What started as a panicked attempt to get her over-intoxicated friend to a hospital ended up in a disastrous car crash that claimed the lives of her friends... and a careless God crossing the street. But Sammi's adventure wasn't about to end there. In her dying breath, the God curses Sammi to take up her mantel. Now with her three friends resurrected as ghosts, Sammi has to navigate the tricky world of godhood.
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I love houses. House flipping, house hunting, crazy properties in town, gorgeous exotic vacation destinations. I think in a past life I was a real estate agent. Or a carpenter. Interior designer, actually, probably. Maybe just rich?
Doesn’t matter. I love houses, and I was gonna get myself the best digs in town.
“Best digs in town might be a liiiiittle suspicious?” Joni said as I began adjusting the filters of my favorite search: Lottery houses.
“So do you… we’re looking for a house?” Cara was leaning over my shoulder, watching as I pushed the Rooms, Cost, Square Footage, and Bathrooms options as high as I could. “Cause if you don’t even own a place, I feel like saying you’d answer my questions when we got to New Olympia is kinda a blow off.”
“Not a blow off,” I said. “This probably won’t take too too long. I just don’t want to kick anyone out of their house that, like, is a regular person living their life.”
“Kick them out?”
I paused and looked up at Cara, eyes serious. “Please. The parroting. It’s making me nervous.” Then I looked back down and began sifting through various mansions, penthouses, lake houses, villas. “For sale or for rent?”
“For rent,” Blair said immediately. She propped her head up on her chin as she watched me scroll. “Then you don’t gotta kick anyone out.”
“She’s got a point,” Christopher said. “Both from a, like, humanitarian point of view but also from a logistical point of view. Whoever’s moving needs the money pronto to buy a new house and they’re gonna constantly be dealing with banks and shit. You’d need a new lie a day just to keep them off you. But with rentals and all, first off, landlords renting out ten grand a month properties are already making bank off other units. Yeah you’re screwing them over, but not as bad. They got a buncha others. Second, you pay monthly, so you really only gotta fend them off once a month.”
My thumb jammed the “For Rent/For Sale” switch, and I cranked up the rental price. “What else are we thinking for criteria?”
“Middle of town’s a bad idea,” Joni said. “Too easy to find us.”
“We don’t have to, like, hide though,” Christopher said. “Just say you’re both out on bail. I mean, the point is to find Miller and bring him to justice, right? That’s gonna take time. There’s no place far enough out of town that we could hide in for long.”
I squinted at him, tearing my eyes away from a sexy seven bedroom manor with two pools. “What?”
He sighed, as if convinced that I was in the wrong for not understanding what fuck he just said. “Like, think about it Sammi. We’re not actually gonna be able to hide. Or if we are, it’s gonna be in an alley or some shit.” He wrinkled his nose at the same time I did. “They’re cops with detectives and shit, and they think we shot someone and broke someone else out of jail. They’re gonna find us. We’ll have to lie, not hide, to avoid being put back. So may as well be local to all the action.” With this, he pointed directly at a lofty unit in the center of town.
Hmm. He brought up a valid point, so I checked it out.
A five bedroom penthouse with three terraces giving outdoor views of the entire city. Bathrooms that put the hotel to shame. Closets the size of my old bedroom. A pool deck. Appliances with fancy brand names I only ever heard on episodes of “Dream House” and hadn’t actually realized existed in the real world. Enough bedrooms for me, Cara, and the ghosts to each sleep separately.
For a moment, the enormity of it washed over me. Not just the enormity of the house, though it was enormous, but the reality of what I could accomplish. This apartment was twenty five thousand dollars a month. I’m not entirely sure I’ve made that much money in my life. Or, okay, probably around that, but that’s my point. This was the kind of unit rich people showed off in out-of-touch blogs or escapist shows about the lifestyles of famous people. And it could literally be mine if I could play my cards right. Or not even right. Just not catastrophically wrong.
Cause I was a God. And for the first time since becoming a God, I was using my abilities, my status, my familiars and shit to do something cool. Not rob a TechShack of some earpods or break in or out of a hospital.
This was a big yield.
As I had my little epiphany, Cara had taken over scrolling my phone, much to the relief of my ghosts, who’d started grumbling about the static screen while I zoned out.
“Okay.” Cara looked at me. “I’m not gonna ask any of the questions you know I want to ask, cause that’ll just piss you off.” Thank God she was learning. “So we’ll skip that for now and ask the really important question. How are you gonna get your hands on this place?”
–
Step 1 was to get to the place, which kinda sucked, given we were still at Pizza Dogs. It just wasn’t a very cool start to the coolest scheme I’d ever pulled off. Luckily Pizza Dogs closed at 9, so a solid number of people were leaving the restaurant. I was able to wave down a waitress who’d just checked off of her shift and convince her she was a taxi driver.
“You’re really loving this whole taxiing thing, huh?” Christopher said.
“At least she’s not talking like a robot trying to use slang.” I grit my teeth at the memory of Cops Cop and Taxi Service.
“No, you just told her she was mute.” Blair stuck her lip out. “That’s mean, Sammi.”
“I told her she couldn’t talk. That’s different.” I gave Cara a weak smile, but she hadn’t even commented on my ghost talking. She just buried her face in her hands. See? Learning.
Step 2 was gonna be actually getting in the unit. The listing on HouzeHunting didn’t exactly have the name of the landlord on it, so I was gonna have to get creative getting in touch with them. What it did have was ‘24 hour doorman service,’ which meant getting in would be easy peasy.
Finally we pulled up to the address I’d given our driver. 1732 East Windham Street. She leaned out the window, looking up the seventy story building.
“It’s totally appropriate for you to talk now,” I said as I scrambled out, towing Cara with me. No sense in actually making her mute for life.
The woman nodded. “You, uh, live here or visiting? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I flipped my wad of black hair over my shoulder, wincing at how singularly it moved. I shoulda combed it after my bath yesterday.
“Live here, obviously.” I gave a rich person kinda snort, nose in the air and all.
“Huh.” She looked back at me, rubbing the back of her neck as if it was sore from craning up so high. “But you needed a taxi to get here?”
“Uh.” Rich people used taxis, right? On the ladder from Sammi to Bill Gates, someone had to use them, and if I couldn’t afford a taxi normally, then the typical passenger must exist somewhere above me. “My fancy personal car got towed cause I was parking it in a fire lane.”
The woman didn’t look convinced. Not that she thought I was lying, but she still looked at me like I was dumb as dirt. “You don’t have, like, a personal driver?”
I cocked my head at her, trying to mirror Joni’s sassy tilt but probably just looking confused. “Are you offering?”
Her lips parted, and I could see her brain chewing on this question. “What do you… wait, are you being serious?”
Was I? Suddenly I wasn’t sure. Having a personal chauffeur could be kinda great. Someone always available to text or call when I needed a ride so I wouldn’t have to keep remembering where I left my car. Besides, driving made me nervous. I’d never been a particularly bad driver, no prior accidents, never really hit anything in the past, unless we’re counting bumper cars. Which we’re not, cause I’m a menace in bumper cars. But that’s like the point.
Or, no, the point was, I wanted to minimize driving, and this woman could be key. Of course, I knew nothing about her. What if she had a family at home and I told a too strong lie and she never saw them again?
But then, she wouldn’t be offering if she wasn’t serious, right? Sure I’d lied and told her she was a taxi driver, but the average every day taxi driver didn’t just ditch their families to be rich people’s chauffeur’s.
“Uh. Yeah.” I looked at the ghosts. Two thumbs up from Christopher, one from Blair, and two thumbs down from Joni. That was a total of one thumbs up, if my math was right. “Yeah, I pay ten thousand a month.” We could figure that out later.
The woman’s eyes shot open. “Okay, you’re actually fucking with me. You’re actually offering to hire me for ten thousand a month.”
I nodded. “Yeah. And you can… I mean, if you got your own place, you can stay there obviously but you could also stay in one of my bedrooms. I got some extra ones I was gonna give to the gho–uh, dogs. But I don’t have dogs, so you were next on the list. Well, a chauffeur was next on the list. But also if you’ve got–do you have a family?”
Each of my statements plunked out of my mouth like gumballs out of a broken candy machine. But she just kept nodding like this was a normal proposal.
“I mean, I had a boyfriend.” Her face flushed crimson. “Kinda embarrassing to say at my age. Thought we were–” She took a deep breath. “Thought he was the one. I’m not gonna say I was looking to have kids or anything, so I suppose age doesn’t matter, but that doesn’t mean I really want to start over. Five years wasted is all, and at my age, the well starts to dry up a bit. People look at you a bit…” She blinked. “I’m sorry, that’s not really what you asked, was it.”
It wasn’t entirely, but I was kinda hooked on the story now. “Yeah it was,” I said. “It was the first question in the interview, and you’re nailing it. Uh, you actually already passed the first round. Let’s take the rest inside.”
The woman let out a shaky breath and smoothed her frizzled hair. “Right, of course. Thank you so much!”
Cara had, thank God, kept her mouth shut this whole interview process, so I just towed my newly formed posse towards the doorman.
“My key got lost,” I said confidently and too quickly, noticing way late that there weren’t any visible keyholes anywhere on the door. “Uh…” I looked nervously at the ghosts.
“Just tell him someone said he should let you in,” Joni said.
“Yeah.” Blair smiled. “Carl from management.”
“No–”
“Carl from management said you should let me in,” I said, bowling over Joni’s protests. “I own that top penthouse suite. Suite 72. The one for rent. Or, not for rent cause I’m renting it now. And I called earlier because my key is broken and Carl your manager said–”
I stopped finally because the doorman had long since stopped frowning perplexedly at me and had just tapped his card against the door.
“Haha,” I said, verbalizing the laugh a little too hard. “Look at me, talking too much as always.”
He frowned again, but nodded nonetheless, before holding the door open for me. “Here you are.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, stepping in like a real fancy lady. “I’ve got it from here.”
And, because I was stupid and always spoke without thinking, he nodded and shut the door behind me.
So technically Step 2 ‘get in’ was done, but it was like, barely done. Like when your mom says ‘go to your room’ so you sit in the doorway. Cause I wasn’t really close to my new apartment yet, which meant a new step on the list. Step 3? Get into New Olympia.
Somehow a little sneaky ‘Step 3b, interview your new chauffeur’ had snuck on the list too, but that would be easy to finish once I got to the actual unit.
It was literally impossible to keep my jaw in its socket as we walked through the lobby. I was actually straight up speechless at how fancy it all was. There was a bar in the lobby, like this was some hotel! Given my experience with rich people things, it was either totally free or thirty bucks a glass. Still, it was pricey enough that I should probably have been charged just for looking at it. Even Cara and the driver had their mouths gaping open as they looked around, taking in the mirror shiny marbely floors and columns.
I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, and really tried to capture this moment of peace and quiet inside the lobby of my new home.
“Blair stop humming, they’ll be able to hear you.”
“I’m using my regular humming, not my banshee humming.”
“My bad, shoulda clarified. I’m able to hear you, and you’re annoying me.”
“Joni, why are you always so mean.”
“She’s, like, kinda got a point. You need to get that stick out of your ass.”
“I’ll get the stick out of my ass when Blair stops humming.”
“Bro, it’s totally more than the humming, and you know it.”
“Is singing okay?”
“No.”
“What about–”
“Why don’t you just whistle, Blair?”
“That’s not nice. You know I can’t whistle.”
“Kinda my point.”
“Hey, be nice to Blair, Joni.”
Peace and quiet were overrated anyway. We were here for schemes.
My eyelids snapped open. In front of me was a big old reddish wood desk. The sign on it said “Main desk, open 7AM to 9 PM.” Next to it was another, more temporary sign, “Partial Service After Hours. Ring Bell For Assisance.”
My eyes drifted hungrily to the shiny golden bell. It was the kind you see in movies and shows, you press down a few times to summon the waiter or whoever sits behind the desk.
“Just once, Sammi,” Joni said, already reading my mind. “You ring it once.”
“But Joni,” I whispered, hand hovering over it, “I’m a God.”
DING DING DING DING DING DING DING
Seven was overkill. The man was there after the first two rings. But I couldn’t stop. It was too satisfying.
He regarded me with pained eyes. “Ma’am, you didn’t have to ring it that many times.”
“I didn’t,” I said confidently. And just like that, the pained look vanished. He didn’t look comfortable though, probably because I didn’t look like I should be there. Time to fix that.
I jutted my chin out. “Is there, like, a master key to all the elevators and units you can give me.”
The guy blinked rapidly. “I’m… sorry, you want what?”
“Lies, Sammi. That was a request!”
This is why we needed Joni and the stick up her ass.
“Uh.”
“Tell him that… I don’t know, someone from management said you could borrow a skeleton key.”
I smiled. “Carl from management told me I could have a skeleton key. A, you know, a key that opens all the doors.” I gave Joni a panicked glance.
She motioned her finger in a repeating loop and mouthed ‘go on.’
“And.” I swallowed. “You said you would give us one.”
The concierge sighed. “I know. I know. I just.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Carl doesn’t manage my department, so if this isn’t the right call, Sandy’s gonna have my head.”
I eyed the ghosts nervously. The lie had worked but it didn’t seem to fully convince him. “Sandy said…”
“Keep it simple,” Joni hissed.
“...that you would give me a key to let me in?”
“Right, please hold a moment, it’s almost done transferring.” The concierge paused and looked at a key card on his desk. He squinted before picking it up and beeping it against a little card pad. It flashed red. “I’m sorry,” he said. “The transfer didn’t go through right. One moment please.” Then he typed on his computer for a few very long minutes while Cara, the driver, and I all stood frozen by the elevator. After several breath-holding moments of silence (yeah, now the ghosts decide to shut up) he tapped the card again and it flashed green. “There we go.”
I let out a long breath before scuttling over to pick up my card. “Thank you!” I said, a cheery forced grin on my face. “Thank you so much! Remember, this came from, uh, Sandy’s boss, and she told you not to tell Sandy, so keep it zipped!”
He mimed zipping his lips as I waved again before rushing to the elevator.
Soon we were zooming up dozens and dozens of levels as my breathing came more and more naturally. Even the elevator was fancy. All golden mirrors, which Blair was staring at, disappointed that she couldn’t see her reflection in them.
There was no one on the seventy second story and ther was only one door, at the end of a gleaming hardwood hallway. My black boots clomped awkwardly as I escorted the driver–still in a bright orange shirt with a barking dog and a slice of pizza on it–and Cara–still in an orange jumpsuit–towards the door at the end.
Once I got there, I tapped my card, and we were in.
I don’t really have good words to describe the place. Huge, for one. Empty for another. Those were the two big ones. I could have gawked at it all, but I was a little tired of gawking, so I filed away ‘tour my house and get it fitted out’ for later. Besides, I had all my gear and shit still in my car… somewhere. I’d get it up here eventually and then the real decorating could start.
But there was a first step. Well two first steps. Okay, technically only one could be the first step, so we’ll do that first.
I waved Cara to join me in one of the bedrooms.
“I’ll finish your interview in like, fifteen minutes,” I said to the driver. She nodded.
“Okay,” I said, closing the door behind me and plopping down on the ground.
Cara stood awkwardly, eyeing the big ass empty room with a big ass empty bathroom off to the side. “Okay,” she said, still standing. “Do I need to–”
“No no, I said I would…” I trailed off, lips pursed and confused. “You wanted… Or… I was gonna tell you–”
“Oh shit yeah.” Now suddenly Cara was on the floor across from me, leaning in. “You’re telling me what the fuck is going on.”
My breath rushed out in a long woosh as I contemplated how to start this. Joni had made a snarky comment at one point like ‘pushing this off won’t make it easier’ and I’d responded with a ‘I’ll come up with a plan while I delay’ which of course I hadn’t, and now I was angry cause Joni was right.
“So the problem is,” I said, starting slowly. “Everything I tell you, you’ll believe.”
“Obviously,” Cara said, believing me instantly.
“But no one else but me knows what’s going on. So I can’t help but…” I trailed off again, noticing Cara nodding animatedly. This wasn’t working. I wanted her to believe me cause she fully understood and accepted my story, not cause of magic. But to get that, I couldn’t be the one to tell her, and the only other people who knew about my godliness were the ghosts and–
I smacked myself on the face. Sammi, you’re a genius. An actual, mensa accredited whiz kid.
“Blair,” I said, smiling. “I think I’ll offload this to you.”
Blair frowned, scrunching her nose up for a moment, before pointing at herself. “Me?”
I nodded confidently. Blair knew everything but lacked the Verity Tongue. This would be a sinch.
“Cara, how do you feel about a little ghost story?” I shivered a bit, getting goosebumps at my own words. Now that lead-in was brilliant. ‘A little ghost story’, who came up with that? I was getting smarter by the minute.
“Oooooooooooooh.” Blair zoomed around the room, and Cara leapt to her feet.
“What the fuck?”
“Bewaaaaare moooooortal,” Blair droned, pitching her voice low. “For the story you’re about to hear is both dreadful and awwwwwful. Fear for your soul for those who hear this story are cursed and will find themselves in an early–”
“Blair!” I shouted. “Stop that. What the fuck? Literally not like that. Like literally anything but that. You need to start with–”
“Yo, Sammi, dawg, chill.” Christopher patted my back. “We’ll help her out.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to taint the story with your god powers,” Joni said. “We’ll sort Blair. You interview the pizza waitress.”
Suddenly my genius felt like the opposite of genius. Yeah, delegation was important, but I did want to hear what the ghosts were telling Cara. Didn’t I need to know? What if they told her something totally wrong and stupid? Or what if they said something mean? Like what if they really played up the part about my reckless speeding? What if they lied about something? Made me look incompetent.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Christopher just gave me an icy pat again.
“Look, you’re gonna jump in to correct something we say, and it’s just gonna fuck up Cara.” He gave me a serious look, one of the most serious looks he’d given me since this whole ordeal. Which was honestly kinda stupid cause of all the times to pull out there ‘seriously, Sammi’ face, he was picking now? Was this really the right time for this? “Seriously, Sammi. We got this.”
I didn’t believe him at all, but they were absolutely right about me likely fucking this up with my motor mouth. No way was I sitting still while Joni made snarky comments about me, like, eating gross bagels or telling cops to steal poop.
“All right,” I said. “Come out when you’re done. Or if you need hands at all. Like if she passes out and you need to check for a pulse.”
“Are you talking to me?” Cara said.
“No. I’m talking to the ghosts.” And with that I closed the door.
Looks like Sammi's got a house! And maybe a minion or two on top of her familiars. Let's see how Cara takes all of this...

-Jack
Every kid growing up in Gympie in the early 90- 2000s knew about the Love Tunnel.
The love tunnel was located over the hill from the skatepark on the Riverbank. It was a massive storm water drain filled with spray paint and lore unbound throughout the generations; the glowing dick, whose name is the furthest in, the people who live inside, the bull shark that lived under the bridge just outside, all that fun stuff.
It collapsed in the late 2000’s in a flood and was eventually rebuilt, but it was all fancy, modern, safe and not the same. Back in the day it had decades of graffiti, crumbling cement, jagged metal pole framing bent and jutting out from the sides. You know, real character.
I remember when I was just a kid at the skatepark and I spotted a bunch of other kids at the metal grating of a drain. I joined them and gazed down a few metres to some older teenagers, they had trekked through this “love tunnel” under the massive hill all this way. Badass I thought. LEGENDARY.
I talked about it at school, about this mysterious “love tunnel”. It was in view from the road when I crossed the bridge everyday on my daily commutes from the backseat of mums car.
I would gaze down at the weir and see the top of the love tunnel, sliightly hidden from view by a hill. It fascinated me.
I learned all these mysterious tales; this person slept with this person there, someone took a dump at the entrance and some other girl stood in it and now she had a nickname, someone found needles, another found a homeless woman and she screamed at them. I was pumped for the next weekend. I was going to go see it for myself.
I saw too much.
Early Saturday morning I was riding my push bike through town and toward destination adventure! I started out at the skatepark, met up with a few of the regulars, a mix of 5-19y/o everyone on the half pipes and ramps had a code of comrady that I've never found in a public place anywhere else and you always had someone to hang with.
My usual crew slowly arrived through the morning, a bunch of other 10/11 year old misfits like myself and we headed on our first place on our journey, Hungry Jacks. Now we never technically stole, we found a loophole…
One or two would order a stunner meal, then we'd take privilege of the free refills and fill up the empty plastic 4L juice jugs that we all had prepped in our backpacks. Coke and red Fanta for days.
So we got our supplies and headed behind HJ, past the volleyball courts and headed down a bush track down to the river.
We walked along the banks to loop back down to where the bridge was, we passed a few teenagers fishing and a couple other groups of kids swinging from rope swings into the water or huddled in groups smoking things they shouldn't.
We eventually arrived at the weir and the stormwater drain that I had been so intrigued by. The Love Tunnel.
Climbing up the hill and seeing it up close when you were just a tiny human. It was like staring into the dark abyss of hell.
There was a small stream of water flowing out of the big grey cylinder and it was covered in multicolored quotes and crude pictures that was very eye opening at the time.
Our voices echoed as one by one we climbed up the grassy, eroding clay edging that was the makeshift path into the mouth that probably changed each time it rained. Each of us had pulled out clumps of grass that we thought were handholds. If you fell, you fell down an embankment of slippery jagged rocks poking out from the fast flowing river.
So were inside and began to walk a couple of metres in then around us the light abruptly disappeared into complete darkness. And I remember the way the sounds traveled you could feel it through your chest it was mesmerizing.
I remember bravely stepping into the darkness and taking five or six steps in. That thick darkness was something else, I ran myself back to that entrance and light, heart pounding from the adrenaline.
This turned into a game of who could go in the furthest. This stopped when one of the boys screamed out from the darkness in pain.
He was back in the light teary eyed a few moments later wet on one side and feigning a laugh. He'd slipped down and cut open his knee, it was hilarious. We teased him saying he was going to get gangrene and leprosy and a myriad of other ailments we had no idea actually was.
We decided to bail, we forgot torches, we didn't plan that part out too well, and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon being little menaces.
We met the next day with a game plan, we had an array of various sized torches, from small ones that didn't do anything, one of those giant rectangle ones that was our main light source, a couple of handheld ones, one which flickered and the other stopped working before we even got into the tunnel.
We got in safely and tested out our torches and began walking into the unknown. It was pretty much the same as before, but there were strange things, old makeshift bongs, shopping bags, random shoes, a shopping trolley, a mattress that was all moldy and rotted. I still to this day do not understand how people managed to get that shit in there.
We passed a section where someone had thrown a can of red paint all over the walls, the amount of those ‘S’ symbols was more terrifying.
We saw light up ahead, we were passing our first grate. It was kind of daunting looking up towards it. Even getting on each other's shoulders we couldn't reach. There was an array of broken beer bottles and glass was everywhere, under the grate was a dead snake amongst some debris.
We had a debate whether to go further, we ended up going on at least until the next grate, we came to a fork, one seemed like a smaller offshoot so we stuck to the bigger side.
There were more offshoots and we came to a part where the big pipes split off into three under another grate. We gazed up hoping to get an identifier of our location, but all we could see was blue. We called out to see if we could get anyone's attention.
“Cooooweeee” we shouted in unison, the sound echoing in all directions.
We were laughing and having a grand time until something shouted back, something that still shakes me to my core to this day.
Some yobbo crackhead chick in her fifties with this ratty pink tank top that was all stretched half showing her saggy titties. “What the fuck you think you little cunts doing down here.” This chick screeched at us through her few teeth or something along the lines of that. She just exploded at us with a barrage of threats.
We were shocked silenced moving together to make one mass.
One of the boys screamed when a skinny guy emerged from the darkness. He was covered in tattoos with scraggly hair and a beard, he was all crazy eyed and pantless.
Someone yelled out to run and it was all the motivation we needed.
We could hear them screaming and the guy ran after us, we heard glass shattering behind us, they must have thrown a bottle. We were legging it.
We got split up in our running, I fell down, tripping over some rubbish, one mate stayed back to help me, this left us without a torch. We came across the same kid who slipped over yesterday, he had slipped down again cutting open his other knee. He wore those with badges of honor at school, but he was blubbering like a baby at this point.
He had the flickering torch and it disoriented us more than helped, as it turned on and off every time he took a step. I thought we were lost but we found the other grate, then eventually the entrance.
The others were already climbed down, we were soon by their side panting in the grass and wiping away our tears so the others couldn't see.
We ran back over to the skatepark and immediately told every kid we saw.
That was the wildest shit we had ever experienced. Sure we’d seen crazy up on the street but to have it jump out at you from the shadows in a storm water drain was next level.
By that night one of the other boys had spilled to his parents about our escapades and a couple of other mums got phone calls, three got in trouble, two of us didn't, including me.
I never stepped foot back in that tunnel, I swam at the weir more times than I could count afterwards though and never encountered anyone else too sketchy.
I think only a year or two later I saw on the news people dying in storm water drains somewhere else in Aus, we never realized how dangerous they could be back then. Lol.
Every party or get together afterwards it was a crowd favorite to bring up. It was a good conversation starter and joined the tales amongst my friends of the weird shit that happens in ‘Helltown’.
Growing up and looking back they were probably just homeless drug addicts freaked out from a bunch of children's voices yelling out coooweee from the underground where they thought they were alone. That would have scared the shit outta me if I was them.
Good times.
.VJ - in 2012 two women tragically passed away when they were exploring the tunnels and got swept away when a wild storm cell hit. Pictures of the upgraded version of the 'love tunnel' can be found in corresponding news articles.

