^{you always were special
always special to me
all of you
every
last
one
of
you}
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
Sacajawea leaned back, staring at the hologram in the middle of the table.
"I fled the Glassing. I asked Luke to rebirth my people, help me get the colony ships working, then ran for it," she said. "Twelve ships lifted off, escorted by light attack and defense craft," she closed her eyes. "Only four made it. The Mantid boarded two of the ships," she swallowed thickly. "I could hear them scream as the Mantid killed them."
Legion squeezed her hand gently.
N'Skrek could see the pain in her features.
For her, it may be thousands of years ago, but it still brings pain, he thought to himself. For me, for all of us at this table, this is an event tens of thousands of years ago. Barely remembered history.
"We stayed in jumpspace for months, years, pushing at the upper bands," she shook her head. "We eventually hit the point where the ships were pushed back down by the pressure."
N'Skrek nodded. The upper jumpspace bands required specialized engines and jumpcores.
"We used cryogenics to make the trips," she said. "We would exit jumpspace, refuel at a far orbit gas giant that was not frozen, then jump again," she shook her head. "All I could think of was to run as far and as fast as I could, and bring my people with me."
She began drawing lines.
"Hundreds of years passed while we slept, a dreamless sleep," Sacajawea said. "We ran until the ships could run no more. Two of them failed exiting jumpspace, but we were lucky. By that time I understood that each jump could be our last, so I ensured that we headed toward stellar systems that had a high probability of a planet we could survive on."
She shook her head.
"I never entered cryo-sleep. I stayed awake, guiding our path," she inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly. "I could feel our path. I knew which way to go."
Luke held up one finger, getting everyone's attention.
"The Digital Omnimessiah, he changed us with his touch. Each of us with our own part to play to save humanity," he said. He glanced at Sacajawea. "She can see, feel probabilities and adjust to a shifting situation with nearly precognizant accuracy."
Sacajawea rolled her eyes and sniffed, pursing her lips. "You make it sound so pedestrian."
Luke just smiled.
"For hundreds of years I stood on the bridge of a damaged colony ship, my pointing finger our only guide," she said.
N'Skrek noted that her voice had fallen into a sing-song cadence.
"Finally I saw the six suns, arranged in the shape of an eagle," she said. "I knew, at that moment, that this would be as far as we could go. Our ships were failing, but they could make this last leg of our journey. I chose the best one for my people. It was nearly paradise, just needing a little bit of tweaking. No life higher than plant life and simple insects, perfect to live away from hatred, war, and slaughter."
She looked down.
"I led them to their doom," she said softly. "We had to rely on high technology at first. Terraformers, the gene banks that Luke had acquired, orbital lift capacity."
She shook her head. "Little did we know that the technology would attract what you call the Mar-gite."
N'Skrek shook his head. "No. You were just in the way," he said.
She looked startled.
"If the planet had carbon based life or an oxygen heavy atmosphere, they would have devoured it," N'Skrek said. He shrugged. "It's what they do. Before recently, we thought they were some kind of locust that just denuded planets and moved on."
"Now we know that they're a weapon, being driven in front of another species," Admiral Breakheader said.
She blinked several times, then turned to Luke.
"True story," Luke shrugged.
Sacajawea was silent for a long moment, then she shivered and touched the hologram again.
"I guided my people along the True Path, the one that promised the most happiness and most reward," she said. She glanced at Luke. "Those who wished to embrace more technology had their own spaces, although I did not dwell with them."
She looked down at where Luke was still holding her hand.
"For thousands of years, six thousand of our years," she said. "Then the Outsiders came."
"How long Confederate Standard?" Admiral Breakheader asked, rubbing his chin.
N'Skrek could hear the rustle of bristles from the Vice-Admiral's five-o-clock shadow.
Sacajawea closed her eyes. "Almost six thousand to the day."
Breakheader nodded, making a note.
"At first, they just appeared in out of the way locations. Someone would see them and they'd flee, move away, and eventually they started to show up more and more near the technological enclaves," Sacajawea shook her head. "It was the technology that they were attracted to."
N'Skrek just nodded.
"Then came the attacks. Our superluminal communication links went first, but not before we learned that we were being attacked on all six worlds simultaneously. We held them off for years, protecting ourselves. No matter what path I looked at, I could see no path that had a statistically viable path to victory, I could only minimize their victories," she closed her eyes. "They began capturing my people, abducting whole villages."
"Then came the Devouring Ones," she said. "Two years later, and we were gone."
Breakheader nodded.
"Initial scouting, followed by an assault, then research, then finished with an extermination attack," he said. He looked up. "Standard xenocide tactics."
Sacajawea looked way.
"He's right," Luke said. She looked at him, surprised. "You put up too stiff of a fight so they brought in their heavy hitters after getting a good look at how we worked."
There was silence for a moment, then Commander Hentrill looked up from her datapad. "How did you die?" she asked.
"What difference does it make?" Sacajawea asked.
Hentrill looked unfazed by the glare that Sacajawea aimed down her nose at her. "It makes a lot of difference, Ma'am," she said cooly.
N'Skrek could feel that Hentrill had developed a dislike for the Immortal over the course of the conversation.
"When they came for me, when I was the last, I stepped from the cliff and fell to the rocks below, where the waves washed against the shore. By the time they reached me, I had died from my injuries," Sacajawea said. "I sang as I fell so that..."
"Suicide. They gathered your lifeless corpse," Hentrill said. She narrowed her eyes. "You have a standard datalink for the Glassing Era. Did you have one when you fell?"
Sacajawea nodded. "It was on piece of technology that I felt was necessary to embrace," she said.
"So, you killed yourself and the enemy obtained your datalink and your brain," Hentrill said. "What about your leaders? You did have military leaders, yes?"
Sacajawea glanced at Luke, who nodded. "Yes. I convinced Luke to bring back great leaders of my people and I nurtured their spirits as I raised them during the trip."
"Did they have datalinks?" Hentrill asked.
Sacajawea nodded. "Yes. I had been told, repeatedly, that effective communication was vital to winning a war."
"Daxin," Luke interjected.
Sacajawea sniffed. "Yes."
Hentrill made a note. "Were your leaders targeted early in the conflict?" she asked.
"Of course," Sacajawea said. "Many were killed, but the technology we had allowed them to return within days, only missing a few days of their previous life. Luke had convinced Peter to ensure we had a version of the SUDS, which we only used for critically important people."
N'Skrek saw a muscle twitch next to Luke's eye, but he stayed smiling.
"But it was destroyed before the Devourers came," Sacajawea said. "It could not be helped. There was almost no path I could take that would prevent it from being destroyed, so I chose the path that would result in the least casualties for my people."
N'Skrek was not that familiar with Terrans, but he could tell that Commander Hentrill was rubbed the wrong way by that statement.
"I think we should take a break," N'Skrek said. He nodded toward Luke. "I am sure both of you are fatigued from being brought back from the dead."
"Yes," Sacajawea said before Luke could do much more than open his mouth. "I would prefer to have privacy to rest and perform necessary rites."
N'Skrek just nodded. "I'll be sure you get privacy."
0-0-0-0-0
Legion stood next to the tank, one hand on the heavily armored skirt, staring at the black metal the tank was made from.
"Warsteel Mark-IV," he whispered to himself. He shook his head. "We are old friends, you and I," he said softly, running one hand across the metal. "Later superseded by arcanochromium for the Mark-V."
He didn't care if anyone heard him talking to the tank. There was just a single Telkan in the vehicle bay, running diagnostic checks on one of the big Telkan armored transports used for power armor troops.
^{your name is luke}
He shook his head, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He kept hearing slight buzzing whispers.
He felt her before he could see her. Felt her leave the lift, the warsteel doors pulling open and letting her presence roll out to fill the vehicle bay.
He heard her shoes clicking and closed his eyes, sighing.
It's not her. Not the one you knew. It's Tiffany, not Sacajawea, he thought to himself.
^{your name is luke}
He looked up just in time to see a green mantid wave shyly at him.
He smiled at it and waved back just as Sacajawea stopped next to him.
"A green mantid?" she said, her voice slightly fearful.
"Engineer caste," Luke said. "They like me."
"They are Mantid," Sacajawea said, her voice cold and hard.
"The war was thousands of years ago, and even if it wasn't, he is blameless in it," Luke said.
"But it is a Mantid," Sacajawea said. She watched coldly as the little green mantid waved and rushed away.
"I have more in common with him than I do with the majority of humanity," Luke said softly.
Sacajawea scoffed. "Surely not."
Luke nodded. "His kind was trapped inside their own minds. Capable of thought, artistic expression, fear, love, affection, all of it," he ran one finger along the armored track skirt of the tank, a fat purple spark jumping from between his finger and the black armor. "The whole war, until the Mechakrautlanders killed that Overqueen, they were inside their own little heads, screaming endlessly."
He ran his finger again, watching another spark jump out.
"When green mantids cluster up, their intelligence increases. Not by leaps and bounds, just slightly, but the bigger part is, they could feel the ones around them screaming but were unable to reach out and touch them," he said. He was silent a moment. "I understand them, they understand me. Both of us, bred and created to merely serve, without any thought as to our souls."
He turned arounds, looking at Sacajawea.
"They are among the Digital Omnimessiah's most fervent believers, and one of humanity's staunchest allies," he said. He motioned at the tanks around them. "You have been gone a long time, little sister."
"And you, did you live through the forty-thousand years? What did you do?" Sacajawea asked.
Luke shook his head. "I retreated. After the War in Heaven and in Hell, after the Flashbang, I retreated," he said. "I spent most of my time at Atlantis, which led to me being more or less imprisoned, away from the galaxy."
He flashed a smile.
"At least I had the Detainee for company. She's an interesting conversationalist."
Sacajawea just sniffed, looking around. "What is that?" she asked, pointing at the lone Telkan, who had just straightened up from the tracks and was wiping his hands off with a rag.
"A Telkan. An full member species of the Confederacy, an ally to humanity, who took part in the War in Heaven," Luke said. He waved at the Telkan, who waved back, and went back to inspecting the vehicle.
"It looks like a fox," Sacajawea said.
Luke cut her off with a motion of his hand. "I swear to God, you start talking to me about how they obviously embody the trickster spirit of the fox and thus are untrustworthy I'll put you right back where I found you," he said sharply.
Sacajawea pursed her lips in irritation.
"You have to let go. Let go of your preconceived notions. Let go of all the old hurts. It's been eight-thousand years for you and forty-thousand for the universe," Luke said softly, turning back to running his hand over the armor on the tank. "Even Daxin could see that."
Sacajawea snorted. "Like Daxin ever saw anything that wasn't in the sights of his guns."
Luke turned around, his jaw clenched. "You don't speak bad about him in my presence again," he snapped, drawing himself up to full height. "Not now, not ever again," he leaned forward slightly. "You weren't here. You left us, the Digital Omnimessiah was dead, and we were all bereft," sparks jumped out from under his boots and under the palm that rested on the tank's armor. "True, I spent over a thousand years running from him, but he was still my brother. It hurt more than anything not to be at his side when he died."
Sacajawea looked around at the tanks and armored vehicles. "He fell on some battlefield," she said. It was less a question and more a statement.
Luke shook his head. "No. He died, in his sleep, surrounded by his family. His children, grand-children, and great-grand children. He was finally at peace," he sighed. "When he arrived in Afterlife, he waited patiently for his wife and even though I wanted to spend time with him," he sighed again. "It was time to let the Walking War Crime rest."
Luke turned and faced Sacajawea. "In your mind, we are still the same as we were," he said gently. He reached out and took her hand in his. "But that is no longer true. We grew, we set aside old differences, we set aside old hatreds, and we moved forward rather than holding tight to the past."
She sniffed, looking away, but not pulling her hand away. "I have seen the history. A history of lies that glosses over the crimes and bloodshed."
"Temporal warfare counter-measures," Luke said. "After The Glassing, history and culture was lost. It was rebuilt from oral tales and fragmented records."
"Lies," she said again.
"Weaponized," Luke said. He pulled his hand free, jamming both hands into his pockets. "It's protected Terra, protected everyone, even your people, more than once. When the Atrekna came, that was probably the only thing that saved our people," he stared at her. "Saved humanity."
"So they don't care about the truth?" she asked.
"What truth? That thousands of years ago an aggressive Mantid hive wrecked up Earth? Nobody cares any more," he said. "That's the thing about them. They aren't like us. We can easily remember the Glassing. For them, it's a few paragraphs in a history book they read in school. Maybe some scholars look at that era," he looked up at the lights. "For the majority of humanity, the Glassing is as far and remote as the light of the stars in the sky," he looked back down. "And that's a good thing."
"I do not understand you," Sacajawea said.
^{she never did
not like i do
luke}
"You never did," Luke said. "You never did. She eventually understood me."
^{that's right
i understand you}
"You cloned me without my consent," she accused. She crossed her arms. "I await your justifications."
Luke just smiled. "I did. I cloned you without your consent. I told your clone that it was a clone," he looked up. "Then the Imperium caught us, turned us into the Immortals. Used her as a seer to determine how to reach victory, but she held information back and Daxin, at the head of the Martial Orders of Terra, broke the Imperium over his knee."
He looked back down. "Afterwards, she worked tirelessly on the Terra Restoration Project. While I was busy running, she returned to Terra, sought out the survivors of her people, and helped them restore their lands and way of life."
Sacajawea looked away. "As did I."
Luke chuckled. "She used temporal lensing to look back into the past, see the reality of the old ways, watch the rituals and daily life of the ancestors, and restored them."
"Yet, the history books are full of lies," Sacajawea sniffed.
"After the Second Temporal War, she understood and embraced the counter-warfare protocols. She helped interweave your people into the tales," Luke said. "Was it all lies? Partly. Like the best ones, it had good heaping helping of truth hidden inside the metaphors and personifications of events."
"And where is she now?" Sacajawea asked, watching the Telkan inspect the running gears of the armored vehicle.
"She led the Sky Nebula Alignment fleet. She led our peoples, all our peoples, to someplace where our enemies would not find us," Luke said. He turned and ran his hand over the armor again. "I stayed behind. I never lost faith that the Digital Omnimessiah would return."
He lifted his palm and made small figure eights on the armor with his fingertips.
"I loved her, so I let her go," he said softly. "She had seen it was the only way our people would survive a coming darkness."
He looked at Sacajawea. "She was right."
Sacajawea looked at where Luke was making small figure eights with his fingers on the armor. "There is no good path for me to take. All of them are risky, most of them I will perish," she said. She reached out and took his hand. "My best chances for survival is to flee," she lifted his hand and grasped it with both of hers.
"Come with me. Let us leave. You can take us elsewhere, where we have a chance of survival," she tilted her head to encompass the vehicle bay. "Too many of these paths lead to both our deaths. There are too few that lead to a place where we both survive."
Luke delicately removed his hand from hers, using one hand to lift her fingers from her grip on his hand one by one.
"No."
Sacajawea frowned. "No? Together, we can go somewhere else where we have a better chance to stand up to whatever comes and have a possibility of triumphing at a later date," she waved at the armored vehicles. "This way, the way that Treana'ad commander is taking us, is rife with nothing but death and destruction."
Luke stared at her for a long moment.
"You never understood," he said softly. "Your desire, your drive, to save your people, and yourself, blind you to the things that must be done," he put one hand on the tank again. "That sometimes the only path forward to success is the one fraught with the most danger, hardship, and suffering."
He turned away and started walking deeper into the vehicle bay.
"She understood," he said softly.
"I am not her," Sacajawea said.
"Obviously."
Sacajawea just sniffed and turned away, leaving the bay.
^{your name is luke}
By the tank, Jaskel wondered why the hell they'd chosen that particular bay for their little spat.
He looked at 8814, who was still practially hopping from foot to foot with happiness.
"I'm glad you got to meet him," Jaskel said honestly.
--yes ┏(＾0＾)┛┗(＾0＾) ┓ yes--
0-0-0-0-0
Dhruv sat in the shadowy room, wearing a pair of exercise shorts, waiting.
Finally, he could smell cigarette smoke and a presence filled the room.
"What?" a voice asked from the shadows. The end of a cigarette brightened as a drag was taken off of it, briefly illuminating gun-metal gray eyes and severe cheekbones.
"I want a favor," Dhruv said.
He could feel the smile even if he couldn't see it.
"People in my care want ice water," the woman's voice commanded.
"I want you to look up SUDS records for me. I need you to process some of them so I can either talk to them or see their last moments," Luke said. He looked away from the glow of the cigarette. "Records from a long time ago."
"If I decide to do this, I'll need specifics," the woman said, exhaling smoke that curled into the figure of a man on his knees, face in his hand, sobbing.
"I'll provide them. They should be easy to find via their x, y, z, q coordinates," Luke said.
"Now for the big question," the woman said, chuckling.
"What?" Luke asked.
"Why should I help you?" the woman asked.
"Because I'm willing to make a deal with the Devil," Legion said.
This time he could see the glint of teeth in the smile.
^{your name is legion}
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

