,” Heebee smirked as his tail slowly swayed from side to side.
“I know you, Hibi, Solk laughed. “If I paid for it all, you’d drink until I was poverty-stricken?”
As the gate finally opened, the wagons started to move; Solk bit Heebee goodbye until later as he made his way back into his wagon and sat down on his bed just as it started to move.
“We are finally going home! I can’t wait to see mother and sisters!” Kolu yelled with gleeful excitement as he once again ran around.
Grabbing Kolu again, Solk lifted him up in the air. His fur was rugged and unruly, with tuffs going everywhere as he was swung around. “Is this what you called Ero-sykansis?”
“Areodynamis father. Kolu corrected while giggling. “Kenneth taught me it. He’s so smart and wise and a great healer. Father, do you really think Kenneth will be the next great healer?!”
“Only the king can decide that, but I’m certain that once he’s made aware, Kenneth's standing will be greatly elevated,” Solk replied as he placed Kolu in his lab and reached for a brush. “Now I know you are excited, son, but we have to make two stops before we return home.
“And in the meantime, that unruly and rugged fur of yours is in need of some brushing. We can’t let you meet your mother looking like a wild child raised solely by nature.”
Excitement slightly dimmed, Kolu allowed his father to brush him, evening out the rugged and unruly fur, making him look as presentable as any high-born should.
Removing his son’s shirt and brushing his back for some time, Solk couldn’t help but think. ‘Kolu, I hope you never have to see the true ugliness of this world.’
Just as he finished his thought, the wagon came to a stop. Placing Kolu on the bed and getting up, Solk redied his friendly smile and stepped out in front of the inventor and discovery guild.
(Patreon): Get 1-3 weeks early access to future chapters. Also, a 100+ page story I wrote prior to the posting of The Plague Doctor for all members.

Hi! I am looking for some local artists and craftsmen. I prefer to buy local when I can. Open to both recommendations in san antonio and south of San antonio/in the general area of San antonio, especially if there's other stuff to do around it.
Looking for:
-soap
-pottery (functional, bowls, mugs, etc.)-very very interested in local potters
-tea
-local farm stands or u-pick farms. What do people farm here??? It's so dry.
-local plant stores
-any art really, but I especially like things made of wood, glass, and metal
-glass blowing (also very interested in one of those experiences where you can make something)
-cat toys, cat items
-anything really that's a cool little place to look around and learn something about a craft. I really really like traditional southern crafts like the older members of my family make, ie quilting, crochet, etc.
-side note, also looking for tips- I want to buy a sort of classic "cowboy" outfit because I want to do a texas themed photoshoot, but I do not want anything animal based. I don't want cheap costume stuff though. So if you have tips on where to find a plant based hat, vest, and boots that are still decent quality I would appreciate it. Thanks!

• May 10-11: Crest Tokens
• May 10-14: Carnival Prizes
• May 11-12: Crest Tokens
• May 12-13: Crest Tokens
• May 13-16: Puzzling Potions - Quilt Inspired
• May 14-18: Full Marks
• May 15-16: Crest Energy

______________________________
Crest Event
May 10 - 11, 9 pm UTC

• 50 Crests - 50 Store Tokens
• 100 Crests - 100 Store Tokens
• 150 Crests - 200 Store Tokens
• 200 Crests - 500 Store Tokens
• 300 Crests - 1000 Store Tokens
• 350 Crests - 50 Store Tokens
• 400 Crests - 100 Store Tokens
• 450 Crests - 200 Store Tokens
• 500 Crests - 500 Store Tokens
• 700 Crests - 1000 Store Tokens
• 750 Crests - 50 Store Tokens
• 800 Crests - 100 Store Tokens
• 900 Crests - 200 Store Tokens
• 1000 Crests - 500 Store Tokens
• 1200 Crests - 1000 Store Tokens

______________________________
Carnival Prizes (4d)
May 10 - 14, 9 pm UTC

• 10 - 250 Coins
• 20 - 500 Hippogriff
• 40 - 3 Red Notebooks
• 60 - 30 Pages
• 80 - 150 Tokens
• 100 - 3 Red Notebooks
• 150 - 30 Energy
• 175 - 2 Gold Notebooks
• 200 - 1 silver Toffee
• 225 - 300 Tokens
• 250 - 5 Red Notebooks
• 300 - 3 Chocolate Frogs
• 350 - 10 Gems
• 400 - 200 Courage
• 500 - 500 Tokens
• 550 - 200 Knowledge
• 600 - 75 Pages
• 750 - 50 Energy
• 800 - Animated Bird Hat (Hair)
• 1000 - 1200 Tokens
• 1100 - 5 Blue Notebooks
• 1200 - Mimbulus Mimbletonia Tappie (1 E / 23h)
• 1300 - 25 Energy
• 1400 - 500 Tokens
• 1500 - 1 Gold Toffee
• 1600 - 25 Energy
• 1700 - 500 Tokens
• 1800 - 25 Gems
• 1900 - 50 Energy
• 2000 - 500 Tokens

.

• Float or Fall
• Spell Trivia
• Duelling
• Candy Sorting
• Spell-Shooting Gallery

Boost: x1.5 for 2 days for 95 Gems
https://preview.redd.it/niltvo1m4izc1.jpg?width=325&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=17d9876887a3b077112514075ba1c362283e2e8e
https://preview.redd.it/3g8gxmwm4izc1.png?width=512&format=png&auto=webp&s=6ebc4b60e3289bc9d8a55bdaacda27e8fb0fbde1
______________________________
Crest Event
May 11 - 12, 10 pm UTC

• 100 Crests - 50 Store Tokens
• 200 Crests - 100 Store Tokens
• 350 Crests - 200 Store Tokens
• 500 Crests - 500 Store Tokens
• 800 Crests - 1000 Store Tokens

______________________________
.
Crest Event
May 12 - 13, 11 pm UTC

• 50 Crests - 50 Store Tokens
• 100 Crests - 100 Store Tokens
• 150 Crests - 200 Store Tokens
• 200 Crests - 500 Store Tokens
• 300 Crests - 1000 Store Tokens
• 350 Crests - 50 Store Tokens
• 400 Crests - 100 Store Tokens
• 450 Crests - 200 Store Tokens
• 500 Crests - 500 Store Tokens
• 700 Crests - 1000 Store Tokens
• 750 Crests - 50 Store Tokens
• 800 Crests - 100 Store Tokens
• 900 Crests - 200 Store Tokens
• 1000 Crests - 500 Store Tokens
• 1200 Crests - 1000 Store Tokens

_____________________________________
Puzzling Potions
May 13-16, 9 pm UTC

• 5 Brown Notebooks
• 4 Red Notebooks
• 3 Blue Notebooks
• 2 Gold Notebooks
• 3 Chocolate Frogs
• 1 Gold Toffee
• 2000 Coins
• 20 Energy

Grand Prize: Quilt Inspired Outfit (Top + Bottom) + Beauxbaton 1 Hair
*20 Gems to unlock a tile
Note: The picture below only shows the outfit. It does not have correct hair.
https://preview.redd.it/2g9u9t5k4izc1.jpg?width=385&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0769c3fc2b47c805a600b4188d7668da0ac2f953
______________________________
Full Marks
May 14-18, 9 pm UTC

• 1 - Graphorn 1 (Hair + F: Robe, M: Top + Bottom) 125 Energy
• 2 - 5 Gold Notebooks
• 3 - 10 Chocolate Frogs
• 4 - 150 Courage
• 5 - 750 Coins

https://preview.redd.it/i4yzxo7r4izc1.jpg?width=454&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=048a5d8a92841d115c9aaf9a4dbd8eac6739b113
______________________________
Crest Event
May 15 - 16, 9 pm UTC

• 50 Crests - 10 Energy
• 125 Crests - 30 Energy
• 225 Crests - 60 Energy
• 400 Crests - 100 Energy
• 800 Crests - 200 Energy

______________________________
Creature Sale
May 14-18, 4 pm UTC

• Acromantula
• Billywig
• Dungbeetle
• Fire Crab
• Flobberworm
• Hebridean Black Dragon
• Kappa
• Murtlap
• Plimpy
• Quintaped

______________________________
Ladder Sale
May 10, 4 pm UTC to May 14, 12 am UTC

• Free - 2 Brown Notebooks
• Free - 1 silver Toffee
• Free - 1 Chocolate Frog
• ...Bundle - 200 Energy
• Free - Token Lootbox
• Free - Token Lootbox
• ...Bundle - 225 Energy
• Free - Token Lootbox
• Free - Medium Energy Lootbox
• ...Bundle - 240 Energy
• Free - Token Lootbox
• Free - Token Lootbox
• ...Bundle - 300 Energy & 3000 Tokens
• Free - Energy Lootbox
• Free - Token Lootbox

________________________________________________
Ladder Sale
May 16-19, 4 pm UTC

• Free - Honeycomb Rugs
• Free - Honeycomb Backboard
• Free - Honeycomb Pillows
• ...Bundle - 200 Energy
• Free- Honeycomb Bed
• Free - Honeycomb Nightstand
• Free - Honeycomb Dresser
• ...Bundle - 200 Energy
• Free - Honeycomb Bookshelf
• Free - Energy Lootbox
• Free - Honeycomb Blanket
• ...Bundle - 225 Energy
• Free - Honeycomb Chair
• Free - Honeycomb Mattress
• ...Bundle - 400 Energy
• Free - Honeycomb Chest
• Free - Energy Lootbox
• Free - Energy Lootbox

https://preview.redd.it/lzft6hnemjzc1.jpg?width=1920&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0a62574173d2ec365d3b1000f73f60d5c9180e21