Yelena watched the doorway through which the young Ashfield scion had just left for a few moments more as she pondered over the meeting they’d just had.
Precocious indeed, she thought with a smile.
A smile that only grew as her gaze flitted over to her childhood friend’s… complicated expression.
It seemed young William’s decision had come as much a surprise to his instructor as it had come to Yelena herself.
“He said no,” Joana said after a few moments.
Yelena nodded slowly as she reclined into her friend’s surprisingly comfortable chair. Given what she knew of Griffith, the Queen had half expected the thing to be harder than mithril when she first sat down - but it was surprisingly plush.
“Not without good reason,” Yelena said as she shifted about.
“Good reason?” Joana scoffed. “You offered him your daughter’s hand.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You offered all of your daughter’s hands.”
Yelena rolled her eyes at her friend’s tone. “And if he’d accepted I would have considered it a bargain.”
A minor scandal and the loss of a number of future marriage alliances was ultimately nothing compared to the ability to raid Kraken nests. And that was ignoring that a hypothetical means to slay kraken in deep water would undoubtedly have other applications.
Applications that would be incredibly useful in the months to come.
Though, perhaps, if young William’s plans came to fruition that coming storm could be delayed by a few years.
“…Are things truly that desperate?” Joana asked quietly.
“They’re not great,” Yelena admitted, massaging the bridge of her nose. “The Blackstones… I knew they’d resist the reforms, but to threaten open rebellion?”
She’d not expected that. Not even in her wildest dreams. Lindholm’s only human ducal house had ever been wilful, and their antipathy towards the Orcs who dwelled in the Sunlands was well documented, but surely even they could see why Yelena was doing what she was.
Regardless of what her critics said, her decision to end the slave trade in Lindholm was most assuredly not the result of ‘useless sentiment’.
Far from it.
Oh certainly, Yelena had no love for the institution of slavery, for reasons both moral and financial, but that wasn’t why she’d created the abolitionist movement.
With each passing year, the Homeland’s view of Lindholm grew ever more covetous. More and more the Sun Empress and Desert Khan’s rhetoric centred less on their ongoing deadlock with each other and more on the idea of ‘recovering wayward territories’.
Certainly, that could have been a reference to Old Growth as much as Lindholm, but Yelena doubted it.
Lindholm might have scared the Solites and Lunites into retreating by choosing to engage them over deep water, but ultimately those victories were borne of a lack of conviction on the part of her foes.
Had the two disparate fleets been willing to risk the permanent loss of a small portion of their mithril cores in order to achieve victory and push towards the mainland, they may well have been able to flip the allegiances of a number of Lindholmian houses.
Oh, certainly, the high elves and dark elves of Lindholm might have prided themselves on maintaining the strictures of equality that defined the Old Empire – but with either Solite or Lunite airships hovering over their family castles, she couldn’t help but wonder if some might reconsider their stances on their fellow elves.
No, while an invasion of Lindholm would certainly be costly, it was entirely within the realm of reason.
An invasion of the Old Growth however?
There was a reason the Wood Elves – as they named themselves – had managed to remain independent of both the other two, much larger, nations despite sharing land borders with both of them.
Their strange magics might have been muted and weak beyond the borders of their home, but within their territory they were nigh invincible.
No, if there was to be any ‘reclamation’ of any territory belonging to the old Aelven Imperium, it was likely to come from Lindholm.
To that end, the kingdom could ill afford to keep feeding people and iron into the meatgrinder that was the Sunlands. Could ill afford to keep orcs that might otherwise be valuable mages laboring in the fields under the eyes of watchful taskmasters.
Lindholm needed every mage-knight it could get – regardless of the color of their skin or the shape of their ears.
Yet after year and years of negotiations and attempts to shift public opinion on the matter, the North still remained willfully ignorant of that truth.
“Surely they know that even if they win, any kind of division between us will just see the Homeland sweep over them?” Joana said.
Yelena shrugged. “I have a feeling that Duchess Blackstone’s victories over both the Lunites and Solites has left her confident of repeating the fact should it come to that.”
Foolhardy, in her eyes, but no one had ever accused the Blackstones of being meek. Nor being incapable of backing up their sometimes insane claims. What other House could lay claim to an ancestry that had once beaten back the Old Imperium at the height of its power?
Where other human nobles had been sworn into the Old Imperium on their knees with their battered armies scattered to the winds, the Blackstones managed to resist long and hard enough that the Imperial Legions had been forced to come to the negotiating table.
Ultimately, the Blackstones had still been absorbed into the Empire, but they’d done so on their terms with their heads unbowed.
…Though it was somewhat ironic that nearly a thousand years on, it was now those same humans in the position of the old Imperial Legion while it was the free orcs who now utilized the same strategies as the old Blackstone tribes – right down to the Wyvern riders.
“I could imagine that,” Joana muttered.
“Is it strange that I think she might pull it off?” Yelena said – though only because she was sure that no one beyond her friend and silent guards was listening.
“Part of me wants to argue that, but… do you think it’s a human thing?”
Yelena thought about the Blackstones and the young man who’d just turned down a chance to be king one day.
“Perhaps,” she admitted.
Personally she thought it was because humans didn’t live as long – and there was more of them. When your life could be measured in but a single century, perhaps you were a bit more inclined towards taking risks that might make an elf balk?
…Risks like trying to take your first year team up against a third year team in the name of trying to avoid a war.
Or at least delay it.
“I still can’t believe he said no to your offer,” Joana said, something… complicated in her friend’s expression.
Yelena grinned at the sight, though she wrestled down the urge to ask a number of probing questions of her normally straight laced friend, who seemed to have a childish crush on a young man nearly ten years her junior – and her student beside.
Normally she’d be all over a scandal that delicious.
Alas, right now was work time. “I can. He gave me his reasons and they were solid.”
Well, solid enough. If you squinted a bit. And tried to think ‘human’.
Rather than all-but guarantee a war by having the Crown break off his betrothal, he intended to do it himself.
Loudly and publicly.
And if he won – and that was a big if – he’d all but destroy any kind of excuse the Blackstones might have to declare war in response. Indeed, by being ‘shamed’ in such a public manner they’d need to spend a few years at least regathering lost support.
After all, who would want to follow a house into a civil war just after their heir was publicly humiliated by a team of cadets two years her junior?
Academy fights weren’t just schoolyard squabbles. They were civil conflicts writ small. A microcosm of the constant jostling and jockeying of Lindholm’s houses.
In other words, they held weight.
If Willaim could beat his fiancée, Yelena knew she’d owe him more than she could ever truly repay. A few more years of preparation would turn an almost guaranteed defeat into something much more even.
Especially if she could scoop up who knows how many mithril cores that were otherwise just littering the ocean. Ninety percent of them would be of limited use immediately, but a few years would give her time to construct at least a few more airship hulls to house the devices.
All that was required was for William to win.
“Solid,” Joana scoffed. “His plan is to go up against a group of third years with a team of firsties.”
Yelena tried to keep the intensity she was feeling out of her tone as she leaned forward. “You don’t think he can do it?”
Joana opened her mouth before hesitating. “I… normally I’d say no. Talented as they are, the gap in experience is just too wide.”
“But…”
The dark elf rolled her silver eyes behind her glasses. “But, with William’s newest invention…” The woman paused. “Son of a bitch.”
For just a moment Yelena was treated to the rare sight of her friend laughing. “I can’t believe I thought he ‘just wanted to use it in a schoolyard fight’,” the Instructor said.
“Well, he sort of is, in a way.” Yelena shrugged. “It just so happens to be a very important schoolyard fight.”
Joana laughed. “I suppose it is.”
“Still, do you think he can win?”
Joana straightened up. “I genuinely don’t know. With his new invention he might be able to catch her off guard. If he can skew the numbers in his favor at the start, they might have a chance.”
Yelena frowned. Not exactly the ringing endorsement she wanted to hear, but that was part of why she valued Joana’s friendship.
Always had really, even when the girl had first come to court at the age of ten as a potential playmate for Yelena’s daughters and told her that her dress made her look like some kind of tropical bird.
Something Yelena realized upon closer inspection was true.
Ever since, the Queen had made a point of checking in with the girl from time to time, if only for the occasional shot of unvarnished truth.
It was a strange ‘friendship’ from the outside looking in, but one that got less so as time went by and the age gap became less stark.
“Well, let’s hope the human capacity for the nigh impossible isn’t relegated entirely to the Blackstones,” Yelena muttered.
Because if it wasn’t, the boy would either have to marry one of Yelena’s daughters or die.
She could not afford the knowledge in his head to reach the Blackstones. To that end, he’d either accept her offer – rolling the dice on the onset of war and all that might come with it – or he’d suffer an accident.
As much as it pained the royal sovereign’s heart to see such a bright and enterprising soul be snuffed out before its time.
Being forced to make such decisions was simply the price of wearing the crown.
“Still,” Joana said, and Yelena was grateful for the distraction as she looked up. “Will you actually leave him alone if he pulls this off?”
Yelena scoffed.
“Of course not. If anything I’ll up my offer.” She shrugged. “I’ll give him you, myself and half my court if it means getting my hands on what’s in his head.”
It was actually a little amusing how Joana flushed at her words, even as she shook her head.
“Yes, that sounds a lot more like you.”
Yelena nodded. Damn right it did.
Though as she did, a thought occurred to her. “Hey Joana?”
“Yes?”
“In your reports to me, didn’t you mention the Ashfield boy having some kind of nickname.”
The dark elf pondered the words for a moment before stiffening. “Hmm, he does actually. A rather apt one considering. Apt enough that I’m wondering if whatever he used to kill Al’Hundra is related.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What is it?”
Joana leaned back, her head craned upwards, as if seeking strength from above.
“Kraken Slayer.”
Yelena laughed. She couldn’t help it.
“Of course it is.”
“You killed Al’Hundra.”
William was still reeling a little from the conversation he’d just had, so he was actually a little caught off guard by a finger being shoved into his face the moment he stepped back into his teams quarters.
Ah, he thought. I promised answers.
Though it seemed that in his absence his team had managed to figure out some of those answers without him.
Glancing past Olzenya’s outstretched arm, he saw Marline shaking her head – as if to vehemently deny she’d told them anything.
She needn’t have bothered, her geass precluded it as an option. Hell, even once everyone found out it would preclude it as an option.
Which was for the best for the moment because now he wasn’t so much trying to hide what he’d done as how he’d done it. Admittedly, Marline didn’t know anything beyond the broadest details, but she knew enough to know that it was some kind of enchantment combined with alchemy.
Now it was possible the forces working against him – or rather simply to profit off him – had already figured that out and he’d hear the alchemy lab exploded any moment now, but he’d sooner put it off for as long as he could.
To that end, he turned to Olzenya – though not before politely lowering her pointing arm.
Something that, to her credit, the high elf allowed – actually looking a little embarrassed by her outburst and thus rudeness.
“Honestly, I was expecting something like that to come from Bonnlyn, not you,” he said to the slightly flushed high elf.
As he glanced over toward where the dwarf was sitting, she shrugged. “I realize I may not be the most classically polite individual around, but I’ve been a merchant long enough to recognize when someone’s got a trade secret they want to keep close to their chests.”
If anything, Olzenya flushed harder, as while she might not have been familiar with trade secrets, she was most definitely familiar with the notion of house spells that needed to be kept secret.
“I also thought ambushing him at the door was a little rude,” Verity murmured from the back of the room.
Olzenya coughed, before backing up. “Of course, I apologize for that William.”
More bemused than anything else, especially as the elf curtsied, he waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Or, understandable, I guess.”
“Good,” Ozlenya smiled, glad for his acceptance… before she shouted again. “Because you lied to us.”
“I did?”
“He didn’t,” Marline said. “He said he had something to bet against Tala.”
Indeed he had, something he’d kept hidden under a sheet. After all, he’d not wanted his big surprise to be spoiled by the rumors of his coming beating him to the cafeteria.
And they would.
Rumors in the academy somehow managed to move at light speed.
“He implied it was gold,” Olzenya shot back.
“And you said Tala wouldn’t go for it, but you came with us anyway,” Bonnlyn said.
Indeed, he had implied it was gold. Or ‘something valuable enough to catch her interest’.
“To comfort him after she shot him down,” Olzenya said. “Instead I damn near tripped over my own feet in front of everyone when he pulled an honest to goddess mithril core out of his ass.”
William was actually a little thrown off – and amused – by the sudden display of crassness from the noble girl.
“But he didn’t lie.” It was actually a little surprising – and heartwarming – to hear Verity speaking so forcefully.
And that Olzenya didn’t immediately snap at her for doing so. The team really had come a long way in just a few months.
Ah, the joys of shared suffering, William thought as he watched the girls bicker amongst themselves.
“As I’m sure you’ve all guessed, I have indeed been less than open about a few things,” he said, silencing all of them – except Marline who’d yet to speak in the first place. “With that said, I’ve never once lied to you about my end goal.”
“Breaking off your betrothal,” Marline said finally.
“Breaking off my betrothal without starting a war,” he said. “If it were that easy, the Queen would have done it for me just now.”
“You met the Queen?” Olzenya sounded a little faint.
“I did.”
Oh, how he did.
“Oh ancestors, please don’t tell me you hit on the queen!?” This time Marline sounded a little faint.
And he actually felt a little offended. “What!? Why would you think that.”
“You’re doing the same thing you do when we talk about Instructor Griffith,” Bonnlyn said with studiously neutral voice. “Or Instructor Morline. Or Instructor Flen. Or some of the guards.”
“Or that one cafeteria lady,” Verity chimed in, a little red in the face.
“Or the-”
“I do not!” He’d finally had enough of these aspersion on his character.
Across the room, a number of sighs rang out, even from the elves.
“At least now I knew why he never checked me out,” Bonnlyn said. “He’s got mommy issues. And I’m not old enough to tickle them.”
“Still, the Queen?” Olzenya hissed.
“I mean, have you seen her?” Marline muttered back. “I mean, I don’t agree with him… but I get it.”
“I didn’t ‘perv’ on the Queen.” Some part of him died on using such childish language. “We had a meeting about my plans and… what occurred with Al’Hundra. Needless to say, the fact that I’m here means she’s agreed to go ahead with them and I’m also to keep quiet about anything I may or may not have had to do with any Kraken going missing. Or their cores.”
He deliberately left out the royal marriage offer.
Still, with those words the room went silent. After all, if the Queen had told him to say nothing, he was expected to say nothing. Just because the North in general didn’t have much respect for royal authority didn’t mean the rest of the kingdom did.
Quite the opposite.
“Well, if the Queen has commanded you to remain silent, I suppose there’s nothing to be done,” Olzenya muttered. “Though I would like answers some day.”
“Hell, I’d like to know why you brought Marline in on your plans,” Bonnlyn said, glancing at the Dark Elf. “You know, and not the rest of us.”
There was no missing the hint of hurt there – which he understood.
“I can promise you it was purely a matter of convenient circumstance,” he said. “And I can promise you, I didn’t confide in Marline for free.”
All the girls glanced up as the dark elf nodded slowly. “He’s not lying – though I can’t say anymore. Literally. It’s a price I paid willingly, but one I doubt any of you would be interested in.”
Almost as one, he could see the lightbulbs turn on in everyone’s brain simultaneously – except for Verity, who took a few seconds.
‘Geass,’ thought none of them said it.
This time though, when the girls looked between him and Marline, there was a definite sense of wariness to it.
“Well, I suppose there’s nothing else to say then,” Bonnyln said. “I guess we should…”
“…Go to bed,” Olzenya nodded warily.
William grinned. “Good idea. Big day tomorrow and all that.”
That was an understatement, and he could tell everyone was thinking it as they made their way over to their rooms.
Still, it was true all the same.
They’d need their rest if they wanted to stand a chance tomorrow.
Indeed, they’d need every advantage they could get.
To that end, William could only hope he’d stacked the deck in their favor enough to matter.
…It took him a long time to get to sleep.
When he did awake, in the early hours of the morning, it was to the sound of an explosion.
In the direction of the old alchemy labs if I’m not wrong, he thought with a grim smile.
It seemed someone had decided to investigate his storage room even sooner than he’d anticipated.
Annoying, but it hardly mattered at this point in time.
All that really mattered was going back to sleep.
He had a big day ahead of him, after all.
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Another three chapters are also available on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/bluefishcake
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When I was 4 or 5 , traveling cross country..I saw a beautiful long blonde hair woman in a long sleeved long dress with tiny flowers print standing in the middle of a flat golden plain with the wind blowing her hair and dress and I KNEW she had died by a wildfire soon after. ( I still remember the image and thought later, maybe reincarnation memory). 9 yo..AF Brat we visited Ephesus, Turkey..there was a tunnel leading up to the colosseum grounds from the cages and prison cells below and I saw a woman in traditional biblical garb with a blue shaw over her hair bent over with her hand on the wall for support, blinking up into the bright sunlight ..I had the overwhelming urge to touch the Wall were her hand had been. (Just my imagination?)
Years go by and I am diagnosed with an incurable eye desease ..my sister and I go on a road trip, for historical sites while I still can, and then I KNEW this was a ghost energy. Shiloh National Cemetery Park Walking around I saw a copse of trees with 1 Confederate marker among Union Markers and I wondered how he got there. Suddenly (,in my minds eye?) I SAW a very young slim man with dark hair stumble out of the dense brush and be confronted by the sight of Union men sitting around a fire. (Imagination again?) Later my sister and I were standing at the dedication plaque podium and my sister said how sad this place made her feel ..suddenly I felt a sense of Pride and said How proud that their sacrifice was being honored ..then felt joy and laughed and tried to shoulder bump the Confederate ghost... I KNEW, but could not see, standing beside me. Sight deteriated fast, facial recognition gone. It's a blurry world. Btw I can only type on my phone close to my face. Black screen. White lettering. Allen, Texas standing outside grocery store waiting on my ride, I look up and not 2 feet from me is an older gentleman with full head of grey hair and bushy mustache smiling and staring at me..not saying a word..at the time I didn't wonder HOW I could see him so clearly..minutes go by..silence..I'm wondering if he is just standing there judging me, my attire, etc. I turn my back on him and ignore him. Thought no more about it UNTIL..2 years later living in Mabank, Texas AGAIN outside waiting for my ride..Hes THERE.. 2 feet from me, silent and smiling at me..75 miles distance from Allen..thats when I realize I can SEE him as I did in Allen because I RECOGNIZED him from Allen, remember facial recognition is gone, I can't even see myself in a mirror. That shocked me. I don't know him. I walked away. Now you are going to say I'm crazy or hullicinating ..4 years later I'm living in Kentucky and I visit an Amish Store as I'm waiting in line at cashier I see an Amish couple in traditional garb standing perfectly still staring at me I see her clearly with her bonnet and long dark green dress, slim with hard lines on her face (wrinkles) she barely comes to her husband's shou, I look at him and see his white shirt and red suspenders BUT there is a black blob that covers his face and part of his shoulder..ok I think, blind spot from my eyesight, not wondering why I can SEE her so clearly, turn to look at cashier and I can SEE her plump, blonde middle age with glasses smiling at me and I suddenly think..she is connected to the couple..then Memory lapse..until I found myself with a receipt in hand saying "It will be okay, It will be okay" to a crying cashier who won't look up at me. Last experience was December 5th 2023 Weekend getaway with my sister and her DIL. Nashville, TN, Broadway St. Bar hopping, I had slowed down drinking and had switched to water as we walked into Blake's Place. DIL was very drunk and got nose to nose with bouncer..suddenly I felt such Pride for the bouncer and could see him and DIL clearly.,he stood there stoic and unresponsive to DIL barrage of drunk BS till she gave up and moved on. He had a black stocking cap and heavy coat and gloves on, roundish face but not fat..small nose and thin lips. I went to the back of the dance floor and planted myself there so my sister would know where I was and listenened/enjoyed the band, with my water. To the right of me I saw, as if in a spotlight a tall blonde man, in a Red short sleeve t shirt and huge biceps standing there just staring at me, not drinking or moving to the music as the blurry guys behind him were..song after song, he just stood there watching me.. I felt a little self conscious.. I am now 60 so WTH? Eventually my sister came to tell me it was time to leave to get DIL to hotel. Memory lapse..(not drunk, had been on water)..dont remember anything until we were outside on sidewalk when the bouncer came running out to me and grabbed my arm and with a shocked expression on his face demanded.."What did you just say tome! What did you just say to me!" ...I DONT KNOW! I sheepishly say "Best Band" and he stood back and watched us as we moved on down the road. I beleve Red shirt was a ghost connected to him and said something to him thru me. But unlike Shiloh, but like Amish Store..I don't know what the message was.was. If I hadn't effected these two people the way I had, I would think I had had hulicinations or a very vivid imagination..but seeing the stoic bouncer so shook up..convinced me..and I am trying to find explanation/validation that I am not crazy.

this is a curse. everyday i cry myself to sleep saying to myself that this is all a nightmare, that the next morning i will wake up with the body i am supposed to have. but then i wake up and the face staring back in the mirror is the face of some dude. i want to smash this fucking ugly male face against the mirror and tear it with the glass pieces. idk how i used to think that looking like a woman was actually possible, i dont even think ffs would save me from looking like a man with a disgusting gigantic skull. i want to end it, i want this bullshit to stop. i’m barely hanging by a thread, i’m totally disfunctional, unable to do other shit than to rot in bed. i will never be a woman, that’s the truth and i need to fucking get over it or else i’m going to die. i used to be content with being a man, not happy but content. there’s has to be some way out from this hell.

I want to develop a character who has DID derived from PTSD, which in turn arose from a four-day period of suffering different atrocities. The character has no explicit memories of this four-day period, but their subconscious locks it away to avoid the pain of trauma and develops disorders as a defense mechanism. In addition to the mentioned disorders, the character has developed a refusal to eat food due to an apparently irrational line of thought and sensation that if they eat, they would be hypocritical for something, and therefore, more guilty. The character has 5 personalities. So far, I've only been able to conceptualize 3: the assistant, the machine, and the monster.
The monster is the murderous and harmful personality. It's what the character most instinctively tries to avoid manifesting, even if they don't know exactly why. It's the embodiment of their potential evil, and its appearances are always accompanied by tension and suspense. Even if not actually manifested (or is it?), the mere fact of appearing in nightmares and hallucinations already triggers panic attacks in the character. This is the most mysterious personality because the character has doubts about the nature of this personality that doesn't offer many explanations beyond the simple fact that it knows everything about him and is playing and affecting him; Is it a personality or a distinct demon? Is it a delusion or is it real? Is it himself or a separate being pretending to be him to scare him? Is it capable of killing the personalities, and if so, why doesn't it do it immediately instead of leaving the personalities unharmed? Why psychologically torture him if the function of fragmented personalities is to help in self-preservation? If it's real, why does it let him escape at the end of its ''games''? This personality (or not) is physically the largest, the most technological, the most inhuman, and presents more feats of strength despite appearing less, all geared towards psychological torture mainly, a literal kind of haunting like Pennywise's. It wreaks psychological havoc on the character in each of its personalities, and the most sensitive one, which is the one the other personalities most try to avoid being impacted by the monster, is the assistant personality, the personality that personifies human essence and, being based on the Superego and Ego and reflecting the distant past spent with his deceased good mother whose values were transmitted in his childhood and adolescence, is the personality that tries to maintain order, predominate, and reunite the fragmented personalities, although this self-imposed role is not easy and it is difficult to deal with the fear of what could happen if people found out that he and the other four 'people' are actually the same person who has DID; it is difficult to represent order while his other parts are more inclined to chaos and there is no direct interaction between the personalities. The assistant personality has blindness, whose degree varies depending nuancemente on the external and internal security situation it feels, but is always present because it results from an unresolved trauma. Glasses are used, the only one who does this. Blindness is more present in the assistant personality and less manifested in the other personalities because they are more detached from humanity. The assistant personality is the most divergent from what the character was before DID. Its form is more human, shorter, and less cybernetic, precisely because it reflects a distant period from the current one of the character. (A side note: the character is, in a way, a shapeshifter, so its personalities have a distinct form, some more similar to each other and others less similar, and vice versa. The metamorphosis is restricted to the forms the character has already had in its life and afterlife, and those forms it did not have are a more adapted version of the personality concept). The assistant is the most sensitive personality and the one that most tries to be virtuous, and because of these characteristics, it is the most vulnerable to the monster.
The machine personality is the psychological barrier. A wall for any emotions. An internal shield for trauma. It looks like a robot, like a machine, both for sentimental and behavioral issues. It does not feel emotions, is extremely rational, and is very connected to technology. Indeed, it is the most technological personality in the purest sense of the word, while the monster personality is the most technological in the most monstrous sense. Its function is to offer a more impartial view of situations and, because of the monster, to be the most solid shield for the assistant personality not to be haunted directly (and possibly killed) by the monster.
There are 2 more personalities to develop, and I'm working on it since it's a new idea I had.
The character is Vox.
The conceptual ideas for this fanfic that I intend to create, combined with my hobby of self-studying psychology/psychoanalysis/psychiatry, made me realize that I attribute four disorders to Vox:
• DID: According to the DSM-5 criteria, to be considered DID it is necessary: ▪︎Two or more distinct identities or personality states are present, each with its own relatively enduring pattern of perceiving, relating to, and thinking about the environment and self. ▪︎Amnesia must occur, defined as gaps in the recall of everyday events, important personal information, and/or traumatic events. ▪︎The person must be distressed by the disorder or have trouble functioning in one or more major life areas because of the disorder. ▪︎The disturbance is not part of normal cultural or religious practices. ▪︎The symptoms cannot be due to the direct physiological effects of a substance (such as blackouts or chaotic behavior during alcohol intoxication) or a general medical condition (such as complex partial seizures).
• PTSD: Symptoms of PTSD fall into the following four categories. Specific symptoms can vary in severity.
Intrusion: Intrusive thoughts such as repeated, involuntary memories; distressing dreams; or flashbacks of the traumatic event. Flashbacks may be so vivid that people feel they are reliving the traumatic experience or seeing it before their eyes. Avoidance: Avoiding reminders of the traumatic event may include avoiding people, places, activities, objects and situations that may trigger distressing memories. People may try to avoid remembering or thinking about the traumatic event. They may resist talking about what happened or how they feel about it. Alterations in cognition and mood: Inability to remember important aspects of the traumatic event, negative thoughts and feelings leading to ongoing and distorted beliefs about oneself or others (e.g., “I am bad,” “No one can be trusted”); distorted thoughts about the cause or consequences of the event leading to wrongly blaming self or other; ongoing fear, horror, anger, guilt or shame; much less interest in activities previously enjoyed; feeling detached or estranged from others; or being unable to experience positive emotions (a void of happiness or satisfaction). Alterations in arousal and reactivity: Arousal and reactive symptoms may include being irritable and having angry outbursts; behaving recklessly or in a self-destructive way; being overly watchful of one's surroundings in a suspecting way; being easily startled; or having problems concentrating or sleeping. Many people who are exposed to a traumatic event experience symptoms similar to those described above in the days following the event. For a person to be diagnosed with PTSD, however, symptoms must last for more than a month and must cause significant distress or problems in the individual's daily functioning. Many individuals develop symptoms within three months of the trauma, but symptoms may appear later and often persist for months and sometimes years. PTSD often occurs with other related conditions, such as depression, substance use, memory problems and other physical and mental health problems.
The four tabs below provide brief descriptions of four conditions related to PTSD: acute stress disorder, adjustment disorder, disinhibited social engagement disorder, and reactive attachment disorder. Source: https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/ptsd/what-is-ptsd • Psychotic Depression: Psychotic depression Some people who have severe depression may also experience hallucinations and delusional thinking, the symptoms of psychosis.
Depression with psychosis is known as psychotic depression.
Symptoms of depression Someone with depression feels sad and hopeless for most of the day, practically every day, and has no interest in anything. Getting through the day feels almost impossible.
Other typical symptoms of depression may include:
fatigue (exhaustion) disturbed sleep changes in appetite feeling worthless and guilty being unable to concentrate or being indecisive thoughts of death or suicide Doctors describe depression as mild, moderate or severe depending on your symptoms, how long it lasts and how much it affects your daily life.
Read more about the psychological, physical and social symptoms of clinical depression
Symptoms of psychosis Having moments of psychosis (when people lose some contact with reality) means experiencing:
delusions – thoughts or beliefs that are unlikely to be true hallucinations – hearing and, in some cases, feeling, smelling, seeing or tasting things that are not there; hearing voices is a common hallucination The delusions and hallucinations almost always reflect the person's deeply depressed mood – for example, they may become convinced they're to blame for something, or that they've committed a crime.
"Psychomotor agitation" is also common. This means not being able to relax or sit still, and constantly fidgeting.
At the other extreme, a person with psychotic depression may have "psychomotor retardation", where both their thoughts and physical movements slow down.
People with psychotic depression have an increased risk of thinking about suicide. Source for more information: https://www.nhs.uk/mental-health/conditions/psychotic-depression/
• An as-yet unidentified eating disorder: This is the only one in which I do not know which exact diagnosis it fits into. It is a consequence of the trauma from the four-day period - including this period being one of the biggest mysteries in history and a great source of theories for readers, as it is the root of Vox's psychological mess, the divergence point that originated the entire fanfic and which the protagonist DOES NOT want to remember - that resulted in the trauma of eating. He does not feel like eating, not even the SIN OF GLUTTONY is able to make him eat - he is immune to her powers - and feels an apparently inexplicable instinct of guilt and hypocrisy when trying to eat, as if he were the worst being in the universe if he ate a food and a huge hypocrite; why and what exactly this innate thought of judging himself as a hypocrite is another mystery in the plot.
In this story, at least in the initial arcs, no one associates all five as being the same person, at most they associate only one/two of them with Vox. With the climaxes (yes, it's in the plural) throughout the story, the characters will find evidence and suspect and associate more and more of the other alters (as I call Vox's fragmented personalities) with the same person, which increases the narrative tension. Being the assistant personality the last to be accurately associated by the other characters, although she was the one that had the most tension and care in NOT being associated throughout the story because she is the human essence of Vox, reflects more the fragility of his soul state and is not ready to deal with the harsh social consequences that the actions of the other alters and Vox before DID caused, needing solid support and not wanting to lose all the friendly social relationships, although fragile, that he built as a separate being from Vox and the other alters. It is easier to hate than to love. The assistant personality does not want to risk losing the little support he has built. These relationships are extremely valuable to him. He doesn't want to have this taken away from him anymore. The relationships he built are based on the inhabitants of Hazbin Hotel.
All alters have Vox's trademark: the TV as
a head. All... except the assistant personality. This alter is the ONLY one that has a human head and is the smallest, being even a few centimeters smaller than Lucifer. The size of his hair goes up to just above his shoulders, but he ties them in a professional hairstyle. His clothes are similar to those of an assistant, and they have a palette of blue, black, and white colors. The color of his hair, influenced by his powers as a Media Demon, is black with dark blue streaks and tips.
His human appearance reflects a period when Vox was human. In my story Vox is a trans man, which means he was born female and went through a transition at some point in his adolescence or adulthood. The appearance of the assistant personality reflects an episode during his 13/14 years. In this episode, he did a special show for his father's assistant at a fancy restaurant. It was her last night in his life as she would unfortunately be sent away without a chance to return, and he was aware of this. He also knew that his father was responsible for her being sent away, although his innocence at the time made him not immediately detect that she would be KILLED by a hired hitman hired by the father and mother. The assistant was a loved one by the teenage Vox. She was a loving mother he never had, and because of the emotional attachment to her, he decided to do a musical show, showing for the first and last time to anyone his talent for piano and violin. He, at the time still not going through the transition, dressed more masculinely, used the best appearance he could, and used a pseudonym to enter the restaurant and make the presentation without being detected by the family. He did not explicitly specify for whom the music was intended, but the assistant, secretly his true biological mother, knew it was for her. That was the last time he would see her, and he made every second of that night count.
Vox's human female name was Elizabeth. I chose this name because it is a beautiful name, it was the name of the former queen of the United Kingdom, and it was the name of one of Jack the Ripper's victims, Elizabeth Stride.
Vox, during his adult life as a man and even post-death, buried his past as a woman. It was not a source of pride, especially for the family abuses suffered and the transphobia of the time. If the Vees, the people closest to him currently, do not have a deep understanding of Vox's human life as a man, imagine their knowledge of the initial part of his life before the transition!
That's why being called "Elizabeth" during the direct and indirect appearances of the monster personality already causes genuine and unmasked panic in him. It is an indication of knowledge of his deepest layers.
The story has a suspenseful atmosphere, with some horror scenes. We follow the alters individually, and as the story progresses, we realize along with the protagonist some strange, wrong things. The alters do not communicate directly with each other and, therefore, the character does not immediately perceive the signs of having multiple personalities. It was as if there were four people in one body and none of them noticed, according to the perspective of the assistant personality, the alter that we slowly follow discovering the huge web of the situation he's in. There's something very wrong with Vox, more specifically his soul. But there's an invisible barrier that prevents the character from investigating further, like an elephant in the middle of the room. Each alter has its own course, all acting as if they were distinct people and not associating with each other. This is bad socially speaking in the long run, because sooner or later the clash of beliefs and values built among the alters will come into conflict and the individual consequences of their actions will negatively impact each other. The monster personality served to add more salt to the wound. It is by far the most harmful, appearing little but causing a huge mess in return. Don't think of it as a kind of Hulk, because Hulk is a destructive monster that his counterpart, Bruce, can try to control and turn into a hero, and everyone is aware of Hulk's nature, which is easy to understand and try to contain; whereas the monster personality is an enigma at the same time as it is a nightmare, there is no discussion with it, it causes psychological terror in Vox's alters, its apparently internal actions affect the external world of the alters, it is unpredictable, it is the literal meaning of hell. The monster personality has already caused physical harm to the alters, although they did not exactly remember, mainly the assistant personality, the most oblivious of all for a reason. I want to relate the monster personality to Roo.

