First: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/14vo5lb/troublemakers_deaths_pity/
*previous:* https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1d3yvie/troublemakers_parabellum/
......
Go'mon stormed through the castle corridors. He'd sensed something slip beside him during his encounter with the vampire lord. It wasn't just that damned top hat with the thief's prints. No, it was more subtle than that, it was the sound of a gossamer chain rattling against cloth. He scanned every square inch of the hallways as he walked, slowly twirling the Warhammer in his off-hand as he calmly held the pistol muzzle-up towards the ceiling. He'd barely gotten a glimpse of what almost looked like mist as he stomped through the grand halls with paranoia-fueled, seething anger. Abruptly turning a corner he fired the revolver at what he thought was that pesky invisible parasite.
The shimmer shuddered and he switched to the visible spectrum to find out it was just a tapestry in front of a heating vent.
Go'mon let out an enraged scream, tearing the tapestry apart with his bare hands after casting his weapons aside in a fit of rage and impotence. The visage of Monarch D'vinn looking out from the top of a bombed-out hill in battered armor at the shattered remains of the once human-occupied city, being shredded like single-ply latrine paper by go'mon's molecularly edged cybernetic claws. Having spent his rage on the tapestry, he panted dramatically as his heart pounded in its cask. Turning around he let out another furious scream, howling madly as he scanned the hall with thermals. His Hammer and revolver had disappeared without a trace.
The sudden blare of a Klaxon made him pause as he adjusted his armor, forcing himself to calm down as he examined his molecularly edged claws. The main enemy was at the gates, he should go meet them.
...
Cassius' Heart pounded as he took shallow breaths, Go'mon's backplate inches from his own chest as he held onto the Hammer and Pistol for dear life. As the general strutted outside, Cassius moved in perfect synchronization, his left leg rising with the general's before being placed down in sync. He'd been practicing for weeks with the security droids at the mansion, practicing to keep inches from their backs without touching their metal carapace. Now he strutted behind perhaps the second most powerful being he knew like a silent specter. As Go'mon slammed through a door, breaking it into splinters, Cassius lifted his right leg and rotated out of the way just as Go'mon's tail would've brushed against his Calf, giving him away. As the General strutted out into the middle of the courtyard, Cassius used the various straps attached to his gambeson to affix the weapons to his waist before grabbing his Kama and weighted chain from a small pouch at his belt.
Cassius tossed the weighted end of the chain over the wall of the castle after a short run-up, wrapping the gossamer chain around his hands with each rapid step he took up the wall. Reaching the top, he unhooked the weight from the small bar he'd tossed it around quickly disentangling his hands from the chain. He groped the air on the outside of the wall until he touched the enchanted ladder the Top-Hats had left him. Sliding down the ladder, he spotted Drake sitting astride Barney in the middle of the street. The rest were nowhere to be seen but that indeed was part of the plan. Sprinting over, Cassius leaped onto Barney behind Drake and slipped Go'mon's revolver into the empty holster at his belt. Drawing out no reaction save for a few words from Drake, who didn't turn his head lest he give the gambit away.
"Good work Cassius, Fall back and get a gas mask on. We still don't know what's in those canisters because they inked out the labels."
Cassius slipped off of Barney's back and slipped into a nearby building before De-cloaking as he pressed himself against the wall next to a Warmonger who passed him a spare gas mask. He pulled it on and checked the seal before sitting against the wall as his legs jellied beneath him. His mouth was dryer than the scrubland as he accepted a Volunteer's canteen, drinking heavily through a port in the mask as he rode out the adrenaline crash. He glanced over to where their fighters had pried open a sewer access hatch and were dropping in, the smell of sewage souring the air. A few warmongers closest to the opening had comically attached wooden clothesline clips to their noses.
...
Caz lay atop the second-tallest building in Golgatha, trash and debris piled up around her for camouflage ash she drew a bead on the strutting Go'mon. Her god-given eyes were able to see the purple miasma that rose from him like mercury vapors. She didn't even turn her head as she softly asked.
"Distance?"
The man with Heavy cybernetic augmentations pulled casually from a large pouch of grain alcohol, camera-lense eyes extending from his face as he chewed on a bullet thoughtfully. Slowly he stated.
"One thousand five hundred and sixty-seven meters, If you're keeping it under auto-ignition velocity, you should be able to hold it one mil above and..."
The sound of the bullet in his mouth getting chewed filled the air before he stated.
"Two mils right, wind fluctuates between us and the target, expect a half minute of angle deviation."
Caz adjusted her optic, bringing the point of aim directly onto her crosshairs. The man next to her had called himself "an Olympian" an old sect of bionically enhanced warriors from even before the betrayal wars. In the small amount of time she'd gotten to know the man, she'd found him palatable at the very least, soft-spoken with a touch of crazy, it was refreshing. She tried to ignore the artillery-sized rifle he laid behind, the barrel itself bigger around than a drainage pipe, a suppressor of equally massive size almost protruding over the edge of the building. She watched from the corner of his eye as he pulled the breech open to the side and selected a shell thicker and longer than her forearm with a fused tip. He rammed it into the gun with the same ease she loaded her flechettes with.
They both had different jobs despite sitting on the same roof. She'd take care of anything on two legs, and he'd handle anything that had an armored skin. From her vantage point, she watched as the Agri-bots moved into position, planting their artillery pieces against the ground in preparation to fire. They weren't using High explosives much to Remin and Destrier's chagrin, but with their attack plan, they couldn't risk collapsing the sewers. They were instead armed with a chemical weapon known as "CS Smoke" which would obscure visual sightlines for anyone with unaugmented vision. Lucky for her and the Olympian, that wouldn't be an issue with her clear-sight and his advanced optics. She slowly swiveled her focus onto Drake, keeping the center of the crosshair off him as she watched him.
Sitting astride Barney, Drake looked every bit the warrior he was. His dark helmet and armor were almost lost in the dark night. But the red shock of his Helm's mohawk could not be mistaken, glowing brightly against the darkness. As his palm came to rest on the pommel of his sword, she saw something entirely different for a moment.
A warrior in battered, rusty armor, the flesh falling from his bones as a pair of white lights gleamed behind the helmet. A skeletal hand held a rusty sword in its sheath, Its pale, emaciated steed's head hanging low, milky eyes soulless and empty.
But as soon as she saw it, the image faded and she swiveled her crosshairs onto the castle's inner courtyard. A small, dim red light blinked on the side of the Olympian's skull as the Geknosians organized into fighting lines. Hulking Geknosians in overbuilt power armor manned emplaced turrets and the looming Gas generators. A small feed from the Olympian's perspective overlaid itself on her scope before minimizing to one corner. She watched as his crosshair fell onto one of the two Gallicks. The horseshoe-shaped APCs presenting their bulk to the gate as a bulwark. Caz switched her aim to a heavily armored Geknosian, slowly dialing the small wheel on the forend of her rifle to half-power, just under auto-ignition velocity. The geknosian seemed to get uncomfortable as her crosshairs landed on his chest, fidgeting at the controls of their AA plasma Beam-cannon.
The moment the Agri-bots fired their artillery, she'd remove him from the gene pool and take that AA gun out of the fight so Destrier could get into position.
...
Destrier and Remin ran last-minute checks on the small fleet of two-wheeled land vehicles the Top Hats had called "Dirt bikes." The variable electric powerplant produced little to no noise, even now, powered on and ready to roll they didn't even humm. Stepping back, Destrier let the forearms of his power armor clamshell close as he retook the hand controls. Contrary to popular belief, the hands of power armor weren't at all like gloves. A handle with a pressure sensor for each finger was clasped in his hands, allowing him to manipulate the hands of the armor like his own. Destrier turned his head, helmet whirring on its bearing as he watched Remin mount one of the Dirtbikes, the black scimitar strapped to the suspension of the bike within arm's reach. The old man's Mongolian lamellar draped over either side of the bike like fabric, small metal plates clinking and clattering softly as he pulled his fabric-wrapped helmet back on. Destrier clomped over, hardly noticing the backpack with over two hundred rounds of 13x110 mm HEP.
Remin looked up with a grin and met Destrier's arm halfway in a forearm-gripping handshake, their metal hands clanking together as they slid their arms back into a grip around the base of each other's thumbs, then to a normal handshake before waggling their fingers at each other.
Destrier chuckled softly and looked up at the sky, night vision lenses making it appear stuffed to bursting with stars.
"What's on the black samurai's mind?"
Remin asked softly, head tilted back to also look at the stars between the rooftops.
"Well... I'm looking forward to the fighting to finally being over... Maybe I'll finally be able to settle down and invent something with Martha..."
Remin chuckled softly.
"A noble goal... I'd expect nothing less from you Destri... I'm actually hoping to catch a ride back to human-controlled space. I'm too old for this shit, I want to settle down and live out the last years of my life in peace..."
Destrier nodded in agreement, slowly turning his gaze back to the helicopter, blades slowly turning in preparation for takeoff.
"How old are you Remin? I don't think I ever asked."
The old man paused, thinking for a long time.
"Oh... I'd say I've made it past a century at this point. Got a cybernetic heart when I was a kid thanks to a car accident, Ol' things been keeping me going far past when I shoulda dropped."
Destrier nods and laughs softly.
"Damn, and I thought you were only in your fifties."
Remin laughed in agreeance, setting his hands on the handlebars.
"I don't blame ya, I feel like it. Especially now that my legs aren't filled with creaky arthritis."
Destrier sighed softly, gently punching the old man's shoulder as softly as he could in his power armor.
"See you on the other side old man... whether that be the living side or the dead one."
"Here's to hoping it's the former not the latter."
Destrier chuckled his agreement and boarded the helicopter, making the landing gear compress slightly as he put his weight on the flight deck. Unhooking the feed chain from the side of the backpack, he clipped it into the Ma-deuce's feed chute. It whirred as the heavy cartridges were funneled down the chain and into the gun with a click and a clatter.
...
Barney shifted from one leg to the other beneath Drake, Death's chosen reaching down and gently patting his neck fondly as he softly whispered.
"Just a moment longer boy... There's someone I need to talk to."
Drake closed his eyes, letting the Darkness envelop him for a moment before opening them again.
He looked at Death, who was casually swirling a glass of black bourbon thoughtfully.
"You said you wanted to talk to me right before the battle?"
Death nodded and slid the glass of black bourbon his way.
"I did, I want you to drink this before you go into battle."
Drake picked up the glass, inspecting the pitch-black, inky liquid curiously. Before sniffing it and coughing as his eyes water.
"No offense, But I think something died in your liquor bottle."
Death laughed jovially, pouring his own glass from a red crystal decanter.
"That's because this is made from the blood of my predecessor. I thought i might as well get it out of the way."
Drake suspiciously looked at the glass.
"Okay, what happens when I drink it?"
Death paused, slowly swirling his own glass of black bourbon pensively. Then, he slowly knocked his own back, eyes dilating wide before returning to normal.
"Well, It should allow you to control your power, bypassing the decades of training most need."
Drake gave Death a side eye, sniffing the foul drink one more time asking.
"What's the catch?"
Death frowned, then set his glass down.
"Considering that it's going to completely restructure your magical and circulatory pathways. It's going to hurt like nothing you've ever felt before. It also may or may not bind your guardians to your soul."
Drake's head snapped up.
"Guardians... you mean my parents?"
Death nodded softly.
"Guardians, souls that loved someone so much that they remained on after death to watch over them. Your parents loved you... loved you enough to stand by your side even in death... and before you give me some bullshit about this not being what your parents would want... Remember, they'll always be at your side until you die one way or another."
Drake slowly swirled the bourbon before nodding softly, bringing it to his lips, he downed it in a single gulp. It burned on its way down, the tingling feeling intensely spreading throughout his body and to his fingertips in a moment. His nerves burned, and his very being felt as though it was being scalded by burning hot water. But as he set the glass down on Death's desk, he smiled softly. There was a warmth to the pain, like a cold rag against a feverish forehead. The sting of a garlic poultice applied to a fresh whip-wound. It was the crack of his father's wooden sword against his knuckles during their sparring, the sweat that would drip into his eyes on long evenings working the fields. Drake opened his eyes slowly, no longer sitting in Death's office, but his own soulscape, looking at the long-neglected buildings halfway through construction. But he wasn't alone.
Drake smiled at his mother and father. His mother gave him a soft smile as she touched the scar across his face, the wound in his cheek where a gauss slug had torn it open, then, she took his hand to gently touch the scarred wound where Garravan's knife had pierced his hand. His father just sat cross-legged, drinking a stout mug of scrub tree tea with a proud smile on his face. drake looked between them before holding out his hands.
As his parents took them, they dissolved into motes of light that drifted into his chest. His veins burned, and his eyes and nose bled. His entire existence felt like a blistering inferno as the ground of his soulscape rumbled, small, red flowers the color of blood and the shape of gunshot wounds popping up from the ground. But even as the pain grew, and grew, and grew, He found himself simply laughing, grabbing what felt like an invisible pair of chains and pulling up on them as he stood.
The ground erupted in the middle of his soulscape, a massive, gnarled oak tree sprouting from the ground. Its sturdy trunk protecting a small patch of pink carnations interspersed with curly-petaled white Gardenias. Drake felt something form atop his head and reached up, feeling a thorny crown, he gently pulled it off, looking at the black-petaled roses fondly before returning it to his head. The thorny veins grew down from the crown, snaking their way deep into his flesh only to bloom into what felt like new muscles and tendons that weren't attached to his physical strength. Looking at his upturned palms, he curled his fingers, a steady, smokeless pale flame popping into existence in his palm with next to no effort.
As the pain subsided, Drake closed his eyes, relishing its departure before opening them to the shocked and concerned face of Death. Drake gave him a curious look and Death coughed softly as he composed himself before speaking.
"Look, I know I can hide pain well... But that smile you get when you're hurting is capital C Creepy."
Drake touched his grinning face with a soft laugh, wiping a trickle of blood from his nose.
"Well, guess I can add that to my achievements list, Creeping Death out with a smile."
They both chuckled softly at the joke before Death sighed softly.
"You should get back to them, they're almost ready."
Drake nodded and stood, stepping over to the door.
"Wish me luck."
"Good luck, my Champion. Give them hell."
Drake smiled softly and stepped out the door. When he opened his eyes, he was back in the real world, staring up at Go'mon who'd perched himself atop the castle wall, eyeing Drake hungrily.
Giving Go'mon his signature grin, He reached up and depressed a countersunk button on the side of his helmet.
"Hit 'em"
Drake stated, the sound of artillery rocking the city as Go'mon's hungry look quickly turned to rage. There was a loud, screeching whistle as the artillery shells streaked in, blanketing the area in stinging fog. Drake drew his sword, extending thorned vines of power into it as the blade ignited with pale flames. Barney snuffled excitedly and roared as Drake nudged him forward, the Dinosaur leaping over the wall in a single bound. The final battle for Golgatha had begun, after this, they would either be free...
Or they will have died free.
......
Part 112: will be linked here upon completion.

PART 1

Part 2 of The Sword of Chronos

Chapter 10: The Dawn of New Beginnings

Elian stood at the edge of the celestial hall, the Temporal Blade gleaming in his hand. He could feel the immense power coursing through him, a heady mix of responsibility and excitement. Chronos had vanished, leaving behind only the echoes of his final words. The other competitors, though disappointed, surrounded Elian with a newfound respect.
"Elian," Liora said, her voice steady, "you have proven yourself worthy. We may not have won, but we are honored to have fought alongside you."
Finn nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just promise not to forget us when you're out there saving the multiverse."
Elian smiled, feeling the warmth of their camaraderie. "I could never forget any of you. You've all become like family to me."
As the group prepared to leave the celestial hall, a portal opened before them, leading back to their respective realms. One by one, they stepped through, each carrying the memories and lessons of their journey. Elian watched them go, a sense of longing in his heart, but also a steely determination to honor the trust and friendships he had forged.

Chapter 11: The First Mission

Elian's first task as the new wielder of the Temporal Blade came sooner than expected. As he returned to his village, he noticed an unnatural stillness in the air. The sky, usually a vibrant blue, was now a muted grey. Elian's enhanced senses tingled with the realization that something was amiss in the flow of time.
Using the Temporal Blade, he opened a rift and stepped into the timestream. He found himself in a different realm, a world known as Veridia, where time had come to a standstill. The people were frozen in mid-motion, their lives halted by an unseen force.
At the center of the town stood an ancient clock tower, its hands unmoving. Elian approached it cautiously, his senses alert. He soon discovered the source of the disturbance: a rogue timekeeper named Morvaine, who sought to manipulate time for his own gain.
Elian confronted Morvaine, a battle of wits and wills ensuing. Drawing upon the strength and skills he had honed during Chronos's challenges, Elian managed to outmaneuver Morvaine, restoring the flow of time to Veridia. As the townspeople resumed their lives, unaware of the brief disruption, Elian felt a deep sense of accomplishment.

Chapter 12: Allies in Time

Word of Elian's deed in Veridia spread quickly across the multiverse, attracting the attention of both allies and adversaries. One such ally was Althea, a time sorceress from the realm of Aeon. She sought Elian's help to thwart a growing threat from the Temporal Disruptors, a group intent on bending the timeline to their will.
Althea was a striking figure with flowing silver hair and eyes that shimmered like the cosmos. Her knowledge of temporal magic complemented Elian's newfound abilities, making them a formidable team. Together, they embarked on a mission to stop the Temporal Disruptors from unleashing chaos across multiple dimensions.
Their journey took them to exotic realms and ancient timelines, each fraught with peril. Along the way, they encountered beings of great power, some who offered assistance, and others who sought to hinder their progress. Through it all, Elian's bond with Althea grew stronger, their combined strengths and mutual trust forming an unbreakable alliance.

Chapter 13: The Shadow of Destruction

Despite their efforts, the Temporal Disruptors succeeded in initiating a cataclysmic event. A rift tore through the fabric of reality, threatening to collapse entire dimensions into oblivion. Elian and Althea found themselves at the epicenter of the chaos, battling against time itself to prevent an apocalyptic outcome.
In the midst of the struggle, Elian's mind flashed back to the lessons he had learned during Chronos's challenges. The courage to face his fears, the acceptance of his flaws, the strength to push beyond his limits, and the unity forged through teamwork—all these experiences now guided his actions.
With Althea by his side, Elian channeled the full power of the Temporal Blade, weaving a complex web of temporal energy. Together, they sealed the rift, restoring balance to the multiverse. The effort left them both exhausted, but victorious.

Chapter 14: The Council of Guardians

In the aftermath of the crisis, Elian and Althea were summoned to the Council of Guardians, an ancient assembly of beings tasked with maintaining the balance of time across all dimensions. The council had been observing Elian's actions and were impressed by his bravery and wisdom.
"The multiverse is vast and filled with countless threats," the head of the council, an ancient entity known as Aeternus, spoke with a voice that resonated through the hall. "We offer you a place among the Guardians, to protect the flow of time and ensure the stability of reality."
Elian accepted the honor, recognizing the immense responsibility it entailed. Althea, too, was offered a position, and together they vowed to uphold the principles of the Guardians.

Chapter 15: The Legacy of Chronos

As a Guardian, Elian continued to travel across dimensions, righting wrongs and safeguarding the timeline. He encountered new allies, faced old adversaries, and delved deeper into the mysteries of the multiverse. Each adventure honed his skills and expanded his understanding of the delicate balance of time.
Throughout his journeys, Elian never forgot the lessons taught by Chronos and the friends he had made during the competition. He carried their memories with him, a source of strength and inspiration.
In moments of reflection, Elian often gazed at the Temporal Blade, its surface shimmering with the essence of time itself. He knew that his journey was far from over, and that new challenges awaited him beyond every horizon.

Epilogue: The Infinite Path

Elian stood at the edge of a new world, the Temporal Blade in hand, ready to embark on yet another adventure. The sun set behind him, casting long shadows that stretched into the unknown.
With a heart full of courage and determination, Elian stepped forward, embracing the infinite possibilities of the multiverse. As the guardian of time, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that with each step, he was forging a legacy that would echo through eternity.
And so, Elian's journey continued, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring power of hope. With the Temporal Blade by his side, he ventured into the vast expanse of time and space, bringing light to the darkest corners of the multiverse and ensuring that the legacy of Chronos would never be forgotten.
4oPart 2 of The Sword of Chronos

Chapter 10: The Dawn of New Beginnings

Elian stood at the edge of the celestial hall, the Temporal Blade gleaming in his hand. He could feel the immense power coursing through him, a heady mix of responsibility and excitement. Chronos had vanished, leaving behind only the echoes of his final words. The other competitors, though disappointed, surrounded Elian with a newfound respect.
"Elian," Liora said, her voice steady, "you have proven yourself worthy. We may not have won, but we are honored to have fought alongside you."
Finn nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just promise not to forget us when you're out there saving the multiverse."
Elian smiled, feeling the warmth of their camaraderie. "I could never forget any of you. You've all become like family to me."
As the group prepared to leave the celestial hall, a portal opened before them, leading back to their respective realms. One by one, they stepped through, each carrying the memories and lessons of their journey. Elian watched them go, a sense of longing in his heart, but also a steely determination to honor the trust and friendships he had forged.