Hi there. I’ve been a dm for almost 10 years now and had plenty of horror stories throughout my experience. I’ve always been too nervous to post them out of concern the players from the respective stories might see them, but I finally decided to relive one of the most awful player stories I’ve had to date. Trigger warning for attempted SA in the game. (Long post, TL;DR at end.)
This story took place about 4 years ago. I remember Eberron Rising just recently came out, which is relevant because problem player’s class came from this sourcebook, in the form of Alchemist Artificer. I was running a paid campaign for a group of friends that took place in the forgotten realms. It was a homebrew story that I wrote after getting a general idea from the party on what theme they wanted it.
I ended up making the campaign about the lich Vecna enlisting the help of the party to stop another powerful lich, Acererak, who was once a pupil of the former that now sought to overthrow him. The campaign starts with Vecna resurrecting a group of four renowned warriors from different ages and worlds. They arrive in Faerun in order to be his champions and slay Acererak before he can succeed.
The hook of the campaign is that the four warriors have been resurrected with psuedo-lichdom. They don’t appear undead and seem mortal by all means, but they still have phylacteries housing their souls which are all kept under lock and key in Vecna’s domain. He promises the party that if and when they stop Acererak, he will reward them by fully returning them to life and letting them have a second lease in Faerun to accomplish whatever goals they wish to afterwards.
The playefriends seemed very excited by the premise of the campaign and eagerly worked with me to create their characters. One was a changeling rogue with amnesia, the second was a “chosen one” Paladin that failed to fulfill their destiny, third we had a warlock that now drew his power directly from Vecna in this new pact they forged, and finally we arrive at the problem player: a variant human artificer.
His player is really the only relevant one, so I will just refer to the other three players as rogue, paladin, and warlock. The player’s character seemed normal enough at first: he was a renowned alchemist in his life that specialized in poisons and was seeking to make the ultimate poison that caused “forever sleep”.
The player described it as: “Think of it like the cursed slumber of Sleeping Beauty, except there’s no cure to wake them up.” Ok, a little creepy. But the rest of the players were still extremely solid and, at the time, I still thought his character concept was cool albeit a little weird. He was upfront about the artificer being lawful evil as well, so I felt reassured that he at least knew his motives were questionable. His character’s name was Kill Bosby.
At the time I didn’t look twice at the name, but it will be relevant later on. So, we get session 0 out of the way and next week we officially start session 1. From the get-go, I could tell I would have my hands full with Kill. The other three players were very immersive and deep into the RP, which I still appreciate to this day.
They rarely broke character and kept side discussions at a minimum. Kill however tried to make a joke out of everything. He would constantly slip a word in edge wise at every NPC throughout a quest, and would constantly try to get a laugh out of the rest of the party. Which he did often, to be fair. I remember a few occasions where I told him he would’ve been better suited playing a bard. I could tell the guy was probably the friend group’s resident “class clown”.
A good example of this: there was a time the party was convening with a mummy lord that ruled a sunken kingdom beneath the land of Anauroch. This encounter happened a few sessions into the campaign. He was a close confidant of Vecna, and the party actually sought him out at Vecna’s behest.
The mummy lord was explaining to the party that Acererak was collecting the knowledge and power of lost Netherese magic to create a ritual that could wash away not just Vecna’s divinity, but any other god he so chose. It was a very important dialogue because this was the party’s first exposure into how exactly Acererak was going to try and overthrow Vecna. The end of the conversation went as follows.
Mummy: “I know what Acererak’s next target is. There’s a crashed Netheril enclave with a powerful magical artifact buried within. He will be sending powerful wights there to-“
Kill: “Wait wait wait, whites? Why does it matter what color they are?”
(queue laugh track)
Mummy: “I wasn’t referring to the color of their skin. Rather, specifying that they are a vile and dangerous type of haunted undead warrior.”
Kill: “Now cmon man, just because they’re pale as sheets doesn’t mean they’re ghosts!”
(Badum tiss)
Mummy: “I apologize. I should’ve know better than to try and explain myself to one with meager intelligence such as yourself.”
Kill: “Oh, oh! It’s cause I’m black, isn’t it?”
This, this right here. I can’t tell you how many times he hit an NPC in the world with this one liner. Obviously my problem isn’t with the skin color of his PC, but when he tries to make every serious dialogue encounter with NPC’s into a joke about his character’s race, it gets old really quickly.
I remember he got a couple of halfhearted chuckles from the other players the first few times he ran this one liner, but they quickly stopped reacting at all after it became a repeat occurrence. In fact, in this encounter with the mummy lord, the party kinda ganged up on him and demanded he take the encounter seriously because they needed the mummy’s help.
The mummy had pause in giving them any more information/aid in the face of Kill’s jeering. Remember, this mummy is still a ruling lord of an entire subterranean kingdom and was once a god/pharaoh. He expects full respect and reverence to any mortals that have an audience with him.
The party had to pass a high DC persuasion check to regain his attention, which the paladin barely passed. As soon as the party had him begrudgingly continue explaining the necessary details, guess who decides to put in their two cents again?
Mummy: “The artifact has long since permeated the land with the malevolent magic it is steeped in. The people living above the ruins it dwells in don’t realize it, but it is the cause for all of the misfortune and tragedy that befalls their village. You see, this artifact is putting their-“
Kill: “Wait, wait, wait! You’re telling me this artifact is PUDDING?”
Mummy: (prolonged silence)
Kill: “You should’ve opened with that! I’ve been dying to have some pudding ever since I reincarnated in this awful world!”
Mummy: “…no. Putting, with two t’s. Not the dessert you speak of. It was a verb, if you’d let me finish you would have known that.”
Kill: “Dammit! Don’t get my hopes up and then pull the rug out from under my feet.”
The mummy at this point is furious at the interruptions from Kill. He rises from his throne and screams that he’s had enough. He explains that for the disrespect the party has shown before him, he will not offer them anymore information and that they are banished from his kingdom and forbidden to ever set foot into it again.
The party tries to reason and say that he’s supposed to be a subordinate of Vecna that is obliged to help them, but this only infuriated him more. He was offended by the word subordinate and told them that he was just a trusted ally whom owed a favor to the lich, but that his good will had been consumed by the gaul of Kill. His favor to Vecna would now be him not killing the party where they stood. The party gave up and promised they would leave immediately, but begged him to at least tell them where the Netheril enclave is.
This prompted a persuasion check from the paladin, and he actually rolled a nat 20 plus modifiers. Impressed, I immediately let him know that he succeeded the DC check. Then Kill butts in. The player asks if he can help paladin in order “to make up for him causing the mummy’s temper tantrum”.
Paladin (confused): “Um, no? The dm just said it passed.”
Kill: “No, no. I insist. It’s my fault, I caused this mess in the first place.”
Warlock: “Yeah, we all saw. Paladin is trying to fix your screw up right now so just stay out of this.”
Kill: “I can’t in good conscience do that.”
Kill’s player begins to describe what his character does as the other three party members try to talk over him and urge the narrative along. Rogue says he is going to grab Kill to hold him back and Warlock says he’s going to clap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. Contested strength check from Rogue and a dexterity check from Warlock to see if he’s quick enough to stop him before he says something.
Warlock rolled below 10 and I remember Rogue rolled pretty decent, but Kill’s result was higher. Both fails. Kill said that he shrugs off the “concerned kindness” of his friends, and steps forward beside the paladin to help negotiate.
Kill: “Look, this can either go the easy way… or then there’s that other way. How about you tell us that location and then I promise to ignore that not-so-secret threat you just made about sparing our lives?”
I was flabbergasted. I can only assume the rest of the party was stunned in silence too, as no one said anything for a long moment. Mind you, the party was only level 4 at this point and they were facing down a mummy lord as well as his envoy of undead warriors in the room with them. The one who finally broke the silence was Kill’s players when he asked “Soooo, can I roll intimidation?”
Me: “…what? No, the Mummy Lord isn’t swayed by your words at all. In fact…”
I proceed to explain how the mummy lord was about to disclose to the party the enclave’s location because of paladin’s excellent roll, but because of Kill, the Mummy lord instead loses all patience with the party and immediately warps them out of the mummy’s kingdom and to the surface world above. Kill laughs maniacally and starts talking about how the mummy was so scared that he had to run away, meanwhile the other three party members are silent.
I also inform Kill that the mummy lord imparted the pharaohs curse to him because of his disrespect, which is normally only branded upon thieves who steal from the mummy’s tomb/kingdom. The curse made him have disadvantage on all saving throws until it’s removed. This made him laugh even harder for some reason.
I remember we called session there, and afterwards two of the other players messaged me. Paladin messaged me to vent his frustration about how he felt like he couldn’t do anything in the situation and about how mad he was at Kill’s player. Warlock also messaged me (who from what I understood was the main friend who organized this dnd game and sought me out to pay and dm the game for them) to apologize on behalf of Kill’s player and say that he knew he could be rowdy but he’s never seen his friend ruin an entire encounter like this before.
I felt bad and told him it was alright and that it just made things more interesting for the party. I remember for some reason thinking that now, because of the lost pertinent information and the curse put on Kill, it would be a learning experience on why you can’t always goof around in certain encounters. Boy was I wrong.
The game went on and Kill continued to be a class clown every step of the way. I can’t remember every single one of his offenses, but they were all in similar vein to the encounter with the mummy lord. Any time the party talked to a noble, guard, or important quest giver (you know, serious and down-to-business encounters) he would always find some way to make a cringey joke. If he was a bard it would at least make some sense, but he was a got damned alchemist! This guy literally had his dump stat in charisma, -1 modifier! So, not only did his friends and I not find any of his jokes funny irl, but neither did the NPC’s in the world.
I tried to have some talks with him about his character’s behavior, without overstepping too much because of this being a game I was paid to DM, but I always got the obligatory “it’s what my character would do”. I let it rest after a while, and to be fair I had Warlock do a lot of checking on him too during the sessions.
The jokes, however, weren’t the only/most annoying thing Kill did. Every female NPC in this world, I kid you not, Kill tried to hit on at least once. Of course this never went ANYWHERE because of his horrible charisma stat, but it sure didn’t stop him from trying. It took me a while to realize it, but after a good several sessions I started to realize it wasn’t just a coincidence, literally every female npc he had a pickup line for.