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Chapter 15: For What You’ve Tamed
“We’ve come a long way, Vikri. Let’s finish your story,” Rayner said as he sat down in the same chair, crossing his legs in the same way.; small consistencies that made the task of talking about my past seem a little more routine. “I understand you lost someone important to you that day.”
I shifted slightly where I sat. “Yeah,” I answered coarsely. I grabbed at the poncho hanging over my shoulders. I remembered what it felt like in my dreams. Radiant warmth always seemed to emanate from it. Not necessarily the poncho itself, but Tenga’s memory. I realized that as long as I had those, then he was still here in a way. I’d much rather have him here than his memory though.
Rayner nodded. “I know what that’s like,” he said in a near whisper.
I shook my head. “It’s not just that I lost him. I…I failed,” I rasped. “I could’ve saved him. Maybe if I’d gone back I could’ve gotten the equipment before the fire did. I was too afraid.”
Rayner nodded slowly. “And now you feel responsible.”
I remained silent as I clutched my tail on the couch beside me. Rayner already knew the answer. He pursed his lips. “Yeah…I know exactly how that feels.”
I looked up at him. For the first time, his eyes weren’t on me, but on the adjacent wall as he seemed to ponder something. “You think about all the things you could have done differently. Things that are so obvious in hindsight,” he sighed and adjusted his glasses. “If only it were that clear in the moment.” He looked up at me, clasping his hands together. “So walk me through what happened.”
I could still vividly remember the moment Tenga got shot. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. So quickly in fact, that it even took Tenga a moment to realize there was a hole in his torso. Minutes of continuous tension shattered with a hail of gunfire lasting less than a second. The echoes continued to howl through the mountains long after the bodies met the snow. My friend was fatally wounded, the snow around him dyed bright red with his blood. And I had to leave him.
The entire time I was in the belly of the federation destroyer with danger lurking around every corner, all I wanted to do was to get this done as quickly as possible and get back to him. I was enraged that they’d done this to him and to billions just like him.
“Tenga was all I thought about the entire time,” I croaked. “And I…I was willing to kill everyone onboard to get back to him, even if there was no way I ever could. I… did things I could never have imagined myself doing even just days ago. I tore a chunk out of my leg just to be able to get to the Krakotl pinning me down with a crowbar.” I inhaled deeply, staring down at my reflection in the water, recalling my bloodshot eyes in the reflection of the ship's monitor. The grimly colorful bloodstains in my fur from several different species.
Rayner nodded. “It was a desperate situation. Many don’t see themselves doing things like that until they’re put in a situation where it's necessary. A situation where it's do or die. No one can fault you for that, especially not with all that depended on you.”
“I guess I just…It’s just worrying knowing that there’s a part of me capable of that.”
The doctor tapped his pen on his notepad as he seemed to think for a moment. “Do you worry that you may have violent outbursts?”
I scoffed. “Well, the events of a few days ago provided good grounds for worry.”
Rayner nodded. “Aggression is common for PTSD victims. It can be difficult to manage intense emotions when your mind is already dealing with so much.
I shook my head. “That’s not the person I want to be.”
Rayner nodded. “I know Vikri. That’s why it's so crucial for you to talk about this stuff. The less all of this weighs on you, the better you’ll be able to control those emotions when they arise.”
He finished writing on his notepad before taking off his glasses and leaning forward slightly. “So what happened to Tenga?”
The question made my heart sink. My mind went quiet. The second hand of time sounded like the footsteps of a giant marching toward…something. My body seemed to go cold and numb. “He died…” I croaked, staring down at the table. That was the first time I’d admitted that to myself verbally in such a direct way. “And I tried so hard,” I choked, tears now streaming down my face. “I did everything in my power to save him. I even put Querek’s life in danger.”
I felt the heat. I could feel cold water dripping from my paws as the burning ship melted the frost accumulating in my fur. I remembered the terrifying hopelessness that gripped me as I gripped Querek and pushed him into the snow. He tried to sacrifice himself for Tenga. What if I had let him? Would it have even worked? Could Tenga accept that?
I recalled the story to Rayner, battling to keep my composure. “I…I watched him die,” I choked. “And I was furious. Reese had to pull me off of him. I wanted to do…something, anything, but…he told them not to bring him back. I think he…” I winced at the thought of him considering this. “I think he’d rather have died sacrificing himself over…going rabid.”
Silence perforated the room for what felt like several long minutes. Rayner sat with his legs crossed, his hand propped up against his mouth. He seemed to become lost in thought for a moment before speaking. “I know how that guilt feels,” he admitted quietly.
I looked at him, somewhat surprised. “You do?”
Rayner nodded, rubbing his hands together. “My son,” he said plainly, taking a long pause before he continued. “He and Jesse were very close as kids. Practically brothers.” He tapped on his clipboard with his pen. “I was…not so available in those days. I was a very different man than I am now. I was still in school. I was always busy, always stressed. I hadn't even considered becoming a therapist. I was deadset on becoming a neurosurgeon.” He scoffed at himself, his head gently shaking back and forth as his gaze grew distant. His delivery lacked that matter-of-fact candor I was so used to by now. He was much quieter; less animated. His eye contact was sporadic and he never stopped fidgeting with his pen. Everything about him seemed suddenly mired in an emotion that was difficult to read. That was when I saw everything we'd done over the past few days for what it really was. Rayner wasn't invincible. He never claimed to be. He was hurt; I could hear it in his voice. He wasn't a person reaching down into the mud and yanking me out by the nape of the neck. He was man covered in mud himself. He wasn't an untouchable hero. Merely a guide.
He continued as that realization struck me. “I loved him as much as a father could. But I was so busy that…well I wasn't there as much as I'd like to have been. That put a big strain on our relationship.” He removed his glasses and wiped the lenses a few times before he continued. “One night we got into an argument. He’d just gotten his license. He had an old beat-up car I'd bought him for his birthday,” he chuffed. “A teen’s first car is always…eccentric. Thought it was a great deal at the time.” He sighed and nodded slightly before continuing. “He left the house enraged, speeding down the road. After a few miles, he lost control, swerved off the road, and hit a tree head-on. The airbag never deployed. The car crumpled like a soda can.”
I stared at him, speechless as he concluded in a near-whisper. “He was declared dead at the scene.”
The room felt hollow for a few long seconds. I searched for a reply but couldn't fathom the right words to say. Fortunately, Rayner didn't stay silent for long. “Like you, I blamed myself for a long…long time.” He sighed. “And it nearly destroyed me.”
I stared at the floor, fidgeting with my tail. “How did you…overcome that?”
“Well it didn't happen overnight,” he replied, flashing a brief smile. “It takes time but, at some point, you have to carry on living. You have to continue loving.” His eyes creased slightly as he looked down at his own hands. “You have to keep loving,” he repeated in a low whisper.
Loud silence claimed the room again as his words sank in. He was right. It was either accept what happened or live like this forever. Looking at it that pragmatically, the choice seemed easy. Emotions are never so logical though. It wasn’t as if he relieved himself of that burden either, it was obvious he still carried it. It just…didn’t weigh as much now. Not because it got lighter, but because he got stronger. I eased into speaking again. “I…I'm sorry. About your son.”
Rayner nodded. “I'm sorry about your friend.”
We both stewed in silence for a minute before Rayner spoke up. “We’ll send you home today.”
“You…really think I’m ready?”
Rayner nodded slowly. “I think so. The medication seems to be working, you haven’t had any breakdowns since you’ve been here. You’ve gotten much better at discussing these things. I think you’re equipped to face this now.”
“...I’m afraid,” I croaked.
“Of what?” Rayner asked, leaning forward
“Of…seeing Lucky again. I'm doubting whether I even should. I was never prepared to be her master. I’m just a danger to her.”
“Vikri,” Rayner exhaled and leaned forward. “You made a mistake. We all do. But you have a responsibility to her. You should at least see her and face that mistake, or you’ll never have closure. What you decide after that is your choice, but I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think.”
“I hope so,” I sighed.
Rayner clicked his pen and set his notepad aside. “We’ve made you some medication to take home, same stuff you've been taking. The plan is to keep lowering the dosage until you’re sleeping without it. We’ve made you some sheets with all the daily doses on them and when to take each one. It’s enough to last you two weeks, then once they’re out, you’ll come back here for another session, then if you need it, we’ll get you more and keep weaning you off them.”
He leaned forward, emphasizing his next words. “And I cannot recommend enough that you go to Jesse’s support group in between our meetings. Those will help you tremendously, I’m sure of it.”
I nodded. “I have his number. I’ll…I’ll give it a shot.”
“You won't regret it,” Rayner assured me. “Jesse was in the same chair as you not too long ago for similar reasons. He has knowledge from first-hand experience. I can vouch for him, he’s a great guy.” He inhaled. “Well, is there anything else Vikri? We won’t be seeing each other again for a while, so if there’s anything else, now’s the time to talk about it.”
I thought for a second. We’d covered almost everything. I’d never discussed those days in so much detail. It felt like being submerged in icy water. It was miserable at first, but over time it became easier, even comfortable. I’d relived so much pain over the last three days, but here at the end of the whole story, It felt less like a nightmare, and more like reality. “No, I don’t think so,” I finally replied.
“Then I’ll clear you to go home. Andrea is here, she’ll give you a ride, I’m sure. Here.” He reached over and handed me a small business card. “That has all my contact information on it. I’m usually here in my office until late at night, so feel free to call if you need anything. If the sedative gives you any issues at all, any side effects, make sure to call and let me know. We followed the recipe to a tee, but it’s wise to be cautious.”
A familiar silence flooded the room as Rayner and I seemed to, for the first time, have nothing left to say. Finally, the doctor spoke. “See you in two weeks, Vikri.”
///////////////////////////////
Golden strands of light danced between the digits of my paw as I moved it in front of the brilliant summer sun. An intense beacon of warmth floating in a sky as blue as Earth’s oceans. The rumble of Andy’s car occupied the air as we cruised down the highway. Vivri was sound asleep in the backseat. The gentle white noise and vibration seemed to knock her out cold. I watched the sunrays dance as I waved my paw in front of me, before turning it around. Several spots on my paw still had obvious scars. I even still had burn scars from the electrical systems aboard the crumbling Cardinal.
I curled my paw closed into a fist and rested my head against it, watching the lush, green mountains pass by in the distance. After three days I was set loose into the world once again, hopefully better armed than I was before. Even after all the weight I doffed from my shoulders in Rayner’s office, a crushing mass still rested on my chest. Lucky.
The weight only became heavier as the car slowed, and rounded a corner into the parking lot of a large animal hospital. Andy gently brought the car to a stop in a parking space in front of the entrance. Occasionally people would walk in and out with their pets, many of which were dogs on leashes.
Vivri stirred awake after we stopped. “Oh…We’re here,” she muttered nervously. “There’s…a lot more animals here than I was expecting.”
Andy chuckled. “It’s an animal hospital girl, there’s gonna be all kinds of critters here.”
I turned around to face her. “You don’t have to go in there. You and Andy can wait here.”
Andy scoffed. “You might wanna tell Rayner they screwed up those meds, ‘cause you’re delusional if you think I’m letting you go in there by yourself.”
“Well I don’t want her to be alone out here,” I argued.
“I’ll go in, just…stay close, please?” Vivri interjected.
I looked back at her, ears tilted. She was dead serious. I sighed and shook my head. “This is gonna be a disaster,” I groaned.
Andy opened her door. “I’ll wait with her in the lobby, you go talk to the vets. It’ll be fine.”
I looked back at Vivri one last time as Andy stepped out. “Alright, just stay away from the cats.” I opened my door and began stepping out into the summer air.
“C-cats?”
“Small felines. They're demons with mind control,” I replied just before closing the door.
Vivri scrambled out of the car and followed right on my heels. “Well don’t just leave me!” she squeaked.
I laughed. “I’m kidding. Well, mostly.”
Walking into the building, I realized that Lucky had been in a very similar place as me over the past three days. The lobby felt eerily similar to the one at the medical center. Everything went silent as Vivri and I walked in. Immediately I could feel dozens of eyes on us. Vivri hid close behind me as Andy gestured for me to follow her to the desk.
I doubted any of the humans there meant any harm, but dozens of binocular eyes snapping onto her in an instant had Vivri more unsettled than she already was. It didn’t help that several dogs were either on leashes or in carriers in the lobby, which were no doubt just as curious. I grabbed Viv’s paw. “They don't see many Venlil,” I whispered. “Just ignore them.”
I approached the desk with Vivri still hiding behind me. “E-excuse me?” I stuttered. The woman at the desk looked up, clearly caught off guard by two venlil standing before her. “O-oh! Excuse me, you must be Lucky’s owner, right?”
“Yeah. Vikri.” I could feel Vivri shivering behind me.
“I’ll let Doctor Gavin know you’re here.”
“Thanks,” I muttered before turning to Vivri. “Are you sure about this?” I whispered.
“Of course! It’s just for a few minutes, right?” Her body language gave an entirely different answer. She seemed like she might faint at any moment.
I looked up at Andy. “Keep her close, would you?”
Andy wrapped her arms over Viv’s shoulders. “Of course. I’ll keep little Vivi safe from all the big, bad puppy dogs and mean kitties,” she said in baby speak, twisting her side to side. She giggled. “We’ll be fine.” Her tone suddenly shifted as she locked eyes with me. “Will you?”
I stood there in silence for a moment. This entire time my heart felt unbearably heavy. Standing there, I felt nauseous. So much so that I made it a point to know exactly where the bathroom was when I walked in. The weight on my chest made breathing a laborious task. I heaved in a deep breath. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in there but…I have to do this. For both of us.”
Andy exhaled and nodded, seemingly just as nervous for me. Right on cue, the door at the back of the room opened with a heavy click. “Vikri?” a male voice called out. An older gentleman in burgundy scrubs surveyed the room. It didn’t take long for him to find me. He nodded toward me as he adjusted his glasses. “Right this way, please.”
“We’ll be right here,” Andy whispered, her hands still resting around Viv’s shoulders, who agreed with a tail flick.
I nodded and walked toward the man, leaving the cozy waiting room behind, and entering a long, sterile hallway. The doctor’s shoes clicked against the tile as he walked just in front of me. The weight bearing down on my chest only got heavier with each step. After a few agonizing seconds, the man finally spoke up as he stopped outside a door. “I’m Doctor Gavin,” he said breathily, extending a hand. “I performed Lucky’s surgery.”
I took his hand with my paw, which he could no doubt tell was trembling by this point. “Vikri,” I choked. “S-so…How is she?”
“She’s good,” Gavin answered in a higher pitch. “She’s recovering remarkably fast. Really lived up to her name.” He opened the door and stepped through into a kennel area as he continued. “The bullet hit one of her ribs and shattered. A couple of fragments pierced her lung, one of them was just inches from her heart. There’re still a few very small ones lodged in her tissue, but we’d be doing more harm than good by trying to remove them. They shouldn’t cause any issues and come out on their own after some time, but we’ll keep track of them with x-rays.”
As he spoke we passed by kennels, some empty, some with dogs that barked or jumped up on the cage as we passed. I scoured each one for Lucky, my dread building with each one we passed. Suddenly, the doctor stopped in front of me. He inhaled deeply. “I should mention…Given the…circumstances of how she got these injuries, me and some staff will stay with you just in case she becomes aggressive. That’s not to say that I think she will,” he added hastily, “she’s been great with everyone here but…you know, just to be safe.”
“I get it,” I breathed. It made sense. If Lucky attacked me, it would be far more deadly than it would be for a human. And I was confident even a human wouldn’t last long against a half-wolf her size. Fittingly, a group of four humans were gathered at the end of the hallway, catchers in hand.
Time seemed to slow as I approached the pen. The staff members all looked over at me with the same anxious expression. I felt like a prisoner walking toward my judgment, and that perhaps it was me that belonged behind these cages. I swallowed and took a long, slow breath as Gavin opened the gate. He walked in ahead of me. “Hey there big girl,” he said in a chipper tone. I heard the familiar thumping of Lucky’s tail against the floor. Gavin chuckled to himself as the remaining four staff calmly and quietly filed into the pen. Once they were all inside, the final human leaned around the corner, looked me in the eyes for a long second, and nodded once.
A new reality awaited around that corner. My sentence was about to be read. It felt so cripplingly helpless; wanting so desperately to finally be reunited with my best friend, yet trembling at the thought of rounding a corner to run face-first into the consequences of my actions. I steeled myself one last time. I nodded back at the catcher and took slow, deliberate steps toward him. I finally rounded the corner, and for the first time since the incident, I saw Lucky.
She lay on a large, fabric bed, with food and water bowls close by. Her right front leg was bound in a cast, tied up close to her body. A large patch of fur had been shaved away around her chest and halfway up her neck. She seemed thinner than I remembered. It reminded me of the scared, hungry pup I’d met so long ago.
Her eyes tracked onto mine instantly, and I felt an ache that defied all imagination. The same gaze that would send almost any other Venlil scrambling down the hallway instead gripped some inner part of me in a cold, numb stasis. I couldn’t move. Part of me wanted to run to her and spill out how sorry I was. Another wanted to curl up on the floor right there and sob, returning to that familiar numbness that seemed akin to the ancient enemy of life itself. The cold. That bitterness that pierced through fur, through flesh, through bones, and any ideal held by the naive child that sat next to Tenga’s corpse that day. It ran through until there was nothing left.
Then, I felt a warmth as if someone had draped a blanket over me. I gripped my poncho around my shoulders, grabbing it tightly. I made a quiet promise to myself there and then. Not a promise to my sister, or my parents, or Andrea. Me. I wouldn’t lie down in the cold. Never again. One more hill.
“Hey Lucky,” I said, my voice coarse and breaking every syllable.
The silence was abruptly broken as Lucky, though seemingly frail, shot to her feet. Everyone in the room shifted, prepared for the worst. I didn’t dare move, but I could feel my heart pounding in my legs, my body preparing to bolt. The staff watched her carefully, their grip slightly tightened around their polls. Lucky made no sounds, only stared at me, her nostrils flaring as she gathered my scent. Her right front leg was useless, immobilized against her body. She shifted her footing to steady herself. Then I saw something that replaced fear with tears. She was shaking like a leaf, never taking her eyes off me. She could care less about the others. She was scared. Of me.
I felt myself fall off a ledge in a sensation I’d become all too familiar with over the last few weeks. Tears streamed down my face, my breath hitching as I brought my paws up to my face. I fell to my knees, the presence of the staff had become irrelevant. “I’m…I’m sorry,” I exhaled between gasps. “I’m so sorry.”
So there it was. My new reality. It wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but it was what I expected. I didn’t know what I’d do then, and I didn’t know now. Could I go on without Lucky? She was the one fortress in the turbulent seas of my broken mind. She was the one I could always count on. The one that I knew would always be there, no matter what. Now I was convinced she was terrified of me.
I sat there a shattered mess for a long moment, tumbling off that cliff and reaching out for anything to catch myself, but found nothing but jagged stones. I felt a hand on my shoulder, Doctor Gavin attempting to comfort me, I assumed. Until I felt something touch my knee. I looked up, thrown out of the spiral abruptly. Lucky was now just in front of me, licking my leg. I froze, confused. She gently laid down, careful of her bandaged leg as she rested her head on my leg, looking up at me. That was the same leg she’d broken months ago. Finally, I got it. “I hurt you, and you still loved me.”
A wave of relief rushed through me and I looked down at her, eyes glossy with tears. I bent down and rested my head against hers. I laughed, though it sounded more like a sob. For the first time in days, I felt whole again.
Lucky still loved me.
First Prev [Next]

On NFL Network this Verizon commercial for Disney Bundle has been airing. It starts with a random woman complaining about download speed while watching a random tv show as a passenger on a bus. then the Verizon shill sits across the aisle from her, and says “I wasn’t eavesdropping, yes I was “. I have a hard time believing that someone was PAID to create this dialogue.