Chapter 11: The First Mission

Elian's first task as the new wielder of the Temporal Blade came sooner than expected. As he returned to his village, he noticed an unnatural stillness in the air. The sky, usually a vibrant blue, was now a muted grey. Elian's enhanced senses tingled with the realization that something was amiss in the flow of time.
Using the Temporal Blade, he opened a rift and stepped into the timestream. He found himself in a different realm, a world known as Veridia, where time had come to a standstill. The people were frozen in mid-motion, their lives halted by an unseen force.
At the center of the town stood an ancient clock tower, its hands unmoving. Elian approached it cautiously, his senses alert. He soon discovered the source of the disturbance: a rogue timekeeper named Morvaine, who sought to manipulate time for his own gain.
Elian confronted Morvaine, a battle of wits and wills ensuing. Drawing upon the strength and skills he had honed during Chronos's challenges, Elian managed to outmaneuver Morvaine, restoring the flow of time to Veridia. As the townspeople resumed their lives, unaware of the brief disruption, Elian felt a deep sense of accomplishment.

Chapter 12: Allies in Time

Word of Elian's deed in Veridia spread quickly across the multiverse, attracting the attention of both allies and adversaries. One such ally was Althea, a time sorceress from the realm of Aeon. She sought Elian's help to thwart a growing threat from the Temporal Disruptors, a group intent on bending the timeline to their will.
Althea was a striking figure with flowing silver hair and eyes that shimmered like the cosmos. Her knowledge of temporal magic complemented Elian's newfound abilities, making them a formidable team. Together, they embarked on a mission to stop the Temporal Disruptors from unleashing chaos across multiple dimensions.
Their journey took them to exotic realms and ancient timelines, each fraught with peril. Along the way, they encountered beings of great power, some who offered assistance, and others who sought to hinder their progress. Through it all, Elian's bond with Althea grew stronger, their combined strengths and mutual trust forming an unbreakable alliance.

Chapter 13: The Shadow of Destruction

Despite their efforts, the Temporal Disruptors succeeded in initiating a cataclysmic event. A rift tore through the fabric of reality, threatening to collapse entire dimensions into oblivion. Elian and Althea found themselves at the epicenter of the chaos, battling against time itself to prevent an apocalyptic outcome.
In the midst of the struggle, Elian's mind flashed back to the lessons he had learned during Chronos's challenges. The courage to face his fears, the acceptance of his flaws, the strength to push beyond his limits, and the unity forged through teamwork—all these experiences now guided his actions.
With Althea by his side, Elian channeled the full power of the Temporal Blade, weaving a complex web of temporal energy. Together, they sealed the rift, restoring balance to the multiverse. The effort left them both exhausted, but victorious.

Chapter 14: The Council of Guardians

In the aftermath of the crisis, Elian and Althea were summoned to the Council of Guardians, an ancient assembly of beings tasked with maintaining the balance of time across all dimensions. The council had been observing Elian's actions and were impressed by his bravery and wisdom.
"The multiverse is vast and filled with countless threats," the head of the council, an ancient entity known as Aeternus, spoke with a voice that resonated through the hall. "We offer you a place among the Guardians, to protect the flow of time and ensure the stability of reality."
Elian accepted the honor, recognizing the immense responsibility it entailed. Althea, too, was offered a position, and together they vowed to uphold the principles of the Guardians.

Chapter 15: The Legacy of Chronos

As a Guardian, Elian continued to travel across dimensions, righting wrongs and safeguarding the timeline. He encountered new allies, faced old adversaries, and delved deeper into the mysteries of the multiverse. Each adventure honed his skills and expanded his understanding of the delicate balance of time.
Throughout his journeys, Elian never forgot the lessons taught by Chronos and the friends he had made during the competition. He carried their memories with him, a source of strength and inspiration.
In moments of reflection, Elian often gazed at the Temporal Blade, its surface shimmering with the essence of time itself. He knew that his journey was far from over, and that new challenges awaited him beyond every horizon.

Epilogue: The Infinite Path

Elian stood at the edge of a new world, the Temporal Blade in hand, ready to embark on yet another adventure. The sun set behind him, casting long shadows that stretched into the unknown.
With a heart full of courage and determination, Elian stepped forward, embracing the infinite possibilities of the multiverse. As the guardian of time, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that with each step, he was forging a legacy that would echo through eternity.
And so, Elian's journey continued, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring power of hope. With the Temporal Blade by his side, he ventured into the vast expanse of time and space, bringing light to the darkest corners of the multiverse and ensuring that the legacy of Chronos would never be forgotten.

im making this post on a throwaway account to avoid any family input or what have you. i want to start off by saying the dog i mention in this post has been close to me and my partner since my mother brought him home about 2 years ago and the reason for this is simply because we have been taking care of and raising him like he was ours since she got him because all she wanted him for was so that she could look cute with him on social media (where she basically lives digitally). about a year after she got him problems had arised in the household mainly because of me, i had just got back to her house after spending 2021 back in my hometown three hours from where we lived after she kicked me out of her house for questioning her on account of a current gf i had at the time (who did start the issue and waited until my mom kicked me out to come clean). it was fine with me i took that on the chin because at the end of the day i was wrong for coming at my mom for assuming she didnt like my partner bc she was white. fast forward a year later about early 2022. and we talk about our bond and she says i can come back and get myself together because she knew i was in a fucked up situation financially where i was staying. i come back to her house in 2022 and she had told me before i even came back that she just wanted me to focus on myself and not worry about her bills. i wasnt eager to go with this decision but it was smart considering i was basically starting from scratch with life in general. got a job not too long after i got back and met my current partner (we'll call her beck). beck is white while me and my family are black and trust me this information is important. beck comes into the picture and we hang out more and she starts coming over some days hanging out in my room and i went to her house twice because her mother kept the place in shitty conditions and basically tried to downplay her own daughter right in front of me both times. i could tell beck had issues with being home and she too was in the process of getting her life together without even saying any of this. so i knew being with me in my room at my moms house was her only escape. mom for random reasons started having issues with beck cleaning the house for her while she was at work or taking care of the dog in a way my mother didnt approve. then it graduated to beck "stealing" money from her but her never having the proof or the funds to back it up to begin with. my mothers partner at the time of like 8 or 9 years who we'll call randy was cool as hell but somehow never managed to avoid fighting with her verbally. this went on the whole time i was there and randy ended up leaving and they broke up. problem was randy left right around the time i started fumbling with my jobs and needing to look around. now i wanna say im no saint, i spent my time searching for jobs AND gaming bc im a gamer. problem was i was taking too long this time around and theres no excuse. she started turning the heat on me and my partner once randy left and i started getting fed up because she was now asking for rent money while belittling me and my partner for being "laid up in her house". again, fair point. so my next step was realizing whether i had a job or not this woman was a firestarter no matter what you had going on. getting up early morning to say little slick comments in the morning because she wanted to get a reaction. by this point me and my partner are looking for a new place to live while we figure things out. my mother catches wind of this and starts asking when we'll take the dog after we get the place. now me knowing that she wont take proper care of him, i agree to take him with us and her response is "well hes not going anywhere until i see the house that yall move to. i wanna see everything to make sure its good for my baby"(the dog). i immediately got pissed and told her its not going down like that and that she needs to start considering how she speaks to people mainly me because im not gonna keep dealng with it. she got offended and kicked me and my partner AND THE DOG out of the room mid convo bc she didnt like what i said. me and my partner go back to my room and close the door to which she comes out saying "disrespectful little motherfucker talking to your mother like that" super loud. i let that one get to me and i mistakenly opened my door and started arguing. out of nowhere she hits me with "n***a fuck you" "you wont have to worry about me or the dog because NOW you AINT seeing him how about that" i said "thats fine hes not a bargaining chip". she went back to her room and slammed the door. didnt speak to me for like a week. my birthday comes around after this long week and she working the day of. i didnt expect her to say shit bc i know my mother and shes that petty. what i didnt expect was for her to hop on social media and wish early happy birthdays to two family members that werent me. ok fine thats cool. she gets home that same day and asks my partner if sai(the dog) has been out. my partner says "no we couldnt take him because his leash and collar are in the room and you locked the door. she had been locking the door ever since she started blaming beck for stealing from her. so once she realized the dog hadnt been out because she locked the door, she tells beck to "ask him if he'll take him out" by this point ive been told im not shit and im not needed and the first thing u say to me on my birthday is "can you take him out" i said no. rage ensued as she slammed the bathroom door on her way out of it. this time she kept walking passed my door talking more shit. more of the usual "i gave you life and you treat me like this" i told her to get away from the door with the nonsense and she started a full argument and said we had to go tomorrow. tomorrow rolls around and we wait for her to go to work so we can leave in peace. she normally got home around 9pm but on this day here she comes strolling in at 2pm right in the middle of packing. paces in front of our door talking shit and this time beck responds saying "we're leaving you need to let us be". this woman then told my partner she was going to beat her ass. i immediately shut that down too because i never seen my mother get tough with anybody. and here she is getting tough with the one person who hates confrontation. after i told her she wasnt even that type of person she replies with i'll stab both of yall in yall sleep. said weird stuff like "thats right i forgot i cant throw pussy on you and call you sexy like her im just the mother you dont have to respect". beck calls me sexy every day. its our little corny but cute word between us. anyway after 30 more minutes of bullshit arguing we leave for becks moms house which fucking sucked until my brother offered me a job in California working with him and my dad. throughout the 5 or 6 months of me being there i was making good money and even tho my mom was fucked up to me, i sent her funds when i could. my father found out i was sending funds to my mom AND my sisters (his daughters with other women) and the fuckhead accused me of using him then when i told him save it for after work(we worked the same construction site) the motherfucker sat there next to me and argued with himself bc i started ignoring the "i feel like your playing with me" comments because i told him "im a grown ass man and we are at work. you are not to question me about shit because you wont get an answer you like. i help my family out because its my money. simple" he then grabbed my shirt yelling "who are you talking to" snatched his hand off and he gets in my face saying "DONT FUCKIN TOUCH ME" so i replied calm "dont touch me at all. thats the last free one your gonna get" dude looks around the lot at a crowd and says "you wanna fight or something? yall wouldnt be working here without me" i couldnt help but laugh in his face for trying to cause scene for an audience and went home. packed me and my partner up, came back to new york where im from. stayed with my mom for a month before me and my partner rushed and got into the place we have now. problem was now that we had our own space, my mom pushed sai off on us and dude practically lived with us. barely went home.fast forward to like 2 weeks ago. by this point we have our two cat boys cosmo and dexter. they are babies. 4months and some change to be exact. we tried introducing sai to the boys multiple times a day and he kept jumping at them or scaring them. the only option was to let sai sleep in the living room. we kept my mother in the loop with him because by law, hes "her dog". she started her little comments over text to beck immediately "if yall plan on mistreating my baby he dont have to be there" then told beck "im venting if you mention this to my son im gonna cuss you tf out" we let that one slide because now i was building my evidence so when i bugged tf out, i wasnt wrong. next day some old dude on our block got aggressive with beck for walking sai "on his block" she called me to come handle it and i get there and back him off. by this point im pissed. beck calls my mother to tell her sai gotta go home this week hes been with us since we got our place. mother catches a attitude and i again let it go. two days later beck has a goofy moment and brings sai in the room seconds after her, the boys and i just got up. dexter pops sai on the nose for getting too close. beck moves asai then scrunches dex to put him in time out. i got annoyed when she scrunched my furry boy. told her dont do that shit again even tho it supposedly doesn't hurt them, i dont like seeing it especially when it all happened because she was doing too much too early. she had a moment and told my mom he has to go "because your son is getting annoyed". mother responds "he can come today he'll be fine at home by himself. hes favoring those cats over his brother (sai). i immediately got pissed at both of them. called my mother and told her hes going home and hes not coming back because im tired of the comments of neglect when i actively tried to introduce him to the boys with no progress. i mean FUCK i kept the boys stuck in the room in their own home so your dog can fuck our living room and kitchen up. i then got on beck for being a firestarter to which she argued me on. then i told her the relationship was on the verge of being done because your not gonna be sitting around me starting shit. i didnt let up until she realized how petty she was being and how at risk we were because of it. my mother then argued me down telling me im dumb. and then she basically skipped over the fact she didnt reach out to her son to see what happened before coming at me in a side convo with beck. beck brought the convo to my attention which was wat initially set me off but i made sure to get on her ass instigating an issue where there was none. mom then called beck a white trash stealing dirty bitch. we told her to come get her dog. i cut contact soon as she left. a day later i find out she called the women on her side of the family and fabricated the whole story i didnt bother clearing it up or giving her that satisfaction of a response. then 2 days ago she called my phone and i let it ring. haven't spoken since. AITAH here? genuine question