I remember even a couple of times I had to stop him because I told him the particular Npc was either underage or was married, etc. To his credit, he usually stopped after the first pickup line when he failed his charisma check and I told him they were not attracted to him. However, there was one NPC that he came back to try his luck on every time he saw her.
The girl in question was the owner and barkeep of the tavern that acted as the home base of the party. It was a homebrewed tavern that I named The Courteous Kobold, and it was on the main road just outside the city of waterdeep. The party got free board there because one of their earliest quests was to help the owner, an elven woman named Rella, rescue her workers which had all been kidnapped.
Long story short, the workers at this tavern were all kobolds which Rella had bought from a slaving operation years ago in Baldur’s Gate. She did so so that they could be paid workers with a safe place to stay at her tavern, instead of being bought by someone else as manual laborers that were worked to death. She treated them all very well, gave them lodgings, and paid them as much as any normal tavern worker would be.
The Kobolds also retained their freedom and could leave at any point should they wish, but they all chose to stay and work at her establishment. (This is important because Kill would make many a slave joke about them in the sessions to come.) The idea for the tavern was a spoof on the maid/butler cafe and the Kobolds all wore very expensive and tailored suit/ties and were very courteous and attentive to the tavern goers. The party ended up liking the tavern so much that they decided to make it their base of operations, since Rella told them that they all had a free room to their name whenever they wanted it.
This soon became a regrettable decision, because Kill relentlessly hit on Rella. Unlike the other female NPC’s where he would always give up almost immediately, every time he laid eyes on Rella the onslaught of pickup lines and compliments would be unleashed. She turned him down every time, with her main reason being that her only true love is the Courteous Kobold tavern and her work. I also had to come up with multiple other excuses throughout the incessant flirting from Kill, such as Rella believing that she’s way too old for him (Kill was already an older guy by human standards, but Rella was a few hundred year old elf). The flirting was annoying, but it was nothing I wasn’t equipped to handle- or so I thought.
Eventually, Kill’s player came to me and asked why he never seemed to have any luck romancing the NPC’s. He asked if romance wasn’t allowed in my games, to which I assured him it was, but that he had a really bad charisma stat and so all his pickup lines fell flat. He said something along the lines of “so, what? I’m just never going to be able to have a love interest in the world?” I told him that wasn’t true, but that he would have to build a genuine bond with someone as opposed to trying a pickup like on every girl he meets to see if he gets lucky.
This seemed incomprehensible to him, he couldn’t seem to fathom that one night stands are going to be hard to come by without high charisma or any CHA-based skill proficiencies. I told him he could always just find a brothel in the game and get his fix that way if he was really that concerned with it, to which he just said “no, I would never pay a b*tch for sex”. His comment really concerned me, but I just kinda closed the conversation soon after that and tried not to think about it.
After that, he never approached me to complain about romance in the game again, and I daresay he even laid off of the flirting with every female NPC a little bit. He still gunned for Rella nonstop, but that I’d come to expect. I remember vividly the session where he finally declared that it was about time he started pursuing his character’s own motive.
Kill began to continue his goal of concocting a poison so potent that it caused an incurable “forever sleep”, or basically a permanent coma. This solicited eye rolls and complaints from the rest of the party, with Warlock in particular giving him the most flack for it. Warlock insisted that they couldn’t pursue any personal agenda until after they’d fulfilled their pact with Vecna, at which point they would get their chance to accomplish whatever goals they had. Kill told the party that he would only research it during his downtime between sessions, which the party was fine with.
From then on, every downtime moment he had would be dedicated to using his poisoner’s kit and herbalism kit to study, concoct, and test different poisons. The rule I had was that he would need either a recipe or a vial of the poison already to be able to make an exact copy of it, otherwise his downtime would yield various poisons that he wouldn’t know the exact effect of. He was fine with this rule and over the course of multiple sessions he began brewing a variety of poisons from the dungeon master’s guide and deepening his character’s understanding of poison.
This arc of his character actually gave me a lot of hope and was the most enjoyment I had playing with his character throughout the course of this campaign. Even the party was hyped for it, especially rogue who was able to use all these poisons to great effect during combat. I was foolish enough to think that maybe his character was actually experiencing character growth and could still have a good plot line.
After I believe the 4th time of him experimenting with poisons, he created an Essence of Ether poison. For anyone who doesn’t know, a creature who breathes in this poison is knocked unconscious for 8 hours if they fail a DC 15 Con saving throw. Kill was elated when he made this poison, because he saw this as a breakthrough in his studies towards making the “forever sleep” poison.
At this point paladin asked Kill what exactly he wanted a poison that could cause someone to go into a permanent coma for. His answer was kinda vague, but he essentially said that “some people deserve a fate worse than death, plus this gives us a method to incapacitate things like gods that are immortal or unkillable”.
I didn’t want to rain on his parade, so I didn’t jump in to tell him that most enemies at the caliber of a god have immunity to poison, I wanted to let him have his moment. Mostly because his passion for this was applaudable by the group and it meant less time from him harassing women or being a wise guy.
Finally, we arrive at the session where everything came to a head and Kill went from being a slightly problematic player to a full blown nightmare. I don’t remember what session we were at, but I remember the party had just reached 9th level. I remember this because Kill had just received his next subclass feature as an Alchemist Artificer, and I planned a little plot point to commemorate it. I decided to throw him a bone and let him have another breakthrough during his downtime with an experimental poison he was crafting, which he used the knowledge of Essence of Ether’s composition as a foundation for.
Once the downtime concluded and I had him roll his DC for the crafting, I informed him he had a major breakthrough and discovered a virulent poison the likes of which has never been seen. He was freaking out and excitedly asking me what it is. I told him that he had discovered a new poison, a brand all his own, that was so powerful that anyone subjected to it which failed a Con DC check of 15 would be unconscious for a full 48 hours. The target also couldn’t be shaken awake. Only a healing spell such as cure wounds or lesser restoration, or a poison antidote, could wake the creature before the 48 hour period. This essentially made it six times more potent than Essence of Ether, and it was a homebrew poison I made specifically for his character.
He was ecstatic about this and began asking me a flurry of questions about it, like its value, name, ingredients, etc. I let him name it and he chose the name NyQuil for it, for whatever reason. While the party and I were discussing it with him, he commented that it still isn’t strong enough to his liking but that at least it shows he’s making progress.
One question he asked me, which I guess should’ve been a red flag but I was blindly having good faith in this player, was whether it was a poison that could be ingested or if it was strictly a poison that needed to be inhaled like the Essence of Ether. I really hadn’t thought about it, so I just told him either one could work. He just said “good to know” and we carried on. The party congratulated him one last time on the discovery, to which he thanked them and said he’d “have to test it out soon”.
The party ordered some breakfast and began discussing their next move. At this point, they discovered that Acererak had made a major move and killed another lich named Szass Tam and assimilated his powesoul into himself. He then subjugated the Red Wizards of Thay that served Szass Tam by convincing them that their patron lich’s powers and will now lived on in him, and that together they will fulfill his vision of dethroning not just Vecna but all of the gods. Acererak is now using the stolen artifact from the Netheril enclave (that the party never found in time) as well as a lost, forbidden ritual to have the wizards of Thay conduct for him and finally steal Vecna’s spark of divinity.
The party’s next move, at the advisory of Vecna, is to venture to Thay and stop the ritual by either stealing the artifact or assassinating the leader of the red wizards to send them into disarray. The party realizes at this point that they will have to venture across the continent to the opposite coast in order to get to Thay, and as such will be leaving their favorite tavern for an indeterminate amount of time. They all get disheartened at this and unanimously decide to throw a big going away party tonight before they leave. So, they do. The party invited all of their favorite memorable NPC’s that they’ve made on the Storm Coast throughout this campaign to the tavern and they have a big going away party.
Throughout the evening everything goes great. The NPC’s reminisced on how the party helped them, while offering them their hopes and prayers that they can stop Acererak and fulfill their mission. Everyone was drinking and being merry, when Kill announced that he’s going to buy everyone a round of the absolute best draft the tavern had to offer.
He asked Rella, flirtatiously, what the best drink the Courteous Kobold had to offer was, and she said it was a keg of a house made Barley based beer that’s finished in oaken whiskey barrels called “Draggin Dragon”. He demanded an overflowing pitcher of that for every patron in the bar. It costed him nearly an arm and a leg, but he had a stockpile of gold from all the poisons he decided to sell so far, so he covered the cost without question.
After everyone had their drink, he asked me if Rella got one as well, to which I said “sure, why not?” He said that’s good, he wanted to make sure the cost covered her drink as well. The other three party members tell me that once they finish their drinks they’re going to go ahead and turn in for the night, having decided that they want to get up early and embark on the long journey across Faerun.
Kill says he’s going to stay behind and revel some more. I roll my eyes and think that he’s probably going to try and flirt with Rella again. I even think for a moment that I may give him a chance to roll and see if he can impress her, given his good behavior lately and how the party wouldn’t see this npc for a long while, maybe if ever again. He does indeed approach Rella, but what he does is the exact opposite.
He asks her if she has any more of the Draggin Dragon left, which he now knows she keeps in the cellar in the back. She says yes, and he asks for another pint of it. The player explains to me that he wants to make a toast with her before his character turns in for the night, in order to toast their success on the mission ahead. He asks if she still has her drink, or if he’ll have to buy her another one, to which I tell him she still does and it appears she hasn’t had much time to sip on it between dealing with serving the others.
So he pays for the drink and she leaves to go fetch it. I remember him asking “did she leave the tavern?” I thought to myself ‘yeah? I just said that’ but still confirmed she did indeed leave to go get the drink. He asks how many patrons are left and if anyone is still partying. Figuring he just wanted to buy the tavern another round of drinks, I decidedly told him that with most of the party’s departure, pretty much all the other NPC’s have left at this point. Those who were still there were blackout drunk on the floor, with the kobolds trying to wake them up to get them to leave. He says “oh, perfect”.