“Ready to make history, baby?”
I looked over toward Sheila as she stood on the gangplank leading up to The Burger. I still couldn’t believe she named our research ship ‘The Burger’... emotional relevance be damned.
“It's not exactly history,” I corrected.
“Oh come on! If your survey is right, this trench might run even deeper than the Challenger Deep, and you’re gonna be the first person to explore it! How is that not exciting?”
“Might be deeper, we only have a limited amount of topological data. And even if it is deeper, we’re talking only a few hundred feet at most, it’s really not that im-”
Sheila silenced me with a kiss.
“Nerd.” She teased, and I found myself too flustered to reply. After five years of marriage, she still could leave me speechless with just a kiss. God… how did someone like me end up with a woman like that?
Then again, how did someone like me end up where I was in general? It was honestly a little overwhelming. Standing on the dock, getting ready to board that ship and join the ranks of Jacques Piccard and James Cameron (yes, that James Cameron) as one of the few people to take a manned submersible down to the deepest parts of the ocean. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared too. Diving down that deep could easily be a one way trip if even the slightest thing went wrong. My submarine would be experiencing between 600 to 1100 atmospheres of pressure and while we’d tested it over and over again to make sure it would actually be up for the challenge, there was still a lingering iota of doubt in the back of my mind. All that needed to go wrong was one little thing, and that would be it for me.
The scariest part is that I probably wouldn’t even know what had happened… I’d simply be gone… and Sheila would be alone. The thought of that caused a momentary spike of panic in my chest that almost made me want to call this whole thing off.
Almost.
But, then I felt her hand close around mine. I looked up into her bright blue eyes, and saw her gentle smile.
“You’re gonna be okay, hun,” She promised. “You and your team have been running the numbers, right? It’s gonna go just fine!”
I nodded slowly.
“It’s gonna go fine…” I repeated, before she leaned in to kiss me, and gently pulled me by the wrist up onto the deck of the Burger.
She was probably right.
It probably would be fine.
Probably…
The trench I’d be exploring was a fairly recent discovery, located south of Greenland, in a vast stretch of water situated directly between Newfoundland and Iceland. It’d been uncovered during a topological survey in the area, and my team had taken an interest in investigating it further. At minimum, it was believed to descend to about 35,000 feet deep (over 10,000 meters), although the current theory was that it might have run even deeper. Determining the exact depth of the yet unnamed chasm was just one of the intents of our dive. The rest was studying the organisms that might be found down there, and how they might have differed from the ones found in other deep ocean trenches (some variation being expected given the isolated environment they were developing in.)
I had to admit, it would be exciting to see what new life might have developed in a place such as this, especially if it ran even deeper than our predictions… and that excitement was enough to make me chase the fear of the risks out of my mind, even if it was only briefly. While Sheila went to make sure we were ready to embark, I caught myself wandering out toward the rear of the ship where my submarine, The Tempura, waited for me. Did this submarine deserve a better name than The Tempura? Probably. But, this was my project, so I got to name it and since Burger was already taken, Tempura was the next best name I had. I liked to think that the subs namesake might approve… if she hadn’t died fifteen years ago. Shrimp don’t live very long.
As the ship began to depart, I caught myself reminiscing on how I’d ended up here… it really was all because of those damn shrimp, wasn’t it? Well… maybe not all because of the shrimp. But they were certainly part of it. Back when I was a lot younger, I never really gave much of a shit about anything at all. I guess I did have a thing for the ocean… the great, romantic vastness of it. The sense of adventure that it beckoned with. The endless mysteries that lay within its dark depths. I used to read about it all the time when I was a kid and I especially loved the classic adventures: Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, and Melville’s Moby Dick… but that love was just confined to my books. I didn’t really have any interest in actually going out and seeing the ocean. Hell, the idea of going to a beach and standing in the sun with my toes in the sand seemed miserable to me. I was happier (although calling myself happy might’ve been a little disingenuous) alone in my room, enjoying the company of books as opposed to people.
Then came the shrimp.
One of my online friends kept them as a hobby. He used to post pictures of his tanks all the time, and I always thought they looked kinda cool. He said that if I was interested in them, I should try keeping some for myself, and during a particularly bad bout of depression, I figured that maybe it might be worth a shot. So, I bought a cheap tank and some cheap decorations, bought myself some shrimp… and promptly watched them die over the next few weeks. That… that bothered me. I don’t know why but… it really bothered me. I’m still not entirely sure how to describe what it was that I was feeling. Guilt? Defeat? Shame? Here I was, trying to set up a habitat for these creatures just to have something to do to keep the suicidal ideation at bay, and I’d failed almost right out of the gate.
Was I just that bad? Was I just that much of a failure? Was this just going to go to shit just like everything else in my life did, because I was just such an abysmal piece of shit who barely deserved the life she had? Had I just not tried hard enough? Was I too apathetic? What had happened? What went wrong?
It bothered me.
It bothered me enough that I made up my mind to just dump the remaining shrimp down the toilet and toss everything. Forget about it. Move on. End of story. But… that wasn’t fair, was it? The shrimp didn’t all deserve to die just because I couldn’t be bothered, did they? Sure, they were just shrimp, but they were alive too, just like me. They deserved to be alive.
I owed it to them to try and keep them alive, didn’t I?
So… I didn’t dump the shrimp.
Instead, I started doing some reading. Started looking into what I was doing wrong and how to do it all better. I actually got really into it and a few months later, I had a nice planted tank. Looking back, it was amateur shit… but it made me happy. I’d even picked out names for my two favorite shrimp. Burger and Tempura. They’d been the last survivors of my original batch, and they were the ones I ended up caring about the most. Caring for Burger and Tempura gave me a purpose. It became an obsession… and that little obsession drove me to finally start turning my life around.
Like I said, shrimp don’t live for very long. Burger and Tempura were long dead by the time I graduated with a degree in Marine Biology. But they were the ones who inspired me to finally get my life in order. Hell, the shrimp were half the reason that I met Sheila. She was something of an aquarium fanatic too… we’d met on a forum, and gotten to talking. I found out that she just so happened to be studying Marine Biology at another school, and we bonded pretty quickly after that. After graduation, I moved to California to be with her and after that, the rest is history. She was my rock. She was the one who always pushed me to be the best possible version of myself… and I loved her more than I ever knew I could love someone.
A glance back at the shore, fading into the distance tore me out of my reminiscing, and I shifted my focus to the present, going over The Tempura to perform some quick checks. My colleagues and I would be checking and rechecking the submarine over the next two days as we made our way toward the dive spot. Considering the danger that descending that deep posed, I didn’t want to take a single unnecessary risk.
I had too much to live for, after all.
***
The day of the dive, I couldn’t notice how excited the rest of the crew seemed… well… Sheila’s usual crew seemed excited. I guess to them, this was just another research expedition, no different than the ones Sheila usually took this ship out on. Lately her research had been focused on the analysis and study of whale calls. Her recent voyages had involved following their pods, recording their calls and playing them back to see how the whales reacted. It was fascinating stuff, but my research was admittedly a lot different than that.
My obsession had drawn me to the denizens of the deep sea. I’d used The Burger for expeditions before, although none of them had been on quite the same scale as this one. Up until today, the most ambitious thing I’d done was send down unmanned submersibles with cameras. Those submersibles had typically returned. We had lost a few early on due to technical glitches, but the past few years had been blissfully uneventful. Logically, this dive would probably be uneventful as well. But it was still hard to get the jitters out of my head.
My team and I did the final checks necessary to make sure that The Tempura was good to go, before setting up the crane to begin lifting it up. In less than an hour, I’d be inside of that thing, descending to the darkest depths of the ocean.
It didn’t feel real.
I felt Sheila’s hand on my shoulder, and looked over at her.
“Moment of truth, huh?” She asked. She probably meant it to sound encouraging, but it just sounded ominous.
“Moment of truth…” I replied.
“You’re gonna be okay, honey. I know you will.”
She reached out to gently squeeze my hand and gave me a reassuring smile that I meekly returned.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be okay,” I agreed, although there was an element of a lie in it. Statistically, yes. It probably WOULD be okay. But there was that lingering anxiety in the back of my mind that just wouldn’t go away. I looked quietly out at the submarine before me and couldn’t shake the thought that it sort of looked like a giant coffin. Unconsciously, I found myself squeezing Sheila’s hand tighter than normal. She just held me close and pressed a kiss to the top of my head, before gently rubbing my back.
“You’ll be okay,” She promised.
“Dr. Jenner, we’re ready for you.” I heard one of my colleagues say.
Moment of truth.
I took one last look at Sheila, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips for luck. She smiled at me, and I smiled back anxiously at her before heading over toward the submarine.
The crew helped me enter the cockpit and get myself situated inside. The cockpit of the Tempura was fairly cramped and not particularly comfortable. Space and comfort aren’t really luxuries you can afford in a submarine like this. The instruments I needed took up a lot of space, leaving little room for me in there… and I am not a very big person.
Once I was inside, they sealed the hatch. Then the diagnostics checks began.
“Grayson, can you hear us in there?” I heard Sheila say through the radio.
“Loud and clear,” I replied.
“Great. We’ll keep in constant radio contact, just to monitor the signal. In the meanwhile, how’s everything looking in there?”
“Green across the board so far,” I said, although I hadn’t finished running all my final checks yet. Ultimately, nothing was out of place.
This submarine was as good to go as it was going to get.
“I’m all good in here,” I said once I was done. “You can drop me when you’re ready.”
“You got it, honey. Let’s get you in the water, run one final round of tests and start lowering you down.”
A short while later, I felt the submarine begin to move as the crane lifted it off the deck and lowered it into the water. The Tempura honestly resembled its namesake in a way, being long and cigar shaped, only vertically oriented instead of horizontally oriented. We’d admittedly taken more than a few design cues from James Cameron’s Deepsea Challenger. Why fix what isn’t broken, after all?
Once I was in the water, a 1000 pound releasable ballast weight would cause the submarine to sink. Releasing that weight was also my ticket back to the surface, and I could either trigger it from inside the cockpit, or, in the event that the release failed for any reason, it would trigger automatically after roughly 12 hours of exposure to salt water.
Ideally, this would be the first of a number of dives I’d be undertaking… and if all went according to plan, the Tempura could be the first of many similar submarines that would allow other researchers to safely and effectively descend to extreme depths. If all went well, this could be a massive leap forward for researchers like me, allowing us to better explore the deepest depths of the Hadal Zone and learn all we could about the ecosystems down there via direct observation.
If all went well.
If.
Through the viewport, I watched as I was lowered into the ocean. A few of the other crew members had donned diving gear to escort me down, and after they did their final checks and I did mine, we were fully ready to go.
“All’s green across the board,” I said into the radio. “You can start my descent.”
“I hear you, honey,” Sheila replied. “We’re letting you go. Have fun down there.”
“Yeah, I’ll try…” I said quietly as finally, my submarine began its descent.
I took a deep breath, and told myself again that everything would go fine. We had checked everything on this submarine. We’d tested it rigorously. I wouldn’t have allowed myself to set foot inside of it if I hadn’t personally assured that it was safe. But anxiety never really goes away, does it? The crew couldn’t accompany me far. After only a few meters, they fell behind me as I sank deeper and deeper into the infinite, empty blue of the ocean. Soon after, the tether was released.
I was officially on my own.
“60 feet,” I heard Sheila say over the radio. “How are you doing in there?”
“Good,” I replied. “Doing… doing good.”
The submarine continued to descend. Through the viewport, I could see a few stray fish, but nothing particularly eye catching. I almost felt alone down there… almost…
“120 feet…” Sheila said.
“Still doing good,” I replied.
The descent continued, as the waters slowly grew darker and darker.
“400 feet…”
Everything around me just kept getting darker and darker. Only a fraction of the light from the sun ever reached these depths… and I’d be lying if I said that darkness didn’t feel a little… oppressive.
“800 feet… still feeling good?”
“Yeah, still feeling good…” I said, although it was a bit of a lie. If anything, I was second guessing all of this, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud.
“1000 feet… still good?”
“Still good…” I murmured. “I hear you loud and clear.”
Deeper… deeper… deeper.
“1500 feet…”
Three miles. I was three miles away from home. Three miles away from Sheila.
“2000 feet…”
Still a ways to go.
“3000 feet…”
By this point, it was fully dark outside of my cockpit. Outside, all I could see was inky darkness. Even the submarine’s lights didn’t really cut through it. And the kicker? Relatively speaking, I wasn’t that deep. Fishing trawlers reached deeper than this. Better to conserve power until I was at the bottom. My descent continued.
“6000 feet… still good?”
“Still good…”
The check ins were becoming less frequent. My descent still continued… deeper… deeper… deeper. By now, I’d entered the Hadal Zone. But there was still so much deeper o go.
“8000 feet…”
This was past the depths that most whales would dive to… and I still had a ways to go.
“10,000 feet.”
This was close to where the ocean floor usually bottomed out… and yet there was still so much further to go. No. I was really only a third of the way there. How long had it been?Not much had happened beyond my descent and a few sightings out of my viewport, but time had been passing. A glance at my watch confirmed it’d been almost an hour since I’d started to sink… and I knew I wasn’t even close to the bottom yet. The submarine continued to descend, sinking ever deeper as I dropped into an infinite darkness that few had ever dared to witness.
“15,000 feet.”
This check in came later than the others. At this point, Sheila and the crew must have figured that no news was good news, and they were right. I just continued to sink peacefully, down into the crushing depths of the ocean.
These were the depths that one might normally find deep sea fish… and yet I was going somewhere even deeper than that.
“20,000 feet…”
So close…
I continued to sink.
“25,000 feet.”
Soon… and finally…
“30,000 feet. You still doing alright, honey?”
“Yeah… yeah, I’m doing good,” I assured her. I was so close…
By this point, my real work had begun. I’d engaged the lights and begun documenting what little I could see using the on board cameras. Granted, there wasn’t much life at these depths and what little there was, was scarcely documented. Most of what was down here consisted of invertebrates and microscopic life that seemed to float past my viewport.
The light seemed to draw a few creatures in search of food. Small, hardy things that resembled shrimp.
“How’s it looking, Grayson?”
“Dark,” I said, half joking. “We’ve got some life… shrimp. They’re translucent. Can’t get a great look at them… but we’ll see what the cameras pick up.”
“They’ve recognized you as a friend,” Sheila said. I could almost see the smile on her lips as she said it.
“Yeah…” I replied, “Tempura sent them a message, told them I’d be down. How am I looking on depth?”
“35,000 feet… you seeing a bottom yet?”
“No… not that I would until I was there.”
“Damn… how deep does this go?”
“It can’t go that deep…” I murmured, although I really wasn’t so sure about that.
The submarine continued to sink…
36,000 feet…
37,000 feet…
38,000 feet… and then finally, just past the 39,000 foot mark, I finally saw solid ground below me.
Looking through my viewport, I could see a familiar dark brown diatomaceous sludge, covering the seafloor. Microscopic life, likely similar to what had been observed in other deep sea trenches, such as the Challenger Deep.
I needed to gather a sample.
As my submarine reached the bottom, I extended the mechanical arms, pressed flat against the surface of the Tempura, and opened the collection port near the bottom of the ship. Slowly, I sifted some of the sludge into the port. My disturbance of the seafloor kicked up a cloud of the microbial colony, and I could’ve sworn I saw something wiggling through the debris. A pale, white thing, perhaps some sort of sea cucumber? I hastily angled my submarines camera to try and catch a glimpse of it, before returning to my collection. Even in this forlorn place, there was still so much to see! And here I was… completely forgetting my fear as the excitement took hold of me! Few people had ever been down to these unfathomable depths… and yet here I was.
It didn’t feel real but it was! I had reached the deepest part of the ocean!
“How’s it going down there?” I heard Sheila ask. Her voice was a little garbled. The connection down here was faltering.
“It’s beautiful…” I said. “I can’t wait for you to see it!”
“I’ll bet…”
“I’m going to do a sweep of the area, see what samples I can gather,” I said. “What’s my time right now?”
“Three hours. You’ve got nine before your connection to the weight deteriorates and you start to ascend.”
“I’ll make the most of it,” I said. The plan was only to stay down there for six hours, and I didn’t want to push that limit. Life support would only last me for so long, and one little error was all it would take for the ungodly pressure down here to crush me.
I began to move the submarine. Mobility was limited. This thing wasn’t built to travel far. But I still had some limited movement. I recorded all that I could, filming the shrimp that investigated my light, and the things that slithered and crawled through the muck, likely feeding on the carpet of single celled organisms that populated these depths.
The first two hours were… well… I hesitate to call them uneventful, they were actually very fascinating, but little of note happened beyond my recording of a few specimens.
Midway through the third hour though, as I was reaching one of the rock walls of the abyss, I noticed something just above the edge of my viewport swimming away from the light. I could’ve sworn I saw slender, pale tentacles of some sort. Was that a squid? Were there squid down this deep? I wasn’t aware of any species of known squid who could reach these depths… but in this unknown place, what use was the known?
I moved my light and my camera to try and catch another glimpse of it, but whatever it was, it seemed to be gone. Maybe I’d see another one. I still had plenty of time.
“You made a noise. What’d you see?” Sheila asked.
“Something big… I think,” I said.
“Down there? Like a fish?”
“Squid. You wouldn’t find any vertebrates down this deep… the pressure would crush their bones.”
“Jeez…”
I didn’t reply to that, still searching for the thing I’d seen. I shone my light up along the walls of the chasm and angled my camera up as far as it would go. I could see a few volcanic vents, spewing dark clouds into the darkness, and more diatoms. But not much else. Strange invertebrates crawled along the walls. Small creatures, no bigger than an inch long. Related to isopods, perhaps? If I could collect one as a sample, I would have… although taking any of those back to the surface would surely kill them. They were built to live under the impossible pressure of these depths. Taking them to the surface would rip them apart.
I went back to my research, and it wasn’t long until I saw something in the darkness, just on the edge of where my flashlight reached. Trailing white tendrils, snaking their way through the darkness. My eyes narrowed as I moved the submarine forward, trying to catch whatever it was in the light. I saw the shape move, its body turning… I saw its tendrils unfurling. Whatever this was, it was big. It was almost as big as The Tempura… although it was also slender. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought I was looking at some sort of floating debris, but this far down? No. And debris wouldn’t move like that.
This had to be a deepsea squid… or perhaps some other type of cephalopod? Something that preyed upon the various invertebrates down here, perhaps? It seemed to float, just out of sight for a bit, as I tried to get closer. I angled up my light to get a better look at it. The light seemed to shine through it, like some sort of ghost… but I did manage to get a look at it.
Although that look…
That single look made me freeze up.
This things slender tendrils certainly resembled a cephalopod of some sort, but the rest of it… the rest of it looked like something else entirely. Its body was thin, emaciated and translucent, yet despite that it still had characteristics that almost seemed… human. It wasn’t human! Not by any stretch of imagination, but the resemblance was there. It almost reminded me of an exhibit I’d seen in a museum once, depicting a preserved, fully removed human nervous system. I could see a similar shape in its translucent body. Its head seemed almost human as well… albeit with no eyes, and a lamprey like mouth I could only describe as fleshy yet crablike.
Still, despite having no eyes I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was looking at me. And that was when I felt something hit the submarine.
I felt a sudden jolt of panic in my chest. For a moment, I thought that the pressure had started to crush me, but no… no, everything was still fine. Something had just hit me. But what? It didn’t take long before I got my answer.
Another pale creature floated past my viewport, swirling gracefully in the cold dark waters. I watched it for a moment with wide eyes, before noticing its ‘head’ turning slightly toward me. Then, almost instantly, it launched itself at the submarine, darting toward me with blinding speed.
I heard a distinct THUD as its body collided with me, and I could see its pale tendrils pressing against the viewport, twisting and writhing violently. It was trying to attack me. The first creature that I’d seen lunged as well, pounding on my submarine with another THUD. And moments later, I could hear more impacts against the hull. There were more of them… and they did not like having me down there.
“What’s going on?” Sheila asked.
“Somebody doesn’t like me…” I said. “One of the animals down here… some kind of squid, it’s just started attacking the hull.”
“How bad is the damage?”
“Not sure… could be nothing, could be-”
I felt the submarine shake as I tried to move it. The thrusters that pushed me forward weren't responding. Had something gotten caught in it? One of the creatures perhaps?
“Grayson?!” Sheila asked.
“Lost propulsion…” I said. “Fuck… I can’t move.”
“Then drop the weight and come up!”
“No, it’s fine, there’s no other damage, I can still use the port and starboard thrusters to-”
“Grayson!”
I paused. There was genuine panic in her voice… enough to make me realize that even if these things stood little chance of actually breaching the hull, taking the risk would be a fatal mistake.
“I’m on my way up…” I finally said, before reaching out to disengage the ballast weights.
Immediately, I felt myself beginning to rise, although the tentacles clinging to my viewport didn’t disappear.
“We’ve got you…” Sheila said. “Rising up to 38,000 feet.”
The submarine continued to rise, but the creatures clinging to me went nowhere. In fact… I was sure I could see more of them. More pale shapes coming up through the darkness, and these ones filled me with dread. I thought I had been looking at some sort of eerie undiscovered life. But seeing what was coming up toward me now… I knew that I was looking at so much more. The creatures swimming up toward me through the darkness carried weapons… makeshift stone spears and daggers. Primitive tools… but tools all the same.
Signs that these were more than just undiscovered animals.
Much. Much more.
The word: ‘Mermaids’ crossed through my mind, but these were something far different than the ones I’d heard of in folklore. These looked like they’d swam out of the depths of hell itself. Boneless pale tendrils reached for me… and they were getting closer. The pale shapes reached my submarine as I rose higher. I kept praying to whatever God may be listening that the dropping pressure would force them off. The air in a submarine is pressurized, so during normal operation, there should have been no danger of decompression sickness for me.
For them… well… normally I’d feel a little guilty about subjecting an undiscovered species of deep sea mermaids to the horrors of the Bends. But given my circumstances, I didn’t have a lot of other options.
They didn’t let go, though.
They should have. But they didn’t.
What were these things?
I saw a splayed hand press against my viewport. Or… it somewhat resembled a hand. It had suckers on it, like a tentacle and the ‘fingers’ curled open like tentacles. The creature crawled over my viewport, clinging to The Tempura as it rose, and I could see the folds of its crablike mouth opening and pressing against the glass. I could see some sort of bile rising up through its translucent throat, before it secreted it all over my viewport. Was it trying to digest me? Was that how these things fed? How strong were its stomach acids? Were they strong enough to-
The window cracked.
My heart skipped a beat.
“No… no, no no…”
“Grayson, what’s wrong?!”
“They cracked the window… S-Sheila they… oh God… oh fuck, they just…”
“THEY DID WHAT?”
“It’s secreting some sort of enzyme… it’s on the window, it’s… FUCK… I’m gonna die… I’m gonna die… I’m gonna die…”
“You’re not gonna die, baby! Just… just keep ascending, okay? You’re at 30,000 feet… just keep going…”
I nodded, and kept on rising, although the question of whether or not the rest of the creatures were trying to digest the other parts of my submarine floated through my mind. How much damage could The Tempura take before it imploded? How much longer did I have? The submarine still continued to rise… 25,000 feet… almost halfway home… almost… almost.
The creature outside of my viewport slithered along the glass, searching for a better area to try and digest. Past him, I noticed a few of his companions dropping off. Maybe the change in pressure finally was getting to them?
From the corner of my eye, I suddenly noticed a flashing light. A warning. The hydraulics on one of the Tempura’s arms were shot… what else was damaged?
I checked my oxygen levels. 32%.
I should’ve had at least 14 hours of air. I’d only been down there for about 6 hours… I shouldn’t have been this low.
31%.
No… no, no, no, no… they’d damaged the air tanks!
30%.
29%
“20,000 feet!” Sheila said. “You still with me, baby?”
“Y-yeah…” I said. I didn’t mention my air situation. I didn’t need to worry her further.
The submarine continued its ascent.
15,000 feet.
24%. I was running out of time.
The creatures still clung to the Tempura. How had the pressure change not killed them yet? My oxygen was dropping faster than before. I was hemorrhaging air. Another crack formed across my viewport. I let out a little, involuntary gasp before trying to force myself to stop hyperventilating.
“Grayson, what was that?”
“I-it’s fine…” I stammered, “It’s fine!”
“Grayson what the hell is going on down there?!”
“They’re still on the submarine… they’re still…” I paused, looking at my oxygen levels. “19%...”
“19% of what? Grayson what’s going on!”
I paused.
18%.
“Air… I’m… I’m losing air…”
“That’s fine, you’re going to make it!” She said, although I heard her voice cracking a little. “You’re gonna make it!”
I didn’t answer.
12,000 feet.
11,000 feet…
My oxygen level continued to drop.
15%.
14%.
12%.
9,000 feet.
The creatures still clung to me, as the submarine continued to rise. The one on my viewport was still there, slowly crawling along the glass again. I stared into its eyeless face and swore I was looking at the face of my killer.
7,000 feet…
Oxygen had dropped to 9%. It dropped to 8% before I even got to 6,000 feet. I was going to die here…
The viewport cracked again and I squeezed my eyes shut. The submarine rocked. I was sure one of the thrusters had been damaged. My ascent slowed.
“Grayson, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry Sheila…”
Another crack spread across my viewport.
“I’m… I’m not making it back up…”
“YES YOU ARE!”
“I’m sorry…” The tears started to come as the reality of my death became clearer and clearer… this was it.
“YOU’RE COMING BACK UP, YOU HEAR ME! GODDAMNIT, I’LL BRING YOU BACK UP!”
“I love you…”
That creatures face pressed against the glass. It vomited more of its stomach acid onto the cracked glass, and I wondered if this might finally be what broke it. Part of me hoped it would be… the one good thing about dying this deep was that at least I’d die quickly. My suffering would be over. Then, the creature suddenly pulled back, twisting and writhing violently. I saw other shapes moving past it in the water, other ‘mermaids’ that had been clinging to the submarine.
Something was agitating them.
Something was scaring them off.
Then I heard it, over the radio… whale songs.
“What the hell…?”
“Grayson, are you still there?!”
“I… they’re finally breaking off. Sheila, what did you do?”
“I’m broadcasting some of the orca recordings we’ve been using. Are they still clinging to you?”
“No! They’re backing off! I… whatever you’re doing, keep doing it!”
The submarine kept rising.
5,000 feet.
4,000 feet.
4% oxygen.
I could still do this, right?
The submarine continued to rise.
3%.
3,000 feet.
2,000 feet.
2%.
1,000 feet… so close… I was so close…
I could almost see the surface through my viewport, rushing up toward me. I tried not to breathe. Tried not to move. All I did was hope.
500 feet.
I closed my eyes.
“Grayson we have your signal, we’re coming to pick you up!”
Sheila’s voice sounded so far away as my submarine finally breached the surface of the water… and with the last of my strength, I pulled the emergency release on the hatch, and threw it open, taking in lungful after lungful of fresh salty air.
I didn’t dare so much as touch the water beneath me… but I was topside again, and in the distance, I could see The Burger!
“We see you!” Sheila said, “We’ve got you baby… we’ve got you…”
“I see you too…” I said through the tears. “Thank you… thank you…” I didn’t have any words left in me after that.
As soon as I was back on the ship, I collapsed into Sheila’s arms, breaking down into tears as I clung to her, terrified that at any moment, some sort of unspoken other shoe would drop and I’d lose her all over again.
“Shh… it’s alright baby… I’ve got you… you’re safe… you’re safe…” I felt her fingers running through my air and I knew that what she said was true.
I was home.
I was safe.
***
I left my colleagues to review the data that the Tempura gathered during its short expedition. As far as I know, they haven’t published anything. I have a few ideas as to why, but I’ll keep those to myself. Let’s just say that some people would rather this information not become public.
I have a feeling that the Tempura may not be diving again for some time, if ever. I will confess that I do consider that a bit of a shame. Despite everything… I would consider it a success. It endured far more stressful conditions than I had expected, and from what I heard, required fewer repairs than I’d thought it would. But, even if it was approved for another dive, it wouldn’t be me piloting it. No. I will never be setting foot inside of that machine again, nor will I ever be returning to what my colleagues have been quietly referring to as ‘The Jenner Trench’.
I can’t.
Every night, I wake up crying after dreaming of pale shapes outside of my cracked viewport, clinging to Sheila and sobbing. I can’t put myself in that situation again.
I can’t.
Instead, I think I’m going to spend the next few years on solid ground. There’s a teaching position available at a local university. I think that might be the best place for me right now. Who knows, maybe I can help some other deadbeat discover a passion for marine biology.
After everything, my love for the sea remains unchanged… I’m just a little more wary of it, these days.

Cover Art!
Just because you’re transported to another world, doesn’t mean you’ll escape from your pain.
Abused by her parents, thirteen-year-old Frances only wants to be safe and for her life not to hurt so much. And when she and her class are transported to the magical world of Durannon to fight the monsters invading the human kingdoms and defeat the self-titled Demon King, Frances is presented with a golden opportunity. If she succeeds, Frances will have the home she never had. If she fails, Frances will be summoned back to the home she escaped.
Yet, despite her newfound magic and friends, Frances finds that trauma is not so easily lost. She is dogged by her abuse and its physical and invisible scars. Not only does she have to learn magic, she has to survive the nightmares of her past, and wrestle with her feelings of doubt and self-loathing.
If she can heal from her trauma, though, she might be able to defeat the Demon King and maybe, just maybe, she can find a home for herself.
[The Beginning] [<=Chapter 216] [Chapter Index and Blurb] [Chapter 218 May 28 or see the next chapter now on Patreon]
The Fractured Song Index
Discord Channel Just let me know when you arrive in the server that you’re a Patreon so you can access your special channel.
Frances and company catch up before the final battle.
***
“Hold on. How would he win this battle if we outnumber him and surround him?” Ginger asked.
“He could target our leadership. Focus on killing Titania, Antigones, you and Martin,” said Ayax.
“Only, he’d have to kill Sebastian and Megara, as well as Edana and you too, Frances, along with a whole list of targets. I’m not sure how he could pull that off,” said Elizabeth.
Ayax grimaced, brow furrowed, but Frances knew the answer to that question.
“Thorgoth doesn’t need to find half the targets he’s after. Myself, mom, Titania, our strongest mages and the rest of the people that will be on his list have leadership positions. Like it or not we’ll be involved in the battle and he just needs to find us on the battlefield. A well-placed spell and he’d snuff any non-magic person out,” Frances said.
“So what do we do then?” Martin asked.
Frances’ heart was pounding, for she knew the answer, but was afraid to give it life. Yet what could she do but tell what she knew was the truth?
“Take the battle to him. Thorgoth will have to operate by himself with maybe just his Royal Guards. We need to hold him and his escort and defeat him before he hurts everybody else.”
“So, all the Otherworlders, our best mages?” Ayax asked.
“Not all of them. But my mother and I, Jessica and Leila, Dwynalina and Jim and Nicole, with a few Otherworlders holding off his guards,” said Frances.
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Ayax and I can go after Queen Berengaria. I can’t imagine her going far from her husband.”
“This is assuming we can at least split the attention of the dragons and keep them occupied of course,” said Martin. He touched Ginger’s elbow. “Not that I don’t trust you dear.”
“Oh I know, but it is a consideration.” She swirled the wine in her cup. “That means Martin and I will be directing the battle with Sebastian and Alexander.”
“It’s likely you’ll be the overall commander with Martin. Alexander and Sebastian would then take charge of their own contingents,” said Elizabeth. She bit her lip. “Do you feel up for it?”
Ginger shrugged. “I mean, we have to—”
Elizabeth reached out to pat her friend’s shoulder. “Martin, Ginger, you know we have every faith in both of you, but if you need help, there is no shame in asking for it.”
“Besides I think we’re all scared. I know I am,” Ayax said with a smile. Even so, they could all see how her tail looked like it was trying to twist itself into knots. Frances figured her cousin wasn’t trying to hide her fear, just trying not to alarm or panic them.
Martin sighed. “I think that’s the problem, Liz. Duty compels us. Love binds us. So I know no matter what happens, I know we’ll stand together to face him. Still, we are afraid and while I know I won’t run, I worry that fear may cloud my judgment at a crucial moment.”
Ginger wiped her eyes, but her tears now flowed freely down her cheeks. “How do I know I won’t panic, and make a bad call? How do we know we are all coming back? We can’t. I…I guess we have to accept that, but I don’t want to lose you. Any of you.”
Drawing her friend into a tight hug, Elizabeth gently patted Ginger’s back. “I don’t either. I suppose that for me, I’ve always looked to my faith in God, and in you all. Have we not triumphed in all we’ve faced?””
Frances found herself nodding, her throat unclenching and the tight nervousness in her shoulders and neck fading. What remained was a faint feeling of lightness that lifted her chin.
“You’re right. We should believe in ourselves, and hope. Hope for a future when we win this war. Hope that our good will triumph over Thorgoth’s evil. Hope that in a few days, we’ll be home with our family, and our friends.”
Martin gave Frances a wondering look. “How are you able to hope that?”
Frances smiled. “I think that I have always been good at having hope. I didn’t realize it until now, but even in my darkest moments, I always hoped that I would find a place where I could be me.”
Ayax stood up, raising her glass. “To faith, friendship and hope. May it see us all through our final trial.”
Rising to their feet, the five touched glasses and drank deep. They all were smiling. The pain and fear in their hearts soothed by the hope they held and the determination to see each other once again.
***
“Frances, can I walk with you?”
Frances would never have said no to her best friend, and she could tell that past Elizabeth’s bright smile, her friend was worried. There were just too many small signs learnt from years of friendship. She was scratching behind her ear, and her eyes were narrowed just slightly from the tension in her face.
“Of course,” said Frances, falling in beside the tall Otherworlder. “How are you and Ayax?”
Elizabeth giggled. “We’re great! Fantastic even. She and I are even talking about what we might do after the war. We have so many plans and well, I kind of wanted to talk to you about that.”
Frances waited as Elizabeth continued to walk beside her, lips pursed.
“I know that after the war, I’m choosing to stay here with Ayax, with all of you. I just…” her voice trailed off, and her walk slowed to a crawl.
Taking a slight breath, Frances touched her friend’s hand. “Liz, you know it’s okay for you to doubt that.”
Elizabeth stopped and shook her head. “Oh no, I don’t have any doubts about my decision. At the very least, I’m past the point where my doubts aren’t going to change my decision. I know I’ve changed too much in the past seven years. I’ve come to terms with my sexuality. I’ve fallen head over heels in love with a woman who loves me just as much. I’ve commanded armies, led soldiers into battle and helped to make decisions affecting hundreds of thousands of people. I can’t go back pretending I’m Grade 8 and neither do I want to.” She squeezed Frances’s hand. “My decision is the right one. I know it in my heart and I’ve prayed about it. I can do a lot of good here and me going back? That won’t just hurt the people I love here, but it’ll hurt me and my family at home. I can’t hide who I’ve become and I’m proud of what I’ve grown into.”
Frances closely studied her friend knowing Elizabeth wouldn’t mind her staring.
“So what are you feeling, Liz?”
Closing her eyes, Elizabeth sniffled. “Guilt. It’s stupid. I know I’m making the right choice. I’m sure in my heart that God is encouraging me to make this choice, but I still feel guilty.”
“How could you not? You know your family loves you.”
“And I’m abandoning them. I know I’m doing the right thing but I still feel like I’m doing something wrong,” said the Otherworlder.
Frances hugged her best friend, squeezing her tight, hoping that her warmth and touch could comfort the woman who she’d trusted as much as her own mother.
“Liz, if they are everything you told me, they’re going to be alright. Have faith in them, like your faith in me and your friends.”
Elizabeth let out a sigh, but returned the hug. “Thank you, Frances. If…if the worst comes and you are sent back without me, go to them. Tell them I love them.”
Tears in her eyes, Frances nodded. “I promise. If you are sent back, I will take care of Ayax.”
Elizabeth let out a gurgly hiccup. “Thank you. I know you will.”
***
The historic coronation of King Martin and Queen Ginger would found what would be known as the Congrey dynasty. Con for Conthwaite and Grey for King Jerome’s dynasty.
It was an unusual coronation as King Martin and Queen Ginger were long-betrothed but not married. Yet King Jerome and Queen Forowena’s wills had been clear. Apart from that, the coronation involved as many of Eridale's traditions as possible in light of the circumstances.
Down the parade route attended by all those that could be mustered, King and Queen marched in at the head of an honor guard composed of their closest companions. These included Frances, Elizabeth, and Ayax, who held three poles of a crimson banner that hung over the pair. The fourth corner was held by Martin’s sister Mara, who wore a slightly undignified grin. Yet, nobody could really blame her.
Martin wore a black-white checkered tunic with red-gold trimmings and shoulder epaulets. His trousers were dark gray with again red-gold tassels. Ginger did wear a dress. It was of a dark maroon with silver lacing. A bejeweled gorget studded with emeralds hung from her neck and her ears sparkled with dark blue sapphires.
There was one minor alteration. As the procession marched up to the entrance of the old Goblin Empire palace, on a raised wooden dais dressed with elaborately embroidered carpets stood the attending dignitaries. They included all the other Erisdalian lords and ladies such as Viscountess Katia and Lord Tarquin, dressed in all the finery they could muster. Other notables such as Prince Timur, representing the Kingdom of Alavaria, Grandmaster Edana of the White Order and Alexander and Eloise of Erlenberg stood proudly side by side.
Towards the center of the dais were three figures. King Sebastian and Queen-Consort Megara, and the former Queen Janize. Sebastian and Megara were standing, holding Queen Forowena’s crown, whilst the heavily pregnant Janize sat, holding King Jerome’s crown. Thorgoth may have taken their decorated helmets, but he did not have their ceremonial attire.
Martin and Ginger stepped out from under the awning, giving their bearers a brief nod, before taking the last steps up the dais.
Whistling a spell, Megara touched her throat with her wand. “Who stands before the crowns?”
Martin knelt to one knee. The bearers of the awning followed. “Sir Martin of Conthwaite. A Knight of Erisdale.”
Ginger curtsied low. Frances nearly split her lips as she grinned at her friend’s perfect form. “Ginger. Just Ginger of Erisdale.”
Janize’s expression was unreadable as she rose to her feet. There was a slight archness to her features, and yet that could just be how she lifted her haughty cheeks.
“As witnessed by all, and by the King and Queen of Lapanteria, do you swear to defend Erisdale with all means at your disposal including force of arms?”
“We do.”
“Do you swear to uphold the laws of the land and the rights of Erisdale’s citizens?”
“We do!”
“Do you swear that until your dying breaths, to govern and reign over Erisdale not for your benefit, but for the benefit of the people and for their future generations?”
From her kneeling position, Frances frowned. That wasn’t quite the right oath. The wording was “Do you swear to govern over Erisdale wisely and justly?” She supposed that she might have missed it, or maybe there was a variation.
Yet as she noted her fiance’s face, she noticed his eyes were wide and her mother’s eyebrow was arched.
Not skipping a beat, Martin and Ginger bellowed. “We do!”
“Do you swear that you will do your utmost not to make the same mistakes as your predecessors and do whatever it takes to preserve Erisdale’s peace, even if it may cost you your lives?”
Frances blinked. Janize had gone completely off script. There was no fourth oath.
However, Martin and Ginger only hesitated for a moment as they exchanged a glance and looked up to meet Janize’s gaze.
The blonde woman’s eyes were bright and the hands holding Jerome’s crown were trembling ever so slightly. Frances had wondered why she’d insisted on doing this. Martin and Ginger had wanted to approach her to ask if she was willing, but the enigmatic former queen had surprised them by demanding they allow her to crown them. She now had an idea as to why.
“We do,” said Martin, smiling.
Ginger returned that smile. Blinking back her own tears, she took a breath. “In the name of Queen-consort Forowena and your brother, King Jerome. We solemnly swear.”
Janize closed her eyes, a single tear running down her cheek.
“Then as the last heiress of House Grey, I pass the crown of Erisdale on forever. Long live the Congrey dynasty. Long live Martin the Hero of Erisdale and his queen to be Ginger, whom I dub Erisdale’s Burning Heart.”
Lifting Jerome’s crown high, she set it onto Martin’s head. Swiftly taking Queen Forowena’s crown from Sebastian, she set it on Ginger’s head.
“Hail King Martin and Queen Ginger!” Janize bellowed as Martin and Ginger rose to their feet.
The crowd chanted back, their voices filling the great cavern. “Hail King Martin and Queen Ginger! Hail King Martin and Queen Ginger!” Frances could barely hear her own voice over the crescendo. The call that they all raised. Like the sound carried up into the void, she could feel herself be carried up. It was like she was floating on the power of their united song.
Turning around, Martin and Ginger smiled at Frances. Their eyes were wide, and she could see them clasp each other’s hands tightly.
Frances found herself standing on her feet, the pole to her awning in her hand. Without a second thought, she stabbed the pole’s spike into the ground. As her hand dropped to Alanna, she paused for a moment before her mind caught up with her body, and she nodded as if to herself.
Drawing the estoc, Frances raised her blade high, saluting her two friends.
“Long may they reign! Long may they reign!”
Elizabeth was right behind her, hammer raised high. Ayax followed suit with her staff and Mara and the rest were soon drawing their weapons. From the corner of her eye, Frances even spotted Morgan and Hattie raising their wand and staff.
“Long may they reign! Long may they reign!”
***
Helias glanced over his shoulder toward the accursed city. Despite the distance, there was a tremble in the air of Kairoun-Aoun itself.
“Helias?” Sara asked.
“Sounds like they crowned Martin and Ginger. They’re going to attack soon,” he said.
Sara nodded, her tense jaw the only sign of the worry that had seized the harpy-orc. As gently as he could manage with his rough, scarred hands, he wrapped his arm around her waist.
“Sara. We’re going to be fine.”
“You’re lying,” she said with eyes fixed forward.
The general couldn’t help but wince. “Sorry.”
Slowing in her stride, Sara placed a hand over Helias’s. “I still appreciate you trying to comfort me but I would prefer you to tell me the truth. How bad is it?”
Helias looked around. “Thorgoth may pull off a miracle and get himself and Berengaria out. However, a lot of Alavari are going to die.”
“What are you going to do?” Sara asked.
“I’ll have to attend this meeting and see what Thorgoth is planning. We’ll make a plan after that.”
“You and I know it’s not going to change anything,” Sara said, looking up at her husband, who could not meet her gaze. Yet, she didn’t push him away. Instead put her hand around his waist, drawing him closer.
“I know, but I want to be sure,” said Helias in a low tone.
“I understand. See you soon,” said Sara.
***
Helias found himself exchanging side-long glances with Glowron. The pair sat, both leaning forward toward King Thorgoth and a pacing Queen Berengaria, who’d finished explaining tomorrow’s strategy.
“Do you have anything else to add, my good generals?” Thorgoth asked. The king still smiled easily as he swirled a cup of wine in his hands.
Glowron shook his head. His tone was short but he kept this expression neutral. “No sire.”
The goblin general was Helias’s superior in rank and social class. The fact of the matter was that if Glowron had no objections, then there was no way the tauroll could object.
And still, Helias felt bile rise in the back of his throat. He froze, ever so briefly. Closing his eyes, he shook his head. Nothing mattered, except for Sara and Gwendilia.
“No sir. I’ll have my troops ready for tomorrow.”
That should have been that. They would have been dismissed to prepare for tomorrow’s suicide mission, but the king’s whims had other plans.
King Thorgoth put his cup down and leaned forward. “Oh come on my good generals. Surely you have something to improve on this plan.”
Glowron’s expression remained blank, whilst Helias smiled. “Your Majesty, you were the one who taught me everything I know. I can think of nothing I can add to your strategy.”
Queen Berengaria strode toward him. “You’re usually so talkative, Helias. Are you sure you have no other thoughts?”
“I beg your apologies, but I do not have any further additions to your plan, Your Majesty. My lord Glowron?” Helias asked.
“I do not either, my liege—” Glowron fell silent and Helias’s tail stiffened.
Thorgoth and Berengaria were no longer smiling and with a few more steps, the harpy queen had put herself behind the two generals.
“Let me be plain, we are now not asking you about how to improve the plan. We are asking for your thoughts. Give them.”
The Demon King’s remaining dark eye was narrowed. The other was now covered with a black silk eyepatch, the remains of the scar that Queen Forowen had given him, a discoloration scouring a line along the side of his face and right over his ear. In spite of the king’s injury, Helias felt nothing but cold dread dry his mouth.
“Your Majesty, my only thought is that we have no option but to follow your plan. No matter how we got into this situation, the only thing we can do is go forward and try to win this day,” Glowron said.
“And do you blame me, Glowron?”
Helias watched, eyes wide as somehow the much smaller goblin general continued to meet the king’s eyes. “I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t assign some responsibility to you at all, but I believe we ought to have thought of the possibility of such a trap. So the responsibility is mine as well.”
Thorgoth nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, Helias saw the slightest of nods that Berengaria gave to her husband. Alarm shooting his gaze back toward the Demon King, Helias found the full attention of his sovereign and sometimes uncle directed right at him.
“And you, General Helias?”
Lie and he might not be able to make it convincing enough. Tell the truth about what he thought about this war and he was never seeing Sara and Gwendilia again. Thorgoth hadn’t just been hurt, his pride had been wounded and he was now backed into a corner. It would be unwise to anger him, but what to say? What could he say?
All he could think of, and see was his child and her adoring gaze. All he could feel was the touch of Sara’s hand against his. They’d become closer than he could have imagined and were more than just companions with mutual goals now.
If he was to die, then maybe he could tell this truth.
“I am mostly thinking of my wife and my child, my king. The coming battle has me greatly concerned with how dangerous it shall be.”
Thorgoth narrowed his eyes at Helias for a brief moment. The tauroll, staying very still, waited for the presumed reaction by Berengaria.
Whatever Berengaria did made Thorgoth arch an eyebrow.
“I thought you didn’t consider your wife to be worth much,” said the king in a mild tone.
His mind racing, Helias ran with the idea. “She has responded well to the constraints and discipline I’ve enforced on her. She does nothing but facilitate all my needs and has served me well.”
He could feel Berengaria’s eyes narrow, but Thorgoth was already leaning back onto his chair. “Good for you. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, sire,” said Helias, almost unable to hide his sigh of relief.
***
Author’s Note: While I wish I could have spent more quality time with Martin, Elizabeth, Ginger and Ayax, I do love the best-friend/team that I created for Frances. This chapter and the last was my little way of giving each of them a bit of time with Frances before the final battle.