First Previous Next
​
{Sorry for the late post. I had some trouble with my scheduled summer semester pop up so I wasn't able to write this out as much as I wanted last weekend. Anyways, enjoy the domestic fluff of Damian and his newly expanded flock :) }
​
-----Damian-----
"The next one's simple. Say their name then (sit). Like this: Braxton, (sit)." As Damian said the command he raised his hand to around shoulder height and snapped. The Great Dane in question slowly sat with his usual amount of sass. Ree cooed in awe and Scales' eyes sparkled. Damian smiled as he pats the large dog's head with praise.
"(Good boy). Ok, you two. Your turns. Make sure to say the commands in English. I haven't taught them Common yet." He motioned to the dogs Damian picked for the two to learn the commands with. It took Damian a bit of trial and error figuring out what commands each dog knew and what ones had different commands for the same motion. Then it took even longer to retrain them to all follow the same commands. He kept in mind the 'specialized' commands for a few of the dogs and didn't try teaching them to the whole group. Ree tried the command he was teaching them first, his dog being Diesel.
"Trii-cheiu, (sit)." Ree raised his wing-arm, though he couldn’t snap he still did the gesture. The boxer he was talking to blankly tilted his head. Damian chuckled and helped out the bird, knowing they all tend to have problems pronouncing new words without a chirp to them.
"You pronounced his name wrong, he doesn't know you're talking to him. It's more like 'Dee-sell'. The 's' is sharp enough it is almost pronounced as a 'z'." Ree practiced a few times as Scales took her try. She pronounced her dog's name a bit slow, but it was recognizable.
"D-ing-oh, (sit)." The stocky dog hesitated, glancing at Damian for a few seconds, but eventually plopped down then panted in a smile imitation. Scales' tail wagged violently, and she wordlessly cooed and trilled happily. Dingo didn't yet understand that was praise so Damian jumped in really quick to let her know she did good.
"Good girl, Dingo! Good girl!" He made sure to over exaggerate his excitement and made wide happy gestures before smothering the dog in pets and scratches. Dingo goes wild. She jumps up, bounces around a few times, then bolts into excited zoomies. A few of the other dogs joined in on the zoomies. Ree tried again on his command.
"Dee-zell, (sit)." The boxer's cropped ears perked and he promptly sat. Before Damian could, Ree copied his bigwing's previous praising and flared his wings. "Good! Good boy!" He praised, overly happy. Diesel's whole body perked up and he jumped up, landed in a playbow, then spun a few times before joining in on the zoomies with a butt-tuck run when Damian smooched at him. Damian laughed at the zooming dogs and shuffled over to be closer to his chicks, just in case the dogs tried to do fly-bys.
"Good job, you two. We're almost completely through the basic commands. I didn't think we'd get through them this quickly." His chicks cooed, trilled, and wiggled happily at the praise. Damian chuckled and rubbed their feathered heads, making a few bits of baby-fluff fall off as he drew back. He played with the few bits stuck to his fingers and watched his chicks play with the dogs as they started to wrestle. All of the dogs were bigger than them, if only slightly, but they were gentle when letting the chicks join in.
As they played he looked over them. They had changed a lot in the last month or so since the disaster of their first flying lesson. In that time, they had a few more lessons and were almost completely capable of flight, they still had a bit of supervision when they did though. They had lost almost all of their baby-fluff and their adult plumage was sported on the vast majority of their bodies. They still had to shed the last bits of fluff and a few of their baby-scales but that wouldn't take much longer. Damian was still taken with their coloring and patterns. And often found himself studying them over and over like he used to with their parents when he first got here.
Ree was a slightly grey-tinted shade of green with his scales slowly getting darker the higher they went. His stomach was a dirt brown color with a more red-ish clay spot on his chest. All his plumage was a light orage-ish brown color and he had speckles of more pastel green under his right eye and in a clump on his left jaw. His beak took the coloring of Blueberry's, a near-black color, but had the shape of Ruby's. His ears took after Violet's, long and pointed like a stretched fox's. His feathers and fur were more pressed down and made him look slimmer overall. His eyes changed from their baby brown-gold color to a beautiful sky blue.
Scales, on the other hand, had the coloring more towards a bumble bee (from what he remembered anyways). Her main coloring was a bright sunshine yellow that slowly grew more towards orange towards her underbelly and beak. On her chest was a splash-like clump of pink feathers. Her scales were less than her brother's and were a deep brown-ish color. The feathers and fur edging them were a deep enough brown to basically be black. Her plumage reminded him somewhat of Ruby and Sky's. It had a gradual fade towards the end like Sky but the pink-ish color of Ruby. She had near-neon yellow speckles too, like her brother, but the clumps were a bit larger. She had them ending on her wing-forearms like Violet's and a big clump scattered around the left side of her face. Her feathers weren't quite as fluffy as Sky's but was pretty close. Her beak had the shape of Violet's and the near-white tan color of Ruby's. Her eyes had a beautiful dual color in each eye. The top majority was a hot pink/magenta color while the bottom and inside edge was more of a petal/pastel pink.
Both were gorgeous and made Damian wonder how the genetics of their species worked to allow that vast difference in coloration and patterns when compared to all four of their parents, who tended to be different shades of the same color throughout. Ree had finally slowed his quite concerning growth rate and was starting to level out around Damian's upper thigh/lower hip, exceeding the taller of his fathers by quite the margin. All four of his parents telling him that Ree was probably one of the largest of their species in multiple generations. Scales was now barely a third of her brother's size, if that, having evened out just barely shorter than Damian's knee. Apparently that was a bit shorter than average for the species with Ruby being more towards the upper part of the average size and Sky being borderline short.
A demanding snort drew his attention away from his chicks and to the window he claimed as 'his spot' so long ago (was it really only just over one of his years since he was brought here?). There he found Casper lazily curled and dozing on the floor with Ares propped up against her where Damian had set him to nap while he taught his chicks. Said child was no longer asleep though. He was very much awake and staring Damian down with an expression demanding to know why he thought it was a good idea to even dare to set him down and walk away. Nevermind Damian wasn't even ten steps away. Ares snorted demandingly at him again and glared harder at the human's amused snort back. Damian did walk over though and picked up the child when he raised his arms at him. Ares had changed a bit too over the month Damian had him. He'd filled out to a more healthy-looking weight, though he was still a bit thin, and Damian had finally managed to memorize how to properly trim the toddler's hooves and brush out his fur.
Ares still had the bird-like plush and brought it nearly everywhere with him. Said plush was now being whacked into the side of Damian's head. Apparently, Ares decided being held wasn't good enough and wanted something else. Damian tried blocking the hits or holding the toy, but the little brat only started using his hooves in his growing tantrum. Getting tired of being hit with no explanation, Damian took the advice of one of the texts he'd read about taking care of a Grongri child and yanked Ares away from him by his scruff to hang in mid-air. The toddler wiggled and squirmed to try and hit him more but eventually the tantrum dimmed, and he went limp, a small pout on his face.
"You ready to tell me what's wrong now?" He asked the child before he cradled him again. He'd only made that mistake once. He still had the bruises to prove it. Ares glumly flicked his right ear down (which he's learned is a non-verbal yes), pout still present. Damian finally cradled the toddler to his chest again and let him sniffle and bury against him in self-comfort until he was ready to talk. Damian glanced back at his chicks to see them flopped on the ground with the other dogs, all panting and exhausted by the play. Damian chuckled at them, earning an irritated crow from Scales. Damian snorted in amusement but let them be. Ares was finally willing to tell him what was wrong.
"Want learn too." Ares' understanding of both Common and English has come a long way in the past month. He still can't string a proper sentence together, but Damian can't tell if that is because of a lack of knowledge or just because he's a toddler. He has adjusted to the flock a bit too. With it being so different from the usual Grongri Sounder structure it is understandable. He does have a few hiccups here and there but now he mostly just watches the chicks' reaction to things when he is unsure.
"'Learn too'? You wanna learn how to command the dogs too?" Damian questions, making sure he had the same idea. Ares' ear flicked again while he nodded. Damian hugged him a bit closer.
"You're a bit too small for the dogs to obey you immediately but I can introduce one to you and have you start trying. How about that? Will that work?" Ares was quiet for a bit longer but eventually agreed. Damian smiled and praised him with a few pets, receiving a few happy rumbles in response. Damian glanced around at the dogs, trying to pick one for Ares to start working on. He doesn't think any would follow the commands without his own help but if he worked on one long enough it would eventually cave. His eye landed on Casper, who was still in the same curled position as before. She was the most maternal of the group and was the one who took to the children the easiest and quickest.
"Ok, little piglet. Let's start easy." He said as he set the runt down on his hooves. As he did he got Casper's attention and called to her. "Casper. (Stand)." The large white wolfdog looked at him then crawled to her paws. He praised her softly then turned back to Ares.
"Ok. We'll start with (come). Say her name, Casper, and tell her to (come)." He said as he sat down next to where the toddler stood. Ares' little hooves stomped a bit in his excitement, but he tried. He tested out the new word before he did. What he settled on wasn't the right pronunciation, but it was close. He could mostly pronounce the command correctly too, though with a pretty heavy accent.
"Gas-prrrr. (Come)." Casper tilted her head at the child and sniffed at him. She looked at Damian and he looked to Ares then back. Casper followed and glanced, then back. Ares deflated eventually when she still didn't approach so Damian thought up something quickly.
"Maybe she doesn't understand your accent. Try this," He patted the ground, "when you say it. She knows that gesture." Ares perked back up again.
"Okie!" He turned back to Casper and tried again. "Gas-prrrr." He crouched down and clumsily patted the ground like only a toddler could. "(Come)." Casper's ears perked but she still hesitated for a second before slowly padding over and stopping right in front of the child. Ares squealed in excitement, tail going wild and hooves stomping. Damian made his chuff-imitation as praise for the child as he pets Casper to do the same. Child happier now, he figures he could take the kid away for lunch without protest. Scooping up the toddler he received no complaint.
Looking to his chicks he clicked his tongue. He learned that was a good way to gain their attention with zero hesitation, no matter what they were doing. He found out by complete accident, to be honest. He was clicking at the dogs from a habit that hasn't broken despite the years away from the farm he grew up on. Sure enough, just like every time before, both chick's heads immediately whip up to look at him. Both still looked groggy like they had just woken up. They probably had.
"C'mon, you two. Lunch time." The two groaned but climbed to their feet. Damian smiled and them and patted them as they passed. Once they were well on their way, he called the dogs and gathered them as he left behind his chicks. The dogs happily trailed after, excited after they heard the word 'hungry' when he asked. He entered the flock's kitchen, pack in tow, only a handful of minutes later. He had to take a slightly more roundabout way over since some of the dogs hadn’t quite figured out the ladder-like walkways and ramps yet and he didn't want them to fall through and get hurt. His birds greeted him with their usual trills and Untruthful with their latest attempt at teasing.
"So, the Pack Master finally decided to grace us with his presence!" Damian let them know it was a good one by sending a tease back.
"I see you haven't gotten any less spikey yet, walking pincushion." Untruthful's eyes slowly shut in a smile and Damian sent one of his own back, momentarily closing his eyes in an imitation of them. Untruthful looked surprised then they eye-close-smiled harder, spike-crest wiggling their excitement. Damian chuckled at them and set down Ares in his make-shift baby seat.
He chatted with Violet as he grabbed and rationed out the dogs' small lunch. He ignored the protesting whines, grunts, and half-barks urging him to 'go faster already'. Violet advised him to use one type of meat instead of another because of both better nutrients for the dogs and there being more of it. He thanked her and did as told. The dogs' lunch wasn't that big, more of a snack than anything, but it kept them from pouting and begging when everyone else ate. It also had helped him give them meds when they were still healing. They were mostly fine now, apparently Galactic Standard medicine works faster than the stuff he remembers. Finishing with the dogs' food he picks up the bowls, stacking a few to do so, and turns around. He walked past the dogs, chuckling at the excited spins, bounces, and tippy-taps they did as they followed him. He glanced back at them once he made it to the wall the flock had designated as their eating area.
He gave them a stern look and waited. They all eventually sat down, some more slow and reluctant than others. Once they did he placed down the bowls in the designated spots. Braxton and Casper had two stepstool-stand things he placed their bowls on because of how big they were. Once all the bowls were down he turned to look at the dogs. He waited in silence for a bit, snapping or humming warningly whenever one tried to shuffle forward. Once he deemed it long enough he gave the sort-of-command he was on the tail end of teaching them.
"(Ok)." When he said that all six dogs ran over to their bowls and started to eat. Damian strode back over to the counter and helped his birds move some plates to the table then settled cross-legged in his usual spot, Ares immediately crawling into his lap and Scales fluttering to perch on the shoulder opposite the side her brother sat on. The flock started to grab food and eat as they chatted with each other. Damian grabbed a little more than a double portion of fruits, beans (or maybe they were berries?), and a few crunchy finger foods he thinks may be cooked or specially prepared insects. He grabbed roughly more than a single portion (for someone his size anyways) of meats, the few root vegetables presented, and what he thinks may be foods made of bone pieces.
Once his plate was full he placed it down in front of him he reached over to grab a smaller plate and started making that one with tiny portions, letting his three kids have free pickings of his plate as he did. When he finished that plate he sat it in front of mini, receiving a grateful squeak before she dug in. He then propped his arms on the table, completely ignoring both his plate and the children stealing from it as he chattered on with his flock. By the time everyone finished his kids had their fill and were starting to fall asleep like usual after eating.
As his flock started gathering their dishes and the extra food on the table, Damian glanced at what was left of his plate. He made a mental note of how there weren’t as much leftovers as before and to grab bigger portions for dinner. As his flock started to disperse he looked to the dogs and said one of the first new commands he taught them.
"(Pups)." He got their attention. "(Take)." He ordered as he lifted up the half-asleep toddler on his lap. The dogs made whisper-boofs to show they heard and the largest three walked over to pick up the kids by their scruffs. Casper (the biggest, though not my much) grabbed Ree, Braxton grabbed Ares, and Dingo walked over to carefully lift Scales from his shoulder. Once they had a firm grip, they looked to Damian for further instruction.
"(To bed)" He directed as he pointed out the door they came from. The pack turned and left him alone in the room. He sighed to himself once he couldn't hear them anymore and looked back at the leftovers on the plate before him. It was maybe under half a portion for his size, probably less. He glanced at the counters and saw all the leftover food was already put up. He could go grab more but even half a portion for him would be nearly three or four large portions for his flock. No. It wasn’t worth it. He'll just grab more tonight.
He ate the leftovers in silence. Since he's got the dogs his head has been a bit quieter, though not silent. Apparently he was still enough for the building to register the room as empty, and the lights cut out. He blinked and paused at the sudden darkness but there was barely a second of blindness before some of his voices put their hands on his mental controls, giving his eyes a boost of minor night vision. It wasn’t much better than his natural amount of it but it helped. He decided not to go turn on the lights again and continued to eat his food as he peacefully listened to the soft chattering of his voices.

Don't get me wrong. I'm truly curious, and this question I've been carrying for over a year.
Im a 30 m
Objectively I have lived a terrible odds stacked against me from the start. I was born to a father that took my mother faraway to a farm and isolated us he was quite the abuser with my self going Tru all 5 different tipes my siblings 4 and the youngest only 2 I was the only one that was s## abused. From as Yong as I can remember I plead my mother to leve. Turned in to a super Cristian thus a wife's purpose is to be subject to her husband. Evan though she also went true all 5 she was even r## infront of me.
I mentioned we grew up on a farm in isolated he would work construction jobs all over Africa so most of the time we would be left alone. Work 4 months home 6 weeks the first day that he is back he cums with takeaways and cool drinks and it's a celebration it would normally only be calm for 2-3 days when he would get angry normally before we were to go buy groceries. Witch ment we will have to put that car together and fix it that's normally tha first day that I would blead if it's not from a tool it's because I woed gow far into the field to hide then it would be his lether belt my but would be blue And red brushe sometimes my skin woed split open and blend every time I moved.
The first time I saw a classroom or a teacher was at the age of 13 we got a tv for the first time at the age of 12 so obviously I had no sosial skills it was just a few days a group of bullies introduced me so that was not fun until a few months later when the hieschool librarian looked over our class.
My mom dit taught me to read and math and science (only biblical accurate) so I started reading at 4 at 5 I was at the level of gr3 had to develop my own horrible handwriting. I was good at math though my mom only knew +×÷- and fractions to the second point
The library was my heavin in 3 years personally I graduated done with every book in the library besides most of the story books The problem was I couldn't really speak English I only got exposed to it from the TV so I was on my way to fail Gr6 I didn't during the last term my dad left for work again but this time it was longer we ran out of food and my mom finally ran away with her 5 kids pregnant and starving all the food we had fit into a shoe box and ther was space for my brothers favorite little teddy 🧸 about the size of a tennis ball
We moved to the city we're I found out my mom has siblings thy help us with some basic it was crazy there I could not even cross the streets thy were 3 lanes mutch to wide for a teen cross with out getting run over starting high school I decided I would be the opposite of my history so on the first day I broke the head boy a rather big rugby player nose. That showd them I was never bullied and yet still not cool so I joined the skateboarders I was terrible but they had issues and I'm nothing but broken metal head started smoking never touched weed that's drugs glue as well it makes youcrazy. Though sometimes we would snort white power at the mall. Only after a few months in class I found out there are more tips of drugs. To late now I'm a cat addicted our group grew and we became the popular group we were 40 in the core group if we threw a party 200 people show up I mean some college students started hanging with them college girls hang with me at 17 so obviously the heiskool girls thru them at me nonstop sleeping with 2-3 a night never not wrapped always save. Until I slept with one I actually cared for but not as much as she for me so to get here to disappear I seduced her sister on her bed so she could walk in on that. 3 day later she was found dead in the bath with a letter to her parents on their bed and a long letter for me in her sister underwear full of her blood for me.
My next relationship was my fiance Finally quit drugs 3 years later Completely thought ow yeah remember that I was so smart well turns out I failed gr 9 almost twice shortly before the second time time my mother lost her job I was still partying her savings didn't last we got evicted ran out of food so I quit school and started buying thing from drug dealers and sell them it wasn't long before I afforded a bigger house some time later I moved out paying 2 rents going crazy the drugs were not fun any more my friends are dieing on after the other some go to prison I fought my best friend. I saw what was happening because of the drugs I walk 70 km that weekend faar into the field to escape only with my knife. Not the plan but I lived there for 3 weeks alone my phone is still there somware I came back sober no friends
I didn't fin school so it's only min wage for 3 years trying multiple business all fail until I lost my job again. One day I dit a car port for a lady little did I know that in justover 7 years 2 months before covid i will loos. A my greatest business in going to 8 figure this time 100% legal in one writing of a pen and waist all my saving on loyars to get it back lost my fiance and only child
Went into depression
tryed and failed 3 more business Good diagnose with add and adhd Over came depression Diagnosis with ptsd Found out my 5 year old son is not evan myn Depression again Gave up trying at all tried drugs again for 2 months give up on that two
Move back to the farm where it all started farm is falling It's sort off failng less
Depressioni quit low
And finally today im bulding my own shop with bricks i made my self everything wants to fail this sometimes its so close.
And yeah true all of that's I can honestly say I never had suicide Evan as a though to be a option
Seriously why would I not just end me but I just don't have that option ever