Kill’s player then says, without any hesitation, “I’m going to take out the NyQuil and pour it in Rella’s drink, making sure no one sees me”.
Immediately, the party and I start freaking out and asking this guy what the f he’s doing, after stating his intent to dump the highly effective poison in her drink. He just reiterates that he’s going to do it, and the other three players start asking him wtf is wrong with him. The other players ask if they can stop him, but they’ve all already stated they were going to bed and Kill quickly snaps back with “no! You’re all asleep, stop trying to metagame.”
I ask him what exactly he’s trying to do by poisoning this NPC, that the party all unequivocally likes quite a lot. He just says that he needs to test the poison and make sure that it works. I think at this point the guy is a major asshole who doesn’t care about what his party wants or about the NPC’s in the world, but I’ve always been huge on player agency. So, if he really wanted to do something as evil as poison the tavern keeper here, so be it. He did say from the get-go in this campaign that his character is lawful evil.
I just decide to make the sleight of hand DC check stupid high. The customer NPC’s might all be gone, but the Kobold workers are still there and would very much be watching their boss’ drink/belongings while she’s gone. I have him roll it up and this man rolls me a 26, with the DC I set for this sleight of hand being 25. I at this point realize that he took sleight of hand proficiency with this artificer, and paired with his +4 to dex it let him barely pass this check with a roll of 18. So, he successfully dumps the poisons into the drink and pockets the empty vial without the kobolds noticing.
I’m beyond pissed at this, but I let the roll stand. The other players just repeatedly kept saying “wtf are you doing”, “what is happening”, “knock it off”, etc. I would also like to mention that it hadn’t dawned on me that what this player had done was essentially roofied the NPC’s drink. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind that he could potentially be trying to drug and assault this NPC because, despite all this guy’s faults and annoying behaviors, I never thought he could be capable of doing something so awful.
Rella comes back with his tankard and gives it to Kill, to which he proposes they make a toast. A toast to a successful journey to save the world. She toasts with him and I regrettably narrate as she takes a long sip with him. She sets the mug down and immediately comments that the drink was stronger and more bitter than she remembered it tasting, as I rolled the CON save. This girl is a commoner NPC, she has a +0 to con, the likelihood of her rolling a save is very low. I remember the dice roll to this day: 6. For a moment, I thought of fudging the roll and just saying she passed, but I still genuinely had no inkling as to what his intention was. I truly did believe him when he said he was just testing to see if it worked, and then would laugh like the annoying asshole he is before making his character go to bed. So, I was truthful and said she failed.
I narrate how Rella has a fit of coughing and gets a cold sweat as she starts wobbling on her feet before collapsing behind the bar counter. All the kobolds in the room run to her aid while shouting concerned cries. Sure enough, Kill’s player starts laughing like a jackass while the rest of the party just groans and continues to yell at him. Warlock kept asking if he was happy now and saying how once Rella wakes and realizes what happened they probably won’t ever be allowed back here. Paladin just says that the party should be more concerned on if HE finds out, because it will be PVP on sight.
I ask Kill if he’s done and what he’s going to do now. He says he rushes to the side of the kobolds and tries to help Rella to her feet as he shouts at the Kobolds to back up. The Kobolds angrily ask him what the hell happened and why she suddenly collapsed. He says, “it looks like she had a little too much to drink.”
I immediately tell him to roll deception. His shitty charisma modifier yields him less than 10, I believe it was an 8. The kobolds don’t believe his words and immediately become suspicious. They inform Kill that they will be taking her to her room and one of them is going to depart to go find a doctor in Waterdeep. Kill tells the Kobolds that they can go get a doctor, but that he will take her up to her room because he’s stronger than the Kobolds and he can get her safe in bed easiequicker. The kobolds protest and try to approach him to take Rella from him. He backs up and insists on taking her up. I have him roll persuasion, and he fails.
The kobolds refuse to let him take her and cite his creepy behavior towards their boss as grounds for why they won’t let him. Kill immediately gets angry and says he takes out his quarterstaff to threaten them that he’ll force them out of the way if he has to. “All I care about is getting her to safety!”, he insists. The Kobolds decide to relent to him, but follow him up the stairs to make sure he gets her in bed safely.
Kill brings her upstairs with the Kobolds in suit. Once he gets in her room, he says that he immediately closes the door behind him and locks the Kobolds out. The Kobolds start shouting at him to let them in while banging on the door. Kill explains how he sets Rella down on her bed and shouts at the Kobolds that it’s fine, and that he tucked her in bed. The Kobolds obviously don’t listen and keep demanding that he open the door. Kill then walks over to the door as the kobolds bang on it and casts Arcane Lock on it.
I remember at this point that I began getting extremely worried as to what exactly Kill was trying to pull. I fully anticipated this whole encounter going with him fleeing to his quarters after he administered the poison and acting ignorant the next morning. But now he’s locked himself in Rella’s room, magically blockaded the door, and refused to let her workers by her bedside to ascertain if she’s ok.
Then, Kill goes way too far. He starts narrating how he gets up on the bed with Rella and begins to unbuckle his pants while saying “We don’t have much time.”
The discord voice chat explodes, as I and the other 3 members begin freaking out and asking what the hell he’s doing. He tries to ignore us and just describe how once Kill’s pants are off he’s going to start undressing Rella.
Me: “No. NO! We are not doing this. You said you were just testing the poison, what the actual hell are you trying to do?”
Kill: “Exactly what I said. Test the poison.”
Paladin: “Yeah, fuck no. DM, do I hear the kobolds banging on a door in the hall and shouting?”
Me: “Yes! In fact, the whole party hears this and wakes up.”
The party proceeds to rush out of their rooms, not even taking time to don their armor and just grabbing their weapons. They don’t even waste time with the Rogue trying to pick the lock, Paladin just immediately bashes the door in with his maul and I don’t make him do any rolls. They all see Kill in the bed attempting to take off Rella’s corset.
Kill: “That’s bullshit! I casted Arcane lock and you didn’t even make them roll, it should be almost impossible to get through that door.”
I was worried the party would try to talk the situation out. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I heard paladin ask:
Paladin: “So, do we need to roll initiative or can I just run up and attack?”
Paladin runs up to Kill and immediately takes two swings, to which Kill tries to use the Shield spell as a reaction- to which I tell him he’s too surprised by the party breaking through the enchanted door to take any actions in the first round of combat.
Kill: “THIS IS BULLSHIT! You are plot armoring them!”
Me: “Are you serious?! You’re damn right I am!”
The party then explains how each of them takes their turns to brutalize him. Paladin pumps the highest level smites he can into his attack, Warlock eldritch blasted him and knocked him off the bed against the wall, and Rogue hid during the chaos and sneak attacked him with a dagger he threw square into his head. Somehow, Kill still barely has some hp.
Kill: “Alright! My turn! I’m going to-“
Me: “Not so fast. The first round isn’t over yet.”
I then describe how all of the Kobolds rush into the room and dogpile Kill. I don’t even roll anything, I just describe how they take advantage of him lying prone on the ground after Warlock’s eldritch blast knocked him off the bed to tear him apart. In a matter of seconds, Kills entire body has been torn limb from limb and lies in a bloody heap on the floor.
Kill’s player goes absolutely ballistic as he demands I roll for the Kobolds, and “how dare I kill him in a cutscene!” I just respond that he only had a few hit points left and with him lying prone there’s no way they wouldn’t have been able to finish him off.
Kill: “I’ve never seen such bs. There’s no way I would’ve been surprised, I knew they were trying to break in. If I had been able to use shield, none of those attacks would’ve hit and I would’ve Merced all of your asses.”
Paladin: “You knew the Kobolds were trying to get in, not us dumbass. I’m also sure Kill wouldn’t have expected his party to immediately beat his ass with no questions asked, but ‘surprise’.”
Warlock: “Seriously, wtf player’s name? You’ve always been a troll but this was too messed up. Why did you try to SA the NPC?”
Kill: “What, you guys don’t get it? It’s all supposed to be a joke.”
(Queue mass confusion and silence from us)
Kill: “You don’t get it? I can’t believe you are all so stupid you still haven’t caught on. I’m BILL COSBY!”
Party & I in unison: “What the fuck???”
Bill(?): “I just swapped the B and C from his first and last name. He was reincarnated from his world to finish his original ‘mission’.”
Me: “Yeah? NO! None of that was in your back story, we did not agree on this.”
Bill: “Yeah I kept it a secret to surprise you. This was supposed to be the big reveal and you guys ruined it.”
We all told him that this wasn’t funny at all, in fact he might’ve just ruined the whole campaign for his whole “joke”. He threw a huge wrench in the story by pulling this right before the party left for this main quest. We called session there, and that night Bill Cosby’s player texted me asking if he could roll a new character.
Hell no.
I remember at the time I was worried because I didn’t know if the party would want to continue the campaign, and if so if they would with the problem player who pulled all this. I knew that if they did want to include him, I would have to step out. I was a little nervous about doing that, considering I was being paid to run this campaign for them. I was also a depressed because I thought the campaign was going well aside from his character’s bs. I was excited to see where it would go next.
Thankfully, Warlock’s player texted me the next morning to let me know that the party wanted to continue playing and, no, they didn’t want problem player to rejoin. Apparently, he had already started talking about a new character to the party in a group chat they had. They all shut him down immediately and told him he wasn’t allowed to come back. Apparently this made him super pissed and he left the gc.
We actually finished the entire campaign. The three of them invited another friend, a girl who rolled up a monk character, about halfway through and she was an absolute joy to have. I actually still dm for that friend group sometimes to this day, not for money anymore just for fun, and we still reminisce about the nightmare that that player was. He actually fell out from the friend group within that same year because of other reasons, which is probably for the best.
I don’t really have a moral for this story other than if you’re going to make a joke character, especially one that has SA as an integral part of their character, tell the dm upfront at the beginning. So at the very least they can shut down the idea from the get-go before you go multiple sessions in and get killed, and kicked from the group. I’ve also been traumatized to the point I always get paranoid whenever I have a PC interested in trying to use poisoners kit, to this day.
TL;DR: Problem player makes his character Bill Cosby and secretly plots for many sessions on how he’s going to make a roofie and SA an NPC character as part of a “joke”.