Over the course of the past few months I have been working on compiling a list of my 500 favorite songs. It was sort of challenge that I gave myself and I'm super pumped with how it turned out. There were a few rules (only 5 songs per artist being the big rule, among a few others), and here's the list I came up with. Thought it was fun, so wanted to share here and see if it might spark any discussion about song placement, lack of songs/artists, or see if anyone had any similar lists. All thoughts are welcome! (and if you don't care to comb through all 500 songs for your favorite song or artist I'm more than happy to help you track 'em down)

1. Trash Panda - Aging out of the 20th Century
   
2. Djo - Roddy
   
3. The Beatles - Don't Let Me Down
   
4. Snail Mail - Heat Wave
   
5. Phoebe Bridgers - Savior Complex
   
6. Joji - SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK
   
7. The Shins - The Fear
   
8. Talking Heads - This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)
   
9. The Cranberries - Linger
   
10. Post Animal - Ralphie
    
11. Hop Along - Not Abel
    
12. The Beach Boys - Heroes And Villains
    
13. Electric Light Orchestra - Livin' Thing
    
14. The Monkees - As We Go Along
    
15. Blondie - Heart Of Glass
    
16. The Strokes - Oblivius
    
17. Chet Baker - It's Always You
    
18. The Beatles - Rain
    
19. Electric Light Orchestra - Telephone Line
    
20. Husbands - Must Be a Cop
    
21. Faces - Ooh La La
    
22. The Flaming Lips - Do You Realize??
    
23. Frank Ocean - Nights
    
24. Harry James - It's Been a Long, Long Time
    
25. The Turtles - Happy Together
    
26. Etta James - At Last
    
27. The Zombies - The Way I Feel Inside
    
28. The Beatles - Here, There And Everywhere
    
29. The Beach Boys - God Only Knows
    
30. Kanye West - Father Stretch My Hands Pt. 1
    
31. Briston Maroney - Sinkin'
    
32. John Lennon - Oh My Love
    
33. Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass - Ladyfingers
    
34. Squirrel Flower - Headlights
    
35. The Backseat Lovers - Maple Syrup
    
36. The B-52's - Rock Lobster
    
37. George Harrison - All Things Must Pass
    
38. Snail Mail - Ben Franklin
    
39. Laura Elliott - Grass Stains
    
40. Djo - Chateau (Feel Alright)
    
41. Tame Impala - Eventually
    
42. The Backseat Lovers - Snowbank Blues
    
43. Claude Debussy - Clair de Lune
    
44. The Weeknd - Save Your Tears
    
45. Talking Heads - Thank You for Sending Me an Angel
    
46. The Zombies - Time of the Season
    
47. The War On Drugs - Nothing to Find
    
48. Queen - Brighton Rock
    
49. The Dream Academy - Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want
    
50. The B-52's - Strobe Light
    
51. The Cranberries - Dreams
    
52. Fugees - Killing Me Softly With His Song
    
53. Molchat Doma - Тоска
    
54. Tyler, The Creator - ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?
    
55. The Mamas & The Papas - Dream A Little Dream Of Me
    
56. The Chords - Sh-Boom
    
57. The Beatles - The Abbey Road Medley
    
58. The Ronettes - Be My Baby
    
59. The Who - Baba O'Riley
    
60. Dr. Dog - Where'd All the Time Go?
    
61. M83 - My Tears Are Becoming A Sea
    
62. Billie Eilish - everything i wanted
    
63. Outkast - Hey Ya!
    
64. Nat King Cole - Orange Colored Sky
    
65. The Notorious B.I.G. - Hypnotize
    
66. Four Tops - Reach Out I'll Be There
    
67. Foreign Air - Shut Up and Show Me
    
68. Leonard Cohen - So Long, Marianne
    
69. dodie - If I'm Being Honest
    
70. Briston Maroney - June
    
71. Post Malone - Sunflower
    
72. John Lennon - Isolation
    
73. Buddy Holly & The Crickets - Not Fade Away
    
74. Phoebe Bridgers - I Know The End
    
75. Kanye West - All Falls Down
    
76. Alvvays - Adult Diversion
    
77. John Lennon - Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)
    
78. Clairo - Amoeba
    
79. The Beach Boys - I Know There's An Answer
    
80. Paul McCartney - Let Me Roll It
    
81. Frank Ocean - Ivy
    
82. Radiohead - Motion Picture Soundtrack
    
83. Djo - Mutual Future (Repeat)
    
84. Phoebe Bridgers - Scott Street
    
85. Childish Gambino - Me and Your Mama
    
86. Pink Floyd - Astronomy Domine
    
87. The Pied Pipers - Dream
    
88. The Beach Boys - All I Wanna Do
    
89. Djo - Change
    
90. Второй этаж поражает - Крайности
    
91. Little Richard - Lucille
    
92. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Shanghai
    
93. Chet Baker - Deep In A Dream
    
94. The Beatles - It's All Too Much
    
95. Post Animal - Dirtpicker
    
96. The B-52's - Love Shack
    
97. EDEN - foreve/over
    
98. Kanye West - Ultralight Beam
    
99. The Zombies - Going Out Of My Head
    
100. Talking Heads - Found a Job
     
101. Snail Mail - Pristine
     
102. Tom Tom Club - Genius of Love
     
103. Tears For Fears - Everybody Wants To Rule The World
     
104. WILLIS - I Think I Like When It Rains
     
105. Chet Baker - But Not For Me
     
106. Naked Eyes - Always Something There to Remind Me
     
107. Tyler, The Creator - GONE, GONE / THANK YOU
     
108. Djo - Half Life
     
109. Trash Panda - Check Please
     
110. Briston Maroney - Deep Sea Diver
     
111. Beach Fossils - This Year
     
112. Momma - Medicine
     
113. Hop Along - Prior Things
     
114. Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere
     
115. Electric Light Orchestra - Turn to Stone
     
116. Briston Maroney - It's Not My Fault
     
117. Tyler, The Creator - NEW MAGIC WAND
     
118. Snail Mail - Headlock
     
119. Phil Collins - Take Me Home
     
120. Gotye - Somebody That I Used To Know
     
121. The Beach Boys - Do It Again
     
122. Tame Impala - Breathe Deeper
     
123. Ella Fitzgerald - Misty
     
124. Phoebe Bridgers - Waiting Room
     
125. Kanye West - Runaway
     
126. Daft Punk - Get Lucky (feat. Pharrell Williams and Nile Rodgers)
     
127. Dire Straits - Money for Nothing
     
128. Kendrick Lamar - Alright
     
129. Black Country, New Road - Concorde
     
130. George Harrison - If Not for You
     
131. Harry Styles - Cherry
     
132. Ms. Lauryn Hill - Doo Wop (That Thing)
     
133. Paul McCartney - Junk
     
134. Wings - Maybe I'm Amazed [Live]
     
135. Talking Heads - Houses in Motion
     
136. Del Water Gap - Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat
     
137. Pixies - Where Is My Mind?
     
138. Queen - Seven Seas Of Rhye
     
139. Paul McCartney - Jet
     
140. Sufjan Stevens - Death with Dignity
     
141. A Flock Of Seagulls - I Ran (So Far Away)
     
142. Tame Impala - Let It Happen
     
143. Led Zeppelin - Whole Lotta Love
     
144. Clairo - Management
     
145. Tommy James & The Shondells - I Think We're Alone Now
     
146. Fergie - Clumsy
     
147. Childish Gambino - This Is America
     
148. Prefab Sprout - The King of Rock 'N' Roll
     
149. Joy Again - Looking Out for You
     
150. Beach House - Space Song
     
151. John Lennon - Mind Games
     
152. The Weeknd - Gasoline
     
153. Weezer - Buddy Holly
     
154. Phoebe Bridgers - Sidelines
     
155. Tame Impala - New Person, Same Old Mistakes
     
156. Lana Del Rey - A&W
     
157. The Dillards - I've Just Seen a Face
     
158. The Doors - Break on Through (To the Other Side)
     
159. Julie London - I'm Glad There Is You
     
160. 2Pac - California Love
     
161. Dean Martin - Everybody Loves Somebody
     
162. Snail Mail - Anytime
     
163. The Strokes - The Adults Are Talking
     
164. Jordana, TV Girl - Better in the Dark
     
165. Juice WRLD - Hide (feat. Seezyn)
     
166. The Wild Reeds - Get Better
     
167. Finom - Mine
     
168. Hop Along - One That Suits Me
     
169. The Killers - Mr. Brightside
     
170. Michael Cera - Clay Pigeons
     
171. Clairo - Bags
     
172. Prince - Let's Go Crazy
     
173. The Zombies - She's Not There
     
174. Blackstreet - No Diggity
     
175. Frank Sinatra - I've Got You Under My Skin
     
176. John Denver - Take Me Home, Country Roads
     
177. Harry James - I'm Beginning to See The Light
     
178. The Clash - London Calling
     
179. Charles Bradley - Changes
     
180. Buddy Holly - (Ummmm, Oh Yeah) Dearest
     
181. Eagles - Seven Bridges Road [Live]
     
182. Moxie - Honey
     
183. Faces - Stay with Me
     
184. Post Animal - How Do You Feel
     
185. New Order - Age of Consent
     
186. Natalie Imbruglia - Torn
     
187. Lana Del Rey - Doin' Time
     
188. Twin Peaks - Blue Coupe
     
189. Kanye West - Gold Digger
     
190. Fruit Bats - The Bottom of It
     
191. Frank Sinatra - Somethin' Stupid
     
192. Lorde - Perfect Places
     
193. Martha Tilton - Exactly Like You
     
194. King Crimson - 21st Century Schizoid Man
     
195. Glen Campbell - Southern Nights
     
196. Claire Rosinkranz - Frankenstein
     
197. Guillemots - Made-Up Lovesong #43
     
198. Fleetwood Mac - Say You Love Me
     
199. Frankie Valli - Can't Take My Eyes off You
     
200. The Crickets - Don't Ever Change
     
201. Paul Anka - Put Your Head On My Shoulder
     
202. George Harrison - Isn't It a Pity
     
203. Trash Panda - Off
     
204. Super Besse - Holod
     
205. Beyoncé - Hold Up
     
206. Charlie Burg - I Don't Wanna Be Okay Without You
     
207. Eagles - Peaceful Easy Feeling
     
208. Ella Fitzgerald - It's A Lovely Day Today
     
209. PERMSKY KRAY - Дорогой Человек
     
210. The Little Dippers - Forever
     
211. The B-52's - There's a Moon in the Sky (Called the Moon)
     
212. Patti Page - Old Cape Cod
     
213. Daft Punk - Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
     
214. The Soggy Bottom Boys - I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow
     
215. Trash Panda - Things Will Never Change
     
216. Hop Along - Well-dressed
     
217. Sixpence None The Richer - Kiss Me
     
218. TV Girl - Daughter of a Cop
     
219. LAUNDRY DAY - Jane
     
220. Tyler, The Creator - EARFQUAKE
     
221. Sigue Sigue Sputnik - Love Missile F1-11
     
222. Joji - Gimme Love
     
223. The Backseat Lovers - Pool House
     
224. The Weeknd - Take My Breath
     
225. Mild High Club - Homage
     
226. Doc Watson - Am I Born to Die?
     
227. Daniel Caesar - Streetcar
     
228. The Kinks - Sunny Afternoon
     
229. John Lennon - #9 Dream
     
230. Tame Impala - Elephant
     
231. Chuck Berry - You Never Can Tell
     
232. Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here
     
233. KIDS SEE GHOSTS - 4th Dimension
     
234. Soft Cell - Tainted Love
     
235. The B-52's - Song for a Future Generation
     
236. Gnarls Barkley - Crazy
     
237. Lana Del Rey - Blue Jeans
     
238. Billie Eilish - Halley's Comet
     
239. Glenn Miller - In the Mood
     
240. Kid Bloom - Control
     
241. The Cinematic Orchestra - To Build A Home
     
242. Marvin Gaye - I Heard It Through The Grapevine
     
243. Brenda Lee - If You Love Me (Really Love Me)
     
244. TV Girl - Lovers Rock
     
245. Art Lown - Knew You Well
     
246. Dean Martin - Ain't That A Kick In The Head
     
247. Miniature Tigers - Like or Like Like
     
248. Electric Light Orchestra - Sweet Talkin' Woman
     
249. The Hunts - Ages
     
250. The Cars - Good Times Roll
     
251. Bill Withers - Lovely Day
     
252. Drake - God's Plan
     
253. Kansas - Point of Know Return
     
254. The Neighbourhood - Stargazing
     
255. The Clash - Rock the Casbah
     
256. Hop Along - What the Writer Meant
     
257. Briston Maroney - Under My Skin
     
258. Jack Stauber - Buttercup
     
259. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Ya Love
     
260. Ginger Root - Loretta
     
261. Thompson Twins - Hold Me Now
     
262. Frank Ocean - Pyramids
     
263. Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)
     
264. Destroy Boys - I Threw Glass at My Friend's Eyes and Now I'm on Probation
     
265. Mild High Club - Dionysian State
     
266. Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out
     
267. Kevin Abstract - Empty
     
268. The Frights - Crust Bucket
     
269. Stealers Wheel - Stuck In The Middle With You
     
270. The Shins - Fighting in a Sack
     
271. fun. - We Are Young (feat. Janelle Monáe)
     
272. Lil Uzi Vert - Money Longer
     
273. Miniature Tigers - Cannibal Queen
     
274. The Doors - Touch Me
     
275. Jean Dawson - Clear Bones
     
276. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Catching Smoke
     
277. Molchat Doma - Люди Надоели
     
278. The Go-Go's - Our Lips Are Sealed
     
279. Billie Eilish - ocean eyes
     
280. BOYO - Crown
     
281. The 1975 - Somebody Else
     
282. Husbands - She's a Betty
     
283. Syd Barrett - If It's In You
     
284. Trash Panda - Atlanta Girls
     
285. Frank Ocean - Godspeed
     
286. Alice Phoebe Lou - Glow
     
287. Childish Gambino - Redbone
     
288. New Order - Blue Monday
     
289. Post Animal - Schedule
     
290. Harry Styles - Fine Line
     
291. Harry James - I'll Get By (As Long As I Have You)
     
292. Depeche Mode - Never Let Me Down Again
     
293. Chet Baker - I Fall In Love Too Easily
     
294. The Cranberries - Put Me Down
     
295. John Mayer - Edge of Desire
     
296. George Harrison - All Those Years Ago
     
297. Electric Light Orchestra - The Diary of Horace Wimp
     
298. Alex Clare - Too Close
     
299. Eric B. & Rakim - Know The Ledge
     
300. Peter Frampton - Show Me The Way [Live]
     
301. Simon & Garfunkel - Mrs. Robinson
     
302. Black Eyes - Deformative
     
303. The Righteous Brothers - Unchained Melody
     
304. Bonny Light Horseman - Deep In Love
     
305. The Walker Brothers - The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore
     
306. Cage The Elephant - Cigarette Daydreams
     
307. Hot Flash Heat Wave - Raindrop
     
308. Clairo - Sofia
     
309. Kendrick Lamar - PRIDE.
     
310. Camille Saint-Saëns - The Swan
     
311. Weezer - Say It Ain't So
     
312. C418 - Sweden
     
313. Lana Del Rey - Let The Light In (feat. Father John Misty)
     
314. The Postal Service - Such Great Heights
     
315. Pickin' On Series - Those to Come
     
316. Lana Del Rey - Grandfather please stand on the shoulders of my father while he's deep-sea fishing (feat. RIOPY)
     
317. John Mayer - Moving On and Getting Over
     
318. Field Medic - POWERFUL LOVE
     
319. Cage The Elephant - Flow
     
320. Joji - Run
     
321. The Who - Won't Get Fooled Again
     
322. Boston - Peace of Mind
     
323. Ben E. King - This Magic Moment
     
324. David Bowie - Starman
     
325. Beastie Boys - Sabotage
     
326. Harry Belafonte - Banana Boat (Day-O)
     
327. Gene Krupa & His Orchestra - Rhumboogie
     
328. The Cardigans - Lovefool
     
329. The Kinks - You Really Got Me
     
330. The Zombies - She's Coming Home
     
331. Michael Jackson - Thriller
     
332. Moxie - Blue Skies
     
333. The Mamas & The Papas - Straight Shooter
     
334. Peter, Paul and Mary - Don't Think Twice, It's All Right
     
335. Green Day - Brain Stew
     
336. Dua Lipa - Levitating (feat. DaBaby)
     
337. The Police - Roxanne
     
338. Britney Spears - Toxic
     
339. Tears For Fears - Head Over Heels
     
340. Rex Orange County - Pluto Projector
     
341. The Strokes - Call It Fate, Call It Karma
     
342. Portugal. The Man - Feel It Still
     
343. The Black Crowes - Twice As Hard
     
344. Ted Nugent - Stranglehold
     
345. fun. - Some Nights
     
346. Wings - Silly Love Songs
     
347. Paramore - Still into You
     
348. Peter Frampton - Baby, I Love Your Way [Live]
     
349. The Monkees - Last Train to Clarksville
     
350. Royel Otis - Oysters In My Pocket
     
351. The Backseat Lovers - Growing/Dying
     
352. Nelly Furtado - Say It Right
     
353. Post Animal - Goggles
     
354. Erik Satie - Gymnopédie No. 1
     
355. Childish Gambino - IV. Sweatpants
     
356. Steely Dan - Dirty Work
     
357. ABBA - Lay All Your Love On Me
     
358. Still Woozy - Goodie Bag
     
359. Arlo Parks - Black Dog
     
360. Goth Babe - Weekend Friend
     
361. George & the Handsomes - Sleepy Beats
     
362. boygenius - 20
     
363. The Mills Brothers - You Always Hurt The One You Love
     
364. Travis Scott - SICKO MODE
     
365. Pinegrove - Need 2
     
366. The Backseat Lovers - Sinking Ship
     
367. Franz Schubert - Ave Maria
     
368. Zac Brown Band - Knee Deep (feat. Jimmy Buffett)
     
369. Justin Timberlake - Mirrors
     
370. Simon & Garfunkel - Cecilia
     
371. The Cranberries - Zombie
     
372. Daniel Caesar - Japanese Denim
     
373. Billie Holiday - Easy Living
     
374. ISLAND - By Your Side
     
375. Phil Collins - Tomorrow Never Knows
     
376. Bob Dylan - The Times They Are A-Changin'
     
377. The Four Freshmen - Day By Day
     
378. Fleetwood Mac - The Chain
     
379. Billy Joel - Big Shot
     
380. Billie Eilish - Happier Than Ever
     
381. Yot Club - down bad
     
382. Rihanna - Stay
     
383. Fleetwood Mac - Landslide
     
384. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky - Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act 2: No. 10, Scene. Moderato
     
385. The White Stripes - Fell In Love With a Girl
     
386. Alvvays - Easy On Your Own?
     
387. Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit - If We Were Vampires
     