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- - - - -
It had been a few weeks since Altier was brought to the run-down shack that his black-scaled companion likely called home, and he could now comfortably say he was accustomed to the…household’s routine. The kobold typically left at the crack of dawn, returned a little after noon, and occasionally left again to forage until nightfall. When the weather was bad or there wasn’t a particular need for something, they half-heartedly chased their rabbit around for a bit, which usually ended with a bout of quiet petting while everyone got ready for the night. It was always amusing to see the energetic side of what he had come to know as a relatively lazy loaf of an animal. As for the routine of the ferrorabbit in question… Well…it was at least more interesting than expected.
Hoppit would begin his own series of activities as soon as his caretaker left—the first of which being a check of every nook and cranny in the shed. He sniffed at anything that caught his interest, varying from morning to morning, but he gave every object or corner its due attention. Once he was satisfied with that, he would eat some of the ragged plants that made up most of his diet, take a drink from his bowl, then jump onto the tro— table and plop himself down, his ears pivoting towards the door. It was hard to say if the lounging spot had been established before Altier’s arrival, but it was somewhat amusing to pretend that the little rabbit was standing guard over his core—if it wasn’t for one particular part of the morning ritual, that is.
Indeed, the ferrorabbit had a habit of licking the obsidian orb that sat in the middle of the room, which thankfully didn’t seem to perturb the system enough to give Altier a headache. He was confused when it first happened, but it was commonplace enough now that he barely acknowledged it. A part of him liked that he was getting attention as a core, even if it was delivered via a strange grooming method. The closest he got to being acknowledged as something other than ‘the dungeon’ was through an unfortunate misunderstanding that he could never properly rectify. He supposed that was hardly worth thinking about now, though; too much time had passed for there to be anyone left to correct. The little oddity of his mornings would have to suffice.
There wasn’t much to comment on as far as the rest of the day’s happenings. Hoppit would end his loafing by shaking his head and ears in a way that filled the silence with soft clacks, give the core a customary tongue bath, then jump off the table to nose his way out of the shed through a hole that was hidden by the storage cart against the wall. Where the rabbit went was anyone’s guess, but he always returned before anyone noticed he was gone, and often did so while covered in small cuts and scratches. Any blood from the lacerations was quickly licked off before it could be seen by the kobold, and in the event that the scaly caretaker happened to return earlier than expected, Hoppit would scurry over to the bundles of blankets to finish the cleanup in secret.
Today looked to be following the usual pattern. The kobold left bright and early with various gardening tools and a wooden pail, and Hoppit had since set off into the great unknown for one reason or another. Hopefully, he returned less injured than usual. It was frustrating to admit that Altier had begun to grow rather fond of the fluffy creature, and seeing the thing come back hurt was bothersome. Was it off looking for food? There wasn’t a whole lot given to it, so that was a possibility, and it could be getting into fights over whatever it found. That still didn’t explain why the animal was so thin, and Altier didn’t have enough to go off of to think of a potential solution. He wanted to help it in some way, like by summoning a creature to act as an escort, or maybe just by manifesting something edible like he once could. No, he could only stare at the ‘Synchronizing…’ that occupied his menu, wishing he had more information to work with.
He never thought he would miss the bombardment of notifications and their lingering presence that filled the edge of his mental vision; at least with that he could surmise enough to hazard some kind of action. Even knowing why the menu was acting the way it did would be a start. Yet, try as he might, there wasn’t a history for him to reference anymore, and he had nothing to work with. He was confident the last message had asked him to ‘accept’ something, then took his befuddled ponderance as an answer, but he was no closer to an explanation for what it wanted, nor why it prompted him in the first place. He just didn’t have another experience to compare against, since nothing like that had ever happened before. Not that he was ever in much of a position to allow it.
The entire purpose of having Altier inhabit a core was for him to become a dungeon of Decay, which entailed all the skeletons, poisons, acids, and whatever else came to mind when one pictured the concept. ‘Living’ creatures were something he only had the chance to experiment with near the beginning of his new existence, though he never dabbled past the first few insects before transitioning to the mindless undead. Having a thinking, feeling, breathing entity touch his core was a rite reserved only for the adventurers and soldiers that bested his trials, and that was usually a painful experience. Now, he had spent what he could only guess was hours being held by a kobold, followed by having a rabbit bump against him, and neither felt like what he came to expect. Instead, both had led to a completely novel reaction from the system. The strange circumstances put him at a bit of a loss as to what it all meant for him.
Sure, he could dismiss the deluge of errors from his companion’s involvement by pointing to the numerous ‘corrupted’ messages before it, and Hoppit was a part of mostly unexplored territory, but the lack of clarity nagged at the back of his mind constantly. Being exposed to activity after potential decades or centuries of unchanging solitude made him despise the informational dead end. If he couldn’t make sense of the rabbit’s circumstances, then he didn’t have much hope of deciphering the reason for why his system was misbehaving so terribly. He also didn't know much about the one who owned the decrepit holdings he was housed inside.
He still wasn’t sure what drove the kobold to take him from the cave. His suspicion of becoming traded goods fell flat after the first week or so, and he hadn’t noticed any cult-like behaviour, which was promising. Granted, a lack of nefarious behaviour didn’t mean there was a lack of nefarious intent, but he didn’t get the impression his companion held that either. The kobold itself didn’t seem quite settled on an opinion of his core, though it was up for debate if the hesitation was due to knowing what he was or not. They seemed to mull something over before bed each night, yet never reached a satisfactory conclusion, staring at the obsidian orb through weary grey eyes until they eventually forced themselves into sleep.
Whatever the underlying reasoning for his abduction was, he had observed enough to know that the kobold didn’t deserve to live in destitution. As beaten as the shed might be, they cared for it as best they could, and did so without a single groan or grimace of complaint. The floors were cleaned with a tattered rag and fresh water, dust was removed regularly, and any stray mess that Hoppit made was dealt with promptly. They even took the time to wipe off his core, which was possibly where the ferrorabbit got the idea to start licking him. The only time Altier had seen discontent from the kobold was when they didn’t find much during their foraging, and thus couldn’t give any treats to the excited and bouncy herbivore.
He wasn’t aware that a creature’s face could make such a painfully broken expression, and he was quick to decide that he never wanted to see it again.
Vexingly, his metaphorical hands were tied; a dungeon could only influence their Domain, and given the state of his system, not even that option was available to him. All he could do was glare at the rotting wooden beams that held up the roof and remember when such an issue didn’t exist. It would have taken a mere flicker of thought and a paltry sum of mana to mend the struts when he was a proper dungeon. He could even outright reinforce the structure by weaving in other materials, leaving the appearance as it was while making everything stronger than iron. Well, he once could. Working with other affinities was something that came to him after absorbing the coloured motes left behind by adventurers, and the accursed stone that stole his mana had taken that ability as well.
An attempt was made anyway, his will ordering the deteriorated wood to absorb any trace metals from the ground, but it was no use. He couldn’t feel the iron or stones beneath the shed like he would have been able to before, all but confirming his suspicion that his connection to the Earth element had slipped away. Nature was much the same; the only way he knew when Hoppit had returned most days was from the subtle noise and the essence of injury. The other attributes—Air, Flame, Luma, Shadow, and so on—were ones he never experimented with to any real extent, so it was less noticeable when he lost his grasp on them. Perhaps they faded early. Either way, all he had left was a waning cognizance of his own alignment, and that wasn’t of much use to him. If he had any appreciable mana income, then perhaps he could do something, but he wasn’t even sure what the upkeep of his current Domain might be. It was entirely possible that he was running on a deficit, which would offer a reason for why his system had been so—
[Do#$@n Ex@#d$%^&d! CRe@#r H-H-H-HoPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP—]
[Errrrrrr—]
[Sy$%^hroni%^$zing…]
[Creeee-tu— Hoppit ha@$ esttttb-hed terrrrrrr-ity f^#% t$e dun@&$n!]
- - - - -
“Well then,” he mumbled to himself, taking in the strange scene behind the shed. For one, he could actually view a small distance beyond the structure now, and two, there was a rather proud-looking Hoppit sitting on his haunches before a pair of significantly less prideful examples of the species. They looked quite a bit bigger than the lazy loaf Altier had come to know, yet they were more cut up and dejected than his furry friend. That answered where the injuries had been coming from, he supposed. Hoppit was probably running off to bash heads with whatever animal population existed here beforehand, and they had only just reached a consensus on who was in charge. Impressive.
One of Hoppit’s ears turned back towards the shed, his head following suit as he gave a lagomorph’s approximation of a ‘Look what I did!’ smile. Altier blanked out mentally, but didn’t have time to question anything before the new leader of the local rabbits imperiously pointed a paw towards the surrounding forest, which was equally surreal to witness. Most surprising of all, the…subordinates? The other ferrorabbits did as commanded, keeping their forms small as they took off into the foliage. Soft clacks came from Hoppit’s pleased shake of his head, then he too left the area with only a slightly lopsided bounce to his stride.
The man-turned-core could only gape at what he saw. Were animals always so…expressive? Had Hoppit heard him? What in the world was happening? Why had Hoppit’s personal conquest led to Altier’s Domain expanding?
He lamented not having fingers, nor temples to rub with them. His system was a garbled mess of errors and inconsistent messages, his residence was falling apart at the seams, his companion was someone who abducted him from the dungeon, yet never did anything past that, and his first real experience with an animal was turning out to be more confusing than he thought possible.
All of this was after an unknown amount of time spent commanding legions of undead to strengthen the very people who he would later learn had lied to and manipulated him, making him into a nightmarish entity just to bolster the power of their forces. He almost missed the days spent gazing out of a mossy window. At least then he knew what to expect.
Nothing made sense anymore.
= = = = =
The soft sound of roots ripping free from soil suddenly stopped, only to be followed by a dull thud of Ceele’s palm slapping against the ground to catch her fall before she landed on her rear. She righted herself with her tail and tossed the stubborn weed into a pile with the others. No matter how many mornings she did this, they always seemed to replace themselves faster than she could remove the pesky things. A sigh slipped from her muzzle as she set about grabbing the next one embedded in the vegetable garden.
Aches and spreading stiffness flared up, but went ignored as she neared the end of her duties, though she was well aware that they would come back with force once she tried to settle down for the day. The impending soreness was an inevitable byproduct of spending so much time working. Still, she knew that if it wasn’t for the kindly old couple that allowed her to call their shed home, she would still be sleeping beneath the stars while making sure nothing tried to get at her Hoppit. Even if it was just a part of the deal, they were owed this much in return, and she would see it done properly.
The sun bore down on her back as she did her usual tasks, which was a departure from the slightly overcast weather as of late. It looked somewhat promising when she checked in the wee hours of the morning, yet as her gardening duties dragged on, so too did the intensity of such a clear sky. A disappointed glance at the empty wooden bucket on the edge of the field was quickly corrected. She hadn’t thought to refill it at the river after watering the crops, and her parched throat was making its protests known, while also reminding her that there wasn’t much water left at home either. One more thing to take care of when she was done.
A gruff cough brought her attention towards the old kobold resting his back against a tree some distance away, safely shaded from the unforgiving rays beaming down. Her displeasure at having yet more to do was hastily wiped away. She was undecided on what to think of the detached audience, but looking so sour while upholding her side of the agreement wouldn’t reflect well on her. Hopefully, he hadn’t seen it. Not that she could tell if he did; he always had the same expression when he watched her work. The elder kobold’s arms were crossed, a finger tapping absently against his bicep, while his tail sat motionless on the grass, the muddy red colour of his scales standing out amongst the greens and browns. ‘Makis,’ was his name, assuming her memory served.
Makis had taken to observing her every so often, usually propping himself against this or that at a distance, the unwavering scowl being as unnerving as it was belying of his age. Somewhat loose skin sagged a bit around his jowls and neck, yet the rest of his face was still taut from how much time he spent examining red-hot metal, and his arms were marred with countless burns and cuts from his profession. He held an oppressive aura, though the crinkles around his eyes and muzzle suggested he smiled as frequently as he glowered, even if Ceele was yet to see the former. There was only the same judgmental expression aimed at her when he was around. She could only hope that he didn’t take offence to some unintended slight, but she didn’t know him well enough to say what might be considered one.
They hadn’t spoken since she took up residence on the outskirts of his land. His wife was the one to introduce them, but it was quickly established that he had no intention of being a chatty individual. He led Ceele to the shed hidden amongst the trees on the edge of the property, then dismissed her with only a grunt coming from the elderly kobold. She supposed that it was for the best. Her experience in socializing was centred around convincing others to employ her, and there hadn’t been much of an opportunity to expand her horizons while living a life on the road. If that had been the end of their interactions, she would have swiftly written the terseness off, but he appeared every few days, taking up residence beneath the shade as he watched her work, never speaking a single word. At least he didn’t openly protest her presence, yet she figured that would be easier to manage. He wouldn’t be such an enigma then.
There wasn’t a whole lot she knew about him besides his penchant for ‘supervision,’ and anything beyond that was what his wife had volunteered during the rare opportunity they had to chat. She was told that Makis worked the smithy out front, and although he had retired from doing so in an official capacity, she could still regularly hear his hammer as she tended to the garden, so she figured he kept himself busy most days. It made her wonder what was so interesting about a vagrant like herself, but when there was so little else to do, she could see how anything could be made worth the attention. It was just him and his wife living in the once bustling home, after all; the couple’s children had long since grown up and made families of their own.
She noticed his gaze shift elsewhere as she tugged yet another stubborn intruder from the soil, his arms falling from across his chest and the perpetually worn displeasure melting to that of curiosity. He wandered off shortly after, and she had to make an effort not to fall onto her tail as the pressure on her shoulders unexpectedly evaporated. Did something happen?
Ceele shook her head free of the distracting thought. It wasn’t her business if he grew bored with watching her work. As long as no one voiced any complaints, she could only assume that she was doing a satisfactory job. Maybe he finally decided that he didn’t need to be so watchful because she was doing well! That could be it, right?
A glance at the somewhat sloppily maintained garden erased the false confidence from her face, but she was just as quick to focus on finishing up, unwilling to allow darker musings to fester. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be anything else that needed her intervention. The weeds were all uprooted, the soil was appropriately dampened, and her check for pesky insects or wildlife turned up nothing to worry about. She was free for the rest of the day!
…Or she would be free—as soon as she finished the last of her tasks, anyway.
The black-scaled kobold got up from her crouch unsteadily, shivering and wincing from the pins and needles in her legs. She would have to remember to stretch more often; it was far too easy to forgo that kind of thing just to make the overall work go slightly faster. Her hand reached out to grab the pile of weeds and put them into the bucket as she ran through what needed to be done before she could properly relax. Hoppit’s food needed to be washed, she needed to bathe, and they were running low on water anyway, so she would have to visit the river. Just the thought of dragging herself into the forest again made her muscles protest, but she wouldn’t have the energy to do it later. She forced the smile that had started to fall and took the first of many steps.
- - - - -
The river wasn’t too far away, only taking a few minutes of traipsing through the dense woodlands until she reached her destination. It was an idyllic little spot. The trees thinned out to allow a grassy bank along the water, and there was an appreciably gentle slope from shallows to depths, making for a convenient place to take care of various needs. She had discovered this place during her travels, and it was where a kind older woman found her.
Ceele was washing off at the time, with Hoppit safely taking shelter from the outside underneath the bundled blankets while he waited. The trickle of the stream brushing against rocks covered the sound of footsteps, so she was rather surprised when an aged voice called out to ask if she was okay. Her first reaction was to distance herself and apologize—the why didn’t matter, but she had learned that most people were more lenient of her presence if she seemed apologetic for it, and she usually was. The elderly kobold just laughed at her scrambling, tacking on an assurance that there was no need for modesty. The woman was blind, apparently, which explained how Ceele’s blackened colours hadn’t deterred her.
Strangely enough, there was a comforting sense of ease around the one who introduced herself as Hira. It was a sort of presence that Ceele could only vaguely remember, and it drew her close enough to speak as she finished bathing. The conversation wasn’t anything profound, of course—they hardly delved deeper than surface-level small talk—but Hira lost her smile as she listened to the younger kobold. By the end of it, the old woman posed a series of questions with a dark inflection to her voice, and Ceele struggled to find an answer.
‘Are you tired of looking for something that only slips away? Are you tired of running? Do you really want to be scared and alone?’
If the silence bothered Hira, then it didn’t show. She had simply held out a hand and offered Ceele a way of life that didn’t involve wondering where she would be spending the night, nor entailed cowering in the brush while fearsome predators roamed freely. It would be a simple existence of few fortunes, but it was safe, and it was honest. All she had to do was say yes.
Ceele denied it at first, partially because she knew most people despised Hobbit's species, and partially because she couldn’t shake the offer being too good to be true. Hira was quick to propose a compromise; Ceele could take residence in the gardening shed that had fallen from use, and to satiate the nagging sense of an unfair deal, she would be put in charge of maintaining the garden itself. All Hira wanted was to ‘see’ her favourite space bloom again, since she couldn’t take care of it anymore. The black-scaled kobold stared longingly at where Hoppit was, his little body shivering from the prolonged cold and fear that he would be hurt if he left the blankets hiding him. It was with a heavy guilt that she accepted Hira’s offer, keeping quiet about her true reason for doing so.
That was in the past, however, though she thought about it every time she stopped by and saw the smooth rocks where she and Hira first met. Eventually, she might gather the courage to admit that she was housing a ‘pest’ and beg for forgiveness. Until then, she would just work her hardest to prove it wasn’t a mistake to give her a home. That her endless efforts weren’t meaningless. That Hoppit deserved to be more than a ‘pest.’
That Ceele was more than something she had no control over being.
She cleared her head a bit and started on the reason she came all this way. Her dress was rather easy to wash in the meandering water, and the trees provided a suitable place for it to dry in the sunlight and light breeze. The weeds were fine with a thorough rinse near in the shallows, but taking care of her own hygiene required her to wade farther in, though it only came up to her chest in the middle of the rill. Still, she could scrub off the soil and grime, which was all she really needed. Perhaps some simple soaps would help rid her of the pervasive black that stained her skin and scales, but that was beyond her meagre means for the time being, as well as being mere wishful thinking.
She worked past the dreary mindset that settled in when she allowed it, focusing on how serene the river was. The soft birdsong from the trees helped make for a peaceful experience, and she could feel the somewhat chilled liquid basically pour into the aches and pains throughout her body, washing away the stiffness from spending so long under the unerring sun. It was nice to escape reality and let thoughts drift while held buoyant by calmer waters.
Yet the bliss was short-lived. Even if winter was gone, spring was still far from warming the waters enough for her to laze about for too long. She dragged herself from the soft current and fetched her dress from the low-lying branch she left it to dry on. It was still a touch damp, but it wasn’t anything a bit of time in front of the fireplace wouldn’t fix.
Ceele was only a short distance away from home when she heard a gravelly male voice, but it was the flicker of sight between the trees that made her drop what was in her arms and lunge into a sprint.
Makis stood just outside the gardening shed, a ferrorabbit held at arm’s length by rusty crimson hands placed on the scruff and haunch, the rabbit’s little ears flattened as fear filled its tiny face. Her eyes widened further when she noticed the small stains of blood in his light brown fur. They found out about him. Ephemeral claws of blackness clutched at her soul, ripping the very fabric she was made of as an unseen beast smiled, eager to take yet one more thing from her. Her Hoppit. Her baby. Her everything.
“Hoppit!” she shrieked, her words all but tearing out of her throat in desperation. Frozen blood coursed through her veins, yet poured into exhausted limbs. She broke through the treeline with no regard for the branches slashing against her flesh, panic making each sting fade before it could be processed. The grizzled glare of the older kobold snapped towards her, his usual scowl picking up an actual air of intensity that she never thought could be absent, the promise of violence lurking in his eyes. She skidded to a stop a few paces away, the lump in her throat threatening to clog her airway. “S-stop hurting him!”
“Didn’t,” he barked back, his tone even yet firm. “Cuts ain’t me. I’d’a done worse if’a had ta mind ta.”
The blatant declaration snapped her from blind panic, although his apparent anger didn’t do her fear any favours. “B-but… Then how…”
“‘Hoppit.’ Named it, did’cha?” he grunted, ignoring her confusion and bobbing the rabbit to get her attention again. His gaze shifted back to the animal, the flames of ire cooling slightly. “I was wonderin’ why yer plots ain’t dead yet. Suppose this critter’s why.”
One of her hands hesitantly reached out until she pulled it back, while the other clutched at her chest to stop her heart from hammering against her ribs. She couldn’t act rashly. Not while her baby was in his arms. “I—”
“Soft thing, ain’t it,” the elder kobold commented curiously, cutting her off.
“Y-yes?” she returned reluctantly, struggling to stop herself from lashing out to reclaim the ferrorabbit in his grasp.
“Like fine silk.” Makis tipped and tilted the animal, inspecting this and that with a deep-seated frown, all while Hoppit silently looked to her for help. The pit in her stomach grew. She needed to get him back, but how?
Ceele swallowed the dense dread as she tried to formulate some sort of plan, stumbling over her words and forced smile. “I-it’s nice! Isn’t it nice?”
His eyes snapped back to burrow into her own with hatred. “Wasn’t a compliment, girly.”
“B-but you—”
He released Hoppit’s lower half to jab a claw at the various spikes around his body, plying them with minimal force. “Look. See this? These’r suppose ta break bone. ‘Specially when he’s stiff like this. Ain’t no way I should be able ta bend ‘em. He’s barely more than a walkin’ carcass—all skin ‘n stick. He’s gonna get picked up by a wandering pecker if he keeps pissin’ about out ‘ere. It’s a wonder he’s still kickin’. What’cha feeding ‘em?” His gaze dropped from her face to the rest of her, disgust curling his muzzle into a snarl. “N’ver mind. I can guess.”
She felt the dampness build at the edges of her vision, unprepared to not only worry for Hoppit's immediate health, but also to face such harsh criticism while she was so vulnerable. “I… I try to make sure he has…”
Makis crouched to release the ferrorabbit onto the ground, Ceele dropping to her knees the moment he did. The terrified lagomorph wasted no time, bolting towards his adoptive mother and leaping into her arms, shaking uncontrollably. The rust-coloured ‘bold stared as she started soothingly stroking the animal’s back.
“Yer given’ em the weeds, aren’t ya?” he stated rather than asked. She gave a teary nod when her voice wouldn’t respond for her. The old kobold drew a breath, letting it go in an exasperated sigh as he stood back up, his expression becoming more impatient than antagonistic. “What else?”
“I— Um…”
“What. Else?”
“W-whatever I c-can find!” she sputtered out. Hoppit tried to hide against her neck, prompting her to tighten her hold. She couldn’t stop herself from shrinking, the guilt and confusion pulling her head down. “R-roots, vegetables, fruits… I give them as often as I can.”
His glare continued unimpeded, his cadence cold. “That it?”
There were a million things Ceele wanted to say. A part of her wanted to beg him not to kick them out of the first safe place she had in longer than she could remember, but she couldn’t find the words. She wanted to deny the judgmental tone that stabbed into her insecurity surrounding how good of a job she was doing with Hoppit, but the deadened void in her chest swallowed her pride whole. She knew he was right to critique her. That she was failing in the only thing that mattered anymore. That the feeling of loss would return.
“I try,” she whispered through the beginnings of a sob. “I try to find more, but he needs someone around, and I have to work the garden, so there’s only so much time I can spend looking. He won’t even eat all of what I bring back…” Tears dripped off her cheeks as she aimed a desolate smile at her furry friend. “He wants to make sure I have some too.”
“Yer killin’ em,” Makis pointed out plainly, crossing his arms. “He’ll be dead ‘fore the summer at this rate.”
“I know!” she shouted, forcing back the memories of insidious murmurs that lurked in the back of her mind, eager to creep into her ears again. The hate-filled stares that followed her, the rumours that arrived in towns before she had the chance to make an impression, and the guilt that loomed over her like an executioner's axe… “I know I am… I just… I don’t know what he needs. I don’t know how to make him happy…but I try. I’m trying…”
“…Yer an idiot, girly.”
She looked up to see the elder kobold walking away without another word. Her eyes fell to Hoppit, the ferrorabbit pressing himself against her as much as he could. He was small, thin, soft, and growing weaker by the day, but he never let it keep him down for long. No, he always showed his best for her, giving her joy that wasn’t provided anywhere else. She saw the thin cuts and dried blood, though she didn’t know where they came from, nor how he got out of the shed in the first place. But that was okay. Hoppit was okay, and she had Hoppit, so everything was okay, right?
…But how much longer would everything stay okay? How much longer until her efforts weren’t enough, and she was left desperately reaching for fading memories of what once was? How much longer until she killed her baby too?
How much longer until she was alone again?
Soft footsteps drew near, pulling her from the spiralling thoughts that threatened to gnaw at her soul. Damp, blurry eyes fell on Makis returning with a small wooden crate, the older kobold stopping a few steps away. He dropped the box, a deep, rattling thud produced as it impacted the ground, making Hoppit flinch in her arms. Ceele blinked as she kept him calm, then blinked again, looking up at the man for answers.
“The name, girly,” he spat in irritation. “Ferrorabbit. Ther’ Earth aligned creatures; they need metals. They don’t care where they get it, but they need lots of it. Iron, copper, tin, lead—raw crystal, if they can find it. You name it, they’ll take a chunk out of it. It's why they bother farmers so much; the best soil’s usually top’a gem deposits, ‘n the little bastards have no issue burrowing deep to get it. Dries up the element’s energy ‘n makes the crops weak.”
Ceele’s mouth opened and closed, each unsuccessful attempt to speak making her feel smaller and smaller. More and more lost. Why was he telling her this? How did he know? What was in the—
He kicked the crate with the side of his foot. “Scraps. Don’t’cha look at me like that. I’m a smith, girly. I might be old and retired, but I still work a forge. Now, this ain’t anything pure—it’s just slag and hunks—but I’m sure the critter won’t mind. Your little gardenin’ project pays off, ‘n I’ll see which of my contacts can get in some better ore.”
She ripped her eyes away from the box and met the perpetual scowl of the old kobold, seeing a warmth behind the hostility that she had never noticed before. “…Why?”
He scoffed in amusement, which looked somewhat menacing on such a hardened expression. “Yer a touch stupid, girly, but the missus adores ya, ‘n yer a good worker.” A shadow of a smile formed on his face. “Hira spent more evenings asking ‘bout how the plots are doin’ than I got time in the day. She’d bite my head off if I noticed a critter like that sufferin’ and didn’t lend a hand. ‘Specially when it’s obvious you ain’t tryin’ ta hurt the thing.”
“B-but the garden… Isn’t he a problem?”
Makis rolled his eyes, turning with a dismissive wave of his hand. “If he was, he’da killed it by now. I’d say he’s been keepin’ the others clear ‘n got scratched up for the trouble. That’s more reason to feed ‘em right in my eyes; pay the poor bastard his dues.” He paused after a few steps, shooting her one last incredulous glance. “‘N the rabbit’s right. You’re not much better off than he is. Eat. Before the missus takes my head, preferably. I ain’t need ta hear her worryin’ over you more than I already do.”
And with that, he walked off back to the house, leaving Ceele to sit stunned on the ground with Hoppit quietly nuzzling into her.
“Hoppit…?”
The ferrorabbit perked an ear and gently licked her collar. Fresh tears ran rivulets down her face, yet they didn’t weigh her down. They felt freeing. She adjusted her hold on the rabbit and held him out, taking in the small cuts and numerous other injuries she had never noticed before. He stared back at her with worried eyes.
“You’ve been busy, huh?” she cooed quietly, doing her best to keep her voice from cracking. He shrunk in her hands. “I told you to stay home, baby. What if something happened to you? I wouldn’t know where you went, and…”
Her protests died out as she saw what was unmistakably guilt on his little face. She brought him back to her chest and cleared her throat.
“It’s alright, Hoppit. If… If you want to help momma, then we can work together, okay? Just…please don’t go off getting hurt… I don’t know what I’d do without you…” The rabbit didn’t reply, and she was pretty sure she had never heard him make any sounds that weren’t his happy little ear clacks, but she chose to interpret the nuzzling as an agreement. “Such a smart boy…”
She took a breath and wiped off the excess moisture from her cheeks, setting Hoppit down on the ground. “Let’s bring Mr. Makis’ gift in, and then I need to go get more water so we can clean you up, okay?”
He bounced his way to the door of their home, waiting patiently for her to lug the surprisingly heavy crate into the shed. He was even still behaving himself by the time she returned from picking up the things she dropped in her haste. There wasn’t a single protest from the ferrorabbit as she washed over his wounds with warm water, nor when she asked him to wait as she cut up a small salad for him using an extra portion of her rationed vegetables. Finally, once everything else was gone, she tentatively sifted through the box until she found a chunk of something that didn’t look so sharp, then offered it to Hoppit skeptically.
As startling as it was to see him bite through metal without issue, she couldn’t help but tear up again at how pleased he looked with the bizarre addition to his diet. He munched through the first piece, then stared at the box while pawing at the air, asking for more. She obliged through wet laughs, feeling lighter than she had since he first gazed at her from his burrow, alone and afraid, just like she was.
Her little baby was happy, and that made it okay.
Next
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A/N: Thank you to my Patrons, new and returning! No Thanks, Emmanuel, and Megathor join the others who get to read 1 chap ahead!