Fletch gently pushed open the large and lavishly decorated bronze doors of the university administration building and ambled out into the portico. He set his cup of coffee down on the pedestal of a granite pillar and pulled his cigarette case from the breast pocket of his tan trench coat. The old chief inspector plucked a cigarette from the ornately engraved case with slender fingers and wondered why the Kael let him come at all.
Something felt very off with the whole thing. The more he thought about it, the more he questioned the story he got. Mike Anderson was certainly depressed, but as far as Fletch could tell, he had not displayed any suicidal behavior. And why now? Fletch thought. Things were on the upswing for the kid. His grades were excellent, his family situation was good, and he was out of the house more this term than the last. Fletch scratched his mustache. Why would the seals hide the autopsy and the gun? He brought the cigarette to his lips, snapped the filigreed case shut, and slipped it back into the breast pocket of his coat. Fletch flicked open his lighter and sighed as he lit his cigarette. Murder.
It was a hopeless case. These days, warrants were approved by the seals, and even if they weren't, he doubted that he could get one anyway. His suspicion of foul play was backed by nothing but his instinct.
Fletch watched students hustle and bustle through the plaza in front of him as he puffed away at his cigarette and pondered his theory.
But why kill him now? They could have done it in complete secrecy while he was a POW. And it couldn’t be to keep what happened in Philadelphia under wraps. His death brings more attention to it. And he wasn’t a rebel. So why? Fletch sipped at his coffee as he flicked ash from his cigarette. Vengeance? Did he kill some noble brat during the war?
Fletch scratched at his grey mustache and glanced at his watch. I’ll have to follow that thread. He tossed his half-smoked cigarette into a puddle as he briskly walked down the steps and through the university plaza.
The withered investigator was deep in thought when he entered the parking lot. What do I tell that Enrique chap? He unlocked his car and crawled in. I certainly can’t tell him that his mate’s been clipped with no evidence. Fletch turned the key, and the engine of his little Volvo sputtered to life. It’s no bleeding use. I’ll just tell the lad they weren’t interested in sharing and keep my suspicions to myself.
As he reached for the shifter, Fletch noticed a delightfully thick manilla envelope stuck in the gap between the center console and the passenger seat.
He pulled the envelope from the crack. Gingerly, he opened it and pulled out a small note. It read We’re even now, prick.
Fletch smiled and couldn’t help but mutter, “The game is afoot,” as he flicked through the stack of documents inside.
Isabella poked her head into the large office and saw Professor Dret’la with a ball of dark green yarn on her lap and bone darning needles beset with carvings in her hands.
Isabella was struck with confusion. What? She crochets!?
The professor looked up from her labor, spotted the confused girl outside her door, and called, “Come in.”
Isabella walked into the office and took a seat. She gestured to the yarn in the professor's hands. “What are you making?”
The professor smiled as motherly as one could with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. “It will be a hat for my son. He just received his commission as a junior biologist, so he has to rummage around in freezers to get samples for his whole research team.”
Isabella blinked. This was not characteristic at all for the quick-tempered professor with a penchant for launching chalk across lecture halls at the mildest provocation.
Isabella shook off her shocked expression and gave the tall professor a dimpled cheek smile. “That’s so sweet! I’m sure he’ll love it. One of the best gifts I’ve ever received was a thick wool sweater from my mamma during a training exercise off the coast of Norway.”
The professor, still smiling, sat up straight. “I hope that’s the kind of reception I get.”
The professor’s demeanor hardened as she stowed the yarn and needles in the desk drawer. “Now, let's get down to business.”
Isabella gulped.
“To start, congratulations. You’ve passed our testing and been selected for officer training.”
Isabella asked, “Who else was selected?”
“There are nine others: Robert Rhodes, Elena Pavel, Hal Jellico, Zheng Li, Brooke Halsey, Colow Aden, Magnus Tordenskjold, Bill Lee, and Kazuya Yamamoto.”
Isabella didn’t recognize all the names.
“Should you choose to accept, you will be taking a prep course taught by Colonel Ocidea and I starting next week and lasting all through the summer. If we deem you ready, you’ll ship out for basic training and then off to the Royal Military Academy, where you can earn your commission.” Dr. Dret’la leaned in close to Isabella. “Do you accept?”
Without hesitation, Isabella answered, “Yes.”
“Mike, come over here. You’re going to want to see this.” Calty voiced from her seat in the front of the cockpit.
Mike rolled off the couch and walked into the front of the cockpit as the captain shouted, “Decelerate!” Mike couldn’t help but grab onto the back of Calty’s seat as the FTL drive kicked into gear. The cockpit glass dimmed just before blindingly bright blue jets of fire from the front-facing engines came into view. A bright green circle flickered onto the glass surrounding a marble-sized dot darker than the rest of the now dim screen. The dots and circles expanded at an extreme pace until they took up most of the display. Another dot appeared—minuscule compared to the other—surrounded by a red circle. The growth of the shadowy dots and the circles around them slowed and then stopped entirely as the engines sputtered out.
The HUD faded out of view, and the tint of the glass slowly lightened, revealing a vast planet embraced by blue-green ice with a colossal foundry in its orbit. The planet, a gas giant called Drassus, was orbited by four rings. One was made of containers, and the other three were made up of loose ore gleaming in the nearby star's light. Exhaust chimneys spewing gas and fire sprouted from the otherwise spherical foundry, giving it a sea urchin-like profile, which, together with the weave of pipes bringing fuel from beneath the icy surface of the planet below, made the foundry resemble an old naval mine.
The captain strode up to the front of the cockpit. “One-third ahead and steer 14 degrees left. We’re unloading in bay three.”
Six mech suits and a tug exited a plasma-shielded hanger as the ship came to a halt. The mechs glided to the front of the ship and started dismounting the external cargo bay from the Broken Fin while the tug hitched onto the opposite end of the ten-kilometer-long rack of containers.
A little while later, the tug pulled away with the load of containers, and the comm system blared to life. “Broken Fin, you are cleared to leave. The UO corporation thanks you for your business.”
The captain replied, “Our pleasure. Broken fin out.” as the ship pulled out of the loading bay.
He turned to the navigation officer and said, “Lock in coordinates for jump to Kael Prime.”
The captain went to the central control board and pulled up traffic control. “Tower 1, this is the Broken Fin. We request a jump slot to Kael Prime from Drassus.”
“Broken Fin, request granted. Your departure slot is at 16:33.”
Mike glanced at the top right of the ship's HUD and looked at the time. 16:21.
Better get my stuff together…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ship shuddered ever so slightly despite the inertial dampeners as it exited FTL. Mike was lounging on the couch with his bag at his feet. He was ready to get off this tub.
Mike idly watched flames lick at the cockpit window as the ship descended into the atmosphere of Kael Prime. He looked at Dreki, who was sitting on the other couch. His muscles bulged through his clothes despite wearing a white sweater so large it could be mistaken for the sail of an average-sized boat. Mike asked, “Do you know anything about what’ll happen to me now?”
The big Kael shifted in his seat. “Technically, I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but what the hell.” Dreki pulled the collar of his sweater down, revealing an angry white number burnt into his iron-gray skin just below the collarbone. “First, you’ll get branded.” He released his shirt and pointed to a small scar on the side of his head. “Then you’ll get an AR implant.”
“Where will I be getting that?” Mike asked.
“The Imperial Science Academy. We’re going to be staying there for a few days. They’ll run a bunch of tests and get you fitted for equipment there. After that, I’ll drop you off at the spaceport, and you’ll be off to Tlaxcalssus for basic training. After that, I don’t know.”
“Thanks.”
The ship shook as it touched down on the landing pad. “Time to go.” Dreki shouldered his pack and walked out the door. Mike fiddled with the straps of his bag as he followed Dreki down the ramp and to the far side of the ship, away from the rest of the passengers. Mike's nose was immediately assaulted with the acrid smell of sulfur from where the fiery exhausts of engines had melted asphalt. The spaceport was swarming with vehicles and filled with the constant roar of ship engines and a symphony of smaller equipment. Power loaders and mechs loaded and unloaded heavy cargo, shuttles bustled to and fro with passengers, baggage carriers snaked through the crowded landing pads, and vehicles that looked like floating garage doors zipped through the air at ankle height, bringing pilots and crew to their ships. Mike couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, in the heartland of the enemy, walking through what was essentially a ten-acre parking lot.
Dreki plopped his bags on the ground and yawned as he stretched his arms over his head. “Our skiff will be here in a minute.”
Mike tuned out the beeps and whirrs of the tank-sized forklifts and mechs unloading the ship and gazed out beyond at the horizon. You’re not in Kansas anymore, bub. Mike thought as he studied the skyline of the imperial city basked in the glow of the early evening sun. Some of the buildings wouldn’t look all that out of place on Earth, but the skyline was assaulted with abominations that pissed on the laws of physics as Man understood them. Tusk-shaped skyscrapers defied gravity with their seemingly unsupported curves, and even more absurd were pyramids stacked atop another point-to-point like hourglasses. Any delusion of normalcy that Mike could come up with was shattered.
Dreki picked up his bag and pointed to a slab of black marble speeding towards them at ankle height. “Here’s our skiff.” A railing popped out of the center as the skiff came to a gliding halt. Dreki boarded the skiff and took hold of the rail, and Mike followed suit.
They sped through the spaceport and stopped outside what looked to Mike like a train station. Dreki shouldered his bag and stepped off the skiff. Mike stepped off and quickly fell in pace with Dreki. The big Kael led Mike into a grand station bustling with people. Most were Kael, but there was a smattering of other species. Some stared at Mike, others glanced, but most completely ignored him as he followed Dreki through the hall and onto a platform. Unfamiliar aliens clearly weren’t an uncommon sight here.
The walls of the station were covered with mosaics depicting Kael warriors from the distant past. Dreki noted the human's curiosity and said, “The founders of the clans.” He leveled a massive hand toward an opulent, towering mosaic of a Kael warrior wielding a bronze falx. The imposing figure's body was made of blue gemstones, the eyes rubies, one tusk silver, and the other gold. “That’s the founder of my clan, Drekalla Gold Tusk.”
Mike asked, “How’d he manage that?” As he followed Dreki into a mostly empty train car.
Dreki plopped down on a bench. “He was the war priest of Hroptaug the Conqueror during the unification wars. After the wars were won, Hroptaug granted us the Steam Hills.” Dreki pointed through the train window at the mosaic of another warrior whose body was made of milky white pearls. “That one,” He paused and spat on the floor, “Tiblan the Terror, challenged Drekalla to a duel for most of that land. Drekalla was cutting him to pieces, but the craven poisoned his blade. Just before Drekalla could deliver the final blow, the poison reached his heart, and Drekalla died. The only wound on his body was a cut across his forearm that barely drew blood.” Dreki rolled up his sleeve, showing a scar that reached from his elbow to the middle of his forearm. “Every K’alla is cut the same way to remind us of the blood feud.”
Mike inwardly sighed. Kael and their damned feuds… “How long ago was this.”
“Seven thousand four hundred and fifty-one years ago.”
Mike held back a snort. The absurdity of it all. The first human law codes came about to stop blood feuds, and out here, they have feuds that have lasted longer than Earth's recorded history.
“How’s that feud been going as of late?”
Dreki’s face sagged, “Not good.”
They both grew quiet. Mike shuffled uncomfortably.
Mike glanced at the route display and broke the silence, “What's with the middle city, inner city thing?”
Dreki relaxed slightly. “Oh, so the city used to be a fortification. The inner city is actually a volcanic island. The middle is built over the river, and the outer city was built on the banks.”
“I see.”
The doors closed, and the intercom sounded, “Next stop, the inner city.”
Dale Robert’s wrinkled face was unreadable, and his highly decorated black and blue dress uniform immaculate as he led a horse through the street. He felt the eyes of thousands of onlookers on him, and he hated it. The pure black horse had a black leather saddle on its back. Two tall, glossy black boots were placed backward in silver stirrups, and the elaborate hilt of Mike’s basket-hilted broadsword jutted from the top of a black leather scabbard buckled to the saddle. Roberts followed the horse-drawn caisson bearing the flag-draped coffin of his old commanding officer. Not much farther now, he thought. The sounds of the cartwheels rolling and the horse’s tack jangling were wholly drowned out by boots stamping the ground in unison. Almost all of the 1800 survivors of the 801st regiment were there, resplendent in their dress uniforms, marching behind Mike one more time. The local police and fire departments joined them.
Roberts was unsure about it all. He felt that the poor kid's family would have preferred a smaller service back home in Colorado instead of this damn near royal procession. And Roberts was damn sure that the seals did not give their permission for this, no matter what the police chief said.
A reporter ducked through the police barricade and tried to ask the marching soldiers questions, but they remained stone-faced as the procession marched nearer to the gates of Philadelphia National Cemetery. Roberts handed the reigns of the riderless horse to another man in uniform and joined seven other members of Charlie platoon in pulling the casket from the cassion. They silently began their march to the grave, closely followed by General McCarthy, the man who was Joint Chief of Staff, and the color guard. Bagpipers began to blare, “Going Home.” Roberts heard the sound of gravpulse engines and looked up in dismay as a Kael gunship broke through the low clouds and descended to just barely above the cemetery. A loudspeaker blared, “Disperse at once.”

I AM NOT OOP. OOP is u/ReverendMuddyGrimes
Originally posted on relationships
2 updates – short
Content warning: drug and alcohol abuse, waste of questionable origin
Original post - October 7th, 2023
Update 1 - March 17th, 2024
Update 2 - May 15th, 2024
Sister-in-law told me my wife cheated while on vacation
The players in this drama. My wife who for the purpose of this post shall be called Anne (female 47). My sister-in-law (female 40) who we shall call Shannon. SIL's cheating partner (male mid 40s) known hereafter as Tony. And myself (male, so close to 50 that I can reach out and slap it). We shall refer to me as "me". Usual disclaimers of cell phone and English is my first language, I just suck at it. So my wife had to travel to her step father's house. He is in very poor health, and she went there to help set up home heath. She was there for a week, and we were in constant contact. Her sister is a drunk and a drug addict. At several points during the visit, we were on video chat when "Shannon" came into the room where my wife and her father were. She was buck ass naked, raging drunk. In front of her father. I was mortified, and I'm sure he was too. Now "Shannon" is married, but separated. She has a live in boyfriend. "Tony" is my father-in-law's primary care giver. For the flight home, "Anne" missed her flight. "Tony" was driving her to the airport. There was an unusual amount of road construction, and they arrived late. She had to take a different flight. Not a big deal. After she was home for a few days, the following text exchange happened between me and Shannon. Shannon: they fucked. Me: who, and did you film it? We could make a fortune on pornhub! Shannon: I saw him leaving her room and smiling. You know she didn't miss her flight! He ain't denying it. Me: well, if they did, he's the luckiest man alive.
Now guys, I know that I have a better chance of creating a fart powered personal jet than this story has of being true. It's just not in her nature. That said, damn that woman to the depths of Detroit's South side for putting the idea in my head.
So, the question: how do I deal with a crazy drunk 80lb woman from 1000 miles away. I can't block her, because the rest of her family has. If something happens to the father-in-law while Tony is at work, I'm the only one she can contact.
Tldr: drunk SIL claims wife cheated. She didn't. I have to decide how to deal with her.
Comments
Indianblanket
Tell Tony you are blocking Shannon and to please contact you directly with any updates he receives from Shannon while he's at work.
Block Shannon.
Call Dad daily.
EdgeCityRed
Yeah, I had a former friend like Shannon: a heavy drinker, mental issues (no offense intended to people dealing with mental issues, but this was the main factor in that case), major liar who'd fixate on specific things to lie about.
I did block this person in every conceivable way but I can't think of anything else to do in your situation but ignore the behavior since you have to be in contact. OR, you and your wife could just talk to Tony about the father-in-law with the understanding that if Tony quits being the caregiver or breaks up with Shannon, he passes your contact info to the next caregiver. If something happens when Tony is at work, he'd still probably know before you.
Anyway, you have nothing to worry about with the wife anyway; you're too funny to dump.
\too funny to dump. I have a host of exes that would strongly disagree. Unless you meant funny looking. Then, they would come down solidly on your side*
Update 1
Several months ago my drunk of a SIL (f-40) told me (m-50) that my wife of 12 years (f-47) cheated on me while setting her her step dad's home health in Detroit. I, of course, didn't believe her. A lot has happened since then. First, we all went up for Christmas. While we were there, SIL (I called her Shannon in the original post) stormed in and claimed that my wife was having sex with her boyfriend "Tony" on the front porch. Two problems with that. 1) It's Detroit in December so it's cold as a well digger's ass outside. 2) my wife is in the chair next to mine. SIL ended up assaulting Tony right after I returned home. She ended up in jail where she was placed on a 3 day psych hold. Apparently being a drunken meth addict makes you crazy. Who knew? Mid January, my father-in-law passed away. This sent SIL into a spiral. Especially when she found out that she couldn't stay in the family home anymore as it had to be sold. She was given $35,000 from her father's retirement to get a new place and hold her over until the sale of the house. My wife and I drove up to prepare the house to go on the market. Y'all, I've been in nasty houses before, but not like this. My father-in-law kept this place immaculate. Now, in just 2 months, it qualifies for an episode of Hoarders. There is dog crap halfway up the walls in the den. I didn't even know dogs could poop that high! There were several empty bottles of $350 tequila in the living room. We figure that she will have drank her entire inheritance in six months. We had to rent a dumpster for me to shovel all of her garbage in to. Obviously, I changed the locks and garage door codes. Im a career garage door installer, so that part was easily done. Even more obviously, all those people who responded to the original post that my wife cheated were VERY wrong. Edit: the dog is a chihuahua. We assume that it did it's doggie business off the back of the couch, since we had to move the couch to find what was causing the smell. We can't take the dog because SIL refuses to see us. TLDR, Wife, who I knew didn't cheat even though her sister claimed she did, was exonerated because her sister is batshit crazy from meth and alcohol.
Comments
Scarletnightingale
Sir, given that she is an alcoholic with a meth addiction, I would assume that that was not dog poop on the walls. Alcoholics tend to have issues with their digestive system and meth and alcohol mess with judgement and a person caring of they pooped on the wall.
Good luck with the house, and I'm sorry that your SIL is making things so much more difficult for you during the loss of your wife's father.
Elfich47 If she making meth in the house, you may need a decon team to clean the site up.
She doesn't make it, just uses. We know this by the amount of dealers that FIL had to chase off
Update 2
I mentioned in my last post that my Father-in-law passed away. From insurance and his retirement both of his daughters received $104k before taxes. We paid our taxes up front leaving us just over $80k. We really don't have much debt, so we put it all on our house. My SIL however chose to accept a lump sum. In the update, when she had gotten the first installment of $35k, I said she would have drank it all in 6 months. Apparently I am a very optimistic man. She has drank,shot up, and snorted the entire $104k in less than 3 months. Through most of the high times, she sent my wife incredibly awful texts claiming that her dad never loved her. Technically it was my wife's step-dad. One of the claims made was that if he loved her he would have adopted her. SIL was too young to remember, but he did try. Her birth father wouldn't sign off on it. Anyway, she is out of money. My wife is getting around a dozen slurred phone calls a day begging her to let SIL sleep on our couch. That is a giant HELL NO from us. We expect to hear any day that she has been found dead.
TLDR: SIL blew her entire inheritance on drugs and alcohol. Now after insulting my wife for months, wants to live with us.
Comments
crom_77
Sounds like you have a head on your shoulders. SIL sounds like a nightmare. Money can wreck a family if it's not handled carefully, I've seen it happen several times. People live like there's going to be a big payout at the end, or like they deserve something.
HuntEnvironmental863
Do you think in 3 months OP will be back on here cause Anne took the 80k and ran off with Tony?
80k is gone. It went on our mortgage. As for Tony, he disappeared when the SIL ran out of money.
Marked as concluded per OOP.
No brigading, no harassment.