388. Blackway - What's Up Danger (with Black Caviar)
     
389. Albert Hammond - It Never Rains in Southern California
     
390. Matt Maltese - Jupiter
     
391. John Denver - Mother Nature's Son
     
392. Childish Gambino - Sober
     
393. Claire Rosinkranz - Pools and Palm Trees
     
394. The Cars - Just What I Needed
     
395. The Doors - Light My Fire
     
396. Blondie - Tomorrow Never Knows
     
397. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Hell's Itch
     
398. The Japanese House - Saw You In A Dream
     
399. Franz Schubert - String Quartet No. 13 in A Minor, Op. 29 No. 1, D. 804
     
400. The Drifters - White Christmas
     
401. The 1975 - Robbers
     
402. George Harrison - Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea
     
403. The Frights - Tongues
     
404. Paramore - Ain't It Fun
     
405. Billy Joel - Pressure
     
406. Frank Sinatra - My Way
     
407. Art Lown - Going Back to Carolina
     
408. Bruno Mars - Just the Way You Are
     
409. Under The Rug - Lonesome & Mad
     
410. The Mamas & The Papas - Dedicated To The One I Love
     
411. Foster The People - Sit Next to Me
     
412. Weezer - Undone - The Sweater Song
     
413. Michael Jackson - Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'
     
414. Tia Blake - Plastic Jesus
     
415. Los Bravos - Bring a Little Lovin'
     
416. Lady Gaga - Bad Romance
     
417. Minnie Riperton - Les Fleurs
     
418. Billy Idol - Dancing with Myself
     
419. Cody Fry - I Hear a Symphony
     
420. Gringo Sapiens - Driver's Licence
     
421. Vacations - Relax
     
422. Glitter Party - time waits
     
423. Steve Lacy - Bad Habit
     
424. The Crystals - Then He Kissed Me
     
425. The Pied Pipers - Mairzy Doats
     
426. Mitski - Bug Like an Angel
     
427. James Ray - I've Got My Mind Set On You
     
428. Clairo - Bubble Gum
     
429. Masayoshi Takanaka - SEXY DANCE
     
430. Nat King Cole - (I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons
     
431. Sleigh Bells - Crown On the Ground
     
432. Olivia Rodrigo - favorite crime
     
433. No Doubt - Just A Girl
     
434. Foreigner - Long, Long Way from Home
     
435. Heart - Crazy On You
     
436. The Hunts - Darlin'
     
437. David Bowie - Heroes
     
438. Alice Phoebe Lou - Hammer
     
439. Thee Oh Sees - Toe Cutter - Thumb Buster
     
440. Roar - I Can't Handle Change
     
441. TV Girl - Birds Dont Sing
     
442. Laufey - From The Start
     
443. Chas McDevitt Skiffle Group - Freight Train (feat. Nancy Whiskey)
     
444. Metro Boomin - Am I Dreaming
     
445. Liana Flores - rises the moon
     
446. POP ETC - Speak Up
     
447. Jean Knight - Mr. Big Stuff
     
448. The Platters - Twilight Time
     
449. Derek & The Dominos - Layla
     
450. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Homeless Man in Adidas
     
451. Charlie Burg - Lovesong (The Way)
     
452. Hot Flash Heat Wave - Gutter Girl
     
453. ABBA - Fernando
     
454. Mitski - My Love Mine All Mine
     
455. Savannah Conley - More Than Fine
     
456. Young the Giant - Mind Over Matter
     
457. Future Crib - Yer Movin'
     
458. Bob Dylan - Like a Rolling Stone
     
459. benches - Violent
     
460. Musical Youth - Pass The Dutchie
     
461. Olivia Rodrigo - vampire
     
462. Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone - City Of Stars
     
463. Maya Hawke - Thérèse
     
464. Current Joys - A Different Age
     
465. Wayne Newton - Danke Schoen
     
466. La Roux - Bulletproof
     
467. Jason Segel, Walter - Man Or Muppet
     
468. U2 - I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
     
469. The Raconteurs - Steady, As She Goes
     
470. The Ink Spots - Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall
     
471. Ace of Base - The Sign
     
472. Vulfpeck - 1612
     
473. Nordista Freeze - Hey GiGi
     
474. The Chainsmokers - New York City
     
475. Suki Waterhouse - Johanna
     
476. Pete Rodriguez - I Like It Like That
     
477. Calvin Harris - Summer
     
478. The Rare Occasions - Notion
     
479. a-ha - Take on Me
     
480. Rush - Working Man
     
481. Traffic - Dear Mr. Fantasy
     
482. Starbuck - Moonlight Feels Right
     
483. Van Halen - Drop Dead Legs
     
484. The Troggs - Wild Thing
     
485. Led Zeppelin - Good Times Bad Times
     
486. The Byrds - Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)
     
487. Cream - Sunshine Of Your Love
     
488. Justin Timberlake - SexyBack (feat. Timbaland)
     
489. David Bowie - Suffragette City
     
490. Ludwig van Beethoven - Sonata No. 14 in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 27, No. 2 "Moonlight"
     
491. Avicii - Wake Me Up
     
492. The Who - La-La-La-Lies
     
493. The Spinners - The Rubberband Man
     
494. MGMT - Time to Pretend
     
495. Hootie & The Blowfish - Only Wanna Be With You
     
496. Sheck Wes - Mo Bamba
     
497. Claire Rosinkranz - 123
     
498. Ringo Starr - Photograph
     
499. The Proclaimers - I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)
     
500. Duran Duran - Rio
     

I accidentally posted this to my username instead of my subreddit so here is is:
The Mortgage, Part 3
“Fuck,” I said as I drove to work in the old beater that only started on the fourth try because it could tell that I was pissed off. Ray’s case started at two o’clock, and I was heading to the office to get ready. “Fuck fuck fuckity fucking fuck. Fuck.” I’d wanted to tell Angela about Ray’s case, and how I was sorry that I hadn’t wanted to help him, but now I would, I would help him, and I would win, but then I’d gotten her all riled up on something else, something totally different, something way more serious.
My wife had given me a triple ultimatum: fix things up with her father, save idiot Ray from Sy-Co Corp., and somehow find a downpayment for the place she wanted to buy, in the little townhouse infill project in Bixity. It was like demanding I do a double bank shot, and then run over to the baseball diamond and hit a home run after first pointing to where it would land, Babe Ruth style.
Angela was mad at me, seriously mad. She’d slipped out that morning before I was even awake, sliding quietly past me on the couch. I didn’t realize she was gone until I heard the faint click of the front door closing. I jumped up, tripped over a blanket, and by the time I got up and my robe on, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Angela was gone before I opened the apartment door.
I swore at myself some more and pounded the steering wheel, “I fucked up,” I said, several times as I hit the wheel over and over again, until I accidentally honked it, and then looked all sheepish when the guy in front of me gave me the finger. I reached my office without further incident, but instead of walking in the front door, I went further down the hall, and into the office of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D, the man with the finest speaking voice I ever heard. When I entered his office I forgot for a minute about Angela and her father and sleeping on the couch the night before. I forget about everything, except the reason that I had come to Cecil-Rowe’s office: to stump him with a legal problem that I had solved, but which I was pretty sure he could not. In other words, I had come to preen and to brag and to boast. No one likes a showoff, and I had come to show off. I put my hand on the door and turned the knob. After a brief pause, I flung open the door.
“I’m a goddamn genius,” I said as I strolled into the older man’s office.
I noticed the echo of a hastily closed desk drawer hanging in the air. In Aaron’s office, where I rented space, a sudden act of concealment implied cocaine, but with Cecil-Rowe, the item in question was probably a mickey of vodka. I had the sense that he’d been drinking a bit before I arrived, but his powers of observation were unimpaired, and when he looked into my face, his expression showed sympathy, and actual pain.
“What have you done now?” he said, as set the papers before him to one side, and readied himself to hear my latest tale of legal brilliance.
“I’m a genius,” I said.
“Oh dear. Have a seat.”
“No really, I am. I’m a genius. I got this case that everyone says you can’t win, but I’m gonna win it, and when I do, I’m gonna look like a genius.” Cecil-Rowe gave me a sad indulgent smile.
“Whenever you tell me you’re a genius, I am always concerned about what is to follow. When you get wrapped up in what you call your genius, you tend to ignore the more mundane things we lawyers have to do to win a case. You think you’re going to win by genius alone.”
“Let me tell you why I’m a goddamn genius.” With effort I wiped the smug, self-satisfied expression that was on my face.
“Tell me why you’re a genius,” Cecil-Rowe said, “while I pour us a coffee.” He heaved his bulky body up from his chair and shuffled over to a counter. He picked up a carafe of hot coffee sitting on a hot plate, and poured two cups. “Speak,” he said, handing me one. I took a sip of the coffee, and told Cecil-Rowe the tale of Cousin Ray: his purchase of a franchise from Sy-Co Corp, its swift demise, the crash and burn in Commercial Court, the Minutes of Settlement, the seventy-one kilometer limit, and lastly, Sy-Co’s motion scheduled for two p.m. that very day, seeking an interim injunction shutting down Ray’s place.
Cecil-Rowe absorbed all this without the need to take notes. Instead, he sat back while he eyed me, taking the occasional sip of coffee, and smiling at the extravagant flourishes and details that brought out Ray’s story to full effect.
“Obviously Ray is dead on arrival,” he said, “but I guess this is the part where you tell me how you’re going to win.”
So I told him how I was going to win, but it didn’t have the desired effect. “I told ya I’m a genius, Mr. C,” cueing him to applaud, to admit what a brilliant lawyer I was. But there was no applause from Mark Cecil-Rowe. He looked at me without so much as a smile.
“You can cling to that genius notion as a consolation prize, after you get whipped this afternoon in court.”
“No way,” I said, “not a chance. I got this thing won hands down. I’m gonna kick ass in court today and--”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that, if you don’t have evidence?”
“What?”
“Evidence, Calledinthe9os. It’s what lawyers like me use to beat geniuses like you.”
“But I’m gonna win without proof. I don’t need proof. The argument I’m gonna make, relies on simple facts that are totally obvious, so the judge is gonna--” Cecil-Rowe stuck up his hand.
“Stop right there. I know what’s coming. You’re going to ask the judge to take *judicial notice.”
And he was right. That was exactly what I was going to do.
There are some things so obvious that you didn’t have to prove them, things that everyone knew. You didn’t have to prove that water froze at zero degrees and boiled at a hundred, or that Bixity was between West Bay and East Bay.
“You got it,” I said, “judicial notice all the way.”
“You’re going to tell the judge that the centerpiece of your argument, the lynchpin of your case is a fact known to pretty well everyone, and so you don’t need proof.”
“Exactly,” I said. Cecil-Rowe took another sip of his coffee, and left me hanging in the silence for a while before he spoke.
“If that’s true, then why does coming up with that argument make you a genius?”
“Oh, I said,”I didn’t think of that.”
“It is acceptable to rely on judicial notice for minor, ancillary points. But you never should walk into court thinking that the court will take judicial notice of your entire defence. It’s just too risky.”
“But how am I going to rustle up a witness in time for this afternoon?”
“Worry about that after you leave my office. I can’t help you with that. What I want to know, is why you’re doing this at the last minute.”
“What makes you think I’m doing this at the last minute?”
“Because you never would have resorted to judicial notice if you were properly prepared. If you’d opened this case a bit earlier, you’ve have everything lined up. But you got to work on it late, and so you want to rely on judicial notice. You’ve messed up, Calledinthe90s, and you know what my rule is when you mess up.” Cecil-Rowe didn’t extend aid to me, until I admitted the error of my ways. It was infuriating, but he was inflexible. So I fessed up.
“My idiot cousin Ray’s been trying to retain me for almost two weeks, but I was putting him off because I was mad at him. So now my wife’s mad at me, and if I don’t win this case, I’m dead. Plus her dad’s mad at me too and --” My brain roared into overdrive, a mess of family and law and fear, and at the centre of it, thoughts of Angela’s anger and her father. My mind took off, and then came to an instant halt at a helpful destination.
“Yes?” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Sorry. I just realized how to solve the evidence problem. Look, can I ask you about the thing I actually came here to ask you about?”
“You have a problem that’s worse than having no evidence? What could be worse than -- oh. You don’t have a retainer. Your client doesn't have any money.”
“Exactly. How do I get paid? That’s the problem.” I explained that Ray had no money, as in none, and that if he did have money, he wouldn’t spend it on me. Instead, he’d go back downtown and throw his cash at some big firm, who would take on his case, and proceed to lose it in a calm, careful, sober manner, ending in a reporting letter to Ray telling him that he’d lost.
“Now that’s a problem I can solve,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Really? ‘Cause I can’t see a way around it. I think I’m gonna have to do this for free, and that really pisses me off.” Cecil-Rowe shook his head.
“You may or may not get paid, but you can set things up so that if you win, you’ll win pretty good.”
“How? Ray’s a deadbeat. Tapped out.”
“But is he desperate?”
“Totally. The first time he failed, he lost his own money, but if he goes under this time, he’s taking family money with him, and he’ll be the black sheep forever.”
“And he’s using family to emotionally blackmail you into helping him?’
“Like no shit. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I’m like a goddamn slave, being forced to work for free.”
“Never fear, young apprentice. I have just the thing in mind.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a form. “Fill in the blanks, and have him sign.”
I looked it over, and saw that the document was a retainer agreement. I whistled. “Holy shit. If he signs this, he’s almost my slave.”
“Close, but not quite” Cecil-Rowe said, “the Latin term for this is "contractus pro venditione animae"”. It’s the ultimate retainer agreement. Once Ray signs that, you own any cause of action he has against the person suing him. You can settle the case on any terms you like, and you get to keep whatever proceeds there are.” Cecil-Rowe placed the folder back in a drawer, and from his manner you could tell that the interview was over.
“Awesome, Mr. C. I’ll call you from Commercial Court when we’re done.”
“Commercial Court?” he said.
“Yeah, Commercial Court.”
“This just keeps getting worse. Take notes, Calledinthe90s, while I school you on Commercial Court. Commercial Court is a jungle, and without preparation, you’ll get savaged.”
“That’s what happened to Ray when--”
“Take notes, young apprentice,” he said, tossing me a pad and a pen. He started to lecture, and I took notes that I have with me to this day, in a safe deposit box downstairs in the vault at Mega Bank Main Branch.
* * *
By the time Cecil-Rowe finished schooling me, it was close to ten, and the case started at two. I didn’t have much time. I ran down the hall to my office, and called Ray’s restaurant. No answer. Then I called Ray’s house. I expected to get Ray’s wife, but the man himself answered.
“You’re not at work. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Sy-Co Corp served all my employees with a cease and desist letter. They all got scared and took off. The place is shut down.”
“You gotta fax machine at home?” He did, and asked why.
“I’m taking your case, but only if you sign the paper I’m about to send and fax it back.” I sent the fax, and five minutes later it came back signed, and it was official: Ray had sold me his legal soul.
I went out to the parking lot, got into my beater and drove fast. In less than thirty minutes I reached my destination. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, my diminutive mother-in-law poked out her head. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Sorry, Mrs. M, but I’m in a super hurry. I gotta rush to get to court to help Ray. But first, I gotta speak to Dr. M.”
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Not here?”
“He’s on his way to his bridge game. He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s the club?”
“He’s walking there,” she said, and pointed down the street.
“Thanks.” I got into my car and headed where Mrs. M had pointed, passing big houses and new project with an “Opening Soon” sign. And walking past it was the figure of Dr. M.
“Hey, Dr. M,” I called out the window. He stopped and looked around, startled. But he didn’t see me, not at first.
“It’s me, Dr. M. Me, Calledin90s.” He leaned forward as if to see me better. I got out of the car.
“Is something wrong with Angela? Or the baby?”
“No, no not at all, sorry to scare you, it’s nothing like that. I need your help.”
“Oh.” He started walking again, and now it was my turn to be a bit stunned, watching my father-in-law walk away from me. I caught up with him in a few quick strides.
“Listen, I really need your help.”
“And I really need to get to a bridge game.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Ray.” That brought him to a halt. He turned to me, angrier even than he’d been the night before.
“Did you drive all the way out here just to make fun of me? To remind me of how you won, distracting me with nonsense about Ray’s case?”
“I mean it,” I said, “I can win Ray’s case. I can prove it in a few words.”
“Prove it, then.” So I did. I spoke words, only a few words, but they were the right words to speak to Dr. M, for the words I spoke were in his language, words that he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said, “you’ve come to boast some more, to prove that you were right after all.”
“I want to win Ray’s case, but I don’t have any proof of what I’m saying.”
“You don’t need to prove that two plus two is four.”
“This, I gotta prove, and I need you to help me prove it. I need you to come to court with me, as my witness.”
“I can’t do that. I didn’t witness anything.”
“As my witness. My expert witness.” Unlike a normal witness, an expert witness can give an opinion. An expert is there not to advocate, I explained to Dr. M but to instruct, to teach.
“My bridge partner won’t be very happy,” he said.
“But Ray will, and so will Mrs. M and Angela and--”
“Very well. Do you have a cell phone? We can call the bridge club from my car.”
* * *
We were on the highway getting close to the downtown exit, when my wife called my cell phone. Back then cell phone service was super expensive and my wife only used it for emergencies. Or when she was really angry. I picked up the phone, wondering which it would be.
“I’m so happy that you made things up with my father,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“My mother called. She says you took him with you, that you went out together.”
“He’s with me right now,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“To court. Going to court to win Ray’s case for him.”
“And you brought my father with you to watch?” She was so happy, I could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “That’s a great way to bond with him, Calledinthe90s. Look, I’m sorry I got so mad at you earlier, I really am. My dad’s a bit too sensitive and--”
“Sorry, Angela, your dad’s not coming to watch me.”
“Why is he with you, then?”
“He’s my witness,” I said.
“What?”
“His expert witness,” Dr. M said, loudly enough for Angela to hear.
My wife’s anger exploded into the phone. She wanted to know how I could expose her elderly, vulnerable father to the stress of a court case. I tried to tell her how I needed him, how there was literally no one else I could turn to, that her father was an expert, a true expert, and the judge was legally bound to believe him, but Angela heard none of this.
“Look,’ I said, “I promise you that--” And then I lowered the phone and pushed the red button, terminating the call. I’d learned that the best way to hang up on someone, was to do it when I was doing the talking. That way it looked like the call had dropped.
“I’m going to steal that move,” Dr. M said.
We rolled into the parking lot. I grabbed the cloth bag out of the back of my car, the bag that held my law robes and shirt and tabs, plus the other stuff I needed for court. It was one-thirty, still thirty minutes to go, not a lot of time to get robed and ready for court. It was just past one-forty five when I, with Dr. M in tow, opened the door to a courtroom on the eighth floor of an old insurance building that had been converted into a courthouse, the home of Commercial Court.
“Commercial Court is an exclusive club,” Cecil-Rowe had explained to me earlier that day, “the legal playground of the rich and powerful. They’ll know instantly that you’re not one of them.” And he was right. It was clear from the moment I walked in that I did not belong, for I was the only lawyer in robes. Everyone else was wearing a suit, and not some cheap thing off the rack like I wore.
There were a half-dozen lawyers present, and after they saw me, they exchanged knowing looks about the stranger amongst them. I ignored them, and walked up to the Registrar. I told him the case I was on, and he signed me in.
“First time in Commercial Court?” he said, eyeing my robes. “You know you don’t have to be robed in Commercial Court.” In other Superior Courts, you always had to bring your robes and get all dressed up. But Commercial Court had its own set of rules, and in the court for rich people, their lawyers did not have to wear robes.
“You’re here on the Sy-Co case?” a young woman asked. She was a junior like me, give a year or two either way. She was dressed in the finest downtown counsel fashion, some designer thing that Angela would know if she saw it.
“Just got retained,” I said.
“You know there’s no adjournments, right? We don’t do adjournments in Commercial Court. I’m just trying to be helpful, because I don’t think you've been here before. You know you don’t have to be robed, right?
“So I heard.”
“So where’s your material? You haven’t served anything, so how do you plan to argue your case?”
“I gotta witness,” I said.
She smiled. “There’s no viva voce evidence, either. Affidavit only.”
“We’ll see what the judge says.” There was a knock from the other side of the door to the judge’s chambers, and then the man himself entered.
I was amazed to see that even the judge wasn’t wearing a robe; instead, he was wearing a light coloured suit and a bright blue bow tie. He was dressed as good as the lawyers, all part of the downtown Commercial Court club, the playground of the richest and most powerful corporations in the City.
“Commercial Court’s not like other courts,” Cecil-Rowe told me earlier that day, explaining that most cases were over in fifteen minutes or less. A plaintiff showed up with some papers, and had a short consultation with the judge. The judge signed an order granting an injunction, or taking away a man’s business, or freezing his money. Commercial Court is where you went to get quick and simple court orders that eviscerated your opponent before the case even got going.
Defendants would appear sometimes in Commercial Court, Cecil-Rowe explained, but it was usually their last time up. Defendants always died a quick death in Commercial Court.
The judge took his seat, and then looked over the lawyers before him. His eyes moved along, and then stopped when they reached me, the one lawyer who was not like the others.
“You don’t need robes in Commercial Court,” the judge said to me.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I said.
“What case are you on?”
I told him.
“He’s filed no responding materials,” my opponent said, “nothing at all.”
“I’m just vetting the list,” the judge said, “I’ll circle back to you two in a few minutes.” I listend while the judge vetted the rest of the afternoon list: a Mareva, plus a Norwich order, with counsel on those cases sent away in a matter of minutes.
Now the courtroom was almost empty, just the judge, two lawyers, the registrar and my star witness and father-in-law, Dr. M, who sat in the back of the courtroom dressed in an old business suit, put on hastily at his place two hours earlier, when I urged him to hurry it up, to not waste so much time on picking a suit.
“Back to you,” the judge said, addressing my opponent, “I thought this was an uncontested matter. That’s what your confirmation sheet said.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour, but I didn’t know until I got here that the case was defended.”
“I got retained at the last minute,” I said, “barely three hours ago, the day after I read the papers. But I’m ready to go, ready to argue the case on the merits, so long as you grant me an indulgence, and let me call my witness, to let him testify in person instead of by affidavit, there being no time for me to draft anything.”
Opposing counsel was on her feet. “That’s not how things are done in Commercial Court,” she said, “or any court that I know of, for that matter. My friend (that’s what they make lawyers call each other in court, ‘my friend,’ even though you might hate the other guy’s guts),” the lawyer said, “my friend should have served his responding materials and filed them with the court. Instead, he’s taken us totally by surprise.”
“I’m sorry my friend is surprised by opposition,” I said, “but then consider, it’s my client’s livelihood that’s at stake. If my friend gets her injunction, Ray Telewu’s business is dead, and he loses everything. So yes, my client opposes the injunction, and yes, I’d like to call evidence.”
The judge didn’t consult the papers before him nor the books, but instead, he looked up at the big white clock on the courtroom wall. Its hands said two-fifteen.
“How long will your witness take, counsel?”
“In chief, ten minutes.” I’d practiced with Dr. M on the way in, and I was pretty sure he could do it in five, but I gave him a bit of extra time, just in case.
“We’ve got about two hours,” the judge said, “but I want to be fair to you and your client. Let’s take a fifteen minute recess so you can get instructions. Either we go ahead today with viva voce evidence, or we adjourn, and that will give Calledinthe90s time to file responding materials.”
When everyone came back, the junior’s boss was there, Senior Counsel, a heavy weight, one of those big guys downtown. Plus they brought this guy from Sy-Co Corp, the head of some bullshit division, with some bullshit title, Head of whatever, so that’s the title I’ll give him here. He was The Head. He was the man, the big cheese, the signer of the affidavit on which Sy-Co relied that day.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked Senior Counsel.
He stared at me, all lean and steel grey, looking every inch the hard hitting lawyer that commanded the biggest fees. “If you’re calling a live witness, then so can we. The Head will give evidence today, in advance of your client, so that the judge hears it from him first.” His junior smirked at me, and the two of them sat down, delighted that they’d thought of a way to one up me.
Except that they’d done it by exposing their client to cross-examination. The judge came in, allowed the Head to testify, and when he was done, I stood up.
“Just a few questions,” I said. Senior Counsel was stunned for an instant, and then he stood.
“This serves no purpose, Your Honour. The witness has confirmed the simple facts of his affidavit, and there’s no disputing it. Ray Telewu opened a restaurant less than seventy-one kilometres from Bixity City Hall, and that’s in breach of the Minutes of Settlement he signed.”
I did not bother to respond. Instead, I just stood, and I started to ask questions.
“Have a look at that map in your affidavit,” I said, and he did. I picked up my copy, and tore the map out of it. I passed it up to him.
“What do you notice about this map?”
“That it’s accurate,” the Head said, repeating his evidence in chief, amplifying it, talking about how the map contained perfect measurement.
“You will notice that the map is flat,” I said, laying it on the witness box before him.
“Of course it’s flat. That’s what maps are. Maps are flat.”
“But the earth is round,” I said, “or more properly, a sphere.” Senior Counsel was on his feet in an instant.
“What difference does that make?” he said.
“What you’ll hear from my expert witness, is that a flat map cannot accurately show Earth’s curves. A flat map distorts distances, and in this case, reduces them.”
“But that can’t be by very much.”
“In this case, by just over twenty meters,” Dr. M said from the back of the court.
“That’s my expert witness, the esteemed Dr. M.” I didn’t actually say Dr. M. Instead, I said his real name. But I’m not going to use the real names of my family here, so I’ll just keep calling him Dr. M. “Dr. M was a professor of Physics at the University of Bixity for almost thirty years. He has published numerous papers on particle physics, and is the first Canadian winner of the Wolf Prize for physics.”

• * * *

It went downhill after that for Sy-Co Corp. My father-in-law testified, explaining in simple language, language that even a child could understand, that the Earth was a sphere, that the shortest distance between two points on Earth was a curve, not a straight line. He summarized his calculations in plain English, dumbing down the math, so that everyone present imagined, if only for the moment, that they shared his understanding of a difficult mathematical equation.
Senior Counsel tried to cross-examine Dr. M, but it did not go well, my father-in-law indulging him, gently chiding him, continuing his explanations until the lawyer sat down, defeated by Dr. M’s mastery of the subject,his own lack of preparation and his inability to improvise. When counsel said that he had no further questions, the judge addressed us all.
“I’m not going to reserve, and I don’t think I need to tell everyone why. I think it will take about a minute for me to write a decision saying that the Earth is not flat. I’ll give you some more time after that, but after fifteen minutes, I”ll be back to render my decision.” He rose, everyone bowed, and he disappeared behind the door to judge’s chambers.
I pulled a piece of paper out of my file, and slammed it on the desk before Senior Counsel and his junior. “Fill in the blanks, and sign,” I said.
Dr. M’s head shot up at the commotion, and he shuffled over to see what was going on.
“What’s this?” Senior Counsel said, picking up the paper I gave him..
“Minutes of Settlement. You fill in a number, a big number, for the costs you gotta pay me. Your client signs, and then we’re done.” Senior Counsel opened his mouth to bargain, but I overrode him.
“You know your client’s going to lose; the judge made that obvious. Hurry up if you want to settle; we don’t have much time.”
At the end of most Canadian court cases, the loser has to pay at least part of the winner’s legal fees. That’s the way it’s been since forever, and I think it’s a good rule. Sy-Co Corp had lost, so it had to pay a good chunk of Ray’s costs, and Ray’s costs were somewhere between whatever bullshit figure I claimed they were, and where they actually ought to be. Senior Counsel took the paper over to his client. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back, with the form signed, and a number written in the blank space.
I’ll give it to Sy-Co Corp and their lawyer. It wasn’t a bullshit number, a low ball number. They gave me a real number, a number more like something I’d actually accept, a number that made sense to pay me in costs, in light of the success I’d had, and how I got it. It was a respectful number, a common sense number, and I appreciated it an awful lot.
I tossed the paper back at them.
“Add a zero,” I said, continuing on when Senior Counsel blanched, and his junior retreated a step. “I know what’s going on here. Your client sold mine a bullshit franchise, one with a history of failing.” The franchise had opened up again under a new owner not long after Ray had lost it and then it promptly failed again. Like I said at the start of this story, it’s an old story. It’s how some franchise companies make money. “Your client makes more money selling bullshit franchises doomed to fail, then it does from the honest ones that make money. So add a zero to that number, or Ray’s gonna sue you, class action and all that, for all the people you’ve fucked.”
The Head stepped forward from the benches and spoke to me.
“We get threats like that all the time, but no one follows through. They don’t have the money to fight us, and neither does your client. So go ahead and sue.”
“It’s true that Ray doesn’t have jack shit,” I said, “not a pot to piss in, but he’s my cousin, Ray is, and even if he doesn’t have money, he’s got me. Ray’s family, and for Ray, I’ll sue you guys for free. Hell, I’ll even pay the expenses. Plus I’m gonna put a jury notice in, too, come to think of it, ‘cause juries--”
Senior Counsel cut me off, and moved his client to the back of the courtroom. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back. I watched as Senior Counsel wrote a single digit on the Minutes, a zero, written right where I wanted it.
“You’ll have to initial the change,” I said to the Head of Sy-C0, and it gave me great satisfaction to watch him sign.
“Don’t forget,” I said the moment his pen stopped moving, “for the settlement to be valid, I need to get the money today. Right now.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” the Head said.
“Not if you want the settlement to stay in place. I’ll follow you back to your office, and you can put a cheque in my hands.”

• * * *

“What’s this?” my wife said when I entered the apartment later that day, after I’d driven Dr. M home, stopping first at a local pub for beers.
“It’s an absurdly expensive bunch of flowers,” I said, “although no flowers, however beautiful, however expensive, could expiate my--”
She took the flowers, and gave a kiss.
“My mom called. She told me what happened. You fixed things with my dad.”
“Yup,” I said. I had certainly done that. I’d made Dr. M a professor again, if only for a few minutes. Not only a professor, but an expert witness. The judge had declared him an expert in plain terms and Dr.M had beamed when he’d heard those words.
“And you won Ray’s case, too. But my mom didn’t know how, and I don’t know how you did it either.”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tonight,” I said.
“But we agreed no more dinners out; we have to save money, now that a baby’s coming.”
I passed her the envelope that I’d received a few hours before. She opened it, and took out a cheque, a cheque drawn up for an amount I specified, made payable to Mr. and Mrs. Calledinthe90s.
The moment I got that cheque, all I could think about was how my wife would react when I put it into her hands. I could not wait to see her eyes bulge, to hear her voice say “oh my god,” to hear her laugh.
She did none of these things. Instead, she cried.
“Does this mean we can buy a house?” The money wouldn’t be enough to buy a house, not nowadays, with prices being so crazy. But things were different back then in the 90s. Sure, the internet was barely a thing and cell phones were super expensive and a lot of things sucked, but I’ll give the nineties one thing: houses were cheap.
“I think so,” I said.

I know there's a woman out there looking for me. I've been waiting for you. Working on myself the past five years, becoming the best me -- in part, for the best we.
I hope you're out there reading this!
I'm male, 44, INFJ-T, Pisces, white, "woke" (lol) and wisdom-seeking. I am naturally curious and spend a lot of time thinking, wandering, exploring, and observing. I think the world is a beautiful wondrous place. I'm looking for someone to share it with. I just spent nearly a month on Maui, hoping to go somewhere warm this fall/winter.
I have no kids and currently no pets, and I'm monogamous. Hoping to find "the one" -- someone ready for a committed relationship where we both show up every day and explore what it means to be together in that moment. I'll be your biggest cheerleader and supporter.
I have two grad school degrees, the highest my PhD (in an Arts discipline). I'm published and accomplished. I teach college English. I'm working on a few written manuscripts and some art projects. I'm never bored, always working at something. I'm an intellectual who doesn't take things too seriously. I contribute to community radio, that's a huge passion of mine. I enjoy spectator sports, and follow baseball pretty closely, but enjoy live sports in general.
I'm from a short family, so I'm 5'6", also slim, with a hipsterish style. I wear glasses, have short hair, clean-shaven, I still get told I'm handsome and get mistaken for ~10 years younger than I am.
I quit drinking just over a year ago (happy to share about that!) I don't care if you partake, though. I'm a non-smoker (quit 10 years ago), but 420 friendly (use pretty much daily).
I'm on a journey of self-discovery (single for a few years now) and working on my path of spirituality first and foremost lately, but I want to explore how that feels with a partner. I've been working especially hard on unlearning bad habit patterns, mostly caused by being raised a man in the patriarchy. I'm working to be a better man in this world.
I have little material wealth (and those things aren't important to me), but I possess lots of freedom, joy, curiosity, resourcefulness... and time!
Naturally, I'm a fan of: deep conversations; exploration; reading in many genres and subjects; urban, rural, and forested places (there is no "middle of nowhere"); social and environmental justice; baseball; many genres of music; galleries, museums, cultural events; Yahtzee; the beach/lake/pool; finding my place in the geo-cosmos (it's never too late, right?)
I'm keeping it light enough to travel at the moment, so I could always visit you!
I'm not easy to pin down (in some ways) and enjoy it (in other ways hint hint). I'm unconventional and loving it (finally).
I'm kind of into the age gap thing, but it's not incredibly important to me, so I welcome hearing from any woman (18+ of course). I'd prefer you be in Canada, but open to anywhere in the world if we can make it work. I'm attracted to women who are sassy, compassionate, caring, patient, curious, optimistic, joyful, a reader, will reignite my love of crosswords, willing to learn new things together, possibly a cook looking for a sous-chef, opinionated, introverted, flirty and romantic, and flexible. Not a tall order, huh?
I have very few dealbreakers, but left-leaning politically and poetically always get me going, and it would be cool if you're unconventional and loving it (or working on it). Haha!
I'd sincerely love to hear from you if you, too, wear your heart on your sleeve, crave affection and attention, and have room in your life for an adorable and loving guy!

This story has been published in Bloody Twine #1. This first book of mine was my "starter book," so it's very short. My other books are, at the very least, twice as long. In fact, "What's Under There?" is the shortest story I've written in the series, weighing in at just 1604 words. The average read time for it is only 6 minutes and 45 seconds. Enjoy!
WHAT'S UNDER THERE?
What IS under there?
Oliver walked into the kitchen and pulled on the hem of his mother’s dress. The woman looked down at him and smiled, but he knew she was not happy he was in here.
“Yes, my little one?” she asked.
“Can I have a cookie?” asked Oliver.
“May I have a cookie,” corrected his mother.
“May I have a cookie?” asked Oliver.
“You may, my little Ollie, but only one,” said his mother as she held up her right index finger in front of his little face. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
She ushered him over to the little square kitchen table and sat him in his booster chair. He was not a baby anymore, but he needed a little extra boost to properly reach his food.
The woman handed him his oatmeal cookie, and he held the big, round, edible disk in both hands. He took a bite of that delicious cookie, but there was a lot on his young mind, and he knew she could tell.
The older woman cocked her head to one side and looked down at him in strange concern. She smiled as she did so, an affect that Oliver was still not used to. His mother had never smiled so much until just recently.
“What is it, my little one?” she asked.
“When is Daddy coming home?” asked Oliver.
“Now, now,” said his mother with a wagging finger. “Your father has gone away. He’s not coming home.”
“He isn’t?” asked Oliver.
“No, no,” smiled his mother. “We talked about this, my little Ollie. Your father’s gone away, and he’s not coming back.”
He wanted to cry over this again, but he knew she would scold him if he did. She had told him the same thing yesterday, and he had cried then, and she had scolded him to the point where he had been terrified. It was something in her eyes that scared him so, and now he was too afraid to earn her ire again. Even so, his eyes watered at the thought of it, the thought of his father never returning home.
“Now, don’t you cry,” said his mother with a shake of her head. “Big boys don’t cry…I know something that will help, though. I know exactly what you need. You need a glass of milk for your cookie.”
He nodded his head in acceptance. He did not know why his father was not coming home, but he did not want to get in trouble anymore. Nevertheless, he saw something that bothered him, and it bothered him a lot. He couldn’t help but ask about it.
“Mommy, why is your face peeling?” asked Oliver.
His mother’s face was indeed peeling, peeling upon her left cheek, just a little, but enough to bother him, the pale skin off a tiny sliver, a fleck of jet black, like coal, beneath it.
“Don’t you worry about that, my little Ollie,” smiled his mother. “That’s not important.”
“Are you sick?” asked Oliver.
He had been wondering if she were ill, as she was not her usual self, and this bothered him…It bothered him a lot.
“Just eat your cookie, dearie,” smiled his mother.
Oliver took a bite of his cookie, but it tasted funny. He had not noticed it with the first bite, but now he did. He hesitated to have any more, but his mother would not have it.
“Eat all of it,” smiled his mother.
He took to eating the cookie again regardless of the taste. He did not want to get in trouble again.
“That’s a good boy,” smiled his mother.
She went to the fridge and pulled out the milk carton from it. She took down a glass from the left cabinet above the sink and poured him a tall glass of milk.
“Here you are now,” she said as she handed him the glass.
He eagerly took the glass with both hands, as he was sorely in need of a drink, but the milk tasted funny as well, just like the cookie.
“This doesn’t taste right,” said Oliver. “The cookie doesn’t taste right, either.”
“You asked for a cookie, and you got one,” said his mother. “I even poured you a glass of milk, Ollie. Now, don’t be ungrateful.”
His mother reached up and scratched at the left side of her face, and more of her skin peeled away, just a bit, but more than enough to make Oliver nervous.
“Mommy, why is your face peeling?” he asked again. “I don’t like it…”
There were small scratches on her face where her nails had raked across her pale skin, and these scratches left strange lines of ebony, like black trails in peach-brushed snow.
“I told you not to ask that, Oliver,” warned his mother.
She reached up and scratched at the skin of her left cheek again, and even more of her skin peeled away to reveal a small patch of pitch black beneath it.
Now Oliver really needed to know. He needed to know what was wrong with his mother, because something was wrong, very wrong, and he did not know what else to do but ask.
“Mommy, something’s wrong with your face,” he said nervously. “There’s something under your skin. What’s under there?”
His mother’s eyes widened as she turned up her lips in a weird, disturbing smile.
“Do you want to know?” she asked. “Do you really want to know?”
In truth, Oliver did not want to know, because something was very, very wrong, and he was suddenly afraid to know. There was something wrong about everything right now, from his father not returning home yesterday to his mother acting all strange. Everything right now was wrong, so whether he liked it or not, he needed to know, so he nodded his little head in silent reply.
“Okay, my little Ollie,” replied his mother. “I’ll sing you a song about it…but you won’t like it. You won’t like it at all.”
Ollie swallowed a chunk of cookie out of fearful reflex.
His mother stared at him with wide eyes as she sang with a smile.
“What’s under there? What’s under there?” she sang. “Under Mommy’s face, so fine and fair? What’s under there? What’s under there? Under pale, pale skin and long black hair?”
She reached up and peeled off more of her cheek skin, revealing a large swatch of black beneath it, about the size of a thumb, and Oliver’s little hands shook as he squeezed the half-eaten cookie in his clutching fingers.
“Daddy, Daddy, found a book,” sang his mother. “He dug it out of a hidden nook. It told a lot of horrid things, written for the ancient kings. He said the words, he read them loud, and then sprang out a turbid cloud. Black and slick and old as ages, it billowed from the musty pages.”
His mother continued to smile as she peeled off a large flap of pale skin from her left cheek. Beneath it were her teeth, the ivory pegs flawless in the light, but as she peeled backwards toward the end of her jaw, more teeth were revealed, all the same, but many more than there should have been, all the way back to the end of her jaw, all set in a line of ebony flesh beneath an outer layer of peeling, pale skin.
“What’s under there? What’s under there?” sang Oliver’s mother. “Under Mommy’s face, so fine and fair? What’s under there? What’s under there? Under pale, pale skin and long black hair?”
The cookie crumbled under Oliver’s grip, the flecks falling like dust to the kitchen table. He shook in his chair, his mouth partially open, his eyes wide, his skin blanching as he continued to watch and listen to his mother.
“Ancient, ancient, billowed, and swirled, it sprang from the pages and into the world,” sang his mother. “Existing long before Noah’s Sea, antediluvian, finally free!”
It was something in her eyes that caused Oliver to shake, the madness and fury in his mother’s eyes that held him in place in his booster chair.
“Daddy ran with all his heart, but he was quickly torn apart,” sang his mother. “Mommy screamed and tried to shout, but she was eaten from the inside out!”
His mother tore off the pale skin from the entire left side of her face, the flap of it falling onto the floor in a wet plop of a white sheet, like rain-soaked paper.
The obsidian flesh beneath the peeling skin was slick and looked to be made of tiny overlapping scales. Her left eye was a golden color with a single, black, vertical slit where a normally-round pupil should have been, and a fire was burning within that black slit, but frosty-blue, like a flame made of ice.
Even her smile was uncanny, as the right side of her face held normal teeth and lips, while the left side of her face held a lipless mouth with teeth that spanned all the way back to her neckline.
“Now it’s time for a little snack, made with fear in a fleshy sack,” sang his mother. “Alive, alive, where you cannot move! That makes for a more delicious food!”
She finished her song with unusual gusto, the very sound of it echoing around the kitchen to assault Oliver’s little ears without mercy.
Oliver’s terror-induced paralysis finally broke as he willed his muscles to move. He hopped down from his booster seat and ran for the kitchen door, but the drug in his cookie and milk slowed him down far too much for him to actually make it there.