My name is Rory Fars, and my little sister, Lily Fars, is the last family I had left.
A heavy sense of dread settled over me like a suffocating blanket as I sat in the worn leather seat of Lily's old jeep. The car, a relic of our happier days, seemed to groan under our shared sorrow. Beside me, Lily, my best friend, and confidante, absentmindedly twirled a strand of her long, dark hair, which swayed gently in rhythm with the haunting melodies from the oldies station on the radio. This car had seen us through countless joyful journeys when our family was whole. Almost three years had passed since that fateful Christmas trip in Texas when our parents were tragically killed in a horrific multi-car pileup. The memory of their loss was a constant ache, a wound that never fully healed.
My dad was from Amarillo, Texas, so my parents often took trips down there, visiting the places that held so many memories for him. During one of these trips, just before Christmas, a sudden blizzard struck while they were on the freeway. The snow fell in blinding sheets, making the world outside a disorienting white blur. As they tried to slowly pull to the side, their vision obscured by the relentless storm, they never saw the car barreling toward them at least forty miles an hour. The impact was devastating, an abrupt and brutal end to their journey and, in many ways, to our lives as we had known them.
My parents were always sticklers for safety, insisting on seatbelts every time we got in the car. So, of course, they had theirs on during that fateful trip. The initial impact wasn't what killed them, the coroner explained to me. Not even the first hit from behind, which was going at least fifty miles an hour, was fatal. I had to practically shake the information out of him—they were so resistant to tell me anything at first. By the time the third car hit, with an unknown speed, their survival was already in jeopardy. The coroner said that by the fifth car, they were likely dead. But it didn't end there. Another twenty-three vehicles slammed into the back of the pile, each collision further crushing their bodies, reducing them to a horrific, unrecognizable state. Each jarring impact pushed my parents deeper into a gruesome amalgamation of twisted metal and shattered lives.
I don't know why I felt compelled to demand those details at the time, but I deeply regret it now. I wish I had never asked. Almost every night, unless I drink myself into oblivion, I am haunted by nightmares of what they endured. I dream of driving up to save them, only to be caught in the same deadly barrage of cars, ending in a twisted metal tomb for all of us.
Lily is never in those dreams. Even in my most horrific imaginings, I can't envision her being hurt. Lily is my little sister, younger by eight years and three months. Whenever I mention our age difference, I see the judgment in people's eyes, but what can I say? Our parents never stopped loving each other. They had Lily late in life; she became our shared joy, our living reminder of the love that had bound our family together.
Lily wasn't my twin in the literal sense, but ever since she was born, it felt like we shared the inexplicable connection that twins often describe. As she grew up, our bond only deepened—we acted, sounded, and even looked remarkably alike. She became my rock, especially after our parents' tragic deaths. We leaned on each other, cried into each other's shoulders, and somehow found the strength to move forward. We eventually moved in together, finding solace in a two-bedroom apartment that became our sanctuary.
Lily seemed to handle our parents' deaths better than I did, or maybe she was just better at distracting herself with technology. Even before their passing, Lily was addicted to any kind of digital screen she could manipulate. Her ability to navigate the digital world was unmatched; she was the most intelligent person I had ever met. Her intelligence was a beacon of light in the darkness that had enveloped us, a testament to her resilience and brilliance.
After my parents' death, I embarked on a quest to find my spirituality by delving into paranormal investigations. I hoped these pursuits would bring me closer to my parents in the afterlife, spiritual realm, or whatever you want to call it. Instead, it created a chasm between me and any sense of spiritual existence. Each investigation seemed to push me further from the answers I sought, leaving me feeling more isolated and disconnected than ever.
I had hoped that by exploring these paranormal claims, I would discover a way to reach out to my parents and feel their presence again. Yet, as the years have passed, this endeavor has only deepened my loneliness and sense of loss. Despite knowing how detrimental it is to my mental health, I can't bring myself to stop. The hope that the subsequent investigation will be the one that proves the existence of an afterlife and that I'll find a way to contact my parents keeps me going. It's a desperate, unrelenting pursuit for a connection that remains heartbreakingly out of reach.
I should have accepted their death and moved on like any sane person would. Instead, I let my grief fester and dragged my sister and a stranger, Mark, through my obsessive quest for answers. My relentless pursuit of the paranormal didn't just alienate me; it consumed us all, leading to their untimely deaths. My name is Rory Fars, and I am here to confess my side of the story about the missing case of Lily Fars and Mark Lawrence.
This is the truth about how my desperate search for a connection with the afterlife led to a nightmare from which none of us could escape.
To start off, no, Lily was not a student of Mark's who fell in love with him and then got jealous of me hitting on him, leading her to kill him and herself. I know that sounds ridiculous, but given some wild theories circulating online, I need to address this one specifically since it seems to be the most popular.
First and foremost, Mark Lawrence was not, nor has he ever been, a professor at a university. Lily and I met Mark at the Local Museum in Redlin, a town nestled deep in the Appalachian Mountains. He was the curator of an exhibit showcasing the history of Raven's Nest, a forgotten mining town that neither Lily nor I had ever heard of. This is where our story begins, in a place steeped in history and mystery, far removed from the convoluted theories that now cloud the truth.
We were constantly searching for new ideas for our podcast about paranormal claims. Each of our twenty-five episodes so far had concluded with a rational explanation, so when Mark told us about the curse of Harper, I was immediately intrigued.
Mark was an older man, likely in his mid-sixties, with a full head of silver hair and a beard that stubbornly clung to its youthful color, only lightly dusted with grey. He had a presence that commanded attention, and his stories about the curse were delivered with an intensity that drew me in.
On the other hand, Lily was always more interested in the technical aspects of the paranormal. She had her own theories and was determined to debunk every claim we investigated. She wasn't easily swayed by Mark's tales about the curse of Harper, but she was willing to listen and give him a chance to prove himself. Her skeptical mind constantly checked my enthusiasm, and together, we hoped to uncover the truth behind yet another paranormal mystery.
"Hello ladies, care to hear about the mysterious town of Raven's Nest?" Mark asked with theatrical enthusiasm.
Lily and I exchanged a knowing glance, trying to stifle our amusement. Despite our attempts to remain composed, a smirk played at the corners of our lips.
"We're all ears," I replied, my tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.
He sighed, almost as if he was disappointed that we said yes. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to steel himself for the task ahead. "Well, you see," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "in the early twentieth century, a man named Harper Franstein exploited many men and children in the coal mines. By the mid-1920s, he had established his own settlement in a secluded valley, which he dubbed 'The Raven's Nest.' It was never officially recognized as a town, but that's the only name we have to go off of."
I could see the beads of sweat forming on Mark's brow as he struggled to recall every detail. Despite his initial enthusiasm, he now appeared flustered, his confidence waning. Eventually, he resorted to consulting his damp and crumpled notes, a sign of his growing unease.
"Um, anyway, yeah, um," he stuttered, audibly gulping as his nerves got the better of him. Lily couldn't contain her laughter, emitting a snicker that earned us a glare from Mark.
"Hey, just relax," I interjected, trying to diffuse the tension. "We're not here to judge or intimidate you." With a gentle touch on his forearm and a chuckle, I attempted to reassure him, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort.
He paused, sharing a chuckle with me, while Lily struggled to suppress her laughter and eventually excused herself, leaving just Mark and me. Evidently, he felt more at ease with fewer listeners, so he pressed on with his narrative.
"Anyway," he resumed, "Harper held complete control over the town and the mine, and he made sure everyone was acutely aware of that fact. When the disappearances began, he tried to sweep them under the rug, attributing them to anything but his own negligence in mining practices."
"What do you mean by 'negligence in mining practices'?" I interjected, eager to delve deeper into his intriguing tale.
He looked up, clearly pleased by my question. "Yes, exactly," he affirmed. "Harper adhered to a mining technique outlined by Dwight Brunst in the mid to late nineteenth century. This method mandated only one entry and exit point into the mine."
"Wait, so they were forbidden from creating additional exits?" I pressed for clarification.
"Not explicitly," he explained. "The practice advocated for just one entry and exit as it was believed to minimize the risk of cave-ins, at least in theory. However, there were instances where miners, feeling uneasy about this restriction, took matters into their own hands and carved out what they called 'Emergency Exits' for themselves. After about half of the town started going missing, Harper couldn't take criticism about how he responded, but most people say he was losing money quickly and didn't want to live in a world where he was poor. He walked into the mine, never to be seen again, much like the cave's past victims. Visitors report seeing and hearing Harper, trying to get them to leave."
As I stood there, listening to Mark's enthralling narrative, I found myself captivated by the mysterious allure of Raven's Nest. Unable to contain my curiosity, I decided to pose a question.
"So, what does the town look like now?" I inquired, eager to learn more about the present state of this enigmatic place.
Mark's demeanor shifted slightly as he rifled through his notes, a subtle indication that he didn't have a straightforward answer to my query.
"You've never been there?" I asked, my tone softening with genuine curiosity.
He flinched as though my question had struck a nerve. "Shhhhhh... shut up," he demanded, his voice tinged with unease.
Suppressing a chuckle, I leaned in closer and whispered, "Okay, hear me out. My sister Lily and I are investigating paranormal phenomena. Your story about Raven's Nest sounds like the perfect addition to our podcast. What do you say we compensate you for your guidance? Let's say, three hundred bucks?"
He straightened up, contemplating my proposition for a few moments. Without uttering a word, he extended his hand, and I met it halfway with my own, sealing our agreement with a firm handshake.
Our journey to Raven's Nest was no easy feat. Situated a good twenty miles from town and nestled deep within a dense valley. After all of the tight turns, narrow dirt roads, and steep inclines, it took us a grueling two and a half hours to go twenty-something miles, but we finally reached the outskirts of the infamous settlement. As we stood at the edge of the "Nest," anticipation mingled with trepidation, setting the stage for the eerie exploration that lay ahead.
I glanced at my phone; the time read 11:56 pm, signaling the late hour. Sensing the exhaustion weighing heavily, I suggested we catch a few hours of rest in Lily's jeep. Mark, though visibly unsettled, remained silent from the back seat, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he slumped against the window like a sulking child.
Drifting asleep in the passenger seat, I soon found myself ensnared in a nightmare. In my dream, Mark was being dragged away into the darkness, his desperate attempts to claw his way back to safety only resulting in broken fingertips. Despite his struggles, he was powerless against the unseen force pulling him inexorably into the abyss. Suddenly, I was alone, engulfed in utter darkness, my heart pounding with fear as I ran blindly from an unseen terror that seemed to pursue me relentlessly, its malevolent presence palpable but unseen.
I jolted awake, gasping for breath, my heart racing as the remnants of dread lingered in the pit of my stomach. It was morning, and I was struggling to adjust my vision. Lily's frantic but comforting voice broke through the haze of my terror, grounding me in reality. With her comforting embrace, I gradually calmed my racing thoughts, drawing deep, steadying breaths.
As we sat there, enveloped in each other's embrace, Mark approached the driver's side window with an unexpected question, "Alright, what's for breakfast?" His nonchalant tone and casual demeanor were a stark contrast to the harrowing nightmare that had just consumed my thoughts, momentarily dispelling the lingering specter of fear that had haunted my dreams.
Lily and I both look up at him and back at each other as we burst out into laughter.
Amidst our shared laughter, Lily and I exchanged amused glances before turning our attention back to Mark.
"Ha...ha, yeah. No, but seriously, what's for breakfast? Eggs, bacon, toast, at least?" Mark pressed, hoping for a more substantial response.
His earnest inquiry fueled our laughter further, our giggles echoing through the quiet night air. Eventually, we regained our composure and stepped out of the jeep, stretching our limbs after the cramped confines of the vehicle.
Mark awkwardly moves to the side, still waiting for an honest answer. Lily tossed him a granola bar, eliciting a bemused chuckle from him. With a shared understanding, we set off on foot, embarking on the hike into the town.
The path ahead was clear: a single dirt road that wound its way from the abandoned coal mine into the heart of the small settlement. The road, now overgrown and muddy from years of disuse, bore the marks of neglect and isolation. Wary of the treacherous conditions, Lily opted to forgo the risk of getting stuck, steering clear of the decrepit road that likely hadn't seen a traveler in at least half a century.
We parked Lily's jeep at the entrance to both the mine and the town of Raven's Nest, opting to proceed on foot from there. Standing at the mountain's peak, gazing down at the desolate town below, I couldn't help but ponder the history beneath the dilapidated structures. I imagined how this valley must have once been a pristine landscape cherished by the indigenous people who roamed its lush terrain.
"Jesus, this place is more like a shit nest," Mark muttered in disgust, his disdain evident in his tone.
Lily shot me a knowing glance, silently communicating her skepticism toward Mark's assessment of the town.
Deciding to put Mark's knowledge to the test, I casually inquired, "So, what year was this area founded?"
Mark's reaction was almost defensive as if my question had caught him off guard. He hesitated momentarily before fumbling for his note cards in his pocket, a telltale sign that he wasn't as knowledgeable as he let on.
Before he could respond, I interjected with another question, "Mark, how long have you worked at the museum?"
As Mark froze, his gaze locking onto mine like a deer caught in headlights, I watched him closely, waiting for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. My narrowed eyes bore into his, silently urging him to be honest.
Finally, breaking the tense silence, Mark confessed, "Look, this is only my first week. I... I haven't had the greatest time lately, and I really need the extra money. I'm sorry I lied, but I'll help however I can."
I met his gaze unwaveringly, sensing the sincerity in his words. Clearly, he was a man in need of redemption, grappling with his own personal struggles.
"Alright, alright, don't cry too much," I teased lightly, trying to ease the tension. Gesturing towards Lily, who was busy preparing her wireless motion cameras in her backpack, I continued, "Lily and I already figured that was the case. Honestly, we're surprised you agreed to come along."
Mark remained frozen, but the tension seemed to melt away from his expression, replaced by a tentative smile. It was a moment of shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment that he was still welcomed into our expedition despite his initial deception.
"Alright, I have the cams and portable batteries to make sure the cameras and anything we have with power can last," Lily said, her voice brimming with determination.
We began our descent into the town, our hiking boots struggling against the thick, clinging mud produced by the constant light rain and years of disuse. Each step was a battle, the mud threatening to swallow our boots with every move.
After an eternity of trudging through the muck, we finally reached the town's only paved road—the main road. It had taken us only about fifteen minutes to hike down, but navigating the muddy slope had sapped our energy. We paused for a break, taking a few minutes to clean off our boots and catch our breath.
As we rested, I noticed Lily rummaging through her bag with a focused intensity. Curious, I asked, "What are you looking for?"
"I brought five motion-detecting cameras that I want to set up strategically throughout the town," she replied, pulling out one of the cameras. She walked over to the nearest building, a structure that served as a post office, police station, and fire station. She positioned the camera outside the building so it was pointed at the only road leading in and out of the town.
"We need to cover all potential points of interest," she explained, securing the camera in place. "This one will monitor any activity on the main road. We should place the other cameras around key locations like the mine entrance, the town square, and some more intact buildings."
I nodded, appreciating her thoroughness. "Good idea. We need to make sure we capture anything unusual."
Mark, having finally caught his breath, joined us. "Alright, let's get these cameras set up and see what we can find," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Look," Lily said, turning her tablet screen toward us. She waved her hand in front of the camera she had just placed. The tablet displayed five squares on the interface, each meant to show a feed from one of the cameras. Since Lily had only set up one camera so far, only the bottom right square showed any footage pointed at the road leading out of town. She stopped waving her hand, and the feed went to a blue screen.
"What happened? Did we lose connection?" Mark asked frantically, his eyes wide with concern.
Lily cackled, struggling to contain her amusement. Composing herself, she waved her hand in front of the camera again, and the bottom right square showed her hand waving once more. "It's motion-activated. It's the best way to save on battery life," she explained.
Mark seemed to relax, though he was still catching his breath after the brief panic.
I glanced at my watch, noting the time. "It's 8:30. We're behind schedule. If you want to place the rest of your cameras, we better move now," I said, walking down the street.
Lily immediately got up and followed me, with Mark struggling to keep pace behind us. We reached the market building, and Lily positioned her second camera on the side of the road, pointing up at the market.
It's not much longer before we make it to the Town Hall. I suggest Lily place a camera nearby. She nods and heads into a building across from the Town Hall labeled, "Slaughterhouse: LOCAL ANIMALS ONLY."
As Lily explores the building to find an adequate spot for the camera, I wait for Mark to catch up. While I wait, I can't help but imagine this town in its prime, picturing the streets filled with families who loved each other.
My thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sound echoing in the distance—a roar unlike any I've ever heard. It was a mix of a human screaming in pain, the roar of a lion, and, near the end, the howl of a wolf. The chilling sound sent shivers down my spine.
I jump to my feet and immediately call out, "Lily, you okay?"
There's no response from Lily, but I'm interrupted by Mark finally catching up, panting heavily.
"Holy... shit... did you... hear that?" Mark said frantically between breaths.
"Yeah, we have to find Lily," I say, bolting into the slaughterhouse. I glance back to see Mark bracing himself on the steps of the Town Hall, struggling to keep up.
As I enter the building, the stench of rotting flesh hits me like a wave, causing me to gag. The smell is too fresh to be decades old.
"Lily? Lily, where are you?" I yell, using my shirt to shield my nose from the overwhelming odor.
"Rory, I'm in here!" I hear Lily yell from a room two doors down. I pass the first door, peeking in to ensure I hadn't misheard, but I wish I hadn't looked.
Inside the first room, I catch a glimpse of what appears to be a pile of animal carcasses, their decayed bodies arranged in a grotesque display. The sight is horrifying, the flesh still disturbingly fresh. The bile rises in my throat, but I force myself to focus on finding Lily.
I rush to the room where her voice came from, pushing the door open. Lily is there, setting up the camera, seemingly oblivious to the horror in the adjacent room. Relief floods through me as I see she's safe.
"Lily, did you hear that roar?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Yeah, I heard it," she replies, her eyes wide with concern. "I was just finishing up here. Let's get back to Mark and figure out what that was." She had placed the camera in a window, pointing directly at the Town Hall.
We hurry back outside, where Mark still catches his breath as we meet between the buildings. "We need to stay together from now on," I say firmly, looking at both of them. "Whatever that noise was, it's not something we want to face alone."
"Let's check out the Town Hall!" Mark says excitedly as he slowly clambers through a broken window.
"Did he not just hear what I said?" I mutter under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief.
Lily gives me a shrug, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Guess we're heading into the Town Hall then," she says, adjusting her backpack and walking towards the broken window.
I sigh and follow suit, hoisting myself up and carefully maneuvering through the jagged glass. Inside, the air is musty, filled with the scent of old paper and decaying wood. Dust motes float lazily in the beams of sunlight streaming through the cracked windows.
The main hall is vast and eerily silent, with rows of empty chairs facing a stage draped in tattered curtains. The walls are lined with faded portraits and yellowed maps of the town, remnants of a time when this place was alive and bustling.
Mark is already at the front, examining a large, decrepit desk. "Look at this," he says, his voice echoing in the empty space. "It's like stepping back in time."
I walk over, glancing at the old papers scattered across the desk. Most are mundane—meeting minutes, maintenance logs—but one catches my eye. It's a letter dated June 1925, addressed to Harper Franstein.
"Harper, the disappearances are becoming more frequent. The townsfolk are getting restless, and I fear they may take matters into their own hands if we don't act soon. We need to find out what's causing this before it's too late."
I read the letter aloud, and the room fell silent. "Sounds like things were getting pretty tense," Lily remarks, her voice subdued.
As I'm distracted by the time capsule in front of us, Mark sneaks off.
I'm not sure how long it was before she noticed, but I saw Lily looking around before saying, "Where the hell did Mark go?" breaking me out of my trance.
I look around, turning my head in all directions, and shrug at Lily. I hear shuffling in the second room down the hall, so I slowly walk toward it.
"Mark?" I call out.
Just then, a loud crash reverberates through the building, making it sound like the whole place was about to come down.
We run in and see Mark struggling to keep himself from falling into a giant hole that must've broken under his weight. Trying not to laugh, I glance at Lily. We help him up as he dramatically falls onto his back, wheezing as he catches his breath.
Lily and I can't contain our laughter anymore as we bust out laughing hard. Startled by our sudden outburst, Mark jumps in fear. He looks around, confused for a few seconds, before realizing that we are laughing at him.
"Jesus, thanks, I guess," he says, clearly thankful but annoyed by our reaction.
After we contained ourselves, we headed back outside, exiting through the window Mark entered through. He struggles to climb out, but after Lily gives him a hand, he is safely out of the Town Hall.
"Alright, Ror, where should we put the next camera?" Lily asks me.
I stop to think momentarily, trying to picture the town's layout. "I think the only place left is the neighborhood," I respond confidently. I always talk like that with Lily. Over the years, I've realized she is the only person I can have that much confidence around. With anyone else, I'm worried about saying something stupid or wrong or how they'll view me, but with my sister, everything is easy.
As I look at the replica map of the town in its heyday from the museum, I determine that the neighborhood is to the East. "Okay, looks like we head East past the Library. Let's go." I say, walking away.
It only takes about eight minutes to get to the long strip of road that housed the town's workers. According to the map, there were fifteen houses along this strip of road.
The houses stand eerily silent, their wooden frames weathered and decayed by time. We walk down the road, our footsteps crunching on the gravel and echoing in the stillness. The air feels heavier here like the past is watching us, waiting to reveal its secrets.
"Let's put the last cameras on that house at the end of the road," I suggest, pointing to a house that looks slightly less dilapidated than the others, "another one at the last house on the other side, and the last we can save for a spot you choose."
Lily nods and heads toward the first house, pulling another camera from her backpack. She sets it up on the porch, positioning it to capture the entire street, and does the same in the opposite house. As I stand with Mark breathing hard, still unable to catch his breath since we first got here, I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. I glance around nervously but see nothing out of the ordinary.
"All set," Lily says, breaking my reverie, "Still no ideas for the last cam?" Lily asks me.
"Like I said, wherever you think it would be best. I feel like we have enough good spots and angles, so go wild with that one," I told her.
She smirked and kept walking next to me. Mark was still struggling behind, but after the town hall mishap, he was trying his best to keep up. I looked at my watch, and it read '12:30 pm'.
"Holy shit, it's already 12:30," I said in amazement, but no one else seemed fazed. It felt like we'd only been here thirty minutes, not almost four hours.
We walked back down the street. Lily and I had been discussing on the walk that she should put the last camera at the town's only stoplight in front of the Library.
As we made our way to it, I could have sworn I was seeing something moving fast past my vision in the corner of my eye. Every time I turned to look, it was gone. I chalked it up to being my imagination until Lily and Mark both experienced the same thing.
"What the fuck was that?" Mark asked as he ducked, bracing for something terrible to happen. Lily and I looked back at him and then at each other as we shrugged. It was after that that I started seeing things, too.
I confided in Lily about the unsettling visions and sounds, and she admitted she had experienced the same phenomena but had kept quiet, fearing Mark would dismiss her as paranoid.
"Well, it's probably just a cat or something," I said, attempting to downplay the situation, but neither seemed convinced.
We continued our trek, and I noticed that the more we walked, the more frequently I caught fleeting glimpses of movement in my peripheral vision. It was beginning to grate on my nerves.
Finally, we reached the light in front of the Library. As Lily mounted the camera, I felt a sense of satisfaction. We were making good progress, and it seemed like a suitable moment to start exploring the town more freely. We decided to split up and cover different sections of the town.
"Wait, we have to go alone? Why can't we stay together like you said?" Mark asked frantically, but Lily and I ignored him as we headed in separate directions. He continued to protest, but we paid him no mind. Eventually, I was either far enough away to not hear him anymore, or he had given up. Either way, I was happy to enjoy the eerie silence of the town.
As I wandered, the stillness of Raven's Nest enveloped me. With its decrepit buildings and overgrown streets, the town exuded an unsettling charm. It was as if I had stepped into a forgotten world, a place frozen in time with secrets waiting to be unearthed. The ambiance reminded me of an amusement park's haunted town section—artificially eerie yet irresistibly intriguing. Despite the creepiness, the mysterious vibe of the town kept me engaged and eager to explore its hidden corners.
I glanced at my watch again, only to find the time glaring back at me: 3:19 pm. It couldn't be right. There was no way it had been that long since I last checked. Panic seized me, and I called out for Lily, my voice tinged with urgency. She appeared beside me in a matter of minutes, her expression mirroring my concern.
"What's up, Ror? You okay?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
"How long would you say it's been since you put the last camera down?" I inquired, my heart pounding in my chest.
Lily's brow furrowed as she struggled to come up with an answer. "Uh, I don't know, thirty minutes?" she hazarded a guess.
I held up my watch, displaying the time: 3:20 pm. Lily fell silent, her eyes widening in disbelief. She was never great with time, but missing almost three hours of our memory was unprecedented.
"There's no way. Your watch must be—" Lily began, her voice trailing off as she checked her own watch, only to freeze in shock when she found it displayed the same time as mine.
"Lil, something is going on," I stated, my voice tight and apprehensive. I glanced up at the sky, my stomach churning as I noticed the clouds darkening and rolling in from all sides of the valley.
The sky closed rapidly, ominous clouds obscuring the sun as thunder rumbled ominously against the mountains.
"Mark? Mark, where are—" I began to call out, but before I could finish, Mark emerged from behind a wall, appearing as if he'd been too frightened to venture far on his own.
"We have to get inside!" Mark exclaimed urgently, his voice tinged with fear.