Grab yourself a knee rug and a mug of hot chocolate, it's time to reminisce those old time dramas from days gone by of pre-2019. Maybe you were around when they aired for the first time and want to take a trip down memory lane by watching them on the box. Maybe it's your first time through.
This is our weekly discussion exclusively for those older Korean dramas on your currently watching list. We don't want to hear about the currently hyped dramas here, so please keep it to the older stuff on your watch list.
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Crazily enough not everyone has watched these classics yet so please remember your spoiler tags when discussing major plot points or anything you think should be redacted. If you are using Markdown and not Fancy Pants Editor, the easiest way to create spoiler tags is to use > ! spoiler content ! < without spaces to get spoiler content. For more detailed guidance on spoiler tags and when to use them, check our Spoiler Tags Tutorial.
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Quickest Time Personalized items
Exclude :

• Photos
  
• Photo Books
  
• Posters
  
• Magnets
  

I know any photo place you can get these items instantly
but was looking for items , blankets , rug , mug , cups , mousepad ect … with the quickest turnaround times … I know most places it’s 7 days and beyond for orders to arrive or be ready

I’m preparing for a bikepacking (mountain biking) trip in pretty rugged grueling terrain. I’m using a dual suspension mountain bike with no frame bag. So I only have a front handlebar roll and a rear seat pack. I’ve decided I’ll carry a hydration pack to give me room for 3L of water, a wind or rain jacket, snacks, and any other bits and bobs are lighter in weight. I have an ultralight kit, with a tarp, a 40 degree quilt, etc, with a total gear weight of 7.5lbs. My dilemma is basically where to store my heaviest items, which basically will be food. Should I distribute the food weight evenly between the bars and seat pack and try to keep my handlebars lighter, or should I put more or even all of the food weight in the seat pack? I will likely have about six pounds of food for this three day trip.

This past year, to avoid fueling the Amazon beast, I made a wishlist on Etsy and shared it with my mom. On that wishlist was a 2x3 rug I thought was cute and wanted to use in the entryway to my house. That's what my mom chose to get me. And on Christmas I was super excited! Great gift from my mom, 10/10 all around.
Except now it's May, and I've discovered that this rug isn't actually working in my home. It's too thick, so my front door won't pass over it smoothly. My cats love to scratch it, so it creates lint and honestly is starting to look unsightly after just a few months. After I realized I couldn't use it in my entryway, I tried to find another area of the house to use it in, but it just doesn't fit anywhere really.
I know I need to donate it. But I feel so guilty because aesthetically, I love this rug. And it was a gift! A gift from someone who did exactly what I asked for. Usually sentimental decluttering is easy for me, and I've never struggled with immediately donating a gift that isn't to my taste. The inspiration for this post was that I just put some Moscow mule mugs in my donate bin because let's be honest... I don't even like Moscow mules. I never make them. I will never use these for any purpose a regular mug couldn't also do. It didn't phase me that this was a gift. And yet the rug I really like and specifically asked for? How do I make myself donate it?

Submission for the May 2024 Concept Creation Contest
Del fulfills the first challenge by having his story be connected to Renata Glasc, with him being her top henchman, and an enforcer that goes out to scare people, both buyers of her products, and other Chem Barons

Lore

Del was born as nothing more than a popper, to a family that lived in the slums and struggled to even feed themselves; Del hated that, and when he got older, he quickly took to the criminal norms of Zaun, aiding his friends in mugging, robbing, and shaking people down for their money, splitting it with them and taking his share back home to help his family.
He kept this up for quite some time, until he eventually mugged the wrong person, taking the money from a high ranking goon that worked for one of the Chem Barons, and when he reported back to his boss, he decided that Del needed to be punished in a way that would truly hurt him.
The Chem Baron ordered his lackeys to go torch his home and kill his parents while Del was out mugging people, so when he returned home he would see the cost of what he's been doing; but instead of hurting him like he planned, this infuriated Del, to a point where he swore revenge against him.
He went into hiding for some years after that, living off the money he's collected until he was old enough, and unrecognizable; he approached that same Chem Baron and offered his services to him, saying he could shake people down and collect their money to bring back to him, and the Baron, not recognizing him, accepted his offer.
He quickly became his top henchman, outranking his piers by miles, and now that he was at the top, he decided that now was the perfect time to take everything away from that Baron, just like he took everything from Del.
After one last job, as he was heading back to the Baron's factory, he was stopped by a group of people, one of them, being an older looking woman, dressed in an impossibly clean white suit.
They threatened him, demanding he turn against his boss, to kill him, as punishment for encroaching on their territory, but Del laughed at them, admitting he was going to do that anyway, but he than offered to do it for them for a price, and to not only kill the Baron, but to also shut down his entire operation.
The woman offered him a spot working for her, in the same position his in now with better benefits, as well as all the chems he could ever need, and he accepted, telling her the job would be done by days end, but before he left, the woman gave him a gift; a gun, with bullets made of glass and metal, filled with chemicals.
He took the gun and set off back to the factory, arriving unannounced and began sabotaging everything he could in secret before heading to his boss's office whre he swung the doors open and marched in; the Baron welcomed him back and told him of his next job, but before he could finish his first sentence, Del pulled out the gun he was given, shooting the two other lackey's with him before turning the gun to him, telling him he was hired by someone else before shooting him in the head.
On his way back out of the factory, he shot one more round from his gun, starting the chain reaction he's been setting up, causing pipes to burst, boilers to explode, vats to overfill and so on, sending the entire factory up in flames, killing dozens of people inside as he walked out and towards his new place of work, and his new boss.
Appearance wise, Del is dressed in a similar clean white suit as Renata Glasc, with the difference being his under shirt is bright green in color, rather than Renata's pinkish-red, and his suit has black pinstripes going down it
Del himself is a large man, with broad shoulders and muscular arms underneath his suit, his face appears rugged with a large scar going from beneath his right ear to the corner of his nose
His gun is also a large 6-shot revolver, with bright pinkish-red accents on the outside, and a dark green in the inside of the barrel and chambers, with the bullets looking like glass capsules filled with green chemicals
Also, incase it isn't clear; he's based off a Mobster