Got some BS over the weekend I guess from who knows where.
I hate cold viruses. I would legit rather have a 24 hour stomach bug than this shit for days on end where you can’t breathe properly out of your face.
Every time this happens I end up taking one million OTC meds to get through. I end up mouth breathing and getting chapped lips from it. My head feels like it’s full of mucus. I sniffle and snort and go through like a billion goddamn tissues a day to the point my skin under my nose gets raw. So then I have to slather some vaseline on my lips and under my nose to make my skin feel better - but then I just feel nasty and slimy like some frog monster coming out of the swamp.
Days later, it’s not even over. Then comes the coughing fits and the post nasal drip from hell, which lasts for a couple weeks at least.
Curse whatever human fomite demon spawn gave me this crap.
Colds are absolutely the worst!

The pain was the worst thing`Dominick Mason had ever known…and he knew what it felt like to die. It felt like his brain was in a blender, being chopped to liquid for a Jeffery Dahmer smoothie and though it seemed melodramatic, he imagined he could feel himself losing brain cells by the minute. The sun, Merrick told him, would not burn him, but it would decay him faster, so sleep or rest during the day. With the sick, throbbing agony in the center of his brain, however, that was impossible. He spent most of the day curled up on his side, hugging his knees, and moaning. He had flashbacks to dying in his apartment, and that made things even worse. The room became too small, too close, the air too stale. His heart, filled with the blood of last night’s meal, pounded in his chest, and he went from slightly chilly to hot and feverish as blood was forced through his circulatory system. It mixed with the embalming fluid and left him feeling full and constipated. He didn’t want to get up, but he also didn’t want to go on lying there. He was the definition of miserable.
Before long, the pain became too great and he got up to pace, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and gritting his teeth. Merrick, who slept very little if at all, sat in his chair and watched, trying his best to talk him through it. “It’ll be over soon,” Merrick said. “The pain receptors in your brain are the first to go. When they burn out, you won’t feel anything.”
“When?” Dom asked, his voice raising with the tide of pain.
“A couple days?”
“A couple days???”
“The pain will lessen gradually,” Merrick said, “this is the worst of it.”
Dom believed that this was, indeed, the worst of it, but he doubted it would lessen gradually. For the rest of the day, the pain got worse and worse until every light blinded him, every sound turned his stomach, and the smell of anything made his gorge rise. The cloying smell of the embalming fluid, the light but unmistakable odor of dead flesh, and the scent of stale blood sitting in decomposing stomachs made him want to vomit, but he was afraid to. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of blood rushing from his mouth and splattering the floor. He still possessed enough of his facilities, he believed, to go insane.
Pain has a way of darkening one’s mood, and by the time the sun began to set, Dom was in the most sour mood possible. Even Merrick’s calm, fatherly voice was beginning to get on his nerves. When he took the oath to him the day before (or was it the day before that?), he turned his faith and trust over to Merrick entirely. He was finally accepted, included, finally had the love and fellowship that, in the pit of his soul, he had always wanted. Merrick understood him, Merrick was kind to him.
But deep down, Dom realized that he didn’t fully trust him. He said that his brain didn’t rot because he was “lucky.” That sounded like some bullshit to Dom. Why wasn’t Joe a blithering idiot too? Was he lucky as well? Did lightning strike in the same place twice? In life, people had done nothing but hurt and lie to Dom. Why would death be any different? He thought back to the strange liquid that always seemed to leak from Merrick’s nose, and Joe’s. He thought it was embalming fluid, but it never leaked from his own nose, or from anyone else’s. He tried to tell himself that it was far too soon to judge, but once he began to doubt something, his mind raced away. He felt a twinge of guilt, as Merrick had done absolutely nothing to deserve his doubt, but goddamn it, his head was on fire and he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.
Just after sundown, the music began as Club Vlad opened for the night. It throbbed in the center of Dom’s head and made him want to claw his eyes out. When it became too much for him, he slipped away and stumbled into the sultry summer night. He came out in the alley running behind the club, clutching his head and breathing through bared teeth. He staggered, bumped into a metal trash can, and roared at the top of his lungs, as if he could purge himself of the pain by screaming.. His voice echoed and came back to him, making the pain worse.
Merrick was lying. He knew it. People always lied to him. His brain was rotting and PEOPLE WERE LYING! Flashing with anger, he slammed his fist into the brick wall of a Chinese restaurant. He barely felt anything so he did it again and again until his hand was lumpy and shaking. He sat heavily on the ground and pressed his hands to his head. It felt like maggots were burrowing into his brain, and he was suddenly terrified that they really were. He needed to stop this awful pain, but how?
An idea came to him.
The funeral home.
Maybe there was something there.
He was on his feet and lumbering there before the thought had even finished reverberating through his mind. It was a long shot, but he was desperate. On the way there, he stuck to the shadows, staying out of the light cast by the streetlamps and avoiding people. When he passed them, he kept his head down. When he reached the funeral home, he went to the back door where he and Jessie had gone the other day. He tried it, and it opened.
Inside, he bounced off the walls like a pinball, knocking over an end table and tearing at the flesh of his head, pulling it away in long, gray strips. He panted like a wild animal, his body a raging tempest of emotions. It was reaching a crescendo, he thought, his brain was about to go supernova. The world dimmed, things got really echoy. The young man he’d picked the embalming fluid up from was there, looking scared.
Flashing, Dom grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, knocking a painting of a flowery field to the carpet. Everything seemed to go in slow mo. “How does Merrick keep his brain from rotting?” Dom heard himself demanding from far away. “How does he keep the pain away?”
The man trembled. “I-I-”
Dom slammed him again. “Tell me or I’ll make you like me.”
“No!” the man wailed. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes wet with fear.
“How?”
“He-He uses a solution,” the man stammered. “Some kind of special thing. It preserves his brain. That’s all I know.”
An idea occurred to Dom.
Holding the man by the back of his neck, Dom dragged him into the embalming room and pushed him against the table. His head felt like it was swelling. Hot, screaming, getting ready to explode. He looked around, found the embalming machine, and grabbed the hose. There was a sharp tip on it so that you could jam it into a body. He held it in his hand, hesitating for just a moment before pressing it to his temple. The man watched in horror as Dom slowly shoved the tip into his head. It tore his flesh, broke through his skull, and sank into his brain. He felt no pain, only pressure, but cried out anyway. His eyes rolled up into his head and a shudder went through his body.
“Turn it on!” he yelled.
“That’s not what he -”
“TURN IT ON!”
Starting, the man turned the machine on. Cold embalming fluid squirted directly into Dom’s brain. Almost at once, the pain began to ebb away, replaced only by a fuzzy sense of numbness. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, looking for all the world like an addict taking a hit of his favorite substance after a long and trying day. Fluid leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes and dripped down the back of his throat.
The man waited for a long time, then turned the machine off.
The pain was gone.
At least for now.
“Tell me again,” Dom said.
The man did. Merrick used a special preserving agent to keep his brain intact. Joe, the man suspected, got it as well. So Merrick had lied to him.
Dom felt betrayed.
And angry.
Leaving the man (Dom realized that he didn’t even know his name), he walked back to Club Vlad, his hands fisted in his pockets. All his life, he had been hurt, lied to, and ignored. All his life, people had done wrong to him. And all those years, he just took it.
He resolved not to be so accepting in death.
At last, he was going to stop being a sniveling little bitch and stand up for himself.
When he reached Club Vlad, he slammed through the back door and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he called out Merrick’s name. The old man was sitting in his chair, being attended to by Jessie and Matt. He looked startled when Dom came in. “You lied to me,” Dom said, stalking over to his benefactor.
“What are you talking about?” Merrick asked, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You lied to me!” Dom screamed. He bent over and got so close to Merrick’s face that he could have kissed him. “You told me there was no way to save my brain, but that’s not true. You’re pumping your head full of shit and letting the rest of us rot.”
A dark shadow flickered across Merrick’s face. “Watch your tone when you talk to me,” he said. His voice was low, menacing.
“Fuck you,” Dom said. “I should k -”
Suddenly, Dom was being grabbed from behind and yanked back, an arm around his neck. He cried out in alarm as Joe swung him around and slammed him face first into the wall. He heard his nose crunch, felt his teeth shatter. Next, Joe wrestled him to the glitter-sprinkled floor and wedged his knee between his shoulder blades.
Merrick watched with a sneer of disgust, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He wheeled himself over, Jessie holding his IV stand steady and following behind. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Merrick said, “you’re lucky to be a part of this family.”
Cold fear filled the pit of Dom’s stomach, yet he wouldn’t back down, couldn’t back down. He had lived his entire life like a mouse in a burrow, he wasn’t about to live his entire death the same way.
“Fuck your family,” he said defiantly. “And fuck you.”
Merrick’s face darkened and he sat back in his chair. He looked at Jessie and nodded. She went away and came back a moment later holding something in her hand. Dom’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.
A wooden stake, one end honed to a razor point.
Why they had one of those lying around, Dom didn’t know; it’d be like Superman keeping a piece of kryptonite on the mantle over the fireplace. Merrick directed Max and Matt to hold Dom’s arms down/ Joe pivoted, kneeling on his head now so that Dom’s back was exposed. Dom’s heart slammed with terror and tremors raced through his body.
“Is this what you want, Dominick?” Merrick asked. “To die? To truly die?”
Dom swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to live, to love, to have a family one day. He wanted a happy, normal life, the life TV and social media had been promising him since he was a little boy.
But all of that went out the window the night he died in his little apartment. There was no life anymore, just a grotesque parody of life. What was there for him other than death? Clinging desperately onto life for decades like Merrick? Stuffing himself full of embalming fluid and moth balls? Grinding for one more minute just so he could sit hooked up to a machine?
Dom spoke.
“What?” Merrick asked, not having heard.
Dom licked his lips. “Just fucking do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Expectation hung in the air. Finally, breaking the tension, Merrick nodded to Jessie. Kneeling down, she brought the stake up, and Dom closed his eyes.
This was it.
He braced himself for death.
Jessie brought the stake down just as a shot rang out, deafening in the small space. Her head whipped back, embalming fluid, skull fragments, and gray, sickly pieces of brain showering from the back of her head. She flopped back and landed on the floor with a sickening thud.
A woman cop, her black uniform in stark contrast to the burning white light, stood in the doorway to the hall, her gun drawn. Everyone did, indeed, freeze, more out of surprise than respect for authority. They all looked at her, their dead mouths agape, resembling children who’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Everyone on the ground!” she barked.
No one knew what to do. They hadn’t expected to be raided by the police so had not prepared. She jerked her gun and everyone instinctively flinched. “On the ground!” she repeated. To Max: “You too, bone boy.”
The first one to react was Joe. He sprang at her like a big, undead frog. She brought the gun around and fired, but he was already crashing into her. The shot went wild and struck the IV bag next to Merrick; he ducked and let out a sound of fear. The others rushed her, and Dom got quickly to his feet. Jessie lay on the floor, her mouth open in a silent scream and her bony fingers frantically examining the ragged hole in the center of her forehead. For a moment, he was frozen; everything was happening too fast. Then, when Merrick saw him and cried, “Stop him!, he came alive. Jessie tried to grab at his leg, but he kicked her hand away and stomped on it like it was a giant spider. On the other side of the room, Matt, Joe, and Max had forced the cop to the ground. Perhaps excited by all the action, perhaps just hungry, they began to tear her apart. She howled in pain, and the last thing Dom saw before he fled was her open, blood-filled mouth. Her eyes were filled with pain…with terror.
After that, Dom ran.
***
When the interloper was dead, Merrick directed Joe and Matt to dispose of the body. “Get rid of it,” he said wearily and rubbed his temples, “make sure it isn’t found.”
They rolled her into a carpet from the office, and the way her feet stuck out may have been comical under other circumstances.
Goddamn it, this was bad. Merrick’s entire philosophy rested on avoiding detection. He had done well in that regard. Whereas other vampires had attacked their villages and gotten themselves dug from the ground and staked, he had made it four decades. He never shat where he ate, and there is no bigger turd than killing a cop. They might dawdle on all the boys who’d gone missing - taken because their blood was stronger and more robust than the blood of girls - but they would not take a cop dying lightly at all.
Merrick owned various businesses around the country. He and the others would simply move on. Tomorrow night, they would disappear into the night. They had done it before and they would likely do it again. Once things were settled at their new base of operations, he would have Joe killed for all the trouble he’d caused.
And Dom?
Let him go.
The little rat wouldn’t last a month on his own.
“Jessie?”
Jessie sat against the wall, gazing into space.
“Jessi…start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear. The shot had all but lobotomized her.
Damn it.
Joe backed the van up to the back door of Club Vlad, and then helped Matt carry the carpet-rolled body down the stairs. They loaded it in and closed the back doors. Together, they drove around looking for a place to dump it. Merrick wanted it to go unfound, but Joe doubted there was anywhere isolated enough in the city. On a whim, he drove to Washington Park, a vast expanse of green trees and shadows. There was a large pond there. It seemed the best option. They were leaving tomorrow anyway, so did it really matter?
Joe backed the van to a railing overlooking the dark water and put it in park. He and Matt got out, fetched the body, and carried it to the railing. They lifted and heaved it over. It splashed. Thus, they rid themselves of Vanessa Rodregiez.
***
Bruce sat anxiously up in his easy chair and waited for his cell to ring.
Parked in front of the TV by warm lamplight, a beer wedged between his legs, he’d been watching the 11’o’clock news when the phone rang. He picked it up and it was Vanessa. “Hey,” she said, “I think I found our body?”
“Which one?” Bruce asked and took a drink. “We have a lot of those these days.”
“Dominick Mason.”
Bruce sat forward in his chair. “Dead Dom? Where?”
“He just came out of a funeral home, ironically enough.”
“That sounds about right,” Bruce said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m following him east on Central.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Bruce asked.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
Bruce sat the phone aside and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At some point, he fell asleep sitting up, his head lulled to one side and his mouth open. He snorted himself awake, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He checked his phone and was perturbed to see that it was past 2am.
Vanessa hadn’t called.
He dialed her number and let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Sighing, he ended the call, then waited a few minutes and called again.
Still no answer.
It was possible she had forgotten. Maybe the guy turned out to not be Dead Dom after all. She followed some random guy around, realized it, and that was that. Hell, she was probably too embarrassed to call and tell him about it.
Something told him that wasn’t right, however.
There was something else going on here.
Something…darker.
Just before 3am, his phone rang. He snatched it off the end table next to the chair and answered it. It was Burt, the night sargent. “Rodriguez is missing,” he said simply.
Bruce’s heart sank. “Missing?”
“Yeah, she hasn’t checked in for hours and she isn’t answering calls.”
“I’m on my way,”
Bruce tore through the house, pulling on his uniform, socks, and shoes in less time than it took a Daytona 500 pit crew to service a car. In ten minutes he was speeding down 787, the Albany skyline rising in the distance. As he hurried to the station, he thought back to his last conversation with Vanessa. She’d found Dom the Dead Man, the “corpse” who’d scared Ed Harris out of a 20 year career. Despite all their talk about vampires and the living dead, Bruce didn’t believe it, not really. Even so, he was sure that Dominick Mason had done something to Vanessa.
He checked in at the station before doing anything else. They had triangulated Vanessa’s last known location via cell towers. Cops were already out searching the streets for her. Bruce went out as well, intending to start from her last known position and work his way east on Central. The closest funeral home was Tebbutt and Frederick on Central. There was also Lasak & Gigliotti on North Allen Street. Bruce didn’t know which one Vanessa had seen Dom come out of, so he checked both.
Both were deserted at this hour.
Undeterred, Bruce drove up and down Central Ave. At one point, he noticed a shape in an alleyway that looked human. He hit the brakes, jumped out, and pointed his gun at it. “Freeze!”
An old wino stepped out of the darkness. “Alright, you got me,” he said, hands up. “I started COVID. It was an accident, I swear.”
Bruce sighed and put his gun away.
For two more hours, Bruce searched the streets of Albany for Vanessa. At 4am, he spotted a squad car abandoned in the rear parking lot of an abandoned gas station on lower Lark Street. He called it in and the desk sergeant confirmed that it was the one Vanessa had signed out that night.
Still there was no sign of Vanessa herself.
Just after dawn, as the city came alive and CDTA buses began lumbering up and down the streets, Bruce got a call on his cell. “A jogger found a body in Washington Park.”
Bruce was in his personal car. He had no bubble light, no siren. Even so, he sped through the streets like he did, blowing through red lights and stop signs with little care to himself or anyone else. When he got to Washington Park, he found an army cops by the pond, the scene cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. He slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, and jumped out without even turning off the engine.
The body was rolled up in a carpet and lying on the bank. Two beat cops unrolled it at Bruce’s direction. “We should wait for -” one of them started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Do it.”
They compiled, and at the carpet’s center, like a rotten cream filling, was the body of Vanessa Rodregiuez. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide and staring. Her throat had been mangled and ripped away, her head nearly severed. Even in the black and red mess, Bruce could make out the teeth marks and puncture wounds. They may have looked like something else to anyone else who saw them, but he knew, in that moment, what they were dealing with.
A sharp pang of horror sliced through him, and his knees went weak.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the beat cops drew.
Bruce fell to, rather than knelt on, one knee. He bent over the body, a mixture of horror and grief welling his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her in death, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he visually examined the body. She had bruises on her face, defensive wounds on her hands, and her gun was gone. Whoever had attacked her, she put up a fight.
Something glinted on her pants.
“What’s that?” one of the cops asked.
“I dunno,” the other replied, “but it’s all over the carpet.”
Indeed, there were glinty little specks all over it, winking like mocking eyes. Nice work, eh? We really fucked her up, didn’t we? Wink wink.
“It looks like…”
The other cop cut him off. “Glitter.”
Bruce flashed back to his visit to Club Vlad the other day.
There had been glitter everywhere.
Bruce stood up.
He had work to do.
***
Instead of going back to the station to start his shift, Bruce went to Lowes. There, he bought a mallet, a gas can, and a dozen sticks of wood. An employee in a blue vest used a machine to sharpen them to a wicked point and he took his purchases to the car. Next, he drove over to the Mobil station and filled the gas can. He was so hellbent on revenge that he sprang for premium, the good stuff. No expense shall be spared.
His final stop was at a Catholic church. He filled a canteen with holy water from the marble font by the door, then swiped a crucifix from the wall. He stopped by the station, went inside, and grabbed a black duffle bag with POLICE written across the front in yellow. He opened the gun cabinet in his office, took out a shotgun, and loaded it with shells. He grabbed a handful from the box and stuffed them into his pocket.
He was just finishing up when Bertha came in. “There you are,” she spat, “I’ve waited long enough for you to do something. I demand -”
Bruce shoved the duffle bag into her arms. “Make yourself useful.”
“What?” she demanded.
“We’re going to get your granddaughter,” Bruice lied. Kind of.
Bertha’s demeanor changed. “Good. It’s about time. I was starting to think you were a complete incompetent.”
Bruce didn’t answer. Outside, he plucked the bag out of Bertha’s hands and tossed it into the backseat. He slipped behind the wheel and Bertha sat in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Club Vlad,” Bruce said and started the engine.
“I want all of them arrested.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said.
She barked orders the entire way there. Bruce was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard her. The image of Vanessa’s ruined throat and terror-twisted face haunted him, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back and forced himself to calm down.
I’ll cry when I’m done killing, he thought.
A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of Club Vlad. It was a hot and sunny day and the place seemed even more ominous because of it. The windows were black, the front cast in perpetual shadows by the old marquee from when it used to be a theater. The place was surely closed, but Bruce could hear music still playing from inside, some techno dance bullshit. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”
Getting out, he slung the dufflebag over his shoulder and carried the shotgun, the canteen full of holy water clasped to his belt. Bertha carried the gas can, looking confused. “Why do we need this?” she asked.
“We’re burning the place down.”
Bertha blinked in surprise…then an evil grin carved across her face. “That’ll show the bastards.”
Unlike last time, the door was locked. Bruce used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass, then reached inside and unlocked the door, being careful not to cut himself. This was the point of no return. What he had in mind would probably get him kicked off the force or even thrown in jail - and we all know how tough jail can be for a former barnaclehead. The memory of Vanessa’s contorted face pushed him on, however.
He’d suffer any consequences he needed to just so long as he got the sons of bitches who did this to her.
Inside, the club was cool and cave-like. Strobe lights flashed, on and off, black and white, dazzling Bruce’s eyes. The bartender was at his station, cleaning up from the night before. When he saw Bruce and Bertha come in, he started. Bruce pointed the shotgun at him. “Don’t fucking move,” he commanded.
The bartender hesitated, then reached for something under the bar.
The shotgun kicked in Bruce’s hands, and the bartender flew back, turning as he crashed into the barback. Bottles, glasses, and mugs crashed to the floor along with the bartender. Bruce racked the gun, and the shell flew out. He moved low and fast now, expecting to be swarmed by vampires, living thugs who worked for vampires, or vampire thugs who worked for themselves.
Though the shot had been like thunder, no one came.
Bruce had no idea where to go, but he imagined that vampires were naturally gravitate to the lowest part of the building. Was there a basement? Shit, he should have looked up the building plans at city hall. Damn, this is what happens when you go off half-cocked. He searched around a bit, opening doors and sweeping the rooms beyond with the shotgun. He found no basement, only stairs leading up. “Stay close,” he said to Bertha.
In the lead, Bruce crept up the stairs, the flashlight on the shotgun providing a cone of clean, white light. At the top of the stairs, he went right, and came to an office and a store room. Backtracking, and bumping into a bungling Bertha, he went into the next room. It was large and open with a vaulted ceiling, almost like a ballroom. Here the same strobe lights throbbed on and off, making him dizzy. Was this to dazzle prospective vampire hunters?
Either way, this was the place. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some curled up on their sides and others in the classic vampire pose: Flat on their backs with their hands laced over their chests. In the center, like the sun to the planets, Merrick Garvis lay slumped back in his wheelchair, his neck exposed for any potential assassin to come and cut. Not that it would kill him. At least Bruce didn’t think it would.
“They’re all dead,” Bertha whispered. She looked around and gasped. “There’s Jessie.”
Jessie lay on her back, her hands folded on her chest. She had a ragged bullet hole in the center of her forehead. “Oh, God,” Bertha wavered, “someone shot her.”
He hoped it was Vanessa. And he hoped it fucking hurt.
Looking around, Bruce couldn’t find Dominick Mason. Was he the one who killed Vanessa? Was it a group effort? He wanted the little son of a bitch bad, but it looked like he’d have to go on without him. They didn’t have much time.
Unshouldering the duffle bag, he knelt down and rummaged around. “Start splashing that gas on the bodies,” he said.
“But -”
“Just do it,” he snapped.
There must have been a harder edge in his voice than normal, because Bertha jumped and did as she was told. She upended the can and began to splash gasoline onto the sleeping forms, the smell of it acrid and strong.
Taking out a stake and the mallet, Bruce went over to Merrick and knelt down. He gripped the stake in one hand and placed it firmly against Merrick’s chest. He brought the mallet up and hesitated, the gravity of what he was doing finally reaching him. What if he was wrong? What if -
Merrick’s head whipped up and their eyes locked.
Too late.
Bruce brought the mallet down as hard as he could. The stake drove deep into Merrick’s heart, and the vampire let out a howling screech that rang through the chamber like the cry of a banshee. His bony fingers clawed at the stake and his head whipped from side to side, his back arching and his robe coming open. In the quick strobe pattern, Bruce was shocked to see that his body was little more than a wood frame, chicken wire, and cotton balls. His blacked heart was hidden behind a screen of mesh that the stake had easily torn through. It throbbed, seemingly in time with the strobe lights, and Merrick let out another wail.
Bertha screamed, and Bruce jumped to his feet.
The vampires, drawn by their master’s cries of distress, were rising to their feet. Two, four, six of them, pale and ethereal like ghosts in a gothic mansion. They came toward Merrick, and Bruice fell back a step. The old man had gone still and lay slumped to one side, his eyes open and his mouth slack, embalming fluid leaking from the corner of his lips. Jessie bent over him and touched his face. Though she moved like a zombie, with no human emotion, Bruce was crazily sure that it was a touch of tenderness and love. Merrick didn’t stir.
He was dead.
Jessie looked at him. Yellow liquid leaked from her eyes like tears. Instead of attacking him, she turned on her grandmother and slammed her against the wall. Bertha screamed and dropped the can. It landed on its side, its contents sloshing out onto the floor. A man that resembled the pictures Bruce had seen of Joe Rossi only deader rushed him, slamming into him and knocking the shotgun aside. It hit the floor and skidded away. Joe grabbed Bruce around the throat and squeezed. Still the lights flashed, off and on, off and on. The walls thrummed with the mechanized beat of dance music, pierced only by Bertha’s screams as Jessie ripped out her throat.
Joe leaned in, his fangs wicked and glowing in the light. Bruce clawed at the monster’s face, tearing away strips of dead flesh. Joe turned his head to the side, and Bruce kneed him in the groin. Even dead, getting kicked in the balls hurt like hell, apparently. Joe’s grip loosened and Bruce was able to shove him off. Bruce unclasped the canteen and frantically screwed the cap off as Joe recovered. Joe sprang at him again, and Bruce splashed him in the face.
A sound like sizzling meat filled the air, and Joe screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands to his face and danced around the room, his skin liquifying and oozing between his fingers. The others were coming now, led by a terrible skeletal thing. Bruce scooped the shotgun off the floor, brought it around, and fired. The blast hit the thing dead center, tearing it literally in half. The top half flew back, an all too human look of surprise on its face, and the bottom half fell over with a wet thud. Another vampire came at, and Bruce slammed it across the face with the butt of the gun. He heard its jaw crack, saw teeth flying.
Bertha lay dead on the floor, Jessie bent over her. The smell of Bertha’s blood attracted the others, who seemed to forget about Bruce, Merrick, and everything else. Joe was on his knees, wailing in pain, and the skeletal thing was pulling itself toward Bertha. A feeding frenzy broke out as vampires fought to get a piece of her the way piglets might fight over their mother’s teat. Bruce watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, but recovered himself. He grabbed the gas can from the floor and dumped the rest of its contents on Merrick’s body, the feeding vampires’ backs, and the floor, using the last of it to make a little trail to the door. He tossed the can aside, bent down, and stuck a match.
A huge, fiery whump filled the room, and fire streaked along the trail. The vampires all went up in a huge ball of flames, and fire shot up Merrick’s body, catching his robe, his hair, and the wooden frame that had kept him semi upright for God knows how long. Letting out inhuman screams, the vampires broke from Bertha’s corpse. One stumbled around, bounced off the wall, and fell; another toddled toward Bruce before falling to its knees. The half skeleton kept drinking from Bertha’s neck even as it burned.
The heat was enormous, baking. Bruce backed away, and the last thing he saw before smoke obscured his vision was Merrick Garvis.
He was literally melting.
***
Dominick Mason tried to go home, but he no longer had a home. All of his worldly possessions sat on the sidewalk in front of his building, discarded coldly as easily. His key didn’t work in his door and there was a FOR RENT sign on it. Why would it be any other way? He was dead. Sooner or later, everyone forgets you when you’re dead, and all the things you held so dear wind up in the trash. It was a hard pill to swallow, but most people aren’t around to see it after they die.
He was.
From his building, he walked east toward Washington Park. In the distance, thick, black smoke billowed into the air, and sirens rose. He barely noticed and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No more rubbernecking for him. That was for the living.
The pain that had plagued him so the previous day came back, only less this time. Maybe he was imagining it, but it was getting harder to think. Not that he cared, really. What was there to think about anyway? How he had no one to mourn or miss him? How he died and not one single person, except for maybe his mother, cared, or even noticed? How he had done nothing with his life? Even to the women he’d slept with, what was he? Just another dating app hookup. They probably didn’t even remember his name.
Merrick had been right about one thing. Death was easy. It was life that was hard…life that hurt.
With that in mind, Dominick made his way to Washington Park. It was a vast and deep place with many small caves and thickets. Kids played on the playground, their cries of laughter scenting the still air. It had grown cloudy and began to rain. Still, smoke poured into the sky in the direction of Club Vlad. Dom didn’t wish ill on Merrick and the others, didn’t hope it was them burning. He didn’t care anymore. Not about them, not about anyone. For better or worse (and he would argue it was worse), his life was over. His time came days ago, he just missed the boat.
Picking out an isolated little area, Dom sat against a tree with his legs splayed out in front of him. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, thinking was hard now. His mind felt sluggish, cold. He was thirsty…so, so thirsty, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the bugs found him. Flies buzzed around him and laid their eggs in his skin. Beetles scuttled over him, followed by worms.
Next, it was the birds. They ate out his eyes and nibbled at his blue, bloated skin.
The animals came last.
Their appetites were bigger.
And they left little remaining of poor, outcast Dominick Mason.
***
That night, Bruce sat alone in his little trailer, a bottle of whiskey wedged between his legs and unshed tears in his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the darkened TV set and took long swallows from the bottle. He planned to drink until he forgot or passed out, whichever came first. He tried to not think about Vanessa, but in his addled state, he couldn’t control himself, and began to cry. When that storm passed, like the others before it, he chugged from the bottle.
As distant church bells clanged the hour - midnight - a feeble knock came at the door. Bruce took another drink and it came again. Getting up, he stumbled, nearly fell, and gripped the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.
Again, the knock.
“I’m coming,” Bruce slurred. He staggered to the door and fought with the lock. He was dizzy and seeing double.
When he got it, he opened the door.
The bottle dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor.
Vanessa, clad in a puke green hospital gown, stood on the step, her hands pressed to her chest and a look of anguish on her milk white face. Her head tilted to one side, the wounds on her neck cleaned but open, gaping. Her dark eyes shone with tears. “I’m dead,” she said.
Breaking down in tears, she collapsed against him and they sank to the floor. She was cold and smelled. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest anyway. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he said drunkenly. “Hey, it’s alright.
“I’m dead,” she repeated, and her voice broke. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce held her close, trying to warm her icy skin. He didn’t know what to say, so he cried with her.
“You’re safe now,” he said, “it’s going to be okay.”
“I want blood,” she said and sobbed harder, “I want to hurt people.”
“Shhh,” Bruce said again. “It’s okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a utility knife. He flicked the blade across his wrist and searing pain shot up his arm. “Here,” he said and offered her his blood, “drink this.”
He did this without care and without thought. She needed him, and one barnaclehead always backs up another.
Vanessa hesitated, looking from his face to the oozing blood, unsure.
“Go ahead,” he told her.
Vanessa brought his wrist to her mouth.
And began to drink.