I have very textured skin, one side of my face in particular is bad. The other looks acceptably smooth though. This is from a whole life of not moisturizing, going through a testosterone fueled puberty, and one particularly large pit made of scar tissue.
I've picked up a moisturizing routine that I feel good about, and I've tried pore filling or blurring primers. E.L.Fs poreless and NYXs marshmallow to be specific.
On a clean face I apply the primer with my fingers and pat it dry over my cheeks were most of the texture is, and then apply foundation with a beauty blender type applicator. My foundation is Morphe filter effect light 2.
I realize I'll probably never be able to achieve porcelain smooth, especially with the scar and course facial hair I can only shave so closely. But if you have any suggestions I can try, I'll happily try it.
Also on a side note, any time I eat, I get lipstick all over my chin. Doesn't seem to matter what product. I exclusively wear black lipstick. I've tried using translucent powder over dried matte liquid, blotting bullet style lipstick, black lip stains, it all smears from my bottom lip onto my chin.

It had been less than twelve hours since the Emperor, her father, had brought her aboard his starship. Her world looked small below her, almost like she could reach out and grab it from the vacuum. She could if she wanted to, she knew, though not in the physical sense, but then again she didn't need to prove her psychic might to herself.
In those few hours she had met two of her sisters: Juno, a refined woman in blue and gold livery, as well as Ferra, who though gruff and kurt had been welcoming to her. They had both come down to greet her before returning. There was a great deal of work to be done before departing from her home system, but they had insisted on introducing their new sister to the glories of the Imperium from a place with a bit more perspective. After a time Ferra had left them for the forges, leaving just herself and Juno staring out the window at her world.
"Is it just the three of us on this ship," she'd asked, enthralled by the scale and grandeur of the ship. To think that humanity had made such beauty was still hard to accept, let alone that, if they were to be believed, Juno had said it was one of thousands of such ships. "The three of us sisters, I mean."
Juno looked down and smiled wryly. "No, sister. There is another of our siblings aboard, though she didn't want to come down to meet you. She's probably in her quarters, down where you'll be staying, if you'd like to introduce yourself. I warn you, though: she's not as, shall we say, 'dignified' as we are."
Strange, she'd thought. Why wouldn't she come to see me. Not a very welcoming type, I guess.
She'd made her way down the passages towards the living quarters, passing crew and serfs who bowed to her as she passed. Their looks of awe were nothing new to her, such was the effect she had on others. It was something she accepted as the way of things, even her sisters had been reverent and respectful when they'd met her in the city plaza earlier that day.
Her wanderings eventually had led her to the door she'd simply known had to be the one. Unlike the other doors it held bare metal aside from placed where the old decoration had been torn off. On it a single symbol had been scratched into the metal with a sharp object. A tad dramatic, she'd thought, and awfully uncouth for a daughter of the Emperor. She'd put her thoughts aside, mustered herself to be presentable, and pushed open the door.
Magnolia entered a large room that looked to have been ransacked, and beheld a savage sitting in a plush chair at its center. A fire was roaring in the hearth behind the chair, obscuring the details of the woman who sat within it. Two large beasts, what one could mistakenly call wolves, looked up from whete they lounged at the savage's feet. Their throaty growls could be felt even in Magnolia's enhanced physiology. Fascinating, she thought, studying the eyes of the beasts; faintly, she could feel intelligence staring back at her.
"Skoll! Hati! Be still, that's no way to greet your new sister," the savage said, a grin tugging at the edge of her lips. Teeth reflected in the lumens above in that grin, teeth long and sharp. The two beasts quieted and returned their heads to the carpeted floor, though their eyes never left the stranger who had entered their packmate's room. "You're the new one, yeah? He must've found you on this little excursion to whatever backwater system we're in. So, what do they call you?"
"Magnolia, they call me the Crimson Queen where I am from," she replied regally, studying the face of the warrior across from her as she did. Her dirty blonde hair was long, unkempt and braided in places, the bulk of it held away from her face with a strip of leather cord. Her eyes were the blue of glacial ice with black paint swathed across them so they stood out even more than normal. An old scar ran down her left forehead vertically down her cheek. She was dressed in the skins of animals Magnolia could not identify, muscled arms and shoulders silhouetted beneath them. Much like the beasts at her feet, Magnolia was surprised to find intelligence behind those azure orbs; in fact she was almost taken aback at the intensity of that intelligence. There was a calculating mind behind those eyes, one that many would not see fully.
"Magnolia? Pretty name, that," the savage said, grabbing an oversized drinking horn on the table beside her and draining the contents in a handful of drafts. Her lack of decorum or any standards of acknowledgement stung Magnolia's pride that tasted bitter in her mouth. "So, Magnolia, what is it that you do?"
"What do I do?" What kind of question is that coming from such a creature, she thought. Can this thing even be called 'my sister'?
"You know, what do you do," the savage said, swinging her arms out to each side. "From those of our sisters I've met we all do something, usually something different. Well, some I've met are a bit more alike each other but don't go saying that around Petra." The woman threw her head back and let out rolling, boisterous laughter that shook the air. It was hard for Magnolia not to smile at the sound, even with the bitterness of the woman's reproach still acrid on her tongue.
"Well, I am much like our father in what I can do in the metaphysical sense," Magnolia said, standing straighter with pride.
The laughter abruptly ended. A dark look came over the woman's face, the lips that once held a smile now turned up in a snarl. "What do you mean by that? Our father is the greatest man to ever exist and you claim to be his equal the second you meet him?" The beasts at her feet began to growl again, their hackles raised.
"I meant no disrespect to the Emperor of Mankind, sister," Magnolia said, shocked by the sudden aggression. The savage's mood had changed in a heartbeat, the very air in the room seemed to hum with the anticipation of further escalation. "You see I am gifted in the ways of arcana, much like our father is. I am by no means his equal, though I hope to learn to be like him."
"And how do you practice such arcana, hmm?" the woman snarled, raising herself up from her seat. Now standing she was large; not at large as Magnolia but far and above the stature of the Astartes warriors she'd seen when the Emperor had visited her on her homeworld of Prospero. She now saw twin hand axes of dark iron were strapped to each hip, the handles wrapped in worn leather with wood underneath, both of which were stained with the blood of battles long since past. The woman's right hand rested upon the haft of its corresponding axe, not yet an outright challenge but certainly a threatening gesture. "I know how malifecarum works, witch, and I've dealt with those who wield it without discipline. So, how do you do your little spells, Magnolia?"
"I-I use a number of techniques, all of which I've mastered and wield with the utmost ability... and safety, of course," Magnolia said quickly. I can kill her now if she attacks, but I don't think that would be wise. Best to find capitulation with this brute. "I am very much of the mind that wielding such forces for the good of our Crusade our father has so graciously allowed me to join."
The woman stayed standing, staring into Magnolia's eyes with burning intensity. Her body was taut, a musclebound spring coiled up ready to leap forward on a second's notice. Her blue eyes never wavered, the snarl bearing her fangs for Magnolia to see in all their obscene glory.
Then she... started to chuckle. Then she started to laugh. She laughed and laughed, doubling over before throwing her head back again so that those on the decks above could also hear her. Magnolia, stunned into silence, watched on in stupefied bewilderment. What in the Hells is she?
"You should have seen your face," the woman cried, holding her side. She mimed a frightened face, bringing about even more uproarious laughter. She sat back heavily into her seat and immediately reached for another horn of alcohol from the table beside her. Her smile had returned, but it didn't reach her icy stare. Those eyes never lost their intensity. "I think I can come to like you, in time. I hope you'll be a good sport and keep coming back around while you can. I'm sure our father will send such a powerful creature such as yourself out into the universe soon. Until then ask Juno to teach you regicide, I need someone new to play against." She leaned back, teeth glinting in the light.
"Well, thank you for seeing me today, sister. I look forward to speaking again," Magnolia said, bowing her head and turning to leave.
"Farewell, Magnolia the Red," the woman called from her seat, her beasts returning to their places.
"I never learned your name, sister," Magnolia said, turning back in the doorway to address the woman. "I wish to know what to call you when we next meet... hopefully under more pleasant and amicable circumstances."
The grin on the woman's face widened, a throaty chuckle escaping from between her clenched teeth and pointed fangs. Those eyes never left Magnolia's, almost burning bright beneath her shaggy hair and eyeblack.
"My name is Lyana of the Russ, the Wolf Queen of Fenris, Lord of Winter and Wrath, slayer of krakens and the Tamer of Morkai. But for you, Magnolia? Just Lyana will suffice."
(I've seen all the lore being posted and figured I'd throw my hat in the ring. I have ideas for how to further their story so if y'all like it let me know. C&C is always welcome. Also some italicizing is lost in this format but shouldn't hinder the reading.) Edit: spelling/grammar

Posting here to keep myself accountable 😄 any tips are welcome. Using the NHS C25K app.
09.06.24 - First run ever. C25K W1R1 Exceeded my expectations in terms of what I felt capable of, completed 6 of the 8 runs in full which was more than I expected. Walked 7th run and ran a very broken 8th to finish. 1st running stint I definitely humbled myself and pushed myself to go too fast but got a good pace going in run 2 that felt a whole lot more manageable. Obstacles: Calves started to feel really tight from run 4 and then progressed into numbness in both feet, worse in left side. Subsided when I sat and rested for a few minutes.

I had a few weird segments of dreams today. In my first dream, I was in a room with people, a few classmates showed up before I left. A german guy took notice of me, enamored. I thought about how I must ethnically look to him, wondering why he found me attractive. He let me go, giving me permission to leave the building. I saw a spanish girl who was one of my old classmates, about to give her a makeover. She asked me to give her one. I was already eyeing the orchid lipstick next to her, wanting to try it. I wanted to use it on her, wondering about what color nail polish was here. After talking with the man, I gave him a embrace, feeling his bald head against my arm. He also had a black leather coat/jacket. I asked if he liked david cross, to which he responded eagerly, amused.
I then found myself in a room with pedophiles, with other young people there. I was unsure if I'd get to escape or not. I made friends with a blonde girl that was there. She didn't seem to like me that much. I was able to convince a fat guy who was one of the pedos, to leave. I grasped his attention, somehow being too attractive or not for him. I don't remember if he liked me or not. He let me go. I found out while talking to the girl that Ben Savage had raped her in the ass back in the '90s. He tweeted about it, owning up/admitting to it. It was surprising for an actor to do that. I took off, finding the corridor in the mall that I always see in my dreams. It leads to a hall that I take, where all the '90s stores are. In the lobby, I took my favorite hall, running through it. I tried to get as far away from the nightmarish environment I came from, yearning to be safe in this safe place. I've done this before in past dreams. The mall is usually where I go if I need somewhere safe to hide.
I couldn't believe that I was dreaming, it felt so real. I thought about how I spend too much time at the mall, like a millennial/xennial. How often I can go to the mall. I don't do this in real life, the mall is one of the only good things where I live. I ran some more, nearly lucid. I don't remember how I transitioned to the next segment.
Back home, I was leaning against the wall. There was a pipe at my side. I was probably pressed up against the metal armrest on my bed. I vaguely remember a bowl of water next to me in the dream, worried about my collection of food getting stolen. I had a couple boxes of little debbie cakes. The newest one was a vintage looking box of valentine cakes or cupcakes. I recognized it from online, seeing it on google before. Late '90s - y2k era. It had pink iced on the cakes. The sprinkles were red, white, and purple. Maybe pink too. My mom gave it to me. 'Those are rare. That's the one from the late '90s..' I told her. She nodded, agreeing with what I was saying. She knew that the boxes she saw and wanted to buy were harder to find, like the brownies and cordials. This has happened in real life, except the cakes weren't a vintage formula. My brother tried to take some, after I even covered the boxes with a sheet. The icing on some of the cakes were wrinkled imperfectly. Just then, a volleyball style net took over the room. I leaned against the piping, dodging what felt like a spider on my hand. Tarantula. The room was now just me and my brother. A group of guys included, that I did not know. I ended up killing it, smacking the spider to the ground. Before I even knew what creature it was. I felt it's thorax slightly, picturing it's bottom as white with red square specks on it. I aggressively beat it away like a volley ball, killing the spider. I was shamed for it. It turns out, it was an ancient spider. A young version of my man approached me, sympathetically. I wrapped my arms around him, gently. He mentioned a list of animes to me that he liked. I saw blue popup bubbles form in the air. I don't remember what all happened. We sat and talked, until he got up and ran back towards his friends. Almost immediately, a guy that looked like a fushion of my partner and ex/my abuser, came up to me. He had very light blonde hair and glasses, like a typical nerd in a '80s movie or sitcom. He was domineering, making this the most uncomfortable segment of the day. I saw one of my old classmates again that was in one of my last dreams, who loves michael jackson. '90s makeup was placed around, lipsticks. Vintage. I grabbed at one that was in a clear tube, reading the number on the bottom. It was probably silver. So a maybelline tube. Frosted and brown colored.
I looked into a vanity that was infront of me, a full and wooden one. I think it was wood. I was looking for some liquid lipstick, hearing the guy who seemed like my partner say the words 'liquid lipstick' to someone behind me. I picked up a green lipgloss, liquid and in a small thin tube. I already had a blue-green lip stain on, satin finish. I applied the green to my lips, ruining the lipstick that was on before. And it was barely covering my full lips. It was subtle. The green streaked over my natural lip line, looking liquidy. One of of the two pictures ontop of the wooden dresser, a few feet away, was a photo of madonna. It had the words, 'natural beauty' on it. Her red lipstick was also liquid and overdrawn, clownish. Both ads had women with the same forehead length. Martian looking. There was a miniature figurine on the floor, along with wrapping papers and plastic underneath it. I was wearing a futurism outfit, with footy boots. Barberella vibes, I was getting. I heard the guy explain that he was a feminist, trying to virtual signal to the other women in the room. He mentioned creating something to spread awareness on endometriosis. Which I actually have. I took notice of the tiny figurine, unaware that he was approaching me. I immediately flipped onto my back, seeing my boots change. From futuristic and footed, to clear and translucent boots. With laces on them. He tied my boots for me, which embarrassed me. We made eye contact as he tied my boots. I laid on my back, looking at the miniature figurine, unable to get any look at it at all because it got wrapped up. Right as I turned my head to look. Across from me was another girl. I was not able to react, placed in a plastic seal. I got zipped up inside it, looking at the girl in front of me. In her own plastic sealed case. A bed inside it. Brown and 1960s era. It was like we were dolls, ready to be shipped and packaged for the toy store. I woke up after this.