Stats

Marksman

• Health: 610 - 1885 ^{+75 P/L}
  
• Mana: 320 - 830 ^{+30 P/L}
  
• Attack Damage: 49 - 94.9 ^{+2.7 P/L}
  
• Movement Speed: 335 UpS
  
• Attack Speed: 0.656 - 0.957 ^{+2.7% P/L}
  
• Health Regen: 2.4 - 14.3 ^{+0.7 P/L}
  
• Mana Regen: 3.1 - 11.6 ^{+0.5 P/L}
  
• Armor: 42 - 67.5 ^{+1.5 P/L}
  
• Magic Resist: 30 - 38.5 ^{+0.5 P/L}
  
• Attack Type: Ranged
  
• Attack Range: 550 Units
  

Abilities

P Piece

Del's revolver is augmented with Chem-Tech bullets; when ever he attacks an enemy, the bullets shatter and cover them in Chemicals for 5 seconds, refreshing every time Del Basic Attacks them and stacking infinitely

• If Del damages an enemy covered in Chemicals with an ability, he'll ignite them and cause them to explode, dealing 5 - 45 (+10% AD) Physical Damage per stack to them and enemies within 150 units of them

• Physical Damage: 5 (+10 at levels 5 / 9 / 13 / 17)

Hidden Passive - Boss's Orders
If Del and Renata are on the same team, when Renata Glasc damages an enemy unit with one of her Abilities, Del's next three basic attacks against them will gain an additional 20% - 50% Bonus Attack Speed
Renata's abilities will also coat enemies struck in the same Chemicals that Del's pistol coats them in

• Bonus Attack Speed: +20% (+5% at levels 3 / 6 / 9 / 12 / 15 / 18)

Q Whack

Del fire's an incendiary round from his revolver that deals 30 - 150 (+100% - 140% AD) Physical Damage to the first enemy hit and adjacent enemies and ignites them for 4 seconds, dealing an additional 10 - 50 (+10% AD) Physical Damage each second

• During this time his Allies attacks deal an additional 1% - 5% (+0.02% AD) of their Current Health as Bonus Physical Damage, and grant Del 100% of the Kill and Bounty Gold if they're killed

If a damaged enemy is coated in Chemicals from Piece, the Burn damage they take is increased by an additional 5 per second and it's duration by 0.5 Seconds per stack
Whack applies On-Hit effects to Enemy Champions
Whack can Critically Strike for 50% Bonus Damage

• Cast Time: 0.5 Seconds
  
• Projectile Range: 700 / 75 Units
  
• Projectile Speed: 900 UpS
  
• Effect Radius: 200 Units
  
• Cost: 50 Mana
  
• Cooldown: 5 Seconds
  
• Physical Damage: 30 (+30 P/R)
  
• Damage Scaling: 100% AD (+10% P/R)
  
• Burn Physical Damage: 10 P/Second (+10 P/R)
  
• Ally Bonus Physical Damage: 1% Target Current Health (+1% P/R)
  

W Muscle In

Del dashes to a targeted location somewhere within 400 units of an enemy within his Basic Attack Range, knocking enemies aside and dealing 15 - 75 (+80% AD) Physical Damage

• When he stops, he'll turn to and shot the enemy that's closest to him, dealing 20 - 100 (+10% - 30% AD) Bonus Physical Damage and gain 20% - 60% Bonus attack Speed for 5 seconds

• Cast Time: 0.75 Seconds
  
• Dash Speed: 800 UpS
  
• Cost: 60 Mana (+5 P/R)
  
• Cooldown: 20 Seconds (-1.25 P/R)
  
• Physical Damage: 15 (+15 P/R)
  
• Bonus Physical Damage: 20 (+20 P/R)
  
• Bonus Damage Scaling: 10% AD (+5% P/R)
  

E Bagman

Del grabs his pistol by the barrel and bludgeons his target on his next basic attack, dealing (20% - 100% AD) Bonus Physical Damage and stealing (15% - 75% AD) Gold from them and stunning them for 0.5 Seconds

• If Del runs into an enemy with Muscle In while Bagman is active, he'll club them with his pistol as he runs by them, applying Bagman's Bonus Physical Damage and stealing their gold

• Cast Time: 0.25 Seconds
  
• Duration: 6 Seconds
  
• Maximum Attack Range: 125 Units
  
• Cost: 60 Mana (+10 P/R)
  
• Cooldown: 20 Seconds (-2 P/R)
  
• Bonus Physical Damage: 20% AD (+20% P/R)
  
• Gold Stolen: 15% AD (+15% P/R)
  

R Broken

Del throws a canister of chemicals to a targeted location that shatters on impact, inflicting enemies with a debilitating poison that lasts for 5 - 15 Seconds, dealing 60 - 180 (+60% AP) Magic Damage each second and reducing the Ranks of all their Basic Abilities by 2 - 4 and their Ultimate Ability by 2 for the duration
Broken will reduce a target's Ability rank to a minimum of 1 and can not Lock it

• Cast Time: 1 Second
  
• Cast Range: 550 Units
  
• Effect Radius: 175 Units
  
• Projectile Speed: 350 UpS
  
• Cost: 100 Mana
  
• Cooldown: 160 Seconds (-35 P/R)
  
• Duration: 5 Seconds (+5 P/R)
  
• Magic Damage: 60 (+60 P/R)
  
• Ability Rank Reduction: 2 (+1 P/R)
  