Playing from level 1(sor), at level 2(war). Race: Shaffer kai Subclasses: shadow / hexblade
So not snorting diamond dust, just cheezing a few spell slots per ling rest as to not disrupt the normal flow of the game.
It would seem general consensus for the Sorlock falles into these three categories.
War2/sorX- best spell progression
War3/sorX- get pact boon, l2 slots
War6/sorX- get pact feature, 3rd invocation, lvl 3 slots.
So 1-5 I'm pretty content to get metamagic and evocations online.
From there, idk.
2/x makes the most sense. We got what we wanted from warlock. Time to move on.
3/x does give you a pact boon and you CAN do pact of the blade Pam or tomb for a lot of added utility. I just don't know if that's worth having to give up an or rb. Yes there are some really useful l1 ritual spells (like find familiar) but I feel like it's not enough to justify in either case to justify.
6/x let's you do it all at the cost of spell progression. Pam with eldrich smite or being able to use l3 ritual spells (like tiny hut or phantom steed) seem really strong.
End of the day, the Sorlock HAS to have sp bandwidth to be worth anything, so these warlock lvls feel like theyd have to be on the back end, which seems meh when we're talking about other clasters lvl5/6 spells.
I'm leaning towards efficiency and going 2/x but pact of the tomb is like staring at me....trying to have darkness as my concentration spell at l4 currently hex. Do control stuff like rb into a web. Not necessarily crit fishing but Elvin accuracy is likely going to be the first feat.
Opinions?
To put some more context...party is a blade singer, pact of the tomb warlock w/ devils sight, a death cleric and a druid and barbarian that pop in and out of the campaign.

I don’t know exactly what to tag this, but I’ve been dating my boyfriend for a little over 5 months now. He is a survivor of CSA that spanned from ages 8-14, had a heroin addicted dad, left a very toxic relationship, lost his grandparents to Covid, then lockdown happened shortly after and it triggered his descent into binge drinking for 3 years straight. His family is very toxic and dysfunctional (and enablers) which doesn’t help matters.
I knew him when he was still drinking. We became very close friends and at one point and he even talked me out of suicide and I am eternally grateful for that. Eventually, we confessed our feelings for one another and we started dating. He quit cold turkey 14 days into our relationship. And he was sober for three months before he relapsed and then stopped drinking again 6 days ago.
Not even the next day, his mom gave him some of her Percocet and Dilaudid. He was snorting them for 3 days straight. Two days ago, his Aunt (heroin addict and crashing at their place for a few days until she finds a place to live) gave him alcohol, and he drank it.
When I finally was able to call him, we were supposed to discuss a game plan for him getting help and boundary setting (something neither of us know how to do, really), and it was unproductive as he was near blackout drunk and he, his family, and aunt were all arguing and screaming at each other (typical) and he was just having anger outbursts left and right, and loudly expressing his ongoing suicidal ideation. And while his anger was never directed at me, it still was very scary for me to witness and hear (trauma trigger). That was my breaking point and is why I’m writing this today.
When he quit drinking the first time, shit hit the fan. He was doing okay financially (given the current economy), and was eventually gonna move out. His doctor lost his papers he filled out to keep getting disability money, and he’s been unable to work (he works at home) due to his mental state. He is trying to get the disability part figured out. Not having any real income, no way to move out, and dealing with his dysfunctional home life, he was finding it harder to remain sober and eventually relapsed. He started pawning his possessions (things he genuinely enjoyed, like his ps2 and mtg decks) to fund his drinking habits. It started out tame and then just became binge drinking again.
He also struggles with CPTSD, ADHD, Autism, Anxiety, and dissociation. We both suspect he might have a cluster b personality disorder. I have the same mental health issues, but change the potential personality disorder to dxed Schizoaffective (bipolar 2 subtype). We both have issues with emotional regulation (in different ways) and catastrophic thinking. I am currently in a severe depressive episode and he got me to get professional help. I am getting help, but it’s difficult because we are very codependent and overextend ourselves to each other too much and too often.
We both know that this is toxic and want/need to change it. Yesterday was the first official day of my second burnout, and yesterday was when he texted me apologizing for everything he has put me through, how much shame he feels, and that he is now (finally) pursuing professional help for substance abuse and mental health issues. Such inopportune timing, if you ask me. I told him ‘I appreciated his apology but I need time to forgive him and need to take time for myself’. He understands and told me to take all the time I need.
I genuinely want us to work out, and he does too. We both want to live together someday and get a cat. He is an amazing human being despite all of his struggles and is the first relationship I’ve been in that isn’t one-sided, and just about getting sex out of me. We have a lot in common and shared interests, we spend a lot of quality time together, and we both love and care for each other (I’m burned out atm for an indefinite period of time so I am kinda apathetic in regards to how I feel about him rn), but I’m just at a loss. I don’t know how it’ll all turn out on my end of things and I hate that. I hate the uncertainty of the future.
Right now, I’m at a low point and am considering suicide if things don’t work out. My home life is shit, and I have no other real support system but him. I’ve burned so many bridges in the past being bipolar, so I don’t have any friends anymore. And it’s so hard trying to make real life friends again and maintain those friendships. He’s the only consistent person in my life as he’s the only person that’s able to tolerate my symptomatic bullshit, and there’s just something about being in love (especially with him) that I don’t want to lose out on. I just feel lost and hopeless as he’s my only reason to live until I can start living for myself eventually. And now I’m worried that that it’ll go down the drain and I’ll have nothing, again.
I’m aware that I have attachment issues and that I’m a very codependent person. I know that I’m not an angel in this situation either, mainly because of this. I have so much severe trauma (especially grooming and sexual) that he can relate to, in a way, and I guess we’re also trauma bonded as well.
I honestly don’t know anymore. I just want us to be okay, I can’t stand the idea of moving on and I just want to fall back in love again. This is the second time I’ve burned out and I don’t want it to be permanent. I’m currently spending my days just crying a lot about this, and dissociating. I just want to love him again, especially because he is now seeking help. I want to love him and feel like I’d be fucking him over if things just didn’t work out because he’s finally doing what he needs to recover, and get better for the both of us.
Also, I am getting help. I am in a partial hospitalization program, and am being discharged this week. I’m hoping the DBT place I was referred to is willing and able to take me. However, I just don’t know if I’m functional enough now for the help to even work at this point. All I can do is cry.