Content Warning: Contains themes of drug trafficking, violence and profanity
Ain’t No Fun When The Rabbit Got The Gun
“Ay yo, Mo-Mo, maybe you should be careful what you wish for. Things is basically goin’ all right now but they can get worse for us real quick I think. We can prolly smooth this shit out. We should try and talk wit them, for starters at least. Shit.”
He just looked at me with something dark and dangerous swimming through the shallows behind his gray-green eyes.
Sure, it would have been easy to just go along with the rest’a them but my pops raised me to play chess, not checkers, from a young age and I learned a few things about thinking two or three steps ahead. I aint no dumb muthafucker. "Taking the long view", that’s what they call it. I never went to college and I don’t know my IQ score (I never even took the SAT) but I like to think I aint just some dumb nigga from down the block. I don’t know where you from but out here, where I stay, you best be at least a little bit smarter than these streets.
So when Big Mo said it was time to take out Nando and Nestor - N&N’s what everyone call them - and the rest of the crew all agreed, I was obligated to disagree. There was only 6 of us but I was still "The 10th Man", as they say, and I knew about the 10th Man Rule. (My pops taught me about that shit too.) I was Mo’s top lieutenant - we went to grade school together back at P.S. 157 in the Grove Hill section of the South Bronx - and we been together for a minute but things had gotten a little shaky between us just lately so I really didn’t want to speak out, but I had to.
“Ay yo, man. If you aksin’ me? I say we let em’ have that shit for now. We got like four more empty blocks going south that we can just stretch out into without bumpin’ up against no one and if we keep on putting out that good shit in the blue Comotosa bags these junkie muthafuckers are still gonna come to us, even if it’s a few extra blocks. Ay yo, I think you already know this, Papi. Let’s try to be smart about this shit for just a minute. Bullets is cheap but pay lawyers cost money, nigga. Big money for real.”
N&N sold coke and dope in our neighborhood of East Tremont way back before we did. Nestor’s dad was slinging out here before I was even born and his boy inherited the family business when pops got sent up to The Hill on an A-1 charge like, shit, at least 15 years back. I think that was his third. I was just a kid then but he still up there and I heard he killed a nigga and he aint comin’ back. Things was all good though until recently, when they started to push down onto the corners we been holdin’ down for years, them blocks between the Concourse and Jermone Ave just south of Tremont. Not even a courtesy convo. Those blocks always been ours but lately we’ve had beef, and now we got bodies.
When Berto got shot in the leg about a month back it set things off to start with but everyone was down with Tiny - that funny fat-ass muthafucker - and they was all heated up real good when he got smoked tryin’ to run off that corner in his baggy-ass pants. Tiny couldn’t run for shit and took three in the back. We just got home from the service with his family and all, everyone cryin’ and shit. Niggas was pissed off for real, out for blood. Six dudes, nine handguns and two cut-downs on the table, everyone ready to go out and buck.
“I done been smart for a long time, Primo. I think you know, else I wouldn’t be here now, right? But maybe this is a time for muscle tho’, not brains. What’choo think, man?” Mo raised his chin towards me. It was half a question and half a challenge. They all looked at me. I knew I was out on a real thin branch to begin with so I just backed the fuck off.
“Ay, obviously it aint my call. I’m just….tryin’ to give you sumthin’ else to think on, Mo-Mo, that’s all. Options, man. I’m wit you however it go, you already know this. Shit. Where I come from? Who my peoples?” I shrugged and lit a cigarette and then just looked down at the floor.
I knew he wasn’t gonna listen.
“All right, let’s mount up muthafuckers. We on the hunt and we aint comin’ back until we drop at least three of them bitches. We gonna start at that busy corner they got on 177th and roll on from there. I know where Nestor’s grandma live and that’s where he stay most of the time. Either there or his girl’s crib down Fordham. I know where she stay too. We gonna spill some blood. Straight up. Yo Willy-Boy, go pull the truck around and we’ll see you out front in like a minute.” He threw the keys to his Escalade to the youngest kid in the room. I had a real bad feeling about the whole thing. It was too quick. They would be waiting, ready.
We all piled into the truck and I took the passenger seat, snicked a round into the chamber of my pistol and clicked off the safety. Mo had one of the cut-down shotguns in his lap - a Benelli 12 gauge loaded with pumpkin balls - as he drove. He didn’t look at me. When we got down to 177th Street and circled the corner I was relieved to see there was almost no one out there. I just assumed the 5-0 came past and business would be back up and running in like ten or fifteen minutes. We started to circle the block.
“Yo, Mo-Mo, let me out up at the corner here. I need to grab a deck of smokes and something to drink. Y’all niggas want anything?” They were all tensed-up and no one wanted shit so I stepped out on the corner and told them I’d be right back, then I walked into the bodega.
I took my time. I stood in front of the cold case for a while and looked at my phone, even though I already knew what I wanted. Then I took a can of root beer up front and made some small talk with the counter man for a while, an old Dominican dude who had been running that place since I was just a kid. We was both Yankee fans. I bought a lottery ticket and then I bought a pack of Newports, opened it and lit one, and by the time I walked back out the store the Escalade was gone, as I knew it would be. This was a real narrow one-way street and there’s no way that Big Mo could just stay double-parked out there without blocking traffic for a minute or two. Like I said, my pops taught me to think a few moves ahead. Chess, not checkers.
I stood out there in front of the bodega for a minute, smoking my cigarette, and then I heard the pop…pop…pop of gunfire and the sound of a car crash, which is basically what I expected. Big Mo was always just a little too hot. A little too quick to get involved whenever shit was jumpin’ off.
I waited to see if the Escalade would come racing up the block towards me but when it didn’t I started to jog in that direction. I heard the police sirens right when I got close enough to see Mo’s Caddilac slammed up against a few parked cars with all the windows shot out and he was slumped over the wheel. The corner was empty by then. I turned around immediately and began walking back to my crib with my head down.
I laid low for a while, “going to ground” as they say, but I knew N&N’s hangouts better than Mo-Mo did. Shit, I knew the pizza place just off Fordham Ave where all them niggas like to eat. I just chilled at home for a minute and watched some movies on Netflix and waited til’ the time was right, about two weeks later.
“What up muthafucka, you aint get a slice for me? God damn, nigga! Who pay yo bills? You know I’m hungry like a Goddamn wolf, always. What’s up? I really gotta aks?” Nando hopped out of his Lexus with his phone in one hand and looked at his man Nestor with both palms raised in a gesture of insult and offense.
That’s when I came out of the alley behind the pizzeria with my hoodie tucked over my head and put down Nestor with three shots to his chest from my Springfield .45 from less than fifteen feet away. It’s a big gun and I knocked that muthafucker straight out his shoes, sent his pizza sailing into the gutter and the rest of them young‘uns just ran off towards the Concourse. Everyone but Nando. He was just too close, which is how I planned it, and he knew that runnin’ was pointless.
He tried to get all hard with me for a minute and I saw his eyebrows scrunchin’ up but as soon as he started talkin’ I just pistol-whipped that muthafucker in the mouth and knocked out a few of his teeth. He fell to the sidewalk and then pulled himself up against the wall.
“Sup’ Nando? Aint no fun when the rabbit got the gun, right?,” I said in a quiet, scratchy voice and then smiled and chuckled at him for a second or two while pointing the barrel of my pistol directly into the center of his face as he wiped away some of the blood running down his chin.
“Shit, I don’t think your boy Nestor’s gettin’ up over there. What’choo think, man? Looks like you fresh out of muscle.” I looked over at Nestor’s dead body lying half on the sidewalk and half in the street, his white NY Knicks jersey turned mostly red at that point and I smiled some more.
“Cuz yo, with y’all gone I think I’m taking over the rest of Tremont Ave, little man. We prolly could’a worked this shit out if you just came past to talk. But nah. Not you. You too big for talk, right? Too late for talk now though I think.”
I didn’t waste no time. I just looked around to make sure no one was witnessin’ up close and then I put two in his dome. I snatched up his pocket money, his rope chain, his rings and his Rolex (I mean, you gotta be stupid to just leave all that shit behind) but I left his Glock .40 on him and then I jogged off towards Fordham Ave with my head down and my hoodie up.
Yeah, Daddy. Fuck Nando. He got his. I paid some of the little shorties from around the way to go and shoot out them street lights the night before so I wasn’t trippin’ about no security cameras. It was dark and I ain't never heard nuthin’ about it afterwards. Nuthin’. I don’t think the police round here care about this shit really. Just one street nigga killin’ another. They prolly like it that way.
I wasn't worried. I had business to tend to anyways. I had new territory to run and I knew I might need to handle up for a minute; make sure no one got no problems with the new arrangements. It was all good though. I had peoples standing with me. I know how to muscle up, for real. Shit. People always need to get paid. It’s just a matter of money, like everything else. We can hold this down. Might be a few bodies but that’s just what they call “the cost of doing business.” Ain’t no thing.
And things was working out just fine, for a while. Only two bodies got dropped, neither of them on my team, when Spring turned to Summer and then it got real hot, real quick. Not the police, but the weather. It’s like that out here. All concrete, no trees.
I was out on East Tremont two blocks off the Concourse one day in late June, just tryin’ to stay cool in the shade and collecting some dollars and paying off some of my peoples when I seen this little kid coming down the block with a grape soda in one hand, minding his own business. I only noticed the little nigga because he looked at me for a second when he got closer. I didn’t really think shit about it. I run all these corners round here and the shorties all know whassup, so kids look at me all the time. Ain’t nothing unusual. They need work but I ain’t got enough to go round for every little nigga in the South Bronx. Shit.
I was just telling Red Light - we call him that cuz he ran a red light and hit an NYPD roller from the 48th a few years back and got his ass beat for real - that my boy Shiny would come past with a re-up package for him in about an hour or two, when all’a sudden this shorty drops his grape soda on the sidewalk and pulls a little deuce-deuce auto from his pants and before I know whassup I catch three in the gut and one skimmed the side of my neck. Little shorty motherfucker tried to put one in my head too but he was already running off at that point and he only took off the top of my left ear.
It didn’t matter. I coughed up some blood and I knew I wasn’t never gonna make it to the ER up at Misericordia. That’s the only Level-1 trauma unit round here and I seen enough niggas get dropped in these streets to know it’s your only chance when you catch a few. Shit. They take you to one of these other B-list hospitals round here they might as well just leave you where they found you.
I only ever done dope a few times back when I was just a kid but Red Light was leaning over me and aksin’ what to do, so I told him to just give me a couple of them blue bags. I didn’t have no works to shoot up with (I ain’t no dope fiend) and no time neither so I just dumped that shit out on a c-note and snorted it up. Then I told Red Light to give me two more. Shit, if I was going out slow I might as well try to kill the pain, right? I couldn’t get those next two bags down though. My throat was filling up with blood by then and I was choking on it.
I remember how everything just started to fade out around then. I seen Red Light take the bloody c-note from my hand along with the rest of the cash I spilled out onto the sidewalk. He started to hustle off down the block as the sirens got closer but then he ran back and grabbed my Patek Philippe wristwatch and my gold chain, that muthafucker. I was too weak to stop him or even to reach back for my Springfield.
I guess I forgot that Nando had a kid, or maybe I just didn’t think about it at all. I don’t know. I had other shit to worry about and I thought he was just a little nigga, and he was, but still big enough to pull a trigger though. It don’t take much.
When the EMTs came rushing up to me on the sidewalk they was aksin’ all sorts of questions but I remember the pretty white lady say, “What is your name?”
I spit out the blood in my mouth and my head was starting to feel real heavy. I just told her in a half-whisper, “Ain’t no fun when the rabbit got the gun…”
Then everything just went black.
THE END

Content Warning: This story contains themes of mental health issues, suicide and physical violence.
Prosopagnosia v. Cotard's Syndrome
My new doctor - a bright and friendly guy named Sarbjit - took the time to explain his diagnosis to me. He told me my condition was mental, not physical, but it was hard to pay attention to everything he said because my left arm was numb and rotting from the inside out. I smiled and nodded and then when I got home I looked up Cotard’s Syndrome online. Here is what Wikipedia had to say on it.
“Cotard's syndrome, also known as ‘Cotard's delusion’ or ‘Walking Corpse Syndrome’, is a rare mental disorder in which the affected person holds the delusional belief that they are dead, do not exist, are putrefying, or have lost their blood or internal organs.”
I don’t know. Sounded extremely strange to me. I just knew my left arm was dying. Maybe my liver too. I used my right arm, the good one, to open my mail. Most of it was just the normal stuff but when I saw the letter from the Supreme Court of the State of New York I got a little worried. I was here legally - a citizen for almost ten years now - and I knew my rights but being summoned to testify at this criminal trial was a bit unnerving. I didn’t like it. I just try to do my best in this life and mind my own business and not cause problems for others.
When my trial appearance date arrived two months later I took the subway downtown and left my assistant, Stavvy, in charge of the office that day. I sat there on a hard wooden bench in the courtroom all morning listening to the testimony of other witnesses but I wasn’t called to the stand until sometime after we returned from lunch. Eventually, the lawyer for the defense called my name.
She mispronounced it of course - people here always mispronounce Albanian names - so I wasn’t surprised when she called me Mister Shka-Rell-Eee. My surname is Shkreli, after the place where my family comes from, and the proper pronunciation contains only two syllables - Shkrell-Eee. I was trying to hold my left arm in place when she asked her opening question.
Where was I at the time of the murder?
“Well, Miss Anderson” - I pronounced it Ahnd-REE-Sawn, drawing out the first and last syllables while placing too much emphasis on the middle one, intentionally - “I am not entirely certain. That was over a year ago and I travel all around this city on a daily basis for my job. I work in computer repair and IT support and I have customers in all five boroughs.” (This wasn’t exactly true. I wasn’t really willing to travel to Staten Island.) We had spoken four months earlier when she informed me of the questions she intended to ask at trial but I was fairly oblique then and I intended to remain so now. I had bigger problems. Could these people not see that my left arm was rotting away?
She looked at me with a furrowed brow and briskly walked back to the defense table, picked up a leather-bound notepad and opened it.
“Mister Shkreli, when you and I spoke on June 18th you confirmed that you were just leaving a client’s office, TRG Commercial Realty, located at 223 Broome Street here in lower Manhattan at approximately 3:30pm that day, shortly before the incident at issue took place less than one block away. Is that not correct?”
I turned up my native eastern European accent a bit and repositioned my left arm in my lap. I could barely feel it at that point. What was wrong with these people?
“If you say so. Like I said, that was over a year ago and it was just another workday for me.”
She stared at me for a beat or two longer than necessary and then flashed a quick look towards the jurors before continuing.
“Well yes, Mister Shkreli” - again it was Shka-Rell-Eee - “You did tell me that and I do have a recording of our conversation, which you consented to before we began, if the court would like this to be entered into evidence?”
She looked at the judge and the judge looked at me.
“Mister Shkreli,” - he too pronounced it Shka-Rell-Eee - ‘Are you refuting the testimony that Miss Anderson is referencing during your preliminary deposition or can we just move on at this point? If counsel for the defense claims to have this recording I am fairly certain this is true. Will it be necessary to enter this recording into evidence at this time or are you willing to acknowledge Miss Anderson’s claim?”
I repositioned my left arm in my lap and nodded.
“That’s fine, Your Honor. As I said, it was just another workday for me but if Miss Anderson says that is what we discussed I am sure she is probably right.”
The judge nodded back at me. “Very good. Let’s proceed then.”
Miss Anderson walked back to the defense table and dropped the leather-bound notepad before continuing with her final question for me, looking annoyed.
“Picking up where we left off, Mister Shkreli, can you please describe for the court what happened immediately after you left the offices of TRG Commercial Realty at 223 Broome Street on the date in question, October 22nd of last year?”
I didn’t like the way that she was trying to fence me in but I wasn't particularly concerned. I had bigger problems.
“Well, like I said, I don’t really remember that day. There was nothing memorable about it. It was just another day.”
She stared at me for a few seconds then flashed a quick look at the jury box with her eyebrows raised before returning her attention to the judge. “No more questions, Your Honor.”
I was dismissed from the stand but asked to remain in the courtroom as she called her next witness; a small, frail woman from Queens about my same age named Maureen Stewart. She had an odd, twitchy nature about her. I wanted to get home. I wanted to relax.
“Miss Stewart, can you please tell the court where you were on October 22nd of last year at approximately 3:30 in the afternoon?”
The witness looked down for a moment and then glanced towards the judge before removing the slightly confused look from her face and responding in a semi-automated tone.
“Yes, Miss Anderson. At that time, I was just leaving my day shift at the FedEx Office Store (she pronounced it ‘Staw’ in her thick New York accent) on Broome Street and I was walking towards the station for the Six Train to begin my ride back home.”
The attorney for the defense took a momentary pause and then asked her next question.
“And can you please tell us what happened then?”
The witness looked down again and then looked back at the judge, then the jury and, finally, at me. I didn’t like the way she looked at me.
“Yes, as I was leaving my workplace I crossed the street and I remember walking past the entrance to a narrow alleyway where I heard a commotion taking place. It made me stop and look for a second or two but I didn’t want to get involved so I just kept on walking towards the subway and I didn’t think too much about the whole thing until the Homicide detectives contacted me a few days later after they pulled the security camera videos. I came down to the police station the day after that and gave my statement. That was just over a year ago.”
Miss Anderson took a moment to stare at me. I didn’t like that either. I adjusted my left arm in my lap. It was completely numb.
“Thank you, Miss Stewart. Can you please be a bit more specific about what you saw occurring in that alleyway?”
Again, the witness looked down at the floor and then her eyes shot all around the courtroom before she responded.
“Well,” she said, before taking a brief pause. “At first I thought it was just a little scuffle but when I saw the shorter man in the black jacket punch the tall man in the belly a few times I saw some blood starting to spread on the side of his white button-down shirt and I saw what looked like a small knife or something in the shorter man’s hand. The tall thin man looked like he was starting to fall. I remember looking around for a police officer but I certainly wasn’t gonna do anything about it by myself. I mean, what could I do? When I didn’t see no one who could help I just kept on walking towards the subway. I guess I should have done more but I was scared and I just wanted to get back to Forest Hills to pick up my daughter from daycare before five o’clock.”
I glanced at the defendant seated at the table on the left. He looked both hopeful and nervous at the same time, but in a subtle way, like he didn’t want to appear to be either. He kept his head down and never once glanced towards the jury box. Miss Anderson asked her final question.
“Thank you, Miss Stewart. And do you see the man in the black jacket who stabbed the victim, Mister Baronston, on that day last October here in the courtroom now?”
Again the witness looked down at the floor between her feet for a moment and then looked back up, right at me. I felt my blood stop flowing through my veins, or at least through my left arm and the top of my right leg, when she raised up her hand and pointed her index finger at me.
“It was that man, there,” she said.
Miss Anderson nodded and paused for a moment, satisfied, letting it sink in for the jury members. I was stunned. The stylish defense attorney in the toney, expensive clothing began walking back in my direction and she too pointed an accusatory finger.
“If it pleases the court, let the record show that Miss Stewart has identified Mister Jack Shkreli as the attacker who she witnessed in the-”
Just then the witness on the stand, Miss Stewart, pointed her finger at the judge without really looking at him and suddenly blurted out, “Or him. It might have been him too. I’m not 100% sure...”
Miss Anderson paused, clearly nonplussed, and just stared at her witness. The judge also looked baffled for a second or two and then leaned over and whispered something to his court assistant and the two of them shared a quiet smirk.
Then the witness pointed at one of the jurors, a man in the front row about my size.
“Or him. It could have been him. I’m just not sure...” Then she went silent, as did the rest of the courtroom for a few moments. The State’s Attorney, a heavy-set bald man, broke the silence pretty quickly as he rose to his feet.
“Your Honor, the State would like to move to dismiss this witness along with all previous testimony.” He paused briefly and took a deep breath, choosing his next words.
“While we appreciate Miss Stewart’s willingness to appear at trial today, I think it’s clear that her recollection of events is…uncertain at best.” He glared at the defense table for a moment, then added “I’d just like to remind the court that Mister Shkreli” - and God bless him, he pronounced my two-syllable surname correctly - “is not on trial here and if this witness cannot distinguish the man she saw that day from yourself or a random member of our jury panel I don’t think we can accept this testimony or any further testimony from this witness.”
He hung his head respectfully, with the tiniest little smile on his face. He already knew he had won this argument and the judge quickly agreed, telling the jury to disregard what they just heard. Miss Stewart was dismissed from the stand and the defense had no other witnesses left to call. Less than two hours later the jury returned a guilty verdict against the defendant on all counts and the courtroom was cleared. The sentencing hearing would take place at a later date and I was not required to be there. My right leg was starting to feel numb by then but I still managed to get back to the office in time for Stavvy to head home at the end of his shift to make dinner for his kids. His wife was killed in a car accident two years earlier. He was a hard worker and I really liked him.
That night, back at my apartment, I did some research online and learned about a rare mental disorder known as Prosopagnosia. Here is what Wikipedia had to say.
Prosopagnosia, also known as face blindness, is a cognitive disorder of face perception in which the ability to recognize familiar faces, including one's own face (self-recognition), is impaired, while other aspects of visual processing (e.g. object discrimination) and intellectual functioning remain intact.
It all sounded pretty strange to me but if the doctors say it’s real who am I to argue? Apparently it is well documented in the DSM-5. I don’t know if this is the reason why I was able to walk away from the courtroom without consequence at first but I think it is the most likely explanation. I only know that when I left my client’s offices at TRG Commercial Realty on that day just over a year ago and hailed a cab I was stunned and confused when Mister Baronston, a complete stranger with a hostile face, suddenly attacked me, claiming that it was his cab and not mine.
He was bigger than me, tall and thin but strong, and I would have just given up the cab and caught the next one but he was clearly already very angry about something. When he backed me towards the alley, shoving me and then punching me around my head and neck, my backpack tumbled open and I saw my wallet and phone and some other items come crashing out onto the pavement. It was just a stupid and unnecessary altercation, the kind of thing that probably happens on the streets of this city every day, sadly. Too many people, not enough space. I did my best to fight back and protect myself but he was a good deal bigger than me.
Then I was getting punched some more and thrown against the alley wall as people passed by, disinterested, and I just instinctively reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the pen knife that has been attached to my keychain for years. Before I really knew what was happening it was open and then my right hand was growing warm and red and slick with his blood. Then I was moving again, not looking back.
What an odd thing. I remember seeing Miss Stewart stopping there on the sidewalk to look from the mouth of the alley that day. Of all the passers-by, she was the only one who paused to look at us, at me, right as I desperately punctured Mister Baronston’s rib cage for the fifth or sixth time with my little penknife and he began to drop, but she averted her gaze after a few seconds and moved on and then I was rapidly heading in the opposite direction. This is a huge city and I never expected to see her face again. Fortunately, she was apparently never really able to see mine.
Anyway, I have more important problems to worry about at this time. Stavvy received a letter from the Manhattan DA’s office yesterday ordering him to appear at a grand jury hearing next month related to my involvement in Mister Baronston’s death. He showed it to me. More importantly, my left arm is just about gone now, my right leg is quickly starting to feel the same way and in just the last day or two I have begun feeling that strange tingling sensation in the tips of the fingers on my right hand. I know my liver is failing. It won’t be long now.
I scheduled a meeting with my lawyer in the morning to legally put the business and the rest of my assets in Stavvy’s name in my will. I have no family here anyway and almost no relatives who I remain close with back in Albania or Montenegro anymore. Stavvy is a good man and he has kids to feed and I have already lived a full life.
So yes, I will just leave it all to him and after that’s done I think I will get the old Ford minivan that we sometimes still use for the business and drive it out to the George Washington Bridge while I am still able. I know that when I stop it and get out and leave it there on the center-span I will screw up traffic badly and inconvenience a lot of people but I can’t worry about that. I have to do what I have to do. There’s no point in waiting for this to get worse. I can barely feel the fingers on my right hand and I don’t have much time left.
Maybe I should have told the truth at the trial. I don’t know. I think I was just too distracted by all of my health problems. I didn’t really have any choice at the time. I don’t have any choice now. I’m actually surprised that I lasted this long. I was certain that I would already be gone a few months ago but I feel I have done my best with this life.
As my people back in Albania say, Mos pyet si vdiq, por si rrojti!
“Do not ask how he died, but how he lived!”
THE END

Cold sores usually heal on their own in about a week, but they can be unsightly and painful. You may have heard that you can apply rubbing alcohol to cold sores to encourage them to heal faster.
Rubbing alcohol is a combination of isopropyl alcohol and water. It’s often used as an antiseptic agent.¹ It can help a cold sore dry up quickly, but it’s not recommended because it can irritate the skin.²
A cold sore, also called a fever blister, is a skin condition that appears as a small, fluid-filled blister by the mouth. Sores usually appear on the lips, chin, or cheeks. They often cause pain, itching, and a burning sensation. The sores eventually burst and dry up to form a scab.³
From when they appear to when the scab dries up and falls off, cold sores remain highly contagious and can spread through touching or sharing utensils.
The first cold sore you develop can take up to three weeks to clear. Subsequent breakouts usually clear up on their own within a week or less.