Change Log

E

Reduced Gold Stolen at Rank 1 TO 15% AD FROM 40% AD

I was walking our dog Charlie when I saw the graveyard for the first time. A little white fence, not even knee high, ran in a circle around maybe a dozen small headstones. There was space for a small gate along the fence but it was empty now, like a missing tooth. Whether the gate was removed or never existed, I couldn’t tell, but the rest of the fence was in good shape. It even looked freshly painted.
“What do you think, Charlie?” I asked, pulling up my hood.
The sky had been threatening rain all week and it was finally making good. The Weimaraner tilted his head at me and then looked off toward nothing. The fact that nothing happened to be in the same direction of the graveyard, well, I figured it was a coincidence. But dogs always know, don’t they? When something is bad and dangerous and hungry and close. Charlie knew, even warned me in his own way. A shame I didn’t notice until after most everybody was…after it was too late to do anything about it.
Nicole was hanging up pictures when we got back from our walk. I started unpacking one of the billion boxes scattered around the living room. It appeared to contain roughly four thousand dish towels and a single chipped coffee mug. Charlie watched us, patiently, filled with the usual, unshakeable belief that if he sat long enough and looked adorable enough, sooner or later, one of his owners would produce a treat. He was correct and it was my wife who folded first, tossing him a dried sweet potato thing which Charlie gratefully caught mid-air.
“Like the neighborhood?” Nicole asked.
“It’s kinda perfect. Lots of folks out and about, saw a few other families moving in, oh, and there’s even a graveyard in the middle of the development. You know, like how we always dreamed.”
Nicole made an “ick” sound but overall seemed happy.
I heard Bryan and Anna thumping around upstairs, most likely still arguing about who got the room with the attached bath. If they hadn’t sorted it out by dinner, I resolved to think up a weird game they could play where the winner got first bedroom dibs. It was still early in the afternoon, so I caught Nicole up on what I’d seen in our new neighborhood while we unpacked. We were far from the only new occupants of Stone Brooke; at least four other houses had SOLD signs driven into their front yards like stakes through freshly vanquished vampires.
The development was less than a year old and I doubted it would make it more than another six months before being filled to the brim. That was fine with me. It meant our property value would keep going up, up, up and away.
“Do you think we’ll make any friends with our neighbors?” Nicole asked, opening a new box to unpack.
“We’ll be having joint ski vacations and holiday parties in no time,” I guessed. “I’ll try to chat some up next time Charlie and I make our rounds. I’ll even knock on some graves, if you’d like.”
Nicole scowled and shook her head. A thousand teasing jokes about the living dead limping up to our house ran through my mind but each evaporated before escaping my mouth. Eight years of marriage had left me with a finely-honed sense of when to be a clown and when not to push it. And, the truth was, I felt a small twinge of discomfort myself whenever I thought about the little cemetery. It was a family plot, old; would the bodies even be embalmed? Or would you find something rotted down to tar and marrow if you dug up one of the plots?
I shivered.
Nicole smiled. “Looks like maybe somebody just walked over your grave.”
“Not possible. I’m not leaving a body behind when I go, remember? Viking funeral? Have my brother launch fire arrows at a gasoline-soaked canoe with me in it. And then scatter the ashes somewhere meaningful,” I added. “Like the Grand Canyon or the ocean or the last Blockbuster on Earth.
Nicole called for Anna and Bryan and we sat down to a family dinner of move-in-day sandwiches and popcorn and whatever other road-trip snacks we still had from the drive. It was a good night. Bryan was distracted by his phone, a new friend or a girl maybe. Anna was joking with Nicole about something…something to do with school. I can’t remember what, exactly. I really wish I could.
That was the last time we all sat down together as a family for dinner.
I woke up in the middle of our first night in the new house. Some outside sound had entered my dreams. What was it? A whispering or a knocking or rasping. No, not rasping–rustling. Like the sound of many things moving at once but moving quietly, carefully, deliberately. I sat up in bed, blinking against the total darkness of the room.
There it was again; the rustling. Faint and far away, I guessed, but it was so eerie that I could hear it at all.
“Hey, Nicole,” I whispered. “Hey, are you awake?”
Nothing in response other than that rustle again in the dark. It sounded like it was coming from somewhere below me. I got up and stumbled through the room without turning on a light. I don’t know why I didn’t wake Nicole up to listen; I wish I had. I guess I didn’t want her to think I was crazy if I was the only one who heard the sound.
The rustling was actually fainter when I finally made it downstairs. There was only a little light in the house spilling in from outside through half-curtained windows. I paused on the second to last step down and listened. The noise was moving away, growing softer and less frequent. By the time I stepped on the living room rug, the night was silent.
I waited, listened for almost a full minute, then started padding back up the stairs. There was something unsettling about the rustling that made me glad it had stopped. I’d watched a Civil War documentary a few years back and they demonstrated how a battlefield surgeon would operate by sawing through a half a pig carcass then sewing up the wound. They’d pushed in real close during the last part of the demo so you got a great look and even a great listen..
The rustling I’d heard outside the house that night reminded me of the sound of the needle and thread slithering through the pig’s flesh as the surgeon closed the cut.
Wind, I thought. Dream. HVAC system. The first signs of a brain tumor. But probably just the wind traveling through the branches of the maple trees that line our street.
There’s a landing at the top of the stairs with a big window that looks out over the front yard. A silver-gray column of moonlight fell in through the glass, giving enough light to make out a shadow standing on my lawn but not enough to see it clearly. It was a man, tall but a little bent. I remember thinking maybe he was hurt so I moved closer to the window for a cleaner look.
The guy was right at the edge of my yard, nearly in the road. He was facing my house but I couldn’t pick out any details about him. Too many clouds and moonshadows for a good look at his face. We both stared at the other for a minute then the stranger turned and began to walk away. Or, ‘walking’ isn’t entirely the right word. He moved like a man who had just learned to walk and he almost, almost had it figured out.
His knees threatened to collide more than once and he was moving with a limp, favoring his right side. I watched him fall over twice, each time dragging his body along the road for a dozen yards or so before shakily standing up and continuing on like a shell-shocked soldier wandering out of a trench. Each time the man got near a streetlight he would veer away from the glow, stumbling back into darkness and always moving toward the treeline that marked the edge of the woods around our neighborhood.
I stood, frozen in the moonlight, as the night visitor slipped into the forest, movements jerking like a puppet with stiff strings. Then the figure was gone and I was left blinking, wondering if I was dreaming or maybe this was what sleepwalking felt like. It didn’t seem real, any of it; not the rustling, not the man in the yard.
Once I was back in our bedroom, I considered waking up Nicole. But what was I going to tell her? Hey dear, sorry to startle you, I think there was a zombie outside our house. Or maybe just a creepy neighbor. Or maybe your husband is just going slowly, gently, completely crazy. Before getting back into bed, I went and lifted the corner of the curtain on the window, peeking out at the last spot in the treeline where I’d seen the weird guy slip away.
I’m not sure what I was expecting; some trail of destruction, maybe, like Godzilla’s wake on his way to Tokyo. But there was nothing, no sign, no proof there was ever anything at all. Just the sleeping neighborhood, tucked away in the middle of silent woods. The trees were slick with the day’s rain but that would all freeze overnight if it hadn’t already. Streetlights stood out like nails driven into the night, these little bright scars in the dark. I followed the line of them from where it ended at the road back to where it started at the center of the house development.
The graveyard sat high on a hill there at the heart of the neighborhood where the lights started. Or ended, I guess.
I tried to put the bizarre experience out of my mind and laid back in bed next to Nicole.
Charlie and I were on another walk first thing the next morning when we saw another moving truck. This time, however, it looked like the family was on their way out. We stood under a tree watching the movers buzzing back and forth, big, quiet men with thick black belts around their stomachs. The departing family was helping, a man and woman with three three little boys. There was something about the way the parents were behaving that made me stop and observe everybody for a little longer than I usually would, especially with Charlie trying to pull on his leash to go after a Canadian goose.
The adults were zipping boxes from the house to the moving van at warpspeed, almost like they had a deadline. At the same time, both the man and the woman looked so exhausted I was surprised they were standing, much less zipping around like hummingbirds that learned how to drink coffee. They eventually noticed me and Charlie standing across the street, so I waved and walked over.
“Howdy neighbors,” I said, unleashing the most cheerful grin I could drag out.
The couple stopped moving boxes. They stood together, between me and their kids, and I got the unexpected but absolutely unshakable idea they were scared of me. Or, at least, awfully interested in me keeping my distance from their children.
I tried to smile even more disarmingly but it probably went in the other direction.
“We just moved in,” I said, pointing down the street. “How are you all liking Stone Brooke?”
The pair shared a look. They were both around my age, maybe mid-30s, and made an interesting pair. The woman was very tall, her face soaking in shadows cast by a gardening hat. The man was short and balding but muscled like a powerlifter. He took a step toward me and I instinctively tensed up.
“You should leave,” the man said, barely above a whisper.
“Okay,” I said, backing up, “I didn’t mean to-”
“No, I don’t mean here,” he said. “I mean this neighborhood. It’s not a good place.”
His–I assumed wife–was looking around the nearby houses while we talked. Something must have spooked her, because she took two steps forward and leaned in.
“Walter, we don’t know him,” she whispered. “He might be-”
“Okay, June,” Walter said, “okay, you’re right, you’re right. Buddy, I’m sorry, we don’t have anything to talk about. We’re out of here, hopefully before dinner.”
The couple turned away and walked back to their kids. Walter hesitated in his driveway, giving me one last glance.
“Listen, I’m sorry, you seem normal enough,” he said, ignoring the glare from his wife. “But you really should get out of Stone Brooke as soon as you can. We’ve only been here a week but there’s already so much…shit, if you are normal, you wouldn’t believe me. And if you’re not, well, we’ll be gone by tonight either way.”
Walter’s wife returned to his side, one delicate hand on his bowling ball of a shoulder trying to steer him away. She must have noticed my absolute confusion; the little bit of her face I could see from under the hat softened.
“If anyone knocks on your door after dark, you shouldn’t answer. Don’t go out after sundown, either. And if anyone you know starts acting…” She looked back at her kids. Two of the three were moving boxes from the house to the truck in a mini-conga line but the third, a little boy, was standing on the porch staring at us. “If anyone you know starts acting strange, just don’t be alone with them or let anyone else be alone with them. Do you understand?”
“Not at all,” I admitted but the pair were already gone, joining their kids next to the U-Haul.
The one boy was still separate from the others, still watching me and Charlie while we stood on the sidewalk at the edge of their yard. Feeling uncomfortable and confused, I gave the kid a friendly wave. He just stared until we left.
I tried to shake off the creepy encounter. Ten minutes of walking in the sunshine had me feeling fine in no time. Charlie and I took a loop around the rest of Stone Brooke then started heading home. I wasn’t planning on walking by the cemetery but that’s the way our route ended up winding. It was even smaller upclose; not the dozen or so gravestones I’d guessed the day before but maybe only seven or eight. The stones themselves were small and weathered. They were carved of something that was white once but had been sun-stained to a dirty gray. I couldn’t make out any names or dates from where I was standing just outside of the short fence. It didn’t feel right stepping into the cemetery to get a better look. I told myself it was respect holding me back from getting any closer.