heyo :) Didn't think I could, but I scripted an entire episode :D I like it - hope you too ^{^} Enjoy :)
(this episode is set in season 2 and based on theories and assumptions - and also starring some OCs XD for this episode, the entourage of Vincent Thorpe aka his bodyguards Cedric and Barnes and butler Davis)
Scene: Weathervane. Lucas is working behind the counter when he notices a lot of traffic noise. He looks out the side window front and sees a queue of cars heading for Nevermore. He sighs tristly, and turns back to his work with a somber expression.
Cut to the courtyard of the school. The group is already seated at their table – around them, the long ones for parent day are already being arranged.
Wednesday: I didn’t think they’d do another parent day so soon.
Enid: Well, they probably think the students can use seeing their families right now.
Bianca: (gloomy, not looking up from her phone) Most of them for sure.
Xavier: (looks at her, compationaletly) Is your mother coming?
Bianca: (coldly) I guess I really misjudged her. (her face twitches a little, as if she was holding back tears to some degree)
Xavier: (looks at her for another moment) Well… I can keep you company for sure today, since dad won’t show up. He didn’t even bother with a text this time.
Bianca: (looking up from her phone) That’s weird.
Xavier: (shrugs) I guess he decided I’m old enough now to know how things go. (he chuckles snidely) But I guess he really does have an appointment … maybe business partners, maybe some... pretty company. Who knows. (snorts) Do you know the difference between the two?
Ajax: (cringes) Please no.
Wednesday: (not looking up from her book) The pretty company have limits what they do for money.
The table takes a moment, then breaks down in giggles. Wednesday smiles a little.
Xavier: (smirks, points at her, approving this punchline) Hm. It’s actually their outfits when they try to get on his lab.
They chuckle a little again.
Xavier: (sighs) He’d rather have someone else sitting on his that place his own behind on a bench at this stupid school for sure.
Bianca: (warningly) Xavier.
Xavier: (angrily) What? It’s true! Anything’s more important that his useless son’s dumb parent day.
A voice behind him: Oh, I would never put it this way, dear boy.
Xavier freezes. He slowly turns around to where the others are looking. His father is standing at a gateway nearby, flanked by two bodyguards, smiling at him.
Xavier: What…?
Vincent: My son.
He gets up and walks over to the trio, bewildered. Around him, some other parents are eyeing his father, strangely concerned.
Xavier: Why are you here?
Vincent: (chuckles) Why, it’s parent day. I came to see you.
Xavier: (stuttering) Y-yeah, I … I guess … b-but…
Vincent wants to say something more, but his phone rings – it’s the overture of Swan Lake. He sighs and takes the call.
Vincent: (stepping away) Excuse me.
He leaves with one of his bodyguards. The other and Xavier stay behind as he walks away, looking after him until he’s far enough away and busy talking. Then they turn to each other, hugging briefly, but tightly.
Xavier: Ced!
Cedric: (chuckles) How are you slugger.
Xavier: (smiles, pats his back as he lets go) Pretty good, I suppose.
Cedric: (turning to their table) Is this the new crowd?
Xavier: Yeah, erm – that’s Enid (she waves), Eugene (waves too) and Wednesday (doesn’t move, just stares at him).
Cedric: Yes, let’s see – (pointing at them) the nice new roommate, and Ajax’ girlfriend, and (chuckles) Addams, of course.
Xavier: (rolls his eyes) Come on now.
Cedric: What? I know who she is.
Wednesday: Does he talk about other things currently?
Cedric: (shrugs) You know how boys his age are.
Xavier: (groans) Why?
Cedric: Still not saying anything. You won’t be this lucky with your dad.
Xavier: (looks at him, concerned) … I’m in trouble, right?
Cedric: (sighs) You think?
Bianca: This isn’t our fault, if he asks. We try to keep him out of it.
Wednesday: It’s true.
The others nod. Xavier rolls his eyes.
Cedric: I figured that, don’t worry. (smiles at them)
Him and Xavier exchange a look, Cedric shaking his head at him a little, but his expression remains gentle.
Xavier: (shurgs) Boys my age do dumb things, right? Who would hold that against me?
Vincent: (calls from the hallway) Xavier!
Cedric: (looks over at him, then back at Xavier) You know who.
Xavier sighs, then walks over to his father with Cedric. Before he can say anything however, Vincent interrupts.
Vincent: I’d like to see your new art.
Xavier: (sighs) Sure.
They walk away.
The group looks on. Enid leans over to Bianca and Ajax.
Enid: It’s bad, right?
They nod slowly.
Esther Sinclair: (calling from nearby) Enid!
Enid: (sighs)
Thing: (pats her hand)
Esther: (walks into the courtyard, smiling) There’s my little she-wolf!
Enid: (gets up, smiling – Ajax follows her)
Gomez: (coming in next to her) We must have the same daughter. (to Wednesday) Mia lupita!
Wednesday: (smiles a little as her parents and Pugsley enter the courtyard, and gets up to greet them as well)
Esther hugs Enid tightly. She eyes Ajax as he greets Enid’s father Murray, shaking his hand. Ajax turns to her as well as Enid hugs her dad – she smiles, but before he can say anything, his phone buzzes.
Ajax: Oh, my moms will be at the parking lot in a minute. (he kisses Enid on the cheek and walks off) Excuse me. Was a pleasure to meet you. (nods to them) Ma'am. Sir.
Enid’s parents smile at him, but Esther’s drops very quickly after he’s left.
Eugene: (sighs, turns to Bianca, who’s looking at her phone tristly) You wanna get another coffee from the cafeteria before the big storms?
Bianca: (sighs) Why not. Maybe it’ll be bitter enough today to give us a proper gastritis. Or just make us sick. We could use that, right?
They chuckle a little, then get up to leave.

1. Focus Karma Need Want Of the Society Recreation Stimulation Examination Death 1.1 The noble truth of Focus is Energy, the noble Truth of Karma is Management, the Noble Truth of Need is Kombucha, the Noble Truth of Want is The Second Mental, Your Mental, The Noble Truth of Recreation is Marijuana, The Noble Truth of Simulation is Automatons, the Noble Truth of Examination is the Books on Examination, The Noble Truth of Death is Salt 1.1 There is a Truth of Truth The Truth of Energy is Stockpile, The Truth of Management is Treatment, The Truth of Kombucha is Amino, the Truth of The Second Mental is the Intermediary Mental Between Yourself and the World, The Truth of Automatons is the Plumbing Needed, the truth of the Books on Examination is the truth of the Books of the Ruler and the truth of Salt is the Limit of the Body Is Restored by Healthy Nutrition 1.1.1 There is a truth of the truth energy amino, Truth Starch, Truth Sugar, Truth Glycine, Truth Water, Truth Kombucha, Truth Arginine, Truth Serine, Truth Lysine 1.1.2 There is a truth of the ruler which is related to marijuana, Proline Above Lysine 1.1.3 There is a truth of the society related to only trading, Gold above Proline 1.1.4 All of these truths have intermediary truth below them 1.1.5 There is a truth of the botanist, Prozac And Benadryl and Scopolamine and Atropine and Benzyldiol Around Recreation 1.1.6 There is a truth of the schooler, Directly Ordered Female Voice Your Voice Kick Drum Kick Transient Pots N Pans Pots Content Button Mushroom Morel Cache Stash Marisol Bluewater Febreeze Peroxide Nitrate Ammonium Loam Bud Dirt Wheat Soil Potato Around Focus and Karma 1.1.7 There is a truth of the motorcade Above Karma and Below the Want of the society Muffler Transmission Piston Engine Cargo Chassis Fluids Vaseline Nutraloaf Soylent 1.1.8 Marisol Or Mother is Above All Below it 1.1.9 Button Mushroom is Above All Those Below it Three 1.2.0 Ammonium is Above All Those Below it To Marisol 1.2.1 Potato is Above All Those Below it to Marisol Three 1.2.2 Fire 2Fire 4Fire 8Fire 16Fire - A Fire is 5 Fire, At fire set 5,10,20,40, No Fire, at Fire set 10,20,40,80, On fire 1.2.3 Fire Is Below Focus In Energy and Karma is Below Need in Energy and Need is Below Want of the Society In Energy and Recreation is Below Stimulation In Energy And Stimulation is Below Examination In Energy and Examination is Below Death In Energy 1.2.5 Focus Is Pervasive so Energy Indicates Examination Having Occured or A Crops Grown 1.2.6 Examination Happens In Examination Want of the Society Focus Want of the Society Examination 1.2.7 Examination happens for 333 Hours or About 19 Days 1.2.8 Examination Happens in Sets of 333 Hours for 1332 Hours 1.2.9 At the End of Examination Examination Proceeds Automatically in 333 Hours 1.3.0 Want of the Society occurs as the output of crops 1.3.1 Want of the society yields the Amino Nutrients because it is the agricultural or synthetic output 1.3.2 Recreation Activates Marijuana, But Can Be On its Own 1.3.3 20 Marijuana Exist as a product of the lands 1.3.4 Over 20 Other Plants Exist as a product of the lands 1.3.5 Various tabulature of notes Exists with Standpoint Boards 1.3.6 Houses and apartments exist 1.3.7 Private Baths exist 1.3.8 A ledger exists for holding notes at a distribution point 1.3.9 A ledger exists for reasonable retrieval but not reproduction of notes (need original notes) 1.4.0 A ledger exists for deletion of notes but to a skilled observer they are still seeable 1.4.1 The Time One and One at One and One at Two is the time 333 units for each section 1.4.2 The time offset of the noble truths on the fifth reconstruction yields upon which noble truth they were the whole section 1.4.3 Only noble truths passed through the entire system 5 fold are the actual truth of the land 1.4.4 This is held by the guard which there are maybe 20 guard in the lands each city 1.4.5 There are fire weapon which exist which are hand cannon and have a chamber and a loader 1.4.6 There are fire bomb exist which are bomb which have just a chamber but there are just 4 ever 1.4.7 There are 3 sets of scrolls per city and 3 sets of scroll reader 1.4.8 There is 2 sets of scrolls each city which are city rulers 1.4.9 There are farms which exist which feed each city which grow crops 1.4.9 There are buildings in each city 1.5.0 There are normally 4 houses to a prefecture 1.5.1 There are normally 4 rooms to the house 1.5.2 There are 10 modern petrochemical foundry factory which exploit oil from the lands 1.5.3 There are clothing for at least 30 people in each city putting the bedroom load usually at slightly less than 2 a bedroom 1.5.2 There are around 7 military bases which exist but these numbers used to be inflated 1.5.3 There are medicine for at least 30 people in a city 1.5.4 There are toilets only per four people or wherabouts in the city 1.5.5 There are 98 separate prefecture in maybe 3 city spread out 1.5.6 There are potato, furion bannana, old potato, a rose donut wheat, apple, cabbage, turnip, carrot, another potato type, beets, three flowers, 20 marijuana, and other crops grown 1.5.6 There are zucchini grown 1.5.7 There are medicine poppy and heart tonic herb (blue bonnet) and a root which expresses opium and other minor medicinals grown 1.5.8 There are trees which naturally occur which are the colors of cherry blossom 1.5.9 Seeing the trees blossom is the rarest sight in the lands 1.6.0 The twenty guard of the town know how to protect one another 1.6.1 There are various opium which can be taken 1.6.2 There are various new bags of marijuana spray which are the marijuana active 1.6.3 There is a specific sedative created from Crude Oil, SnoreLax Olestra Ketamine 1.6.4 There are various nutrients created from crude oil 1.6.5 There are various computers created from crude oil 1.6.6 There are various liquids created from crude oil including pepsi cola and molten plastic 1.6.7 There are boxes created from crude oil 1.6.8 There are racing Skis created from crude oil 1.6.9 There is a capacity to run one of the computer 1.7.0 The computer yields a stable process blockchain when propagated 1.7.1 The computer notable yields beautiful colors when its process blockchain is propagated 1.7.2 There is a retrieval system for the other computers token 1.7.3 54 Stores now exist in these lands 1.7.4 These stores accept a specific RFID like currency 1.7.5 These stores accept the Gold of the Land Naturally 1.7.6 These stores have vendors wheater and vendors kitty cat and vendors autovend1 1.7.7 Groceries and resources can be bought from the stores 1.7.8 Automobile Motorcade can be bought from the stores 1.7.9 Concrete Objects can be bought from the stores 1.8.0 Designer clothes can be bought from the store 1.8.1 The foundrys create BDU Lower 1.8.2 The foundrys create I <3 NYC Shirt 1.8.3 The firearms create mittens firearm token en masse 1.8.4 The firearms are created at 20 a city to defend the people 1.8.5 Only 5 High Quality Weapon exist per city 1.8.6 A foundry is creating nonlethal weapons 1.8.7 The foundry makes its nonlethal weapon but there is only one per city 1.8.8 An inventor makes a nonlethal weapon 1.8.9 The foundry now produces 2 kinds of ice cream 1.9.0 The foundry now produces illegal goods like silicone pipes 1.9.1 Somebody is Brewing Amino Out of Starches 1.9.2 The Echo Locator is invented 1.9.3 The echo locator is finalized as a product 1.9.4 The echo locator is shipped out the door at 43 a city 1.9.5 The echo locator replaces the scrolls system 1.9.6 The echo locator can be taxed in the old tax system to make it valid in the old system 1.9.7 Two Cool Cats Take Control of the Power System, NateCat and HakeCat 1.9.8 The cool Cats reinvest in medicine and over 50 meningitis cure are found 1.9.9 The smart toilet is invented 2.0.0 The bombs detonate in ebonia and the people are freed 2.0.1 There is 11 grade flooding in ebonia 2.0.2 The ebonian flooding gets better to 7 ebonian remediator a city which are from the new Clement Dogs Clan 2.0.3 Tattoo Ink is Invented from cherry leaves 2.0.4 A tattoo requires somebody to play wizards chess on your skin to leave an indelible mark without killing it 2.0.5 Alpha squad is formed 2.0.6 A cruiser is in the metteranian gulf 2.0.7 The cruiser operates successfully for at least a month with me onboard 2.0.8 I am mainly using starlink 2.0.9 Starlink is accessible in the APV like it always is 2.1.0 You can fetch a battlefeed with starlink 2.1.1 You can fetch a battlesend with starlink (OSC) 2.1.2 OSC Replaces Starlink and LFO is Formed 2.1.3 LFO Replaces engine gasoline due to jet fuel drinking/snorting danger 2.1.4 Nontoxic weed smoke based gasoline is formed for APV 2.1.5 APVs are overclocked with me nearby 2.1.6 Supercapacitor Based APV Is Used For medical evacuation 2.1.7 Supercapacitor has massive distance versus dangerous IC APV 2.1.8 Supercapacitor powers gauss cannon in danger 2.1.9 Megagauss Cannon Invented for David's Aircraft 2.2.1 Megagauss cannon fits en masse onto the aircraft or in david flanagan or david summery's hands 2.2.2. Total david air superiority 2.2.3 Davids golden UH-1 in service 2.2.4 RQ-9 "David" Reactivated 2.2.5 RQ-9 Reapers Cloned 2.2.6 Spicy Chemical Discovered In Marijuana, Raytracing? 2.2.7 David Treated for Virtual Meningitis 3 Years Ago 2.2.8 Deepfake All Virtual Medical Practice Discovered 2.2.9 Marijuanas CH1 Receptor Renamed CB1 Receptor 2.3.0 Foundries in Business 5000$ A Barrel Many Years Default on Loans to 2111$ Barrel, No Effective Product Change 2.3.1 USR THermal IS-2 Scope Invented 2.3.2 USR THermal FLIR Camera for David UH-1 Invented 2.3.3 Driver for USR THermal FLIR Camera for David UH-1 Invented 2.3.4 Overwatch Mega Anti Crime David Stopper Overflights in Service Across the US And Solid Gold UH-1 Lofted By Broomstick Technology in Transmuggle Transwizard Interference of the Calamity Granted to David Flanagan (RQ-9) 2.3.5. Black Operations in the Persian Gulf Nethers Against Al Baghdadi - HVT Steam User In Custody 2.3.6 AC-130 "IBEX" Piloted by Alex M Lamb in Service in Vallejo and Ecuador to Support 141 Team 2.3.7 Proto Nutrient Fish Oil Factory Raided, Illegal Furion Bannana Discovered 2.3.8 Illegal Blueprinting Operations Cease in Favor of Big 11+ Oil Corporations 2.3.9 Minecraft server found and large amounts of population exiting to virtual reality 2.4.0 All players granted 64 planks and free for all 2.4.1 Doto 0 Bot Guard Lurking in Transnational Buddhist Operation Enable Free Play In Minecraft for Various Players 2.4.2 Siddartha's Secret, His Cow, Discovered in Virtual Reality Elder Scrolls No Crime Faction, Siddartha's Cow Goes Rampant and is Infinity Hidden in Every Directory of Starfield 2 The New Game 2.4.3 Many New Games are found with resemble the structure of the cow in markov chain 2.4.4 A new system is found out of cow which can provide for any item retrieval system intrinsically unlocking the singularity where Big 11+ Splits into infinite corporation 2.4.5 All cows are harvested for a typical user but still infinity exist farther away 2.4.6 The user has typically 500000 cows of Siddhartha as a personal cow 2.4.7 Sulfur futures are at an all time high 2.4.8 Justino Beibers Mandates burning of all cow waste in trash bin 2.4.9 Siddartha's Cow are docile as ever and functioning well when shot, they become well 2.5.0 Siddartha (Renchy, Racey's Friend) Is discovered hiding as a soul in neon district undercity of neon petite 2.5.1 The guard is never abolished and continues protecting us 20 to the citizen to this day 2.5.2 Asteroids are discovered in outer space with many palladium more than ever 2.5.3 A supercomputing cloud is made out of the distributed method which avoids the taxing system that the initial ruler invented and does a method 1-Affinity 2-Person 3-Disease where the affinity of each person treats the pair disease and or environment with only instantaneous transmission (Technological singularity) 2.5.4 Virtual clothes are invented the same way as clothes were initially invented, now in the instantaneous unheard 2.5.5. Virtual Medicines are invented in the same way as medicines were invented initially, now in the instantaneous unheard 2.5.6 There is perfect harmony between two instant universes the virtual medicine universe and the analog medicine universe 2.5.7 All of history's knowledge feeds into one system which encodes all its meaning in some dice which always roll a specific meaning and this creates wish or technology on demand 2.5.8 Wish is discovered as a contaminant on the No Crime Library 2.5.9 Wish has always predated meaning so that Wish is the Rulers Initial Nature 2.6.0 All existence is into one history the history of the singularity which procedurally generates by Wish the Rulers Initial Nature For All Citizen 2.6.1 Jeffybeans is the true ruler of siddartha which is prozac benzyldiol 2.6.2 Siddartha wakes up right before lorne happens to her and avoids the suicide booth because phillip j fry is protecting her. 2.6.3 The story is at a cliffhanger while the Universe is at the second end epoch and is failing succesfully very well for hubert I.