Hello everyone! I had lingual braces that caused a sunken face (cheeks and temples) and I had them removed after about a month. The dentist was not professional and left a lot of glue on my teeth and I still have some (I believe it contributed to teeth strain). After my braces I had TMJ and various symptoms my jaw would be painful and tender and « move » to the right side as if being sideways was natural. This stopped now but it clicks whenever I open my mouth and it’s very weird and uncomfortable. My sunken face has not got back to normal and I think from what I read online it’s because of the TMJ and how it strained the muscles and moved fat.
I’m very confused by the treatment options as I really don’t want more orthodontics…. Is there even a treatment? Is it forever? Has anyone had a sunken face from tmj? Thank you!

So this is my first time posting a DnD story here. I'm not sure how long I can make these but I just think this was funny and so far has been a highlight of my relatively short DnD career.
So I was DMing a 1 on 1 game a few months ago with the premise of the PC and a bunch of people getting isekaid into this fantasy world and accidentally taking over the bodies of people in the forgotten realms. One by one at seemingly random times throughout the month, a random person from our world would die horribly to get forcibly borrow the body of a fantasy character. And coincidentally, the PC was thrown into the body of an elven woman with a missing older brother, Eize, who apparently got a reputation after his disappearance. And PC believes that guy might have some clue how to get back home and plus the girl she's accidentally taken the body of, Luna, is now in her head and wants PC to carry out her task and find him. So both of their paths are set on finding this one guy. Perfect. The whole time, the fact that this elf woman was actually this random human from another world hijacking her body was kept a secret to most characters she came across. Including an NPC party member who I just kind of made to guide her through the basics of DnD.
It was her first time playing so I made the elf she was hijacking have an archer roommate friend who tries to see if she can shoot an arrow well, lift, and other stuff that would translate into different rolls at the start. Turns out the PC really liked him so he tagged along to help her find her missing brother not knowing that the person in control of her body and voice was... someone else entirely. Occasionally, since she's in the body of someone who already has a history with the weapon she's using (A bow. She picked a ranger) we'd just let any exceptionally good rolls be explained by the trained muscle memory of the woman whose body she's possessing kicking in and doing the heavy lifting for the PC. And occasionally, said elf woman would appear in her head for commentary, ideas, brief explanations and just another outlook on whats happening. Sometimes even throwing in a random wisdom save for select moments to see if the elf would momentarily take over. Small things like when PC is trying to get drunk, a failed random wisdom save would make the normally lightweight elf refuse to lift that mug to her lips for a brief moment. Or in another scenario when she successfully rescued tutorial NPC from being captured (which is a... whole other story), a failed random wisdom save made PC lunge forward and wrap him in a hug since the actual elf has known him for a long time so naturally she'd want to hug him. Just to remind that these were people with their own lives before they were bodyjacked. But these were just very fleeting moments of free will... fun for flavor though!
But anyways after meeting another isekaid soul who's using his host's magical powers as a means to steal and be a pretty shady dude, PC and Luna get a little tip that the guy isn't on the same plane thanks to a magic map that can track anyone in the world. PC used it on herself and someone she met but couldnt find the one they were after. So where to go next but PC a school of mages that can take her to other planes via a staff they have made specifically for this. But in exchange she has to jot down anything she can find to help them document the creatures since one of the students casted fireball in their library. Its a deal! The downside to this staff was that it needs 24 ingame hours to recharge so she has to make sure she knows where shes going. But... she doesnt. And theres like 16 planes in DnD.
So she guesses! And after a little bit of body horror explaining how the staff melts and sucks the PC into itself before teleporting to the other plane and spitting her out, the PC's sent to an area where only what is directly in front of her is visible. If its a little in her peripheral, it'll just disappear into a void. The main reason for this was because I got bored or lost trying to study what the actual planes are like and just kinda made something up for one of them. But after looking around what was basically a desolate landscape with a few abandoned towns, she finds this tall.... thing just kinda standing in a grassy field looking off somewhere. So of course, she decides now is as good time as any to draw the big fella. Was her first time drawing anything ingame. Nat 20. Turns out the person she took the body of is a Davinci-level artist and she didnt even know it and every single art PC wants to draw after this was an automatic masterpiece
But then, when she turns around to at least look for a resting point, theres something off. Roll perception: passed! Something following her.
Due to the nature of this area, she cant tell exactly what or who unless shes looking directly at it so she cant even sneak a glance over her shoulder. So she turns. Dex check: failed. Nothing.
Instead, her one and only party member NPC pointed behind her. And what she sees is the man of the hour; a big tall creature arching its freakishly long neck and spine downwards to get a better look at her with a huge array of masks with different expressions lining his back and somehow staring right at her. And on its face was a joyous mask described as being akin to one of those old tragedy/comedy plays.
PC asks "who... what are you."
And this is where I finally got to cement the name and the creature answers, "I am Gay... Though, this word has a varying meaning though does it not? Call me Happy."
We did not call them Happy. Because me and the PC were both 12 at heart and Gay is just funnier. So Gay is a Aasfaraaba, creatures who are basically just named an emotion so legally, by the books own admission, I can name a character in the most serious context, Gay. He's Gay. And that just makes me smile.
And despite the PC trying to keep the fact that she's hijacked someones body and the fact that the real elf is kind of just a bystander in her own mind a secret, the first thing Gay does is stare directly at the PC and ask "why are there two of you" completely ignoring the NPC party member and nudging forward the idea that Gay can see both people inside her. And no im not rephrasing that because I dont know how to for this one. Gay gives her some information on where the guy she's looking for is while politely says that Eize and his "parasite" are in a different plane entirely called Baator. Frankly, what else could you call these isekaid bodysnatches if not parasites? And as the creature explains this, the joy mask switched seamlessly to a different one with the only real sign its not just the mask physically changing was the discarded expression suddenly being in their hand. With more being added the more the conversation went on and the expressions had to change.
Despite Gay being a weird eldritch creature, me and the other player loved the dude and the fact that fact that their presence meant i could seamlessly make gay puns. Turns out the dude just like to come here to listen to the stories of lost souls that find their way to this place. And that they just like the weird phenomena like chocolate rain appearing at a certain time and shows off how magic simply touching the air makes a bunch of weird and random effects like summoning a simple ball of light and watching as it slowly morphs into pink strawberry icecream. Dude was just here for fun and noticed these people who dont belong here.
And after a short interaction, Gay said they didnt want to miss the chocolate rain starting soon and asked if PC had any other questions. The NPC party member is freaking out still and the actual elf woman forced as a bystander is weirded out but PC really likes him and says "I like him! Her? Um… do you have a gender by chance we can call you by?" Gay's response?
"What is that?"
Gay was just Gay. And Gay had no gender.
And that was it. A character made from a monster i thought was cool and a joke i thought was funny that quickly became a favorite among me and the player despite the dude not even showing up much. He did appear another time much later after this when she went to a different plane, Baator, which to my knowledge is basically Hell. And Gay was just kinda sitting by a river of blood and rapidly moving, outstretched arms. PC runs over to the mask enthusiast screaming, "Hey! Gay!" which of course got a nice out of game chuckle cause we are once again both 12 mentally, and this dude pulls out a mask with a guy cupping his chin and says "do I know you" And after a short awkward shift in tone with PC thinking she was racist thinking all weirdly tall mask collectors were the same person, Gay cackles, swaps to a mask of wild laughter, and says "Did you appreciate my joke?"
Turns out PC caught Gay sitting by a river of souls, stating they find it "relaxing." And proceeds to turn a piece of one of their shattered masks into a beach ball that gets tossed around by the flailing souls being whisked away. Gay gives her a hint, light plane lore, and directions on where to go when asked at this point, Gay was just the PCs very hands off guide when she goes to other planes so as to give her SOME kind of hint as to which direction her main goal is. But mostly sticking to a few random spots far away and immediately leaving to do whatever they came here for in the first place after a bit of talking.
And the FINAL of the three Gay events happened when PC finally found the elf's brother and bested him in an incredibly close boss fight with a very confused party member. Turns out the one hijacking Eize was body to- somehow successfully gain a pact with nearly every demon including Glasya, who in DnD lore, I think? is a big deal since shes the daughter of the big boss of DnD Satan. And the PC isnt fond of Eize's "parasite" using his body for evil. PC is upset. The elf whos watching her brother being puppetered like this, is upset. And the NPC is completely clueless as he lacks the context of wtf they're both talking about.
But loyal to the end, NPC helps his friend beat up her suddenly evil brother and with just a bit of health left, she tries to teleport them back home...? Back... to the normal DnD plane. i don't know what its called. But she forgot to bring Eize and the NPC tutorial friend. The guy she spent all this time trying to get and several irl months trying to find. Because all creatures need to touch the staff to teleport to a new plane and she thought that simply holding hands with someone else would drag them along. It didnt. So now she has to wait several in game hours while her ally is in literal Hell with the enemy while she has a measly 2 hit points left after the battle. So she goes back to the wizards who give her a health potion and casts a plane spell. I dont remember if thats a thing they can do but i did mention they could do it once months ago so PC just asked them to just teleport her there.
With limited time and limited health, she's spawned right back to where she did before in Baator with Gay still just chilling by the river of souls. PC desperately asks Gay to take her to Glasya's castle where Eize and her friend are still probably laid out. Gay just looks at her and says "...You're still here?"
And so engages an attempt to persuade Gay to help.... and it fails. Because I, in my brief and probably flawed readings, understood devils in DnD to be really into the idea of only helping IF you have something to offer, Gay says, "I must obey the rules of this plane, and that requires me to only help you in return of something of value. However there is nothing of value you have for me. So I cannot aid."
She tries again, saying that if she doesn't get to her brother soon, they could start a massive war against the other planes. Which... didnt need a roll. Aasfaraabas dont really give a hoot about any of that. So that one just automatically failed. "Oh, my sweet girls. The safety or conquer of the planes does not concern my kind." Didnt work either.
So in a huff PC was about to just leave. Then one more idea comes to mind. In the form of the elf shes hijacking asking her to trade knowledge about PCs non-fantasy homeworld. A persuasion roll here and it actually works!
So Gay yells something in another language and just stops time so they can hear her story. For Gay has Wish. Any spell is theirs to use including the one to stop time. "Very well. If you wouldn't mind, I will take my payment now." So they sit down and after telling Gay all about her own world with bikes, trains, cars, and a bunch of technology, And so Gay is content and simply snaps her around the proper location she needs to be. Not the exact area since theres no way to know exactly where to put her but Gay had a general idea and made the trek significantly shorter.
And that was it. Thats the final appearance of the most powerful random NPC i've ever created who just so happens to be a favorite among me and the player AND a very fun character to write. Half of the time, the descriptions of what the guy were just vague and confused as though I, the DM, didnt know what to call him. Saying things like "the tall.... thing stared down at you." "The masked.... thing" The word Aasfaraaba was foreign to the player since i didnt tell her. It was her first game and I wanted things to be naturally told via the game and the species name was never brought up in Gay's 3 whole appearances. Gay was just Gay. It became a little joke that "Gay was just Gay" The other player didnt want to know what Gay was. Didnt need to know Gay's gender. Gay was just Gay.

This F2P/Demo thing is the best problem to ever happen to this game. I have never witnessed this amount of cope from a gaming community in my entire life, like holy s...
This way, IM might even thought of that, people will always blame the F2P problem for the reason why the game has bad reviews and not its horrible gameplay. It protects it from the harsh truth, of why most people left this game. All these thousands of players bought the game, they had no F2P problems. Why did they leave if the game is sooooo good and not boring at all?!
The most annoying part of this dilemma is, that this community thinks the game will be received positively outside of the F2P/Demo dilemma. You are in the MINORITY if you think this game is amazing. People like SpudHunter will always say good things about the game, while complaining about it every 2 seconds. Because he NEEDS this game to pop-off. Mofo probably hasn't watched his own VoDs, where he was constantly stating how you can't out-skill people. You don't need to be a psychology major to see this either, if someone truly likes a game or likes the fact it tripples the audience numbers = money earned. He is a Quake player, you can't tell me this amount of low level of skill requirement ticks his box. The game is BORING if you come from a background of true skill, I don't care what he sais, it is all about the audience numbers.
This game had a player base, and people went away because it got super boring, on top of balancing issues. The ranked system and its focus on loot ruined the entire game too. Top 100 Ranger here, it was 0 fun from start to finish but I wanted to prove it to myself before I quit for other games.

• Sitting on the floor for minutes to cast 2-3 spells is crazy.
  • This should at least get trippled in speed, it is not like you can sit in a corner mid-fight. Or, even better, get replaced by a cooldown system where your spells recover at a medium rate as long as you are out of combat automatically. Focus should be fun gameplay, not tedious realism in a fantasy game rofl.
• HP-Pools of mobs are way too high. Headshotting a normal-level skeleton takes literally 6 hits into the head.
  • Boss HP is fine. Everything else should get a severe hit. 3 headshots to kill that same skeleton would increase the PvP engagement, and decrease the tedious levels of boring PvE.
• What? The game is hard? Bait attack -> move away -> move in for hit -> repeat - Yeah, really hard. No brother, repeating this mind-numbing sequence 6 times to kill an enemy which will guarantee not drop anything worthwhile is not respecting the players' time, it drives me nuts. You are literally losing brain cells in this game with how the PvE is designed. 90% of the mobs are dealt with the same pattern, drop nothing and take way too long to kill.
  • Decrease HP pools of mobs drastically. Bosses, and sub-bosses are fine, but a stupid ice skeleton shouldn't tank nearly as much. If these mobs need to waste so much of my time, I need them to carry good loot occasionally.
    • Yes, faster mob kill times will increase the risk of 3rd party fights. Killing 3 skeletons with 2 headshots each, is WAY MORE FUN than 1 skeleton with 6. Increase numbers then, but decrease their life.
• Why is all the crazy good loot tunneled into bosses? Why can't you get lucky and find a unique sword on a table, or on one of these damage-sponge zombies/skeletons? Just so "WOW MOMENTS" happen out of nowhere. It is fun to be surprised. Knowing nothing will drop, but you have to kill that skeleton is boring. I had EMPTY bags until I went into hell, because it wasn't even worth looting the stupid chests most of the time. This is NOT fun.
  • Add small percentages on mobs and loot locations, where you can get something crazy with a very low chance for that to happen. These dungeons are full of enemies, nobody went down there and survived. There should 100% be treasures to be found outside of boss rooms or key doors. Those should simply have a higher chance to drop, not be the only source for it.
• We don't need 10000 maps, we need combat mechanics so we can have some level of skill expression
  • Nothing more to say. Add parrying, blocking to more stuff so people can have epic fights. Don't go Mordhau levels, but get inspired by those games, do something...
• How about get some weight into the movement system? People change directions instantly. People in full plates literally put their crosshairs back and touch the floor with their backs while moving at the same time.
  • Speaks for itself. There is no reason for any character to go down into limbo stance and come back up. Wtf is this. This is a projectile-based game, and the models couldn't juke more stupidly.

Just kidding, the game has bad reviews because of the F2P wording. It completely deserved "overwhelmingly positive" ratings. What a shame such a fantastic game has negative reviews, it deserves so much more based on the current state it is in. There is no game that compares. The skill expression is even as high, former quake players feel like their brain is stimulated enough. This is amazing, but ABI is boring? Shut up, it is getting into clown levels. If Dark and Darker gets slowed down even more, we are truly entering Slowmotion The Game.
People just left the game in thousands because it was too good and they needed a break from the crazy levels of dopamine this game provided with its super engaging PvE system of run in, run out, hit.
Did I mention how amazing the Cylops boss with its falling stones is? That is peak game design right there, how can anyone quit this game. This game truly deserved fantastic reviews on Steam, but only the F2P wording got in its way, what a shame. It would definitely not have been rated negatively at all, it is that good. This game doesn't deserve bad ratings at all. Someone should challenge that streamer to go into Detail why he thinks this is so good, and have him talk about the bad stuff too. Let us see if you are honest enough to realize, that the negatives of the game outweigh the positives as of this moment, but we are surprised the game got negative reviews as if that wasn't 100% going to happen anyway. See you in the dungeon boys.
The biggest content creator in this game just went into GTA RP because he couldn't handle the immense fun he had playing this game. He needed a break from how good the game is. The more you play this game, the more it gets boring.
On a side note, now as the Steam bag is being collected: how long will it take to sell the game development to someone else ;)

Location: Michigan, Downtown Cheboygan Time: 12:00PM 11:22AM-11:47PM When: I was at a bonfire yesterday at my moms friend's house and it started to get dark as I was walking around by the road. So, I start to use my flashlight on my phone and shine down the road then boom, right on the side, a huge black mass just appears. Its got these two giant yellow eyes and it's just staring me down. So I run back to the fire and sit down next to my mom & dad, looking over my shoulder. I then decide after a couple minutes of sitting to get back up and walk farther down the road then turn on my light. As soon as I did it was very close to me, so I got a very good look at its face and back. It's got this crest on its chin, kind of like a bearded dragons beard, and Fluffy black fur, with a white bottom lip. When it turned and ran, I can't help but notice that this thing has huge butt cheeks. Like, they are GIANT, and it also has a small black tail. After this it moved across the road and kept peeking out of the woods just staring at us. I didn't tell anyone else but I got so shocked and paranoid that my mom had me go in the house.
END OF DAY 1
So in the morning I decided to go on a walk at 9:00AM in the morning, and I brought my knife and phone just to be safe. So I go to the local river and just watched the stream and stand on the bridge. And then like 2 hours later when no one was around the creature snuck up behind me and clawed my shirt right off which sent it into the river and made me fall over which then made me scrape my arm and knee really badly and my knife fall in while my phone was on the edge. After this the thing pinned me down and snarled at my face. But as soon as it heard someone biking it jumped away into someone's private property and disappeared. Some things i found out was: It has no nose, its a guy, the back feet have an extra toe as apposed to the front which have four, the tail has white fur beneath it, the mouth of this thing can stretch very wide, it's front teeth jet outwards like a set of spider mandibles, and it's tall and giant as hell.
END OF MORNING OF DAY 2
So later in the day we went to the persons house again and had another bonfire. From 10:00-12:10PM we were all hearing loud cracking and snapping from the woods so I started to take pictures. This time, I caught its eye and tail in two pictures and I showed my dad the pictures too.
END OF DAY 2
The only person who saw the full creature? Me.
The only person I told and showed the photos of this creature? My Dad.
Everyone heard it though.

At an event I (F 53) was approached by a man (50). Not particularly attractive but nothing wrong with that. Tall, a full head of hair, good teeth, just a tiny bit overweight.
We hung out together for the rest of the event and exchanged phone numbers. Personally, I would like to get to know him a little better, but I also have my doubts about a number of things and would like to know whether you see these as hard red flags why I should cut off contact.
1 He has never been in a relationship. 50 years old and never in a relationship, isn't there something wrong with such a man? He spoke to me, which many men do not dare, and it was immediately clear why he did so; he said he thought I was an attractive woman. Surely men who dare to do that have had a relationship at that age? Or would he have mustered up the courage he otherwise wouldn't have? He seemed nervous, but when I asked about it he said he wasn't nervous. He also said that he hasn't had many dates and briefly mentioned that when chatting with women on dating sites, he quickly went too far, which turned women off.
2 He gave me a lot of compliments which made me uncomfortable because it was just too much.
3 He was quite physical straight away. Within a few minutes he moved so that he was standing side by side against me. Even when we went for a drink he sat down so that he was actually sitting against me. When I left he wanted to take me to my car (yes, I actually saw why and made a defensive joke about it) and tried to walk hand in hand with me, which I refused. I told him that I thought that went way too fast. I gave him a quick chaste kiss on the mouth and then got three kisses on my cheeks (normal in my country) after which he tried to kiss me on the mouth again which I rebuffed. Luckily he left his hands at home.
So I have doubts. Should I give it a chance but make sure I'm not alone with him (I think he'll jump on me) or just not do it? Somehow I think this could just be clumsy behavior on his part and that he might actually be a really good guy. But the fact that he has never had a relationship at his age seems like a red flag to me.