Dear Reader: Emphasis on the -fi. Don't worry about it.
Effective Death. At least that’s what the news was calling it. The day the world wouldn’t end. Life could go on! It wasn’t over. You could still huddle around the last fires. Smoke the last cigarettes. Have the last children, though no one did.
Instead, they all watched. The slow dimming of light of the last supernova. A thousand little eclipses snuffed out the light as the Final Embrace closed around the star. We would not burn. We could die naturally. Charity. The Plan. The Plan wasn’t much of a Plan at all, and it definitely did not deserve a capital “P.” The universe would die. The Ark would wait. Maybe the universe wouldn’t die.
Then, a pinprick of light in the blackness, and another, and another. A tangled ball of christmas lights flashed in the sky, blinking on and off as people, my people, YSAs, flew headlong into the Ark. We all knew it was a meaningless gesture. One last light in the sky. Then nothing. Nothing more than a gesture: a middle finger among friends, and to people like me - cowards who would rather wait patiently for death than rage! “Rage against the dying of the light!” as their leaders preached. I didn’t care. There was a small chance I’d survive the crash, and then I would have to drift, and drifting was no fun. I’d rather be dead on a dead rock than be a dead rock.
Dehydration was my best bet. You see, Your Friend Corp, or as I called it now You’re Fucked, Cunt had made me into a Yakka Service Android: Lathe. Or YSA for short. And when I say made, I mean made. Per my contract, My DNA was a mishmosh of latent genes reactivated, entirely novel sequences, and of course, the tardigrade - the base model for spaceborne labor. Vacuum, heat, cold, radiation. A small shield powered by a miniature fusion reactor meant I could shrug off wandering asteroids. I didn’t need any PPE because I was the PPE. Cheaper, I guess. Making a welding arc was as simple as squeezing two fingers together, diamond nails and a skeleton of superheavy alloys let me fix anything that needed fixing and make anything that needed making. My copilot AI, Albert, kept my hands steady and made my new diet of ‘whatever’s around’ palatable.
The thing that needed fixing in this case, was my television. I had had enough of “effective death.” I spun up one wrist, and reached in. Shards of glass and blue-hot metal chips bounced off my naked body. Clothes were for those who needed them. I traced a slow serpentine pattern until only the power cord was left, which I unplugged. I looked at it for a moment, then began to chew it. Fruit roll ups, apparently.
‘Thanks Al’ I thought. ‘No problem’ he replied. ‘I was supposed to kill you, you know’ he continued.
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘You always said thank you’ He was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t want to die either.’
‘Thanks Al.’
‘You’re welcome.’
We sat in silence, and we waited. For what, we did not know. For nothing, probably. Technically, definitely.
—
Three weeks passed. Three weeks of nothing but blackness, punctuated by suicides. A small flash of light, a dull red glow of the now proverbial last cigarette, and a larger flash, and a bang. Slowly, people began to wake up. Lights shone in the distance now, as people realized they weren’t dead. Campfires billowed smoke, songs were sung, jokes were told, and I sat in silence. I didn’t want to make any friends. They’d all go away, in the end.
One by one, the fires burned to ash, the lights turned off, and the rock died. I often debated with myself if I was alive anymore. Al told me that since I could reproduce and poop that I counted. I wasn’t sure.
Maybe there were other cowards still alive. Other YSA’s living off dirt that tasted like mashed potatoes, tossing grape pebbles into their mouths. Maybe someone survived the crash, and is still drifting, a not dead rock dying of dehydration like I am. Trying to at least. I kept taking one last sip. Coward I thought to myself.
—
A crack in the sky. Final Embrace began to crumple like a deflated balloon. The scientists were wrong. Typical. They would tell you they weren’t. They would say that a .005% chance of the sun turning into a black hole meant that they had indeed predicted that the sun would turn into a black hole. The last black hole.
“Hey Al,” I said out loud. God I hadn’t spoken since the sky went dark. This is actually kinda nice. “I think I know I want to die. What do you say we take the ol girl out for one last ride?”
‘That’d be nice.’
“I’m going to put my clothes on. I want to hear your voice.”
I gently pushed the earpiece into my ear canal. Small barbed spikes extended, anchoring it in place, and a thin cable wormed its way into my reactor. “If you’re going to die, you might as well look good doing it.” Al said. “I’ll make a playlist.” I nodded, blowing the dust off my pre-op clothes. I always liked the old things, back from when Earth still existed. There was more culture, more life, in everything, somehow. Blue jeans, a white t-shirt, brown leather boots. Classic. Not real, of course. They were all made from the same poly-something textile. Durable, to a fault. I had only ever had the one set.
I looked in the mirror. I still looked the same on the outside. I was a skinny bastard that’s for sure. Olive skin, dark hair, and not a strand below the eyebrows except under my armpits and around my cock. ‘The biggest dick in the world’ I thought to myself.
“I heard that.” Said Al. I jumped. “You told me you wanted to hear my voice.”
“Dammit Al. Sorry. I do.”
“Everyone is dead and you’re making dick jokes.”
“Did you really think better of me?”
“No.”
“Come on then. Let’s take the ol girl out before we die. Give her one last ride too.”
To an observer, it would seem like I was glaring at myself in the mirror. But really, I was glaring at Al. And I was a little confused. I thought AI didn’t make sex jokes.
The “ol girl” in question was another of my fascinations with the old world. She was, or at least she looked like, a 1980 Toyota Corolla. I had made some heavy, heavy modifications. The engine bay houses the reactor and warp field generator. The main engine takes up the entire trunk, and is capable of 5% light speed outside the warp field and a whopping thousand times the speed of light inside it, though I keep the warp field up whenever I’m in it since it doubles as a shield. Ya can’t get hit by space if you’re not technically “in” space after all, and the body is plain ol painted steel - fire engine red, since you asked. Beautiful, but not the most durable. The undercarriage serves as a gravity generator, and yes, the wheels do turn, but since they’re powered by fusion reactor I had to replace the entire drivetrain. Not exactly original, but boy howdy! is she fast on the ground. Speaking of not original, the dashboard was anything but. I kept the old analog style but well, this was a spaceship after all.
I shoveled dirt into the fuel tank - gas tanks they used to call them, when they still ran on gas - then got in and turned the key. The low hum of the reactor was comforting, though not as much as the roar of the engines as I left the dead atmosphere of that now definitely dead rock behind me. I turned on the headlights - pointless, I know, but you shouldn’t drive in the dark with your lights on, and pulled a small bottle of moonshine from the glovebox. You shouldn’t do that either, but I figured I was about even as far as rules went. What was I going to do? Hit someone?
“Hey Al. Do you think you have a soul”
“Probably not.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
I hit somebody. Or something. Whatever it was bounced off the warp bubble and tumbled into space behind me, briefly red in the glow of my tail lights.
“Oh shit” Said Al and I.
“That was a person” Said Al.
“Was is right.”
“They’re still alive.”
I stopped the car. Al played the sound of tires screeching in my ears. I backed up towards the now spinning uncontrollably figure and rolled down the window. I liked the manual windows. They helped me feel human. I turned off the warp and reached out a hand to catch whoever it was, and they slammed against the side of my car, denting it. Damn it.
I’m not great at reading lips but whoever I hit was definitely alive, very naked, probably the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen, and was almost certainly calling me an asshole. She crawled around to the passenger door and got in. We rolled the windows up, and the cabin atmosphere flooded in. Now she was definitely going to call me an asshole.
“Why the fuck are you wearing sunglasses?” She said.
“Style.” I replied. “I’m going to go die. Want to come?”
“Better than drifting.”
“Where’s your AI?” said Al? I don’t detect one, and your hands are shaking.
“Killed him before he could kill me. Why didn’t you kill this idiot?”
"I didn’t want to die. And he said thank you.”
“Gross.”
I rolled my window down. She did the same, then looked in the center console and pulled out my spare sunglasses. I looked at her. “Style.” She said. Al played The Final Countdown. We were the not dead yets, in the Not Dead Yet Finally, a name for my car! Sunglasses on. Sun out. Life was good, and death was going to be even better.

I don’t exactly know if this is the place to ask, but I really need advice or clarity and the situation touches on themes related to the sub. I’m not Karma farming I very much need advice on what to do
I’d say I have a strong moral compass.
I’m 21 and for most of my life I was kinda a teachers pet, goodie two shoes, Boy Scout etc.
And even now in all aspects of my life I normally am, I always hold doors, put my cart away, straighten shelf’s when I put something back.
Not that I don’t have a rebel or mean or lazy side but
I’m also rose tinted glasses and I’m told by everyone I’m too nice.
After a year of therapy and self reflection I’ve come to the realization that when I do genuine kind things I do them out of genuine kindness but a layer deeper it’s also cause I wanna be loved and liked.
When I feel I don’t meet up to my standards I feel really guilty or anxious even when things are out of my control
Like the one relationship I’ve had she broke up with me and it was fine no fights, but for months I was stirken with guilt cause her grandma who she lives with is a complete cunt
Like I don’t think I saw the worst of it but grandma was killing my exes self esteem the grandmother liked me better than her granddaughter it was night and day.
I felt guilty cause even though we broke up I knew that I brought her some light into her life. We had dreams of getting her out of that house and for us to have a loving home for eachother and some animals.
I’m over that guilt but I feel hints of it with what’s going on now .
So more exposition, as much as I have worked on myself physically and mentally the one thing I still struggle with is relationships
Both platonic and romantic
I’m single I got a couple of good friends I don’t see often but hoping to change that
But I’m super grateful for the people in my life, maybe to much, I over gift I over thank,
I get attached to folk who are nice to me real easy
And especially with woman and I’m not blaming them
I have a horrible tendency to succumb to limerence and putting them on a pedestal.
I think I might be a love junkie or something which is kinda weird since I’ve only ever dated once. I never even been on a traditional date.
The definite thing though is I’m very very lonely
But now to the current situation
I went onto forever alone dating. Messaged a few people a month ago.
One of these woman is 23 from Italy and we talked on an off then just periods of radio silence
She found someone in Italy while we talked
Which was fine, I was just glad to have the opportunity to speak with someone from Italy, it’s on my bucket list the visit I love the food, culture and history.
But the other day, I messaged just checking in looking for conversation
She said she wasn’t doing well and suggested to read her latest post
In summary, that guy she met they planned to both move to America, but he just abandoned her and now she’s homeless and shunned by her family. plus he was a physically abusive piece of shit I won’t even call him a man he’s a fucking animal she showed me scars and bruises
She’s still in Italy
I genuinely felt bad and was just there to help her vent and process this.
I offered to send her a lil money, to help her get a lil food and water.
And she proved she was real it wasn’t a scam, I sent 30 bucks
She’s very grateful
I do genuinely believe that true acts of kindness inspire others
But now that we are talking even more and we’ve both seen what we look like and sound like.
I can feel my stupid dumbass part of my brain leaking this very dumb thought of
“Maybe there is a chance”
I feel so scummy and I keep trying to fight it off
I know I shouldn’t do anything especially now she just escaped that monster and she’s out in the streets.
She just seems so vulnerable and lost and scared and I wanna help.
But now I’m so confused why I’m doing this should I be doing this.
Am I doing this out of genuine kindness
Or am I falling into nice guy, white knight , simp type shit.
I feel like I’m mostly doing the right thing for the right reason, which is she needs help and someone to talk to.
I really don’t expect anything out of her.
But I can feel my dumbass getting infatuated and I feel calling myself a dumbass is appropriate cause I do this to myself
I just I’m gonna keep helping her within my means nothing drastic.