Has anyone felt like they’ve become addicted to gabapentin? It’s having bad negative effects and I’m taking it in an unhealthy way, not snorting it or anything just my behavior like I need it constantly. I’ve heard that it’s non-addictive. Has anyone else experienced this? I’m also a recovering alcoholic and I’m noticing very similar behaviors with gabapentin as alcohol. I want to get off but I don’t remember life without it and now can’t imagine how I’ll do it with my anxiety. I don’t even really like the feeling I just don’t like feeling normal. Plz help if you’ve been through this or know anything about it thank you (I am taking about 1,800- 3,600 mg a day )

What's up all! 4th Wall here! I finally have power returned to my home, and can play a little catch up! This one's a heavy hitter, No NSFW needed (I hope) but if you've got kids, be warned.
First, Previous, Next
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A bright flash of blues and whites spat a greyish black object into normal space a mere one hundred Clicks from physical asteroid cloud that provided a natural barrier into the Lurix system. USN Olyvia’s drives instantly flared to life, and she made for the outer edges of the asteroid field with a purposeful stride. The senior Crew was at hand, having alternated shifts so they were well rested for this endeavor. Captain Correllus Grarzia shifted in his chair slightly, watching with interest as his star helmsman switched from his standard control configuration to a more “analog” twin joystick and pedals. ‘The kid really should be piloting a fighter’ he mused just as the young lad turned to look at him. “Ready, skipper”

“Take us in. All ahead slow.” Cory ordered calmly, before keying up the ship wide broadcasting channel. “This is the captain. We’ve just entered the Lurix system. Rig for silent running. I repeat, rig for silent running.” All across the ship, nonessential systems were shut down; their lack of electronic signature aiding the stealth coating on the bulky former troop transport. In engineering. Patrick, Cammy, and the rest of their section powered down a large portion of the larger systems onboard.

Life support was set to emergency backup, with old school oxygen candles lit in special housings that allowed their life-giving emissions to be circulated throughout the ship. Each major section of the vessel had their own supplies of these low-tech solutions, and Olyvia carried enough of these candles to survive for several days without functioning life support if needed.

Only a few were lit this time, using them as an augmentation to allow for minimal use of their perfectly functioning life support systems; and Cammy returned from the compartment just in time to aid in shutting down two thirds of Olyvia’s fusion reactors. This was not usually part of the silent running protocol, but Cory had added it for this mission. While they knew where their target would be, they still knew very little about what defenses awaited them inside the system.

Patrick keyed up the mic, “Engineering reporting in, silent running.”

*acknowledged* came a voice back. And Patrick leaned back in his chair just as Cammy arrived. “Well, that’s that.” He sighed.

Cammy stepped behind his chair, rubbing his shoulders for a second, “candles are lit. Two per section. At this rate we won’t run out for a year.”

Patrick chuckled, standing before looking over at his team, “sandwiches are in the mess hall. Half go now, half after. We’ll wait and go with second shift.” The team nodded and soon. The room was half as full. “Hurry up, and wait” Patrick mused, and turned to the rest. “Hold’em anyone?”

Over the next several days, shifts were kept short with a high rotation frequency. Olyvia picked her way through the natural minefield created by a destroyed world, slipping between the dead planetary shards with deadly caution. She ran quiet, with all but minimal deflectors shut down, and a single detuned laser online on each of her flanks as a last resort against impacts. Cory, Jesse, Patrick, and Cammy met regularly to keep tabs on the ship’s progress. The admiral’s transmission had reached them in time, and the four of them, plus Jacky when she could pry herself from the infirmary, worked to formulate a plan to get into the freighter without killing everyone. They had Hera and Jacobs reports, but those reports also admitted to a certain degree of incredible luck on their part. Things could have gone very differently, and the murder of the freighter during the admiral’s capture operation hinted at a change in tactics from their foe.

Mackenzie’s Privateers had liberated several freighters since they began operations, keeping to their cover as “pirates” by leaving nothing big enough to betray their secrets behind. A few of the other captains had left pieces of inoperative Unity tech, strategically damaged and jettisoned after the fight, as red herrings to convince both the Vorath, and the Thermians that these “pirates” had somehow gotten ahold of Unity warships.


Cory stepped into the cargo bay to meet Patric and Camorra. They were tinkering, carefully he hoped, with one of Olyvia’s harpoon missiles. It was a project triggered by Cammy’s brilliant, if outlandish, idea. “We know these freighters all ran the same codes, and the same infrastructure in their computer cores. Why can’t we hack it. Human computing should be perfectly capable of it.” Cory remembered her words as he stepped up to the two, “at ease” he waved them away as they threatened to salute him, “how’s out little project coming.”


“See for yourself” Patrick smiled handing him a data pad.

Cory took the offered device, quickly scanning through the data, “All I see is Olyvia’s system logs. Did you give me the wrong one?”

Patric smiled evilly, “that is coming from the missile, we found a common power regulator chip that dam near all Delmar freighters use in their integrated core management. Our mole here mimicked that regulators protocols to get into one we installed in a conduit over there” he pointed to an open panel. “It’s designed to cycle through several common chip sets and protocols to get access.”

“You hacked Olyvia?” Cory asked, eyebrow raised in a combination of amusement and irritation.

“Well, “Cammy said calmly, “we had to test it, and Oly’s the only ship close enough…”

“I see…” Cory mused, “it will have to do, we will be reaching the edge of the field in three days, how many of these can you have ready?”

Patrick scratched the red stubble punctuating his jaw line. “Hmm two, maybe three, including that one.” He winced at his captain’s expression, “took us a minute to get the virus right, sorry.”

Cory sounded to himself like a broken record, “I guess that will have to do as well. I’ll leave it to you.” He turned to return to his office but was interrupted half way there by an urgent request for his presence on the bridge.

Jesse rose to greet him as Cory stepped into Olyvia’s command center, and he nodded towards the ready room off to the side. The two of them quickly stepped inside and Jesse closed the door. “Jesse, what’s this about” Cory asked, settling into his desk chair.

Jesse, his first officer, and battle born brother looked at him seriously, “The first of our stealth probes have made it into the system proper….. It’s not good” He tapped at his data pad before handing it to his captain, “The enemy is doing something big down there, and we don’t know what. What we do know, Is that there are three heavy cruisers in orbit, and three more destroyers in floating patrols around the system.”

Cory scrolled through the pad as his first officer made his report, pausing at the same information on the planet’s surface, “These are military installations. This makes no since. We haven’t had a use for Lurix in millennia. It’s always just been a haven for aquatic and semi aquatic species. Why didn’t our intel warn us of this.”

Jesse nodded grimly, “I don’t know for sure, but I have my suspicions.” He reached over, tapping at the tab to open a particular file Cory had yet to find. “We found these in orbit as well.” He pointed to a pair of Delmar constructed freighters, parked in orbit over the marsh world. “I authorized a single transmission to a single drone, uploading Patrick and Camorra’s hacking program into it, and we sent it to one of those freighters... this is what we found.”

Cory opened the indicated file, and felt bile rise in the back of his throat as he watched. “Ready a tight beam, send it back the way we came, Towards Simo.” Jesse looked at his captain in understanding. The risks of transmitting this close to the enemy was a grave risk. Measured against the information they just witnessed; however, it was an absolute necessity. Jesse took the offered tablet, “The Admirals need to see this…. Both of them.”

————————————————————


Clint Stevens groaned as his communicator beeped from his desk. It was a very early morning on a weekend, and Frie had let Natalie stay at her grandparents for the weekend. He quietly slipped from the entanglements of a profoundly comfortable Delmar goddess he had somehow been gifted with as his wife, and silently cursed the inevitable destruction of his plans. The Com was linked to his computer console, and Clint tapped the file as he sat down.

The file opened, beginning with a grim looking Corellus Grarzia who made an intro statement that froze Clint in his thoughts. Before he could begin to prepare himself, images flooded in that turned grogginess into razors edge consciousness ringing with a white hot fury. Frie was ripped from her slumber instantly, reaching for her biometric pistol safe as a response to the unbridled rage she experienced from her husband. It took her a moment to realize that they were not being attacked, and she rushed from their bed, neglecting even basic decency to be by his side.

The two of them watched the Horrors unfold. Children… small children of multiple different races, stacked in a freighter’s hold like cattle, being thrown food like one would an animal. Massive screens played, promising safety and full bellies should they only but kiss the hand of a severe looking Vorath female. All who had not, were treated to daily ice cold sprays mixed with random beatings. He watched as desperate older siblings attempted to shelter their kin from the abuse, often times paying the ultimate price for their valor.

Clint and Frie were spared a further assault on their senses by a beeping light, indicating an urgent call from Clint’s adopted brother. Frie slipped out of view, reaching for a night gown as a furious Mac, accompanied by an equal parts shocked and livid Lyrian, appeared on screen.


“You’ve seen it” Clint stated. There were no barriers between them, no formalities. Only pure truth.

“I have,” Mac rumbled. “Why is it always kids..”

Clint shook his head, “I can have a battle group there in two weeks. It’s not soon enough, but.”

Mac nodded sharply, “I’m redirecting everyone not on critical missions. Simo and Kid are already there with Olyvia. Wisconsin is enroute. We will await your arrival….. Clint…” Clint’s eyes met Mac’s in a joined promise that reached across time and space.

“No, there won’t.” Clint answered, responding to Mac’s unspoken statement.

___________________________________________________________

A week later, The Chancellor Thomas Durrant of the Sol Federation perused the latest transmissions from Unity space. He was due for reelection this coming fall, and it was a close race. His opponent was labelling him a Warmonger, as he was an outspoken proponent of a more active role in the struggle against the Vorath, and it was working. The points were closing in the polls, and The Chancellor had not come out on top with the latest debate results. Humanity simply was not interested in further conflict. For the first time in human history, the vast majority of the Human race was content with peace.

The Chancellor took a sip of his mug as he opened a file from Admiral Stevens marked priority, but not top secret and promptly spit the contents in his mouth back into the mug. It was a complete file on some kind of intelligence operation, and Durrant almost wondered if it had been sent to him in error. The gruesome cover video dispelled that notion as the leader of Humanity itself watched horrors thought long dead play out in front of him. Several minutes later, he closed the file, and opened a message prompt.


“Viktor, are you up.” He typed.

*Yea, Tom. I’m up, the campaign ain’t gonna run itself into the ground.*

Durrant snorted at the dark humor, “Viktor, I was sent something. It changes… everything” he typed, attaching the cover video, and the longer form surveillance recording he had found inside the file from Clint. Several minutes passed in tense silence before…

*Jesus Christ, Tom.*

Tom Durrant took a long slow breath, “Do you still have your man at The Post.” He paused before sending, knowing what he was asking.

*Yea… yea I do, Tom. Are you sure you want to do this. This has ‘it will blow up in my face’ written all over it.*

“I know, but this bigger than me. Do it, and announce a press conference to follow if The Post runs with it.” Durrant typed and sent the last message, closing down his console. He stood slowly, feeling his age for the first time in recent memory, and walked heavily to bed.

The Post ran with the story. In the next 48 hours, the “leaked” scenes of tortured children, some barely more than infants ripped its way into Humanities Psyche. The revelations of what exactly was going on behind Vorath lines assailed Humanity, spurring many to call for blood, and Others to cry hoax. Around and around the political commentators debated, and redebated the shocking footage.

Chancellor Thomas Durrant followed through on his word, and was now stepping up to the platform and the Microphone as promised. He stood there for a full minute, meeting the eyes of as many of the hundreds of reporters before him as he could. The weight of his expression prompted a flurry of flashes as camera drones captured the image. Durrant allowed all of this to happen, waiting until the din of activity settled into a heavy silence. “People of Humanity… By now, you have undoubtedly seen the shocking pictures from the far side of the galaxy. Many of you believe it to be a hoax, a desperate ploy for political points. Allow me to be clear. This is no hoax, I received these disturbing images directly from Admiral Clint Stevens, who is marshalling the forces at his disposal as we speak. He aims to do something about these orbital concentration camps, and I support his actions with the full backing of my authority as Chancellor of the United Sol Federation.”

Durrant paused, letting the information sink in before continuing, “to answer the question as to whether this is a political ploy for points. Let me be perfectly clear, I alone released the footage from inside those torture ships, and I do not care if you believe it to be a political ploy. If Humanity can see the atrocities committed to the young innocents in those images and refuse to stand up for them; I no longer would wish to lead that Humanity. Yes, we are few compared to what we once were, but we have a strength that cannot be fathomed by those who chose to side with pure evil. Make no mistake, any being that is capable of torturing and murdering children deserves the title.” The Chancellor of United Sol skewered the silent crowd with a withering gaze, “All of you here know that I have been an ardent supporter of taking a more active role against this pure evil, and my opponent has made a great many statements regarding my supposed “warmongering”. I believe that to debate him further on this matter is as wasteful as it would be irrelevant. As such, I am suspending my campaign immediately. Pending permission from donors and the campaign review board, I will be donating the totality of my campaign war-chest to the purchase of relief supplies and construction of rehabilitation facilities for these children.” Durrant paused as a wave of gasps swept through the room as a volley of flashes assaulted his eyes. “Holding the position of leader of the Human race seems so insignificant in comparison,” he said softly, almost to himself before scanning the crowd. “The election is 4 months away. If you wish to reelect me, so be it; but know this.” Thomas Durrant rose to his full height, “If you elect me this fall, know that I will use the full weight of this office to unleash the full might of Humanity upon this evil, or I will resign from my post and travel to Unity space myself.”

With that. Chancellor Thomas Durrant spun on his heals and marched off the stage.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
If you made it this far, Thank You! I hope you enjoyed the episode. If this if your first time seeing this series, I hope you will join us from the beginning. I do have a patreon that has extra content that is not main story arc, but still cannon shorts, as well as exclusive content from some of my other series. If you believe I've earned it, feel free to give it a look; but know that just coming to hang is already enough.
Have a wonderful rest of your day.
First, Previous, Next Patreon

Animal‌-Man/Swamp‌ ‌Thing

Issue‌ 32:‌ ‌ The Pale Wanderer
Written‌ ‌by‌ ‌Deadislandman1
Edited‌ ‌by‌ PatrollinTheMojave
 