Well, that and the fact that Charlie was not a fan of the area at all. He began whining as we approached the hill; by the time we were at the fence, Charlie was tugging at his leash, trying to drag me back toward our house down the street. And, weighing in at nearly ninety pounds of muscle and anxiety, he nearly succeeded.
“Easy, Charlie, easy,” I said. “We’re not going near the dead people.” He tilted his head at me. “Okay, we’re not going any nearer than we already are. I just want to look for a second, alright?”
It wasn’t alright. Not by Charlie’s measure. After about two minutes of trying to stand without getting wrapped up like an AT-AT walker by my dog’s leash, I surrendered. I took one last look at the graveyard before I allowed Charlie to lead us away. There were a few trees scattered among the stones. They were bare of leaves, which was normal for the time of year, but they were also stunted and sickly. The trunk of the tree closest to the cemetery gate appeared to be dry-rotted, its bark flakey and brown-orange in spots.
The last thought I spared the cemetery before leaving was that I didn’t like the faint smell I detected. Nothing crazy, it didn’t smell like death or anything dramatic; it was an earthy scent, like a field after a rainstorm but with the hint of something spoiled under all of it.
I let Charlie lead us home, walking quickly but not rushing. Nicole was up unpacking again when we walked in. The kids were still asleep. My wife had on gray sweat pants and my faded Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt. Her hair was tied up in a scarf. I remember thinking how pretty she looked, brown eyes jumping from box-to-box, looking for her next target, and smiling as she worked.
We spent the rest of the day just settling in, checking out the house, unpacking and playing games with the kids. Then we DoorDashed Chinese for an early dinner. I remember it being early enough that the sun was still out when it was delivered and just setting when Nicole took Charlie out for his evening walk.
Charlie returned alone half an hour later, dragging his leash and looking stressed beyond anything I’d ever seen from him.
“Hey, hey, buddy,” I said, opening the door he was scratching at. “Where’s your mom, Charlie?”
I stepped out onto the front porch, expecting to see Nicole running down the street after Charlie gave her the slip. But it was starting to rain and no one was moving anywhere I could see.
“Nicole,” I said loudly. “Hey, Nicoollle.”
She didn’t call back or come jogging down the road. My throat was feeling weird, so I swallowed then yelled her name, much louder this time. I tried to keep any tinge of panic out of my voice.
“Nicole!”
Charlie was sitting on the floor, still on his leash, looking up at me. He was whining so quietly I didn’t notice at first. I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Nicole. It rang for what felt like a few years before going to her voicemail. I tried again with the same result, then yelled out again, and then another call.
I felt it crawling up and over me, that panic, the anxious madness that you feel when a normal day teeters on the beam before falling into an awful damn day. That happened to me once before when I was in college and my uncle died suddenly in a car crash. I remember the phone call, the confusion, the resistance to the growing, unavoidable certainty that your life just changed in a terrible way.
My pulse was up and my stomach was cramped. I took a deep breath and called my wife for the fourth time in about two minutes. Maybe her phone was on silent. Maybe she was still out searching for Charlie?
In the rain? I asked myself.
Sure. She loves Charlie. She would look for him in the rain or a blizzard or a volcanic eruption.
“Okay,” I said out loud, “but after she couldn’t find Charlie, she would call me so we could all look. She would call.”
What if she was hurt?
The thought went off like a molotov in my mind, spreading until it was the only idea I could focus on. I pictured Nicole laying in some ditch or hollow with a broken leg, black sky pouring down on her. She’d call if she could, if that was the scenario, but if she couldn’t reach her phone for some reason, then she’d be counting on me going to find her.
I took Charlie off his leash and hustled upstairs. Bryan was in his room unpacking and Anna was sitting in a window nook reading. She looked up at me when I left the stairs and asked where mom was since she’d heard me calling outside for her. I told both of the kids that their mom was probably meeting some new neighbors and I was just going to pop out for a second to see if she needed anything. Anna was ten and accepted my excuse with a smile before going back to her book. Bryan, however, was thirteen and had a much better ear for lies. He gave me an odd glance but I smiled and promised I’d be back in two shakes.
Two shakes turned into nearly thirty minutes of me scouring Stone Brooke. It wasn’t a big development, maybe fifty or sixty houses spreading out in rings with the old cemetery in the middle. That was where the original farmhouse was when all of the land was owned by one family. I remember the real estate agent telling us that the day we toured the house.
It’s strange the places your mind will go for a distracting memory when your agitation is slouching slowly toward hysteria. I peppered my foot search for Nicole with frequent phone calls, which only resulted in stacking voicemails over voicemails. I scoured all three main streets, hood trickling with rainwater, my flashlight sweeping between houses and under trees. After an hour, I’d checked the neighborhood twice over, all except for the little graveyard. I wasn’t even trying to consciously avoid it but I realized I had.
The waist-high gate was unlocked and swung open when I lifted the latch, which was just starting to go to rust. I got the sense that the cemetery was once well-cared for and only recently had been more or less forgotten. There were a few weeds among the tombstones and a glass vase filled with nearly mummified flowers in front of one grave in particular but there wasn’t any sign of Nicole. The ground was soft from the rain but it was too dark to see much of anything. I did note that the entire hill was messy, more dirt than grass and quickly turning into pure mud.
“I hope none of the coffins float out,” I muttered, drawing my flashlight across the eroded markers.
There were lots of shadows and sunken places on the ground but nothing deep enough to hide a person. I walked home quickly, trying to stay a few steps ahead of the cold fear that kept flashing every imaginable horror that might have happened to my wife through my mind.
If I knew then what I know now about what actually happened to Nicole…the worst, darkest, most vile things I came up with, they weren’t even close.
I made my way home after the graveyard to tell my kids their mom was missing. Just the thought of starting the conversation was filling me with dread and a terrible guilt. They were children; how were they going to process this new, ugly thing? I’d do my best to summarize the situation for them and then I would call the police. That was the plan. Needing to wait twenty-four hours to file a missing persons report is a myth, I knew that. But the sheer surreal misery of the night was blanking my mind on what I would tell everyone.
Nicole went out to walk the dog right around sunset, so about 5pm or 5:30pm. Charlie came back holding his leash at 6:41pm. I remember the exact time because I checked my phone to see if there were any missed calls from Nicole as soon as Charlie appeared.
While I was walking up our driveway, I kept mentally rehearsing how I was going to break the news to the kids. Was there any good way to tell children their mom was missing? Should I inject optimism, sugar-coat, make promises? Or just be frank and completely honest and tell them I didn’t know if…
Not a thought I wanted to finish, even in my own mind, and I opened our front door still undecided how I was going to handle the next part. Then I saw Nicole sitting at the kitchen table playing cards with the kids and I froze. I stood there in the doorway staring until Anna noticed me and told me, look, mom’s home! I managed a limp smile and a nod.
My wife was facing away from me and when she turned in her chair, for an instant, I thought I was looking at a stranger. Then she smiled, really smiled, and it was just Nicole there, the same girl I’d met at a friend’s Halloween party fifteen years ago but now even more lovely. I grinned, still confused but nearly shaking with relief.
“Where were you?” I asked, attempting to sound calmer than I felt. “When Charlie came back, I went looking for you. I was worried that…well, I was worried.”
Nicole took a second to reply. Several seconds, actually. An odd look passed over her face, eyes closing, her jaw tight. Then she snapped out of it, whatever it was, and smiled wider.
“The dog had slipped away to chase a squirrel,” Nicole said. “I’m fine. We’re fine. We’re all fine. We just lost track of time. Sorry to worry you.”
“Okay but you could have called,” I pointed out. “And I called you.”
Another pause before she had an answer.
“I lost my phone chasing the dog,” Nicole finally replied. “And then we got all turned around and mixed up. New neighborhood, you know? Are you hungry?”
In our years together, we’d both gotten good at knowing when the other one was lying. That night, I genuinely could not tell. What she was telling me was plausible if not at all how I expected her to react to Charlie running. For that matter, it was already unusual that our dog would take off after a squirrel. And why would Nicole lie to me about all of it anyway?
But I pressed all of those concerns down into my chest and locked them there. It was a good night, I told myself, an eventful night, a terrifying night for a bit there, but now, everything was okay. We had all sat and played cards, then ate dinner, and then unpacked the last of our boxes before bed.
Nicole kept watching me all throughout the night. I acted like I didn’t notice. She was acting normal enough other than these brief pauses now and again, like she was stopping to think about what she was saying carefully. Her nose also began bleeding, which she stuffed with tissue, blaming the bleed on allergies. My biggest fear that night was she’d had a medical event or something and needed to go to the hospital. A fall turned into a concussion, maybe.
Or, God, a stroke?
Ultimately, Nicole wasn’t showing any signs of an emergency, so I tried to relax.
Still, I found myself watching Nicole for the rest of the night. She caught me looking while she was brushing her teeth. All she did was stop and smile at me. We laid down in bed and I immediately clicked off the light, telling Nicole that I was worn out. After a minute of silence in the dark, I felt my wife’s fingers on my shoulder. She pressed a fingertip to my neck and lightly brushed the space between my jawline and collarbone. It made me shiver; not in a pleasant way.
“Hey, that tickles,” I said, turning away.
Nothing for a moment and then her fingers were pushing against the back of my neck, not hard enough to be painful but not exactly comfortable either.
“What, uh, what are you doing?” I asked.
In response, Nicole kissed my shoulder. Or, it was half a kiss and half almost a bite. She didn’t break the skin but it was awfully close. I slipped away, putting space between us by rolling off of the bed.
“What the Hell?” I snapped.
Nicole didn’t say anything back. There was no light in the room, not even moonlight. In the blackness, I heard my wife shifting in bed.
“Nicole?”
Still nothing from my wife and now she wasn’t moving at all. Seconds stretched out and all I could think to do was stand dully waiting for things to feel normal.
“I just remembered I need to send some emails back to the office,” I told the darkness. “I shouldn’t be too long. I’ll just be downstairs. Are you heading to sleep?” No answer. “Okay, love you, Nicole. Good night.”
I heard her shifting again as I was leaving the bedroom. It was louder than before, a rustling that reminded me of something I couldn’t place. Whatever it was, I wasn’t a fan.
I ended up sleeping on the couch. I had a dream that people were standing outside of our house trying to look in the windows. There was the rustling sound from earlier, like running water or wind through a forest. I woke up to find Nicole standing halfway down the stairs, silhouetted by the light from my open laptop. She froze when I looked at her, stared at me, then softly walked back up the stairs.
There was no more sleep for me that night. I stayed on the couch watching TV with the lights on until dawn.
Then there was tomorrow.

He should be swept under the rug
He acts like a total thug
He is not good for you like a drug
He sells a stupid mug
He scuttles around like a bug
and all while he looks so smug