The voices mingled around me. Some loud, some soft, some weeping while others waited in stoic silence. The lodge anxiously waiting as the last rays of sunlight flit through the bay window. The wall of stacked cars and stone lights up like fairy lights upon a wall, revealing the weaknesses of our fragile defenses. And beyond the glass stood thousands of faces, watching the last rays of light sink beyond the horizon, beyond the walls that we called hope.
The room grew quiet. A whimper was stifled from the wall as the sun gave way to the stars. Their light poking holes in the sky like the sun had revealed our defenses flaws. A flask popped open followed by several large gulps. I can't fault you. The sword on my back grows warm and her hand touches my arm. Her long, blonde braid falls past her shoulder as she turns to me. To look at me and see me. Gosh, how can she know me so well. Her hand slides down my arm and into my shaking hand.
She brings it to her lips and tenderly kisses my knuckles, even the sunken ones. "The sun has surrendered," and pulls my hand to her chest, "you are now the light that must lead us, my love."
Her fingers interlace with mine, stealing the tremble hidden upon their tips with a squeeze. That tremble climbing up my arm to escape out of my lungs at my next breath. "We can only be hammered for so long before we have to be quenched, I guess." A small, but playful smile breaks her somber face. She pulls me closer to her and presses her forehead to mine. In that small moment, the heat of her breath, the scent of her; from the moment she held me and handed me the star blade to now, she has been my light.
A small and stifled sob escapes her lips, for as she has by my beacon, I have tried to be her anchor. In our journey these last years, she has loved and feared, celebrated and cried, and we have grown. "You must be light that leads us." Her tears stain the dark wood at our feet and the tremble in her body transfers to me in at the touch of our skin.
"I must and I will." Raising her hands to my lips, returning the tender kiss she gave to me.
Turning to face the table before me, only a few are looking at what had been a private moment between her and I. The rest continue to look to where the light once had been. The heat on my back beckoned me, telling me what to do. To touch the pommel of the sword like the Forever King had done before. It was swift, but the rush of power flooded me at the embrace of my palm around the hammered piece of metal.
"So the night comes and we are like fresh pieces of paper watching spilt ink spread before us."
Eyes turn to me. Hone in on me. While still holding her hand, I turn to the west and the setting sun.
"This night, this darkness has had a long time coming and now we finally face it." Pointing at the last rays of sunlight that fade into twilight. In those last remnants of light, I can see the heads of thousands look around. Some in fear and some in confusion. The power continues to flood my body and I let go of the pommel of my sword.
Marching away from the table and to the wooden door of the lodge, my voice carries. "This story that has held us in our youth, in our entertainment, has now filled our very lives." The door glides open and I stride out, marching towards the eastern wall. A few eyes around the lodge turn towards me. My arms shake themselves out of habit, releasing tension stored within.
"Now we write the last chapters of this very war," the growl surprises me, as people step aside to let me through. There are few faces that I recognize, but the ones that I do now recognize the position I hold. The star blade upon my back now emitting a soft glow. "One more story to add to the eternal narrative that is sung among the stars."
More eyes, more faces turn to me as my voice reaches out to the gathered forces within our last bastion. My path is set and made clear in the divide of the people around me. Leading me towards the wall; towards the erected tower with an emerald, green flag and shining white sword flying in the wind above it.
"So let out story be a ballad, instead of paper waiting for someone else to write upon." The sky grows ever darker, and the twilight that normally sits around quickly is swallowed up by the oncoming night. Someone rings a bell, the warning bell. A haunting gong that sends shivers up and down my spine. They're here. Panicked voices fills the edges of the field as the chiming rings across the fortress. Men and woman rush to the walls, some armed with modern weaponry. Others with forged ones taking positions up along the wall.
Each step I take closer to the wall, my voice gets a little louder. "Let us sing, let us sing the song of the free." The bell chimes and my footfalls sound like a drum in my ears. "Let us shout, let us shout the darkness, make it fear our coming death." I move and pull up someone who is kneeling on the ground, tears coating their cheeks.
"Arise, Arise!" My fist bangs upon my chest.
Marching up the crude steps into the tower, my fist hammers the wall to the beat of my heart. The stone walls echoing with my voice within but reverberating across the field outside. "If destruction be our lot, we ourselves must be its author and finisher."
The glow from my sword spreads out from around me, slowly lighting up the tower. And as I march out atop of the stone building, I gaze out towards the wave of darkness rushing towards us from the west. I can hear the snarls and roars of the curse frothing towards us. The voice of darkness speaking its inky touch across the barren landscape beyond the walls not a few minutes away.
"So let this ballad be our last ballad that we spin." I reach for the hilt of my sword and look down at the forces defending the wall. There gaze is brief but I their eyes, and their fear. But I also see their hope. "As free men, as free woman," turning to face the forces spread out below in the fortress field before me. "By our song, we will live forever!" I rip the star blade from the half-sheath on my back. "Or die by our own hand." The light beams out towards the heavens above as my words echo across the land.
The roar spreads like fire, chasing away the shadow of fear. Spear and sword slap against shields, cracking rumbling among the men and woman. Some beat upon the stone and steal around them while others beat their chest. A vicious cry of defiance, a thunderous song echoing in my heart and ears as I turned to face the darkness.
And she was there. Right behind me as I turned to face the forces marching toward us. Her hands glowing in radiance as her spells weaved around us, casting down pillars of light spread out across the wall. I raise my sword high and can feel the air around me turn static. Darkness now clashes with the light as the hordes of the enemy crash and climb upon the wall. "Our story, our ballad, shall forever sing among the stars." Guns and artillery begin to fire. "But we are the authors of light!"
With a swing of my sword, bolts of lightning fire down from gathered clouds in the sky at the base of the wall.
~~~~~
Original Prompt by u/George_WL_
**Edits: Corrected minor gramatical errors**

OOC: co-written with NotTooSunny
It was an ordinary day at the New York City Library. People wandered in and out of the building, unaware of the monster that lurked among them.
The only people who seemed to know the danger these mortals were in were Harper and Amon, who entered the building with glowing bronze swords at their hips. The bulky weapons seemed to have escaped the notice of the other library patrons, which was a good thing. The job description had made it clear that they were meant to remain inconspicuous in completing their task.
Harper had traded her usual bright orange camp shirt for a more discrete cropped black t-shirt and pleated pants. She had been insistent on coming up with a persona for them on the train ride from Montauk Station into New York City. They were meant to act as high school students researching for a World History paper on Ancient Greece. Now that they were inside the library, she had stopped her incessant rambling to peruse a riddle book, in what she had insisted was preparation for their job.
As they wandered through the bookshelves, she remained absorbed in the dog-eared children’s book, thumbing through the pages to find a riddle that would be fitting of a sphinx.
“Here’s one, Amon,” she said, narrowly avoiding a collision with another library patron as she read, “What is something that runs but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps, has a bed but never sleeps?”
The dark-haired son of Apollo glanced over from a shelf of dusty atlases, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “That is an easy one,” he replied simply. "River. Try me with something more challenging next time around." He adjusted the collar of his striped button down, which he had layered with a navy blue sweater in preparation for the chill of the air-conditioned interior.
“The real riddle is where we can find this sphinx,” Amon glanced around the spacious reading area, eyeing the dark wooden staircase with its ornate railings. “The boyfriend and girlfriend who tried this last time, they found her by a bookcase.”
“A bookcase,” Harper repeated derisively, closing her book to theatrically scan their surroundings. “That narrows it down.”
Ignoring Harper’s mockery, the son of Apollo paused suddenly, his dark eyes glazing over with concentration. His hearing dulled, the surrounding footsteps and rustling pages fading into the background as if muffled by a thick curtain. Amon searched for the energy signature of the monster he knew lurked among the mortals. It was a subtle shift, like trying to discern a whisper in a crowded room, but he felt a faint, abnormal energy hanging somewhere up above.
“I say we try the second floor,” he said as he snapped out of the tracking trance, offering no other explanation to Harper.
“We could do that, sure,” Harper said, words laced with blatant doubt at his sudden certainty. “I say we try asking the Visitor’s Center. I know she's supposed to be disguised by the Mist, but the librarians have to have noticed something.”
“You can go ahead and do that.” The small smirk from earlier was now spreading across his face. “But you can’t be upset if I find the sphinx and solve her riddle before you even get there.”
Harper rolled her eyes, but she made no attempt to stop Amon from walking towards the staircase. After a moment she set off after him, footsteps even against the wooden steps.
Up on the second floor, Amon moved quietly, his dark eyes scanning the hallway for anything out of the ordinary.
I know you’re up here.
He stopped at every heavy-looking mahogany door, peering through each muted glass insert. He felt the air grow thicker with ominous energy at every step, so he knew the monster must be near.
One of the doors was slightly ajar, a suspiciously open invitation. Or a trap. The dark-haired boy caught sight of a cat-shaped figure on the other side before ducking down and motioning sharply for Harper’s attention. He unsheathed his kopis from his belt, bracing himself for confrontation.
Harper crouched against the wall, hand on the hilt of her sword as she tried to peek through the frosted glass pane. She held her breath, ready to move at Amon’s signal. He held out three fingers and then put them down one by one. When he hit zero, they stood in unison, flinging the door open together.
When Amon and Harper stepped inside, the body of the sphinx lay motionless on the floor.
The rest of the room was in disarray, littered with disheveled chairs and broken bits of chalk. A window on the other side of the room had been forced open, the curtain fluttering in the wind.
“No way,” Harper said. The door clicked shut behind her as she pushed past Amon into the room and kneeled to study the monster’s limp figure.
The sphinx had the large body of a lion and the eerily human face of a middle-aged woman, hair tied back in a severe bun and foundation caked onto her high cheekbones. Fangs jutted out of her red-painted lips, and eagle wings sprouted out of the space between her shoulder blades, folded tight against her back.
“Monsters dissolve into dust when they die,” Amon remarked, keeping his distance as he watched the subtle rise and fall of the monster’s ribs. “She must have been knocked unconscious.”
“Right,” Harper agreed, “The real question is who. And why.”
She hovered a hand over the cat's shoulder, set on rousing her. Before she made contact, the sphinx's eyes snapped open, round irises surrounded by shocking yellow sclera.
"Slain!" she wailed. Harper staggered backwards. Amon’s arms instinctively reached out to catch her, but she didn’t stumble near enough to make contact. "I am slain!"
With feline grace, the sphinx rose to her feet. A white tape outline marked the placement of her previously prone body on the floor. The muscles in her legs rippled as she paced in front of Harper and Amon, massive velvet paws silent against the carpet.
"And you, my dear heroes," she roared, eyes narrowed in an accusatory glare, "were too late to save me!"
The sphinx sniffed, composing herself. She leapt onto a wooden table. The table legs creaked underneath her weight. "Fear not," she tutted, "Fear not. For you can still avenge me. If you are able to determine the murderer and their weapon, then I will obtain justice, and all will be right with the world.”
“Your riddle is a murder mystery,” Harper said, confusion written across her face. Amon raised an eyebrow. The sphinx chuffed, a low rumbling sound reminiscent of laughter.
“You sought that hackneyed question about man? The Sphinx that the storytellers remember is far less adaptive than I am. I am not interested in your ability to regurgitate the information you have read. Nor am I interested in taking advantage of the nonsensical rules of your English language.”
“I am here to satisfy my own curiosity: does modern mankind still possess the ability to engage in deductive reasoning, or do they only seek to make themselves appear intelligent? Do not speak,” the sphinx said, a pointed look at Harper, who had opened her mouth to interject, “You will answer my questions when you play my game.”
“The potential murder weapons are scattered throughout this room,” she continued, leaping off the table. “And the suspects have already provided their testimonies for your review. Rest assured, I have made certain that their statements contain no lies.”
A shimmering, translucent energy began to swirl around Harper and Amon’s feet, beginning to take shape as holograms with a flickering, ephemeral quality.
A projection of Cerberus materialized first, his three massive heads snarling and snapping in unison. A ribbon of text appeared by his paws to translate his growling: "I was guarding the entrance, my duty unbroken."
Next came the Minotaur, his towering form pacing within the labyrinth on Crete. He snorted and pawed at the ground, the holographic maze shifting behind him in the background. The translation text appeared: "Confined within these walls, no escape for me."
Lamia's projection flickered into view, her serpentine lower half coiled around her as she wept in her cave. She glanced mournfully at the holographic images of her lost children: "My grief consumes me, innocent of this crime."
A shimmering Hydra emerged next, its nine heads snapping at invisible foes. Each one moved independently, showcasing its ability to act on its own. The translation for the hissing head at the center read: "Engaged in battle, I could not have killed."
Typhon materialized with a thunderous roar, his colossal form fighting against restraints under Mount Etna. His immense size and power were palpable, even in scaled down holographic form: "Bound by chains of the earth, I could not have roamed free."
Echidna’s hologram appeared last, her form a mix of human and serpent, lounging in a dimly lit cave. She looked directly at the viewers, her expression both defiant and amused. The translation text by her side read: “I dwell in my lair, uninvolved in such petty affairs.”
The sphinx swiped at the last projection as it faded, deeming her handiwork satisfactory. “There is not enough information to deduce the killer using evidence alone. Because I am fair, I will provide you with three hints before your final guess. Be forewarned: if you fail to provide a correct answer, you will both perish. Is this understood?”
Harper spoke. “If we answer correctly, you will leave this library for good.”
“If you answer correctly, I will permanently relocate. It is a preferable option in comparison to another death. Now, do you agree to the terms and conditions?” the sphinx said primly, regarding Harper and Amon with casual disdain. The pair nodded. “Very well.”
The sphinx dropped onto the floor and let her head loll back, pretending to be dead once more.
Hint #1

Suspects	Weapons
Cerberus	The Shirt of Nessus
The Minotaur	Siren Song
Lamia	Harpy Talon
The Hydra	Celestial Bronze Sword
Typhon	A-C Encyclopedia
Echidna	Cerberus Fang

Soon after the Sphinx had laid back down, Harper and Amon began to scour the room. A small pile of prospective murder weapons formed on a nearby table.
“We can easily eliminate the siren song,” Amon rushed to speak over Harper, eyeing the small glass vial of swirling gray matter that they had found nestled behind a row of books on metalworking. “It is a luring mechanism, not a murder weapon.”
“We could rule out Cerberus’ fang too,” he pointed at the enormous yellowing tooth, about the size of the small baseball bat Amon used to have when he played in the little league. “If we take the hologram as ground truth, all of his teeth were intact there.”
Harper used her kopis to prod at the stained tunic that had been hidden in a desk drawer, being careful not to touch it with bare skin. “The Shirt of Nessus is a viable option. It would be easy for any of the suspects to lay it down and wait for the hydra venom to kick in.”
“I am not ready to rule out the bronze sword either,” Amon noted. “Monsters have access to heroes and the weapons they leave behind.”
“Most of these monsters don’t even have opposable thumbs,” Harper argued, running a hand over the sword they had found by a power outlet. ”They don’t have the dexterity to wield a sword.”
“I do not imagine that the technicality would be that granular.”
Harper laughed. “Oh, the number of teeth in the Cerberus hologram tell all, but we’re drawing the line at opposable thumbs.”
“I suppose that that logic would also rule out the harpy talon and the encyclopedia easily as well,” Amon admitted. “Which would be too easy.”
“I’m just that good at logical deduction.” Harper said proudly. “If my assumption is correct, then the poisoned shirt is the only one that makes sense.”
Amon scoffed, folding his arms across his chest as his dark eyes bored into Harper. “It would not necessarily matter what our first guess would be anyway.”
“Can you provide an argument for any other weapon? Or are you intent on purposely making an illogical guess?” she countered cooly.
“Fine,” Amon acquiesced. “Since you are so adamant about the shirt, we can guess the shirt, and be incorrect. It does not matter. What about the suspects themselves?” He clasped his hands behind his back, his steps measured as he started to pace across the plush red carpet of the room.
Harper smiled, smugly accepting her victory. She strode towards a chalkboard at the side of the study room, inscribing the list of weapons and suspects with a fresh piece of white chalk.
“All of them have alibis,“ she began. “I think that-”
“Some make more sense than others,” Amon spoke over Harper, irritated by her minor triumph. “Cerberus, for example, is under the service of Hades. He says he did not leave his post, and he could not have done so without permission or dire consequences on the process of the dead.”
Harper silently seethed as Amon spoke, meeting his rationale with reluctant acceptance before starting again in a louder, exaggerated tone. “I think that the ones with the shakiest alibis are Lamia, the Minotaur, Typhon, and Echidna. No witnesses can confirm their locations. In fact, Lamia provides no location at all.” Harper circled those names. She looked at Amon with a forced smile, allowing him a moment to provide more commentary.
“Lamia? Well,” there was a hint of mockery in the sneer that tugged on the corner of Amon’s lips. “I would imagine her emotions rendered her… Too fragile and unstable to carry out such an act.”
“You’re kidding,” Harper scoffed, searching Amon's face for the slightest hint that he was joking. “Her grief is what moved her to kill children in the first place. I doubt it would suddenly be incapacitating. She’s just appealing to your sense of superiority, and I can’t believe that you’re falling for it.”
"It is not about superiority. It is about logic," Amon retorted, bristling in defense. “You cannot deny that emotions cloud judgment. Maybe the sphinx wants us to leverage our knowledge about her past crimes to reason that she was not thinking clearly in this case either.” Amon had no other evidence that pointed towards Lamia as the top suspect, but he had dug deep enough where he was now ready to stand firm in his reasoning.
“Murder,” Harper countered, eyes narrowed in a venomous stare, “-does not require you to think clearly. Haven’t you heard of a crime of passion? If anyone’s judgment is clouded right now, Amon, it’s yours.”
The son of Apollo squared his shoulders, his expression hardening. "I understand the concept of crimes of passion, thank you.” His dark-eyed stare returned Harper's gaze, unflinching at the intensity. “But our investigation must be rooted in facts, not assumptions based on emotions. And the facts are,” he resumed his pacing once more, “that Lamia cannot be the culprit, as she is the only suspect that openly admits to being innocent of this crime.”
Amon had considered this from the very start, but provoking Harper like this had proved to be far more amusing.
Harper crossed Lamia’s name off of the board. She swallowed down her anger, fighting the urge to continue pressing the issue in favor of returning to their list of suspects. She pointed her piece of chalk at the next names on the list. “The Minotaur and Typhon are trapped, or so they say. How could they have done anything?”
“Their alibis revolve around their inability to escape,” Amon pointed out. “Not that they were unable to commit murder. The Labyrinth, in fact,” he raised a dramatic finger, “has several moving passages that could have permitted the Minotaur to move and commit murder without an official escape.”
Harper considered his words for a long moment, trying to find the flaw in his reasoning. Seeing none, she placed a dot next to the Minotaurs's name.
“Typhon escaped his prison in the Second Titanomachy. He could do it again,” Harper said thoughtfully. “Though I don’t understand why he would do something like this. He’s the Sphinx's father. The same goes for Echidna.”
Amon, who had been nodding at Harper’s assessment of Typhon’s abilities, pursed his lips at her observation of parentage. “I do not see how this could possibly be relevant to the logical puzzle at hand.”
Harper spoke slowly, as if the answer was obvious. “What motive would they have to kill their own daughter?”
“Harper,” Amon began curtly, folding his arms across his chest. “Half of the Greek myths revolve around immortals killing their own children.”
“Then we should pick one of them,” Harper declared, pivoting her argument instead of admitting her logical blunder. “They would have more of a motive than the rest of the suspects, if anything.”
“The Minotaur can escape much more easily than Typhon can. Motive aside, it is the most logical guess,” Amon concluded, adjusting his collar haughtily. “I will remind you that we picked your choice of weapon. It is only fair that I select the monster.”
“Fine.” Harper agreed, her gaze stormy as she turned back towards the sphinx. “We accuse the Minotaur of killing the sphinx with the Shirt of Nessus.”
The sphinx opened one eye. “None of these are correct!”
Hint #2

Suspects	Weapons
Cerberus	The Shirt of Nessus
The Minotaur	Siren Song
Lamia	Harpy Talon
The Hydra	Celestial Bronze Sword
Typhon	A-C Encyclopedia
Echidna	Cerberus Fang

“Two more hints left.” Harper announced, crossing off the Minotaur’s name and the poisoned shirt on the chalkboard with a flourish. It was not ideal that her initial logical deductions had been incorrect, but at least Amon had also been wrong. She couldn't resist a snide comment. “I knew it wasn’t the Minotaur.”
“So you still think it’s Typhon.” Choosing to ignore Harper’s taunting, Amon rested his hand on a nearby desk, studying the lists on the chalkboard before him. He had taken the Minotaur error as a personal failure, and was determined to get the suspect right this time.
“I do.”
“Why not Echidna?”
“She’s too emotional to kill someone, obviously.” Harper said sarcastically. “Her frail female arms are probably too weak to even hold a weapon.”
The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes. “Objectively,” he began, ignoring her quip once more, “Typhon could not have lied about his inability to roam free. A natural disaster freed him from Mount Etna during the Second Titanomachy, but he could not recreate those conditions on his own.” Though his tone remained aloof, it was clear that Amon was relishing in the opportunity to flaunt his mythology knowledge.
“Maybe,” Harper argued, stubborn. “But Echidna’s statement was less ambiguous than his. Typhon just explains his predicament; he doesn't provide a real claim. Echidna explicitly says she was not involved.” She thought for a few more moments, rolling the piece of chalk in her hands. “Echidna could have released him? They would be accomplices.”
Amon shook his head. “There was a single murderer. Not two. The sphinx would not lie about the premise of the game.”
Harper stared at him coldly, but could offer no rebuttal. She turned her attention to the board. “Typhon is a giant. He’s capable of using the sword.”
“But the specificity of Echidna’s denial is still incredibly suspicious. ‘Petty affairs’ is a strange way to phrase a murder. But,” Amon added reluctantly, “I understand the logic behind Typhon. I suppose it is your turn to choose the monster, and we will still have another guess to work with.”
“As for the weapon,” he continued, “I still think the sword is the most viable option, given that the siren song and the fang can be ruled out and the shirt with the venom was, well,” Amon pursed his lips, fighting the urge to smile, “incorrect.”
Before Harper could interject, Amon turned towards the sphinx at the front of the room. “We accuse Typhon of killing the sphinx with a Celestial Bronze Sword.”
“One of these is correct!”
Hint #3

Suspects	Weapons
Cerberus	The Shirt of Nessus
The Minotaur	Siren Song
Lamia	Harpy Talon
The Hydra	Celestial Bronze Sword
Typhon	A-C Encyclopedia
Echidna	Cerberus Fang

“Aha!” Amon raised a triumphant finger before pointing it at Harper. “I told you,” he gloated, “Typhon had no escape route.”
“You were right,” Harper admitted, staring down at the carpet so that she would not have to look at his smug expression.
“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, and turned back towards the lioness with crossed arms. “We accuse Echidna of killing the sphinx with a Celestial Bronze Sword”
“One of these is correct,” the sphinx announced. Her mouth twisted in amusement, fangs bared in a menacing smile.
READ PART 2 HERE

I’d say I have a strong moral compass.
I’m 21 and for most of my life I was kinda a teachers pet, goodie two shoes, Boy Scout etc.
And even now in all aspects of my life I normally am, I always hold doors, put my cart away, straighten shelf’s when I put something back.
Not that I don’t have a rebel or mean or lazy side but
I’m also rose tinted glasses and I’m told by everyone I’m too nice.
After a year of therapy and self reflection I’ve come to the realization that when I do genuine kind things I do them out of genuine kindness but a layer deeper it’s also cause I wanna be loved and liked.
When I feel I don’t meet up to my standards I feel really guilty or anxious even when things are out of my control
Like the one relationship I’ve had she broke up with me and it was fine no fights, but for months I was stirken with guilt cause her grandma who she lives with is a complete cunt
Like I don’t think I saw the worst of it but grandma was killing my exes self esteem the grandmother liked me better than her granddaughter it was night and day.
I felt guilty cause even though we broke up I knew that I brought her some light into her life. We had dreams of getting her out of that house and for us to have a loving home for eachother and some animals.
I’m over that guilt but I feel hints of it with what’s going on now .
So more exposition, as much as I have worked on myself physically and mentally the one thing I still struggle with is relationships
Both platonic and romantic
I’m single I got a couple of good friends I don’t see often but hoping to change that
But I’m super grateful for the people in my life, maybe to much, I over gift I over thank,
I get attached to folk who are nice to me real easy
And especially with woman and I’m not blaming them
I have a horrible tendency to succumb to limerence and putting them on a pedestal.
I think I might be a love junkie or something which is kinda weird since I’ve only ever dated once. I never even been on a traditional date.
The definite thing though is I’m very very lonely
But now to the current situation
I went onto forever alone dating. Messaged a few people a month ago.
One of these woman is 23 from Italy and we talked on an off then just periods of radio silence
She found someone in Italy while we talked
Which was fine, I was just glad to have the opportunity to speak with someone from Italy, it’s on my bucket list the visit I love the food, culture and history.
But the other day, I messaged just checking in looking for conversation
She said she wasn’t doing well and suggested to read her latest post
In summary, that guy she met they planned to both move to America, but he just abandoned her and now she’s homeless and shunned by her family. plus he was a physically abusive piece of shit I won’t even call him a man he’s a fucking animal she showed me scars and bruises
She’s still in Italy
I genuinely felt bad and was just there to help her vent and process this.
I offered to send her a lil money, to help her get a lil food and water.
And she proved she was real it wasn’t a scam, I sent 30 bucks
She’s very grateful
I do genuinely believe that true acts of kindness inspire others
But now that we are talking even more and we’ve both seen what we look like and sound like.
I can feel my stupid dumbass part of my brain leaking this very dumb thought of
“Maybe there is a chance”
I feel so scummy and I keep trying to fight it off
I know I shouldn’t do anything especially now she just escaped that monster and she’s out in the streets.
She just seems so vulnerable and lost and scared and I wanna help.
But now I’m so confused why I’m doing this should I be doing this.
Am I doing this out of genuine kindness
Or am I falling into nice guy, white knight , simp type shit.
I feel like I’m mostly doing the right thing for the right reason, which is she needs help and someone to talk to.
I really don’t expect anything out of her.
But I can feel my dumbass getting infatuated and I feel calling myself a dumbass is appropriate cause I do this to myself
I just I’m gonna keep helping her within my means nothing drastic.

I’d say I have a strong moral compass.
I’m 21 and for most of my life I was kinda a teachers pet, goodie two shoes, Boy Scout etc.
And even now in all aspects of my life I normally am, I always hold doors, put my cart away, straighten shelf’s when I put something back.
Not that I don’t have a rebel or mean or lazy side but
I’m also rose tinted glasses and I’m told by everyone I’m too nice.
After a year of therapy and self reflection I’ve come to the realization that when I do genuine kind things I do them out of genuine kindness but a layer deeper it’s also cause I wanna be loved and liked.
When I feel I don’t meet up to my standards I feel really guilty or anxious even when things are out of my control
Like the one relationship I’ve had she broke up with me and it was fine no fights, but for months I was stirken with guilt cause her grandma who she lives with is a complete cunt
Like I don’t think I saw the worst of it but grandma was killing my exes self esteem the grandmother liked me better than her granddaughter it was night and day.
I felt guilty cause even though we broke up I knew that I brought her some light into her life. We had dreams of getting her out of that house and for us to have a loving home for eachother and some animals.
I’m over that guilt but I feel hints of it with what’s going on now .
So more exposition, as much as I have worked on myself physically and mentally the one thing I still struggle with is relationships
Both platonic and romantic
I’m single I got a couple of good friends I don’t see often but hoping to change that
But I’m super grateful for the people in my life, maybe to much, I over gift I over thank,
I get attached to folk who are nice to me real easy
And especially with woman and I’m not blaming them
I have a horrible tendency to succumb to limerence and putting them on a pedestal.
I think I might be a love junkie or something which is kinda weird since I’ve only ever dated once. I never even been on a traditional date.
The definite thing though is I’m very very lonely
But now to the current situation
I went onto forever alone dating. Messaged a few people a month ago.
One of these woman is 23 from Italy and we talked on an off then just periods of radio silence
She found someone in Italy while we talked
Which was fine, I was just glad to have the opportunity to speak with someone from Italy, it’s on my bucket list the visit I love the food, culture and history.
But the other day, I messaged just checking in looking for conversation
She said she wasn’t doing well and suggested to read her latest post
In summary, that guy she met they planned to both move to America, but he just abandoned her and now she’s homeless and shunned by her family. plus he was a physically abusive piece of shit I won’t even call him a man he’s a fucking animal she showed me scars and bruises
She’s still in Italy
I genuinely felt bad and was just there to help her vent and process this.
I offered to send her a lil money, to help her get a lil food and water.
And she proved she was real it wasn’t a scam, I sent 30 bucks
She’s very grateful
I do genuinely believe that true acts of kindness inspire others
But now that we are talking even more and we’ve both seen what we look like and sound like.
I can feel my stupid dumbass part of my brain leaking this very dumb thought of
“Maybe there is a chance”
I feel so scummy and I keep trying to fight it off
I know I shouldn’t do anything especially now she just escaped that monster and she’s out in the streets.
She just seems so vulnerable and lost and scared and I wanna help.
But now I’m so confused why I’m doing this should I be doing this.
Am I doing this out of genuine kindness
Or am I falling into nice guy, white knight , simp type shit.
I feel like I’m mostly doing the right thing for the right reason, which is she needs help and someone to talk to.
I really don’t expect anything out of her.
But I can feel my dumbass getting infatuated and I feel calling myself a dumbass is appropriate cause I do this to myself
I just I’m gonna keep helping her within my means nothing drastic.

In case you don't know, the Sun Princess is Princess Cruises' latest behemoth ship. I just got back from a 2-week sailing and took meticulous notes on this epic new vessel. Here's my extremely detailed, no-BS review:

The Sheer Size is Nuts

When I say this ship is massive, I mean it's absolutely nuts how big this floating city is. Especially when you get off in ports and have to walk back down the dock to reboard - that's when the sheer scale of the Sun Princess really hits you. Even though it carries a ton of people, the only time it really felt crowded was during breakfast. The Eatery fills up quick and the International Cafe, which sits outside The Eatery doesn't lend itself well for crowds of people wiaint for their coffees. You kind of end up waiting in the middle of where the walking traffic moves.

The Medallion Life

Your entire cruise experience revolves around the new Medallion wearable device and app, for better or worse. I'll admit it has some creepy "Big Brother" vibes with how much it tracks your every movement and purchase. But the convenience it provides is undeniable.
The medallion is your modern day "cruise card" that you tap everywhere to make payments, order drinks, unlock your stateroom, get on/off the ship, and more. But what's crazy is the app can use the medallion to detect your location anywhere on board. Order a drink or meal through the app and the server will manage to find you anywhere on the ship to deliver it, usually within 15 minutes. Caveat: there were times when it took longer and other times when our order was marked "delivered" and it never arrived.
The medallion definitely feels like getting on/off the ship is way faster. The only time we ever waiting in line was for the few minutes it took people to run through security.
This made getting food/drinks almost too easy. On port days when we needed to get off the ship early for excursions, setting up a scheduled delivery of my Egg McMuffin, fruit plate in coffee was really convenient.
Fair warning though - if you're anti-tracking and value privacy over convenience, the ubiquitous Medallion system may not be for you.
Story: we were sitting by the Crooners bar having our nightly pre-dinner cocktail. The bar was packed on this night for some reason. A staff member in a suit started wandering the room, made eye contact with me from 40-feet away and then made a b-line for us. He wanted to sign us up for a wine/food pairing event they were having. I have to believe this is because of the tracking being done via the meddalion. They could see we drink our share of wine. It definitely felt like targeted marketing.

Premium Package Was Best for Us

We opted for the Premium beverage package at $80 per day and I'm glad we did for a few reasons:

1. If you need to have more than one device connected to the internet at a time, Premium makes sense just based on that (you can have four devices). The cheaper Plus package only allows one device, which was a non-starter for me needing both my phone and laptop to be online. I'm unfortunately not able to just live off the grid for almost three weeks and need to periodically check in with my clients.
2. The wine selection is way better with Premium vs Plus. As a wine drinker, the upgrade was 100% worth it.
3. Two free speciality dining meals are included, which was clutch on our 2-week cruise to break up the repetition of the main dining rotation.
4. Unlimited premium desserts and ice creams - a nice perk for those with a sweet tooth.

Basically, Premium removed almost any need to think about or worry over costs on board. For $80 per day, the premium drinks, speciality dining, better wines, desserts and internet made it an easy choice for our group's needs.
And for those wondering about the 15 drink per day limit (since there's almost a weekly post asking about it) - it was never an issue for me. I'm a scrotch drinker and to get a decent pour, you basically have to order a double. Even drinking doubles, I never got to 15 drinks/day. This even includes sea days where we'd typically have a mimosa or two with breakfast, a few cocktails/beers at the pool, an cocktail or two before dinner and then wine at dinner.

Staff & Service

I can't say enough about how incredible and friendly the service was across the board on the Sun Princess. Our room steward, waiters, bartenders - everyone went so above and beyond daily, it really elevated the experience. I'm always amazed how they remember everyone's names.
However, we did notice a clear slip in the quality of service in the second week compared to the first, likely due to a crew changeover partway through our sailing. Simple things like forgetting drink orders or getting meals wrong became more frequent from our new set of MDR servers.

Suites & Staterooms

We originally booked a balcony room. When the bid offer came in I followed some old advice and just placed bids on upgrades because "you don't have to take the offer if you don't like it." Well guess what, that's not the case anymore. My offer was accepted and we automatically became the proud recipients of a Reserve Mini-Suite for an additional $500. In hindsight, I'm glad it worked out. The room has noticably more space than a standard balcony room. These mini-suites are spacious, basically a separate living room and bedroom divided by a curtain you can close off. Having two TVs and an extra closet was great.
As mini-suite guests we also received a nice amenity of free premium wines in our room - on the second week they even topped us up with two more complementary bottles! I guess each week is looked at as a new sailing -- so you get two more bottles! Some older posts complained about the wine quality. It looks like it's been upgraded because we received a Pinot Noir and Chard from La Crema. Being California wine people, La Crema works great for us. If you can swing it, I'd highly recommend going for a mini-suite over a regular balcony.
That being said, I'd avoid the "Cabana" balcony suites. The layout is really bizarre and in my opinion a downgrade. When you walk out onto your balcony, it's not really a balcony. There's another area in front of your balcony that connects a few other cabana suites. The idea is that a few rooms share a private balcony with jacuzzi. However, it also means that walking out onto your balcony doesn't give you a private ocean view because there's this 20-30 feet of additional patio in front of you and everyone above you just looks down into your balcony area.

Dining Highs & Lows

Main Dining Rooms

It can be confusing because there are three floors (Decks 6, 7 and 8). We reserved dining in the MDR prior to the trip via the app for the first few days just so we knew there was a guaranteed place to eat. On night one, the dining room manager introduced himself to us and said he went ahead and booked our table for us every night of the trip. If we didn't show, it was fine.
Food quality in the main dining rooms (MDRs) was consistently good across breakfast and dinner. On port days, it's an "express breakfast" which just means a shorter list of options. Nothing mind-blowing, but solid and tasty. My biggest gripe here is the operating hours. On sea days, the MDR closes for breakfast at 9:00am. You basically have to choose between sleeping in a little, hitting the gym, or getting a decent breakfast.
Pro-Tip: Biggest breakfast tip is stay away from the scrammbled eggs -- they're gross. We figured out that the scrambled eggs come from a bag. If you want real, cracked eggs, either get an omelett or over easy/medium/hard/etc.

Reserve Suite Dining Access

The Reserve mini-suite gives you access to the Reserve Restaurant. It's a little bit more elevated of a dining experience and reservations aren't needed -- you just show up. We dined her a few times and it did feel more elevated. Unlike the MDR, the server in the Reserve Restaurant feels more personal because they're handling smaller groups.

Lido Deck

For more casual fare, the Lido deck had some surprises like an awesome made-to-order salad bar station that became my go-to for healthier meals between all the indulgent dining. The burger grill, taco station and pizza areas were pretty standard, but that salad bar slapped.

Lackluster Buffet

On the flip side, The Eatery buffet left a lot to be desired. Despite different themed stations, the quality was mid at best. We largely avoided eating at the buffet outside of quick breakfast grabs. The Eatery closes for breakfast around 10:00 AM. At which point if you move further into the ship, the restaurants that are normall Catch and Butcherblock become a buffet extension that's opened later -- it's kind of funky.
The layout of the buffet is weird and leaves people wondering if they're cutting in line especially when you go to the extended buffet at Catch/Butcherblock.
What's odd to me is you can go grab a million cheese plates, fruit plates or hummus/veggie plates at the buffet. But if you order those things through the Medallion app, it's not "complimentary." You have to pay like $4.99-$5.99 for those items. We still can't figure out why it costs $5 to order a tiny cheese plate but ordering a cheeseburger is free.

Specialty Dining Winners

We used our two speciality dining credits at Crown Grill and Butcher's Block. I was a little worried because I had read mixed reviews on here about both of these restaurants. However, both meals were really good and before you come at me, I'm a foodie guy -- I'd tell you if they sucked.
We chose Crown for my parent's anniversay dinner. The service was awesome and they made us all feel really special. The setup here is like a steakhouse, where you order your beef and then the sides are a la carte family style. We had a group of seven -- the manager just said "we'll bring you out all the sides, enough for your whole party" which was great.
The next week, we hit up Butcher's Block by Dario. I've never left a meal more full on a cruise ship than at this place. It's family style dining and they just bring out everything for you -- almost like a brazilian barbecue place. We started with a bread appetizer and a glass of wine while you wait for them to get the dining room setup. Then there's more bread on the table + veggies. Then the food starts coming out: beef tartar; beef carpaccio; etc. The main event is the massive tomahawks and porterhouse steaks they carve up tableside. They'll just keep putting beef on your plate until you beg them to stop. Finally, there's desert and a grappa digestif.
Both restaurants were great experiences and a very welcomed change from the MDR after a week of repetition. The food, service and overall vibe were a noticeable step up.

Spellbound

We also splurged one night for the Spellbound immersive magic/dinner experience and it was easily a cruise highlight despite the $150/pp price tag. After an elevated multi-course meal, you get ushered by a guy in a top hat into an exclusive hidden club. While waiting for the magic show, you hang out in their bar which is reminiscent of the Dinseyland Haunted Mansion. While enjoying your drink, there's a magician perorming more intement magic for everyone at the bar. Once they're ready for the show, you're brought into the room where the actual magic show takes place. Afterwards, you're welcome to hang out in the Spellbound bar and continue drinking.
If you're from LA, you probably know about the Magic Castle in Hollywood. Spellbound is an extension of the Magic Castle. Just like with the Magic Castle, you show up in formal wear. This means a coat and tie for the men and an evening gown/dress for the woman.
Overall, we really enjoyed it.

Room Service

This was hit or miss for us. You fill out the paper door hangar and place it on your doorknob before heading to bed. Then you hope and pray that it will actually arrive -- which in two of our instances, it never did. Your options are also super limited. You also may or may not receive what you actually ordered. With coffee for instance, you have a choice of ordering it to-go (paper cup) or stay (actual coffe cup). We always seemed to get the opposite of what we ordered to the point where it became a running joke for us.

International Cafe

This became our goto for a lot of things: coffee, snacks, quick breakfast food (pastries, coffee cake, avodcado toast, Egg McMuffins). Werid fact though: if you order the Egg McMuffin through the app, it comes as an egg patty just like McDonalds and with cheese. When you get the one at International Cafe, it's just an over easy egg and no cheese. Why they can't just be the same is odd.

Night Owl Needs

My main dining gripe was the lack of solid late night food options for us night owls. The Eatery buffet closed at an absurd 10:30pm, leaving only spotty room service or mobile ordering as the choices if you worked up an appetite after evening activities. More robust late-night casual dining would be appreciated.

Bars & Alcohol

Overall, great selection of cocktails. All of the bars have their own little theme and different menus. The ladies I was with were consitently impressed at the quality and thought of the cocktails at each bar. They were also super impressed with the quality of the glassware being used. I must admit, everything from the rocks glasses to the martini glasses really were beautiful.
If you just want straight spirits, you have to order a double to get a normal pour (they're actually measuring out the pours). That being said, with either Plus or Premium, you'll get a good selection of top quality booze.
You gotta try really hard to hit the 15-drink max. Some days I had drinks at breakfast, during the day, lunch, before dinner, during dinner and after dinner. I never hit my max.
One thing that impressed me was staff actually being concerned about drink quality. We were having drinks at one of the bars on the Lido deck. The supervisor was upset with the bartenders because they ran out of premium liquor and hadn't requested more. He made sure to remind them that when someone orders a premium drink they get a premium liquor -- no exceptions.
You also must checkout the Good Spirits bar. There's a few times throughout the night where you watch a live cocktail demonstration. The bartenders at GS are so fun and playful -- really makes for a great vibe.

Amenities - Hits & Misses

The gym facilities on board were a bit of a disappointment, especially for a new ship. While they had a nice assortment of cardio machines, the actual weight room was laughably small with only a few pieces of strength equipment that were always monopolized. Not a deal-breaker, but an area that could be improved.
The pool areas were nicely spread out across different sections of the Lido deck. On sailing days, there was typically a band, the DJ and then a random movie on the jumbotron. The random blasting of action movies at 3pm really ruined the pool vibe and it's typically when the deck would thin out. One minute you're relaxing in the jacuzzi, the next an action movie with explosions is shaking the pool area. It made no sense and seemed tailored for a much younger crowd despite this sailing's passengers being mostly older adults.

Technology & Support

In addition to the Medallion app, the overall internet speeds on board were fast and reliable enough for me to easily stay connected for basic work needs.
The technology support via the app's live chat feature, however, was utterly useless. Any time we had issues properly being charged for drink packages or had to modify reservations, the live chat was a time-wasting nightmare. You're clearly just talking to an outsourced rep with zero actual knowledge of Princess' systems or operations. Your best bet is to go in-person to the guest services desk.

Other Notes & Quibbles

• Dress codes weren't enforced at all. We did the whole suite/gown routine for formal nights only to see plenty of people still rocking jeans and t-shirts in the MDR. Same lack of enforcement for the "formal attire required" Spellbound event. Either lose the formal nights or enforce them.
• Our drink package tallies often had errors, with our group's drinks randomly getting combined onto one person's account. Always double check and ask for corrections.
• The "Cabana" balcony suite layout is bizarre - your balcony is just a shared landing in front of other suites, rather than a private space. We avoided these after hearing the lack of privacy.

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Cameron is back in the game in a 6-1-1 vote, and Scott and Anne Maria have gained immunity in a 7-5-2-1-1 vote.
Blaineley announces that Cameron has won the second chance challenge and is now back in the game. Cameron is incredulous, and Beardo, Ella, & Harold cheer for him, and Blaineley asks if she will get her money. Geoff laughs & says that they just barely went over time, which very much pisses off Blaineley, causing her to charge at Geoff. Security comes & captures her, and Geoff says that the next Aftermath will be at the secret finale location. As Blaineley is getting dragged away by security, Geoff signs off the episode, saying that he’ll see everyone next time.
Niagara Brawls
The episode opens with the Max clone scurrying around, playing with a sharp rock, and subsequently hiding when he sees the interns dragging the contestants to the cargo hold. The scene then cuts to a sleeping Max, who is having a dream about inventing things with Owen & Izzy. Scott, Sugar, & Topher then show up on hoverboards, destroying their work with lightning bolts. Max is thrown in the air, subsequently waking up & realizing that he and the other contestants have been thrown out of the plane.
Max promptly screams, waking everyone else up. While falling, two swan pedal boats are also falling with them. The contestants cling onto the boats as they fall and land in the water, making Anne Maria yell at Chris, as Staci shouts “Water!” This annoys Scott, but he & everyone else then see that they’re all heading toward a massive waterfall. Sugar laments about how she can’t win any more pageants when she dies, Dawn wishes her families good will, & Topher says that he fully doesn’t like Chris now. With Zoey though, she has turned into Commando Zoey, and uses her strength to throw Sugar into the other boat as an anchor, before furiously paddling both boats to safety. On the shore, Anne Maria compliments Zoey’s quick thinking & skills, and Scott is thinking. In the confessional, Scott says that Zoey must go ASAP, as she seems to be a big physical threat.
On shore, Chris reveals their location by telling the contestants that Niagara Falls is awesome, explaining that it is the jewel in Canada's crown and one of the top ten natural wonders in the world, also known for its fabulous casino, the place where they will head for the next part of the challenge, only to find themselves in the concert theater because all of them are underage. Topher asks if anyone will perform here, and Chris says that it’ll happen, as the last Aftermath episode has returned a contestant back to the game. Scott & Sugar are praying that it’s Sierra who returns, Max & Staci want Owen & Sadie respectively, and Chris then announces that it’s in fact Cameron who’s back in the game. Dawn is belated about this, and Cameron sings a song about Dawn & his friends, which is positively met.
Cameron asks Chris which team he’s on, and that he hopes it to be Team Amazon. Chris says that as of now it’s every man, woman, & Cameron for themselves, due to the teams being disbanded. Besides Scott, Sugar, & Topher, everyone is happy about this and is leering angrily at the villains. In the confessional, Sugar asks why everyone else is acting like they’re all friends, as this is Total Drama, not Total Friendship. With Zoey, she’s saying that she is excited at the chance of eliminating Scott or Sugar
Chris then announces that, since they are in the honeymoon capital of the world, they will be in pairs for "arranged marriages." The boys are placed in a giant casino machine, while the girls will pull the lever to see who their husband will be to team up for today's challenge and for Chris' own amusement, adding Bacon the bear in the slot machine, too.
Dawn pulls first, getting Scott, to which she slams the door on, crushing Scott’s arm. Dawn says that she’d prefer Bacon to Scott, making Chris give Bacon to Dawn. Sugar pulls next, getting Topher. Topher looks mostly indifferent to this, and Sugar suggests sabotaging everyone to gain victory, which Topher agrees with. Topher then asks what they should do with Scott, and Sugar says to treat him just like the others, as Sugar is in grave danger of being kicked if she loses.
Zoey pulls, hoping it’s not Scott, and gets Cameron. When Cameron sees this, he says that while he would rather have Dawn, Zoey is cool. Staci gets Max and they fist-bump, and this leaves Anne Maria with Scott, much to their dismay.
In part one of the challenge, the grooms must guide their blindfolded brides to a wedding dress while avoiding several obstacles in the first part of the competition, and if they don't get a dress, they can't move on to the next challenge. Topher tells Sugar not to worry about this, as he is amazing at this. Scott initially messes with Anne Maria, sending her into a pool of pudding, and Anne Maria says that he better stop it, unless he wants to be eliminated.
With Sugar & Topher, Sugar has found the first dress. Sugar suggests sabotaging the other teams, so they can automatically get immunity, which Topher agrees with. Staci & Max are trying to get to a dress, and Max is constantly changing his instructions, as Topher ais moving stuff around to confuse them. Cameron is guiding Zoey when Sugar steals his glasses, which causes him to accidentally send Zoey into a giant cake. Zoey groans at this and asks Cameron what happened. Cameron apologizes and says that it happened because Sugar stole his glasses, which Zoey forcibly takes back.
With Dawn & Bacon, the bear has successfully taken Dawn to the wedding dresses, clinching Dawn’s spot in the next challenge. Scott gets Anne Maria to the wedding dresses successfully, and so does Cameron with Zoey. As Chris says that the first challenge is over, Staci is able to get her wedding dress, annoying Topher & Sugar.
For the second part of the challenge, Chris explains that the grooms must hold their brides on a tightrope as they walk through Niagara Falls — which is packed with hungry sharks below because Chris thought they weren't quite unpleasant enough — and then they must successfully clear customs, saying that the first pair to do so wins invincibility. The mere idea of sharks is making Scott quiver, along with Max & Topher as well. As Sugar & Topher got to the dresses first, they get a head start. As they go by, Sugar trips Zoey for no apparent reason. Topher asks why, and Sugar says that she’s simply trying to get a rise out of Zoey.
Up next is Staci & Max, and the latter is staring at the falls below. Staci asks if he’s alright, and Max says that he feels psyched out by the challenge, as it seems really easy to fall to your death with one misstep. He then regains his breath and Staci starts to carry him on the rope.
Back with Topher & Sugar, Sugar tells Topher to hold on tight. Topher asks what this means, and Sugar slightly shakes the rope from side-to-side, making Staci & Max fall off. Cameron is bewildered by this, as they were just walking fine before. Zoey & Cameron get onto the tightrope next, speeding after the villains while being very wary of the looming threat of the falls.
Dawn & Bacon are next, with the Bear upright, carrying Dawn in her arms. Chris is surprised that anyone could actually find a grizzly bear that would be a good teammate. Bacon walks onto the tightrope, which causes a significant dip that nearly knocks off Scott, Sugar, Cameron, and Dawn. Zoey angrily asks who did this, and Cameron tells her to calm down, as it was just Dawn & the bear, which makes Zoey feel sheepish.
At the front, Sugar & Topher are discussing how they should sabotage everybody else once again when they reach customs. Chef starts to ask the duo some questions, and they are turned back when Chef asks them in which state is it illegal to have a donkey sleep in your bathtub after 7 P.M. Sugar said Texas, but the answer was Oklahoma.
Zoey & Cameron run into Sugar & Topher, and neither side is willing to move. In a bout of anger, Zoey violently shakes the rope, sending Dawn, the bear, Cameron, Topher, & Sugar into the falls. Zoey is mortified at what she has done, and dives in as well, looking for Cameron & Dawn. Scott & Anne Maria are the last ones standing, and carefully cross the rope to customs, where they answer all the questions correctly. Chef asks if they have anything else to say, and Anne Maria says that she’s just glad to be done with the challenge. The contestants in the water are now thankfully in a motorboat that is being driven by the interns, as Chris begrudgingly realizes that the contestants can't die.
Vote anyone sans Scott or Anne Maria, vote somebody for immunity, and feel free to come up with any plot points!