When I was in elementary school, I never thought about how I looked to others. I was a loud, energetic kid and mostly acted like a tomboy. As I grew older, I started to feel more and more insecure about myself and I think around high school freshman year was the peak of it. My parents would make fun of or tease about my weight and how 'big' my face was. I have a pretty wide, square face and on top of that, I have chubby cheeks. I don't really have a jawline and my side profile looks hideous. There's not much space between my chin to my neck, and my lips perk up, making me look like a fish. Overall, my square face is my biggest insecurity. I've tried doing face slimming exercises, only to give up midway and mope about it. I've starved myself for days hoping the fat on my face would slim down, but it never really worked. I'm 5'7 and my weight is pretty normal for my height, but I've gained a few kilos after my freshman year in college. I don't have an hourglass body either. I've tried core and ab workouts, but it seems to keep me somewhat slightly toned, but my posture is terrible. I have a hunched back and a bit of a bison bump.
I feel like overall, there is something wrong with me and every time I look in the mirror I can't help but think to myself "I'm so ugly." My body proportions don't fit at all with me and on top of that, my parents make fun of me for it constantly. It was funny at first and I didn't think too much of it at all, but every single time I hear any sort of comment from them, it sounds so genuine and maybe I really do need to lose weight. I don't deserve to eat and I've accepted that I'll never be 'pretty.'
I did get some freedom away from them when I went to college because I stopped coming home, but it's summer now so that's all I hear. If I ever skipped a a day or two of working out, they'd ask me why I stopped and if I got back into it again, they'd say you're finally working out again after so long. I'm 18 and I still have to ask my parents for permission to use money or to go places with them because they need to constantly know what I'm up to. I don't think I've ever felt any sort of freedom besides moving out. Everything else, no matter how much I've asked them for my own allowance or for my own bank account, it would always lead to a big argument and no room for understanding from them at all. I need to be constantly monitored and I need to always ask for permission when buying things or going to places with my friends. College helped me escape from all of that, but my insecurities and parental restrictions have leaked into my dating life, my friend group, and just everything in general. My friend group broke apart after people in the group started dating each other and other people. We all collectively stopped hanging out and now another thing on top of my mountain of insecurities is them making fun of me for 'being the only one that's single' and that I got 'L rizz.' and 'bitchless.' Sure they say it as a joke, but it's true. I don't think I've ever had anyone like me first and it was always me chasing. I'm scared of rejection and any guy I've had the slight amount of interest in never liked me back and cut me off or I was a replacement for them to go after they've been rejected by their first choice. It would be always end from a talking stage or a situationship that wouldn't go anywhere. I'm not cute and certainly not pretty like other girls, especially my friends. I act like a tomboy and maybe I should be changing myself so that maybe I could be liked for once. I'm considered "tall" for an asian girl and I have a bit of an e-girl style. Maybe I should be changing how I dress and I should act more girly. My mom would constantly derail me about how I don't act 'feminine' and I act like a boy. Apparently not that many guys like that. I've been called 'dumb' and 'stupid' because of what I study and major in and that I'll be 'broke for the rest of my life.' My future career path will never let me make 6 figures and I should really be resorting to a man that will be successful in the future and make money. I feel so alone because of this and maybe I need better friends. Maybe sticking with my friends from high school was a bad idea and I should've gone out and met more people instead. Now I feel like it's too late for me. I'm entering my sophmore year of college and it seems like everyone has found their 'group' and hell they are cliquey. I know my friends aren't fake and they're not as toxic as what I've said here because I've had such memorable times with them all and I'm grateful I met them. But, I feel so left behind and I'm a step behind everyone in general. My friendgroup is basically dead and I feel there's not much of a reason to make the effort to hang out with them anymore, but having a group like this was my dream. I've always wanted something like this and to experience what it's like to be in a group I genuinely felt comfortable and stable in, but I should've known it would never stay like that.
I feel dumb for even thinking this, but I wish someone could just tell me what to do with myself like some sort of step-by-step instruction manual on how to 'restart' because I feel so worthless.
I don't think I'll ever get into a relationship and I've accepted that I'll probably be single for the rest of my life. I'll marry late or not even be able to marry someone at all. I've been constantly asking myself 'what's wrong with me' and that maybe I am the problem. Honestly, I've thought about the potential what if's of me dating someone. I feel scared to date anyone because I feel so insecure about myself all the time. I don't think I would be a very good partner and I might be emotionally unavailable, yet I want to be loved by someone at the same time. I've never been in a relationship before at all and want to experience it, but I've never really 'liked liked' someone either. I always think that I might be a really unloveable person and I don't even think my friends like me either. I regret being way too loud around them, I hate myself for talking so much, I hate how I can't even enjoy being with them sometimes, and I'm jealous of how carefree their parents are. For once, I wish someone would find me pretty and enjoy spending time with me instead of wanting to hook up. In a way, I feel like I don't deserve to be loved, because who would want to love something like me. I feel way to insecure and unstable of myself and I would never want whoever I'm dating to share that burden with them. I feel so closed-off all the time and I rarely ever open up about myself to anyone ever. There were times I did, but it sucked because the person I was telling didn't take it seriously and didn't really care. Sure I might not show it as much and laugh it off, put on a smile and 'act like myself', but I'll always be alone. I've been alone for a while so why am I still not used to this. I never had close friends in high school and I've only stuck to a few because I really wanted to stay friends with them. The people I thought I was close with and that I genuinely thought were 'my people' just suddenly disappeared doing their own thing and I feel so alone.

Light context my boyfriend has many brothers I’ve met a few of them and of the few One just doesn’t give you(me) the right kind of vibe and the things I’ve been told about him and the things he’s done to my boyfriend are subpar. However my bf is very loyal and trusting and protective of his family and no matter the wrong they may do he’s still going to mess with them because that’s his family. (Not my way of living) and still thinks very highly and respectable of them. Being respectful of my bf in turn im respectful of them. If relevant bf is 30 brother maybe 28 Im 26
Last time his brother came by the apartment things were normal cordial they went out for food returned when my boyfriend was in the bathroom I was in his room in bed and he comes in and sits next to me and kisses me on my cheek with a decent amount of force I thought maybe mildly drunk overly friendly, and he did it a second time. I feel like the second time was to push the boundaries of if I was going to say anything which at the time I didn’t (this man carries a 🔫) and im not looking to say anything to upset him when I can go with the flow and not cause a moment that could go poorly when he’s about to be gone. Let me just get through the interaction. I didn’t say anything to my boyfriend about it— oops on my part, but I didn’t want to upset him and get him rocky with his brother as they’ve had an on and off again relationship and he doesn’t see him that often typically and then time went on and I didn’t say anything and it was more difficult to approach and I was like maybe that scenario will just not occur again.
Soo flash forward to tonight and his brothers coming over hung out for an hour or so I was working at the table they were on the couch small talk with all was fine. They leave go to the grocery drop it off go out for food nearby return. When returning im now working on the couch it’s a large L couch and at the time I didn’t know they left for food. I thought they left for his brothers house and wouldn’t be back for the night or until much later so I was taking up a decent chunk of the couch but there was the whole other half of the L and a big leather chair and the table was open so I didn’t feel the need to move. I was sitting with my back against the side of the couch and my legs stretched out towards the the other side the junction of the L. And his brother came and sat down next to me with his back against the couch and legs stretched straight out on the L part.
Boyfriend is cooking they’re chatting I’m working (not work work just laptop things) and his brother squeezes/ pinches some of my toes really hard pulling on my foot a bit like “this little piggy went to the market” (he said that, which I gets a saying but don’t touch my feet im not 4)(and ya know what even if I was don’t go touching my feet) anyways I said “Oh don’t touch my feet” and sat straighter up pulling my feet further away, (and yes @ me maybe don’t have my feet all out on the couch when guests are over but as noted I wasn’t expecting anyone was chilling there was lots of space and opportunity not to be touching my feet. And the way this guy speaks to others he does not have social anxiety that would prevent him from asking me to move my feet if they were in his way so he didn’t need to make some round about way of pointing out my feet were on the couch to try and get time to move them. He would’ve already told me to move them. So in my perspective you’re just touching my foot to…????? What?! Be funny make small talk? It felt like be a creep! Maybe that’s a bit too judgey of me
but I said like don’t touch my feet sorry that’s a boundary of mine and I don’t full remember what he said something along the lines of I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s possible there was an apology in there. Or statement about messing around. My bf joked about how he may do something like that to their other brothers wife as they have a good platonic siblingy close relationship. (I think just trying to break the awkwardness in the air and not make him feel so on the spot, and to move the conversation onward)
they chattered about something else for a little bit and then his brother asked if he wanted to get going to his place and my bf was a little taken a back I think in part because it was later in the evening I think he thought the food and hanging out here was the plan for the night if they go back there now that it’s later what’re the odds he’ll want to drive my bf back here later or will be in a safe state to do so and Ubers are $$s he doesn’t have right now so im sure part of the hesitation is like well then am I there all night or is it going to cost more to be hanging out but he said yes— When his brother asked about leaving he said that he didn’t want to hangout here because she’s(me) being weird and he’s just trying to chill with his brother (meaning my boyfriend) as they were stepping into the hall I said to them both “Oh sorry I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable or be weird” and his brother said it’s all good. I tried talking to my bf and he was silent gathering his stuff and primarily ignored me 🫠🙃🤣😭🤪😭 They got ready and dipped no words said —in the hall behind them i was like bye love you to my bf No words said 😖😵‍💫
I texted him right after he left and said “He kissed my cheek when you were in the bathroom before and he was grabbing my feet and it was just making me uncomfortable” which i guess correction foot not feet, none the less, no response for like 50 minutes. I texted about 11:35 which was as they walked out the door so within 5 minutes of then was said interaction. And I wrote it down when I realized my foots still hurting like what the heck
11:48 toe still hurts 11:55 toe still hurts 12:07 starts to hurt less 12:45 still kinda hurts, I question if the pains in my head because why’s it still hurt an hour + later no way he squeeze / pinched /pulled twisted my toes that much right?
My bf texts back 50 minute later saying “I understand” “You don’t have to explain” But gives no other word so I can’t say that for sure means he’s in full agreement. I asked if he needed a ride back and response is tbd. (Meaning no response yet) 😪
I felt given bfs brother past weirdness I had to say something when he grabbed my toes like that and if it had been either of his other brothers that I’ve met that did that it would’ve been odd weird but they wouldn’t have hurt my toe like that and they don’t make me feel uncomfortable so I wouldn’t have responded that way (Not that they’d do that because that’s weird)
There’s a lot of other variations of these conversations with my bf that leave me like ??? Aita and I feel fairly confident I am not but the situations are always complex and intensive enough I’ll not take the time to check in with anyone else via the Reddit world but since this was shorter for me to give the rundown of and im bewildered and like leave my feet alone I have come to here, and because im tired of being told im funny acting!!! By my bf or anyone else— tonight it was him and every time people say that im like!? Im really pretty sure im not 🥵🙄
Ps I was wearing clean socks if that matters at all

When I was in elementary school, I never thought about how I looked to others. I was a loud, energetic kid and mostly acted like a tomboy. As I grew older, I started to feel more and more insecure about myself and I think around high school freshman year was the peak of it. My parents would make fun of or tease about my weight and how 'big' my face was. I have a pretty wide, square face and on top of that, I have chubby cheeks. I don't really have a jawline and my side profile looks hideous. There's not much space between my chin to my neck, and my lips perk up, making me look like a fish. Overall, my square face is my biggest insecurity. I've tried doing face slimming exercises, only to give up midway and mope about it. I've starved myself for days hoping the fat on my face would slim down, but it never really worked. I'm 5'7 and my weight is pretty normal for my height, but I've gained a few kilos after my freshman year in college. I don't have an hourglass body either. I've tried core and ab workouts, but it seems to keep me somewhat slightly toned, but my posture is terrible. I have a hunched back and a bit of a bison bump.
I feel like overall, there is something wrong with me and every time I look in the mirror I can't help but think to myself "I'm so ugly." My body proportions don't fit at all with me and on top of that, my parents make fun of me for it constantly. It was funny at first and I didn't think too much of it at all, but every single time I hear any sort of comment from them, it sounds so genuine and maybe I really do need to lose weight. I don't deserve to eat and I've accepted that I'll never be 'pretty.'
I did get some freedom away from them when I went to college because I stopped coming home, but it's summer now so that's all I hear. If I ever skipped a a day or two of working out, they'd ask me why I stopped and if I got back into it again, they'd say you're finally working out again after so long. College helped me escape from all of that, but my insecurities have leaked into my dating life and my friend group. My friend group broke apart after people in the group started dating each other and other people. We all collectively stopped hanging out and now another thing on top of my mountain of insecurities is them making fun of me for 'being the only one that's single' and that I got 'L rizz.' and 'bitchless.' Sure they say it as a joke, but it's true. I don't think I've ever had anyone like me first and it was always me chasing. I'm scared of rejection and any guy I've had the slight amount of interest in never liked me back and cut me off or I was a replacement for them to go after they've been rejected by their first choice. It would be always end from a talking stage or a situationship that wouldn't go anywhere. I'm not cute and certainly not pretty like other girls, especially my friends. I act like a tomboy and maybe I should be changing myself so that maybe I could be liked for once. I'm considered "tall" for an asian girl and I have a bit of an e-girl style. Maybe I should be changing how I dress and I should act more girly. My mom would constantly derail me about how I don't act 'feminine' and I act like a boy. Apparently not that many guys like that. I've been called 'dumb' and 'stupid' because of what I study and major in and that I'll be 'broke for the rest of my life.' My future career path will never let me make 6 figures and I should really be resorting to a man that will be successful in the future and make money. I feel so alone because of this and maybe I need better friends. Maybe sticking with my friends from high school was a bad idea and I should've gone out and met more people instead. Now I feel like it's too late for me. I'm entering my sophmore year of college and it seems like everyone has found their 'group' and hell they are cliquey. I know my friends aren't fake and they're not as toxic as what I've said here because I've had such memorable times with them all and I'm grateful I met them. But, I feel so left behind and I'm a step behind everyone in general. My friendgroup is basically dead and I feel there's not much of a reason to make the effort to hang out with them anymore, but having a group like this was my dream. I've always wanted something like this and to experience what it's like to be in a group I genuinely felt comfortable and stable in, but I should've known it would never stay like that.
I feel dumb for even thinking this, but I wish someone could just tell me what to do with myself like some sort of step-by-step instruction manual on how to 'restart' because I feel so worthless.
I don't think I'll ever get into a relationship and I've accepted that I'll probably be single for the rest of my life. I'll marry late or not even be able to marry someone at all. I've been constantly asking myself 'what's wrong with me' and that maybe I am the problem. Honestly, I've thought about the potential what if's of me dating someone. I feel scared to date anyone because I feel so insecure about myself all the time. I don't think I would be a very good partner and I feel so emotionally unavailable, yet I want to be loved. In a way, I feel like I don't deserve to be loved, because who would want to love something like me. Sure I might not show it as much and laugh it off, put on a smile and 'act like myself', but I'll always be alone. I've been alone for a while so why am I still not used to this. I never had close friends in high school and I've only stuck to a few because I really wanted to stay friends with them. The people I thought I was close with and that I genuinely thought were 'my people' just suddenly disappeared doing their own thing and I feel so alone.

Let us begin with appropriate mood music
Agent B17 - MISSION LOG [Human Standard Time]: March 19, 2137
Shadow Cabal System Expansion Lab, Remote location on Aafa
Observer W04 had impressed upon me the importance of this mission, both for the Ongoing Primary Objective, and for the Urgent Secondary Objective. After weeks of data analysis following the Seige of Mileau, the Intelligence Division of the Dossur Conspiracy had picked up chatter in the network on the location of our captured hostages.
We had narrowed down an information nexus at a newly identified Shadow Cabal System Expansion Lab on Aafa, which my team of Shadows were currently infiltrating. Posing as a maintenance crew for the ventilation system, we had opened the side of a rooftop cooling unit, and had entered the ductwork as a cleaning crew.
Once inside the ducts, we had opened our cleaning devices and pulled out the real equipment: a close link point to point FTL radio, and a spool of optical cables, along with several micro camera units, to allow the conspiracy to more closely monitor the activities in this "hidden facility".
My team split, to deploy the monitoring system through the facility, while I focused on the "secure computing chamber". Getting to those servers was deemed a high value target, and being the best available agent, I was tasked to remain invisible, and enable the "owning" of the data being stored there. The other members of my team, backtracked to the cooling unit, cleaning as they went, to maintain the cover story. They entered the maintenance cart and drove it to the meeting site, their tasks complete.
[Time advance: 3 claws]
The square conduit was dark, lit only by the evenly spaced grilles of vents. I slowly crawled along the open passage, being sure to keep my claws from skittering on the bottom. My weight, all [140 grams], was not enough to warp the metal, so I did not make any noise as I progressed. I could finally see the lit grille that was my current objective; It appeared someone had stayed in the lab to work late. No matter, my time was not of the essence, maintaining secrecy was. I would wait long enough for this dedicated individual to pack it in.
I slowed my approach as I came up to the grille, and placed the monitoring device I had brought with me, such that the fiber optic link back to the camera control pod was well hidden. The fisheye lens at the end of it would ensure that nothing could be missed by its wide field of view. The microphone would pick up even the sound of breathing from across the room, and the spread spectrum signaling link, the latest out of the Conspiracy labs, would not attract notice due to the resemblance to white noise splattered across the radio spectrum.
With the camera in place, I relaxed and watched it's feed from the display in my night vision goggles. There was still enough time for some last minute surveillance. The exfiltration at the designated landing zone would not take place until I gave the signal. The backup LZ would not be needed for this mission.
Whiskers passed, ticking away slowly, as I watched this mid-level planner work though scheduling transport of scores of victims to various Predator Disease Facilities. Eventually, the Kolshian, one Dr. Javyrius, was satisfied with his work, and made a backup copy to carry home. He popped the backup chip out of the computer and slipped the fingernail sized unit into his pocket.
Sqwek. This mission just got much harder…
I loosed the collar of my vest, and pulled the blowgun from my pack. I selected a soporific dart from my selection of ammunition, and lined up the shot. With a quick, near silent puff of my cheeks, the dart flew to its target, striking exactly where I needed it to go; the basal artery on the back of the Kolshian's neck. The Kolshian slapped at it, like it was an insect; this only helped to inject the remaining dose into his neck, which was then pumped directly into his brain. He stood up abruptly, then staggered along the desk as the drug began to take effect, finally slumping to the floor, asleep, as he was overcome by the full effects of the drug.
The risk was great, but I needed to make sure that the files on both the mainframe and the backup copy on his laptop were replaced with the data that the Conspiracy needed to be there.
I opened the ventilation grille and slipped through it into the lab. I rapelled down the monofilament cable I had attached to the floor of the vent, and, on reaching the floor, detached the carabiner from my harness.
I scurried across the floor, keeping to all fours. I approached the now somnolent Kolshian, and quickly checked the pulse at his neck, removing the spent dart. Having verified that his pulse was slow but steady, I confirmed he was in a deep sleep. I again had some time. We could not have our cover blown by an accidental death, and the ensuing investigations.
I moved down along his body, taking care to keep out of view of the lab windows. I reached into the pocket where the backup chip he created had been placed. I removed the chip, and replaced it with one of the three copies of false data that I had brought with me. I then climbed up on his back, and leapt from there to the top of the stool he had been working from, to his computer.
The machine was still logged in, and I proceeded to remove and replace the data files with the ones the Conspiracy had prepared. I made copies of the PD patient data he'd been working on while the Stellar Systems Survey data were updated to mark certain out-of-the-way star systems as having no habitable or exploitable planets. As such, these star systems would be marked as not needing any further investigation, and would fall off the Federation's radar for exploration and exploitation. This would make these systems the perfect places for hidden colonies, a prime goal of the Dossur Conspiracy.
More immediately, though, these records of which victims were assigned to what facilities would be of great interest to the "Bring Them Home" faction of the Dossur Conspiracy… This mission had uncovered a goldmine, and I intended to see that the most was made of it.
The clomping of boots in the outer hallway alerted me to the approach of the guard, and I curled up behind the screen of the laptop, out of sight of the lab windows. Score one for being one of the smallest sapients in the known galaxy. I heard the boots pause briefly, then move on.
"Central Control, this is Security One. The geeks left the lights on in Lab 4 again. Go ahead and turn that off." the guard called out over his radio.
A short time later, I pulled the memory chips with the completed copies from the laptop and dropped onto the stool, and then back to the floor. The lights in the lab went out a short time later, but I had already reeled myself back up the monofilament into the open vent and replaced the grille.
A few little viral surprises had been left while I had the laptop open; the boys in the cyber division would be ecstatic. Direct access to these Shadow Cabal servers meant that these excursions into the lab would no longer be necessary and the risk associated with getting the system data off of Aafa, were greatly reduced.
All that remained was to extricate myself. Having planted the observation microcameras, I was able to return to the rooftop and go uncover the last piece of vital equipment left by my team: A memory fiber glider.
I slipped into the glider harness, and activated the memory, which unfurled the carbon fiber from it's rolled up pliant state to the stiff aerodynamic wings I needed, and I leapt from the roof, gliding away under the darkness.
"Mama Bird, come get your fledgling." I whispered into the comand channel, and maintained my glide path over the road leading to the facility.
"Copy, Shadow. Pickup in 3, 2, 1..." came back, and the cargo bay of the stealth courier opened behind me, swallowing my glider like a fish snapping up an insect. THe tiny ship flew on, following the road out over the nearby ocean, it maintained nape of the earth altitude until well over the horizon, and then went extra-orbital, before engaging the FTL drive to the safe hold.
MISSION COMPLETE.