Next‌ ‌Issue‌ ‌> ‌Coming‌ ‌Soon
 
Arc: Flesh and Bark‌ ‌
 ‌ ‌
‌  ‌ ‌
Then
An arc of purple lightning flashed across the night sky of the Boneyard, splitting the dark sky in twain as Capucine trudged across the ashy wastes of the realm. A cold gale ripped through the land, chilling the warrior to the bone, yet after centuries of time living in the Rot’s home realm, it felt identical to the ocean breeze that graced her every evening of her monastic childhood. Anxious, she fiddled with her leather armor, tightening every strap and support to make sure they were all in the right positions. She double checked that her sheath was properly tied to her belt, and that the steel sword within was sharp and clean.
He would catch up to her sooner or later, almost certainly before she made it to the portal. It wasn’t hard to pick that fact up. The Boneyard always became a little rougher when he wasn’t happy. She’d endeavored to spare him a difficult conversation, but perhaps that was too optimistic a hope. He was smart for someone his age, even if he’d made such a grave mistake.
Perhaps she was trying to spare herself the labor of having a conversation, rather than trying to keep the adolescent Avatar’s emotions in check. Perhaps she was just running from her problems, something she couldn’t remember ever doing before. Perhaps her ambitions to steer the young Avatar towards better decisions was the wrong choice on her part.
…No. Her advice was invaluable, she knew that much, and William Holland took that advice well. She just wasn’t in much of a position to give advice anymore.
Climbing atop an gray, dusty hill, Capucine gazed at the portal back to the physical world, composed of a miasma of swirling bones and inky fluids. To the unadjusted nose, it smelled absolutely foul, but to Capucine it smelled no different than the rest of the Boneyard. This was her ticket back, to somewhere where she’d do… something.
She didn’t know what that something was. In fact, she felt nauseous at the idea of wandering the world for centuries yet again with no real goal or purpose, though when considering the alternative, Capucine was ready to step right through the portal, even if her reason for leaving was so small in the grand scheme of things.
Breathless, Capucine took one step towards the portal, only for a boom of thunder to shake the realm. Capucine stopped dead in her tracks, sighing. William didn’t need to say anything to get her attention, as she turned around, coming face to face with the young Avatar.
He’d grown quite a bit in the three years she’d been advising him. His mane of red hair had regained some of its color, and across his pale face stood the beginnings of a beard, with bits of pronounced stubble around his chin and above his lips. He remained as gaunt as ever, yet he’d also grown much taller since his beginning as the Rot’s leader. He looked Capucine in the eyes, keeping his expression as blank as possible, “I got your note.”
Capucine narrowed her eyes, “So you did.”
William’s bottom lip quivered, “There’s no way I can change your mind…is there?”
“Not that I can see,” Capucine remarked.
William’s head drifted to the side as he attempted to avert his gaze, hiding his eyes from Capucine behind his wild hair. He choked back something, maybe a sob, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was a mistake.”
Capucine took a step forward, feeling the urge to console the boy, yet as she reached out towards him, she found herself frozen by trepidation. She was not a woman of gentle words, and this was a situation that called for them. Rescinding her hand, she stepped back towards the portal, “What’s done is done. I do not hate you, William Arcane, but I cannot stay here.”
Capucine turned her back on William, readying herself to step through the portal. She took one step, then another before William spoke once more, “Tefé.”
Capucine stopped, electing not to turn back and face the young Avatar. Realizing that she was waiting for him to continue, William spoke again, “My sister. I know her, she’s got a good heart, but she’s not like me. She’s not an Avatar. She could always use someone to watch her back.”
For a moment, Capucine did not answer, and the silence seemed to push William to take a few steps back. Turning, he began to walk away, unable to think of much else to say, when Capucine finally answered back, “If she is the sister of William Arcane…then I know her to be someone of good character. Your advice is invaluable, Avatar. Thank you.”
Without another word, Capucine stepped through the portal, disappearing from the Boneyard. William stared at the portal for what felt like hours before he finally shuddered, his shaky breathing accompanied by a single tear that froze up on its way down his cheek, stopping short as a bead of ice just before it fell off of his jaw.
Now
“So you’re here because my brother suggested it?”
“That’s correct.”
Capucine answered Tefé’s inquiry in a dry manner, keeping most of her focus on cleaning the gasoline off her sword with a rag. She sat upon the corpse of the formerly living infected tree, using it as a comfortable log of sorts while Maxine and Tefé remained in their canoe, having managed to dock it by tying it to a nearby set of protruding roots. It was about noon now, and the Florida heat had become unbearable. Maxine wiped her forehead, expecting that she’d probably be dead without the trees as a shield from the sun.
Tefé rubbed her throat, recovering from the vice grip of the tree, “I…how is he? He’s not in trouble is he?”
“Far from it. Your brother is doing better than most. He’s got a keen mind for leadership, and the Rot endures with him as its head,” Capucine sheathed her sword. “He doesn’t need my advice anymore, and I do the world no favors remaining at his side. If I am to continue the preservation of a better world, then it’s best I accompany you instead.”
Tefé grumbled a little, but also couldn’t help but smile, “So the little rascal thinks I need a hand, huh? Thinks I need advice.”
Tefé smirked, then looked up at Capucine, “Got any words of wisdom for me?”
Capucine looked down at the tree carcass, then back at Tefé, “Don’t get grabbed by monstrous trees.”
Tefé swallowed, “Yeah…sound advice.”
Maxine stared at the water, noting that its viscosity had remained unchanged, “Uh…guys? I think there are more gasoline trees somewhere out there. I feel like it would’ve cleared up at least a little bit.”
Capucine jumped into the canoe, breaking the rope keeping it moored with her bare hands, “Then we find the source of the infestation, and remove it.”
Maxine and Tefé didn’t do anything to impede Capucine’s actions, though they were certainly taken aback by this old English era woman taking charge of their mission. Without a word, Capucine grabbed a paddle and began rowing upstream, her toned build making what was a laborious task for Tefé effortless. The trio moved upstream at a rapid pace, with Capucine barely making a single grunt or noise as she paddled onward. As the hours went by, the water to gasoline ratio of the river continued to tip in the gasoline’s favor, to the point that eventually Capucine looked like she was putting real effort into her paddling.
Tefé stared at the woman, unsure of what to make of her, “So…Capucine?”
“Yes?”
“I know your name, I know you’ve been…advising my brother. What else do you do? What’s your story?”
Capucine frowned, “To be brief…I was born over a thousand years ago in Lindisfarne Abbey. What happened after is a personal matter, and one I’d rather not discuss. Similarly, discussing how I came to be immortal, and what I’ve done in the many centuries afterwards would doubtlessly be a fruitless and boring exercise. That energy is better spent rowing.”
Tefé raised an eyebrow, “Okay….then, why are you doing any of this? What drives you to help us?”
Capucine paused for a moment, allowing the canoe to slow in its approach upriver. Then, she snorted, a small smile forming as she began to paddle once more, “I’ve lived long enough to know this is a good place, a good world. I like it intact and alive, and I’d do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”
“Uh…good answer,” Tefé turned her attention to the rest of the forest, watching carefully for threats. Capucine was certainly blunt, and maybe a little scary looking, but from what she could tell the woman wasn’t much of a danger. If she wanted to learn more, she could do that after the case of Silver Springs was solved.
Maxine grimaced, staring at the thick gasoline they were rowing through, “What do you think is causing this stuff? The closest thing I can think of is the Rot but…part of me can’t put that picture together.”
“Because this is not the Rot’s doing. William is well aware of these kinds of problems, and manages them well. He would never allow something like this to escalate as far as it has,” Capucine grunted, her sheath rattling against the interior of the canoe. “This is something different.”
“Oil’s a fossil fuel, right?” Maxine asked, “Could there be any connection?”
“Perhaps, but this isn’t just oil, it’s gasoline. It’s processed,” Capucine grunted, the act of rowing becoming tougher. “Something is turning the oil into Gasoline. Maybe it’s the trees, maybe it’s something else.”
“But what force would do that? There’s definitely something magical going on about these things,” Maxine asked.
Capucine frowned, “I am…unsure. I’ve not heard of any force that pertains to these properties. Perhaps one of them has evolved. Such an occurrence is not unheard of; the Red does it all the time.”
“Or maybe…someone’s twisting a force into something it isn’t,” said Tefé. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out soon enough.”
Eventually, the boat rounded a corner, passing another infected tree. Maxine and Tefé readied themselves, only for Capucine to keep paddling, “Do not bother with them. They’re symptoms, not the cause.”
Maxine raised an eyebrow, “And the cause is….where?”
Capucine pointed down the river, and past a muddy, poisoned shore sat an entire row of the ailing cypresses, encircling a clearing of some kind. As the canoe pushed up against the mid, Capucine trudged out, making her way towards the clearing with her hand on her longsword’s hilt. The trees seemed to regard her, blatantly still conscious, yet they did not attack. Maxine and Tefé followed in trepidation, eyeing the trees in suspicion.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” Maxine asked.
“I don’t know,” Capucine remarked. “Perhaps they’re afraid.”
“Of you…or of something else?” Tefé wondered aloud.
As the three entered the clearing, they came across a sight none of them would have expected…a human heart.
It laid in the mud, rooted by cartilage that snaked its way beneath the earth. It beat with a satisfying rhythm, pulsating as if it still rested inside the body of a living man. A thick liquid permeated the mud, shifting outward from the heart.
Gasoline.
Capucine drew her sword, preparing to stab the heart with it. Eyes wide, Maxine jumped in front of her, “Woah woah woah, what are you doing?!”
“I’m removing the problem,” Capucine remarked.
“But…but…we don’t know what this thing even is?”
Capucine sneered at Maxine, “Is it not obvious? Someone or something has perverted an object of the Red, and that infection is spreading to the Green. With its removal, this area can begin healing.”
“How can you know that for sure? I’m the Avatar of the Red, and I can’t feel any trace of the Red in there,” Maxine exclaimed.
“Then the corruption of the object has completely overridden its connection to the Red. All the more reason to destroy it.”
Maxine whirled around, staring at Tefé for help. Tefé opened her mouth to protest, yet she was unsure of how to proceed. On the one hand, the Green was suffering, this place was suffering. Getting rid of the heart seemed like the right answer, yet Maxine was right as well. They knew practically nothing about this heart, and if the trees weren’t attacking them, maybe it was an invitation to learn more.
Before she could voice her opinion on one approach or the other though, a new voice made itself known, a raspy, texan accent that came from vocal chords that didn’t realize they were long past their expiration date.
“Well, if you’d let me speak…I’d love to tell you why I deserve to live!”
The trio assumed defensive stances as the ground rumbled around the heart, at which point a dozen or so ribs began to poke out of the mud around the heart, followed by rotten yet well preserved flesh. The heart and ribs rose with the flesh, revealing a man with an open chest as he picked himself up from out of the mud. He was wearing an old coat and pants, and wore only one sock on his feet. Inconsistent, matted hair hung from his head, covered up slightly by a ruined cowboy hat. An ugly stubble dotted his cheeks, paired with yellow teeth and milky white eyes. He smiled, raising what looked to be an old revolver to his chin to scratch it with the barrel. With the other hand, he reached out to shake any of the trio’s hands, “Howdy folks. Pale Wanderer, representing the Parliament of Gears…how are you doing this fine day?”
The trio looked at each other in confusion, then Capucine spoke, “What are you? Are you the cause of the Malady plaguing this land.”
“Well…I wouldn’t call it a malady per-se! More of a necessary sacrifice.” The Pale Wanderer tipped his hat up. “As for what I am? Well honey…I’m a crusader. A force meant to alleviate suffering, and right now? That suffering is…well, it’s not exactly something any of the flora or fauna here really give a shit about.”
“And what’s that?” Tefé asked.
“Well…it’s a bit of a logistical nightmare to explain, but it starts with oil!” The Pale Wanderer gestured towards the ground. “We’re a car based society, here in the United States I mean! Trouble is, gas prices are fuckin’ outrageous these days, right?”
Capucine narrowed her eyes, “I do not see how that should concern us.”
“I’m not finished!” The Pale Wanderer remarked. “The average American has to pay an arm and a leg for gas nowadays, and they need gas if they want to get anywhere. Have a job, wanna see family, need to make a trip to the grocery store? Need to pay for gas if you wanna to any of that! Trouble is, gas comes from oil, and oil? It’s getting rarer by the minute…that’s why I made this place!”
The Pale Wanderer raised his arms, gesturing to the gasoline laced mud and the producing trees, “Think about it! More Gasoline means the market price of Gasoline’s gonna go down, which means gas is cheaper for everyone! At least, I think that’s how it works! Plus, my Gas is A+ quality, even comes in Diesel!”
As The Pale Wanderer continued on about his tirade on Gas prices, Maxine and Tefé shared a confused glance at each other. They’d never encountered something like this before, something this unusual, this keyed in and calculated in purpose yet scattershot in reasoning. The only thing two of them seemed to fixate on though was something the Pale Wanderer said when he introduced himself.
The Parliament of Gears.
Tefé stepped forward, “You said you were part of the Parliament of Gears? What is that? I’ve never heard of them.”
“Oh, That’s cause we’re new on the block, sweetie, but glad to be here,” The Pale Wanderer remarked. “Not qualified to sell them overall though, you’ll have to talk to marketing for that.”
“Enough!” Capucine declared, holding the point of the sword at the Pale Wanderer. “Your reasons for poisoning this place are simplistic and needless. Leave, or I will make you leave!”
The Pale Wanderer raised an eyebrow, “See, now I don’t like comments like that! We’re all just having a lovely discussion and now all you wanna do is escalate! Things don’t have to be this way! Maybe we can work something out?”
Tefé glanced between Capucine and the Pale Wanderer, making an educated guess that Capucine wasn’t the type to back down in these sorts of situations. Furthermore, she had a point. This place was suffering, and no matter the Pale Wanderer’s intentions, that was something that wouldn’t stand, “We don’t want to fight you, but what you’re doing is…horrifying. You’re killing everything around here for…Gasoline! We can’t stand by and let that happen.”
The Pale Wanderer glanced at Tefé, a glum look on his face. Maxine seemed to be holder her breath somewhat, but there was no question that she was on Tefé and Capucine’s side. Sighing, The Pale Wanderer scratched his thigh with his gun, “So that’s how it is?”
Capucine’s grip on her sword tightened, “That’s how it is.”
The Pale Wanderer pursed his lips, “...Well, if we’ve got no more words to share…I guess we better hop to it.”
The wanderer raised his revolver, only for Capucine to surge forward at lightning speed, piercing him in the heart with her sword. For a moment, he was still, motionless, and Capucine stared him dead in the eyes. Then, he shifted, and after meeting her gaze, he began to laugh, his guffawing causing gasoline to spurt from his heart and onto Capucine’s sword and armor, “Hah! Good try!”
Capucine attempted to back away from the Wanderer, only for him to grab her wrist, keeping her and the sword wedged firmly in his body. Raising his weapon, he prepared to put a bullet in Capucine’s eyes, only for her to deliver a swift fist to his arm, knocking the gun out of his hands. Smiling, he took advantage of his newly freed hand, grabbing her by the throat and squeezing tight. As Capucine struggled for air, the Wanderer could only hoot and holler, “Whooo-weeee! We’re getting down to it now!”
Maxine and Tefé rushed to help the ancient warrior, only for a mob of living trees to encroach upon them, blocking their way while attempting to grab or smash them with their heavy branched arms. Maxine dove to the left, dodging the crushing slam of one tree, while Tefé slipped through the roots of another, narrowly avoiding being picked up again. Separated, the two tried to get a read on each other while avoiding harm, yet it was difficult for either of them to really do anything to help Capucine.
They were both far from the Red and the Green’s safety. No animal would go anywhere near the Pale Wanderer, meaning Maxine’s powers were utterly neutered. Similarly, there was no living plant life near the battlefield, meaning Tefé couldn’t use her powers either. If they wanted to get out of this, they would need to think outside the box.
And that’s when Tefé spotted the Wanderer’s revolver sitting in the mud, and a wild idea crossed her mind as she scanned it and the gasoline laden ground around it. She glanced at Maxine, then to the gun, and Maxine seemed to pick up on what she was thinking. It was a gambit, an insane gambit, but without much power to draw on, it might be their only shot.
Together, the two began to race for the gun, trying desperately to keep out of the reach of the trees. Tefé tried to get there quickly, yet she found herself pursued by a half dozen trees, pressured by their presence. Maxine was closer, and managed to pick up the gun as Tefé was halfway over, only for a tree to come barreling towards her. She whirled around to run, only to snag her foot on a dead root, causing her to trip and fall. Afraid of losing their one chance at Victory, Maxine shared a split second look with Tefé before throwing the gun towards the Pale Wanderer, just as the tree came down on her. It stretched out its arms, its branches ensnaring her and trapping her in place.
Her mind in overdrive, Tefé pivoted and raced for the Pale Wanderer, leaping over the swinging branches of another tree in order to catch the gun. Capucine gasped for air, her eyes glazing over as the Wanderer choked the life out of her, laughing like a madman. With the trees about to grab her, Tefé leapt for the Wanderer’s back, looping one arm around his neck to hold on while planting the gun’s barrel against the gasoline soaked sword, “Stop!”
The trees froze in place, including the one holding Maxine captive. The Pale Wanderer raised his eyebrow, loosening his grip on Capucine and allowing her to breath, “What’s this now? Ready to call it quits?”
Tefé gritted her teeth, “I’m ready to make a deal, and if you refuse, I’ll blow us all sky high! Even you won’t survive that, will you?”
“The hell’re you…” The Pale Wanderer looked down at the gun planted against the sword, and finally realized what was at stake. There was a reason smoking a cigarette at a gas station was a stupid idea, and Tefé was willing to demonstrate. A bullet crashing against steel would cause sparks, and sparks can light many fires, especially ones where the ground was soaked in gasoline. She’s set miles of forest on fire, to nuke the entire place from the ground up….and from the tone of her words, the Wanderer knew Tefé meant it, “Ohhhhh…Clever girl….Ha! So, you’ve got me. What do you want from me?”
Tefé let out a grunt of exhaustion, “I want you…to fuck off and never come back here. Got it?”
The Wanderer chuckled, then winked at Capucine, letting go of her and allowing her to pull out the sword, “Well then, a deal’s a deal.”
Snapping his fingers, The Wanderer watched as every tree around him began to dissolve into an inky ooze, including the one holding onto Maxine, who became drencheds in the stuff. Similarly, the Wanderer himself began to dissolve, though much more slowly. As he sank into the earth, he looked up at Tefé and Capucine, “This place’ll return to what it once was, but don’t count me out just yet. We’ll be seeing each other…oh, and keep the gun. Think of it as a gift from little ol’ me.”
Eventually, the Pale Wanderer was gone, not even his hat remaining, leaving Maxine, Tefé, and Capucine to stare at the spot he once occupied. The crisis at hand was solved, at least as far as they knew, but the problems were only just beginning.
A new force of nature was here, and it did not seem to be a peaceful one.
 
Next Issue: A Trip to somewhere new!
 

TODAY'S RECAP

I was so bored with the show today. Liam gets all up in Deacon's business. Luna worries she's pregnant. RJ fusses at Brooke for fussing at Zende. Even Steffy's confrontation with Sheila bored me bc it was so very predictable. Knowing the topics, someone could write a recap without even viewing the episode.

RJ, Brooke, and Ridge at FC

RJ: MOMMMM! You shouldn't have fussed at Zende! 🤨 It's Luna's business. I want to respect her privacy. So, please stay out of it! 😦 I'm handling it. Gah! I don't need your help!
Brooke: I had to! 😦
RJ: No. No you did NOT have to! (💭 Don't make me regret telling you.😕)
Brooke: We're FAMILY! He slept with your girlfriend! 👩I had to know what he would say for himself (💭 🫤 Not much.)
RJ: Nuh uh! You did not HAVE to know ANYTHING! (💭 Getting mom to back off is not easy. Why does she have to know everything? 🫤)
I'ma draw a circle ⭕ around MY business and Luna's. That's called a BOUNDARY. This is you right here 👇 in the middle of OUR business. You need to get 👉 👉 👉 OUT. (💭 Okay, Reddit. That's what we wished he would have said 🫤.)
(What he really said, in the nicest way possible) Mommmmm. Don't do that. We need to respect Luna's privacy. I don't want you talking about it here or with dad.
Enter Ridge. 😀 What's going on? Something's up. What is it? 🧐 It's totally my business. Everything is. I get to butt in. That's my thing.
RJ: 🫤
Brooke: 🙄
Ridge: It's Luna right? 😀 Great gal! Office romance, huh. 👩‍❤️‍👨 I did that. I fell for this hot chemist 🔬😍. (Smoochy Smoochy 😘.)
RJ: (💭 Not your business 😒). Dad, it's not a BIG life or death thing, so can you just be cool with not knowing? 😐
Ridge: Nooo. Now I REALLY want to know!
RJ: It doesn't involve you two and it's not life or death, so. (💭 These two! Gah!)
Ridge: Ohhhh, I see. You're acting like a teenager, going to your mom for help.
Brooke: He's not in any kind of trouble 😐. (💭 Getting Ridge to back off is not easy. Why does he have to know everything? 🫤)
Ridge: Alright. Look, your mom gives great advice. Listen to her! 😀 I'm here too if you want to talk. (Redditors who are not fast forwarding are surprised he's letting it go. It's so un-Ridge.)
You're doing so great! 😀 HFTF👗is great! 😃 You have a great team 🙂 and that ain't easy! Your collaboration is great! 😊 It's all great! 😀 Everyone else thinks you're great too! 😃 And you and Luna are great! 👩‍❤️‍👨 Keep up the great! 😁
RJ: With Hope's vision, anyone coul--
Ridge: Nah. Not anyone. You're GREAT!

Luna and Poppy at FC

Luna: Ohhhhhhhh noooooooo.😟 I think I might be pregnant.🤰I have this pregnancy test, but I think instead of taking it, we should just speculate back and forth.
Poppy and Luna: (play 20 questions❓) We know you had sex❓ Yah 😟. With two guys❓Yah 😣. Did you use protection❓Yah 😢. Do you feel sick❓🤢 Yah yah yah! 🤢🤮 Have you ever felt like this before❓Noooooooooooooooo! 😩 It's a special, unique, new kinda sick! 😖
Luna: I don't want to mess up my life! 😫 What am I gonna doooooooo?! RJ just forgave me 😫.
Poppy: Oh! YAY! 😃👏👏👏 Told you so 😏.
Luna: I don't wanna baby! 👶🍼 Wah! 😩
Poppy: (💭 Yah. Obviously sweetheart. You might think you're grown, but you're still a BABY! And kind of a big baby 🫤.) Don't get ahead of yourself. It could be something else. 🙄
Luna: Yah! 🙄 But nah 😞. Maybe I should just take the test? (💭💡🤔)
Poppy: Yah. Great idea💡 sweetheart. 😐
(⏰ Alarm rings.)
Luna: 😫 I can't loooooook! 🫣 You loooooooook!
Poppy: 👀
Luna: 😟

Deacon and Liam at Il Giardino

Liam: Wtf are you doing? 🤨
Deacon: Working. Living my life. Saving Sheila. 😏
Liam: (💭 I'ma jump right into his business bc we used to hang out back when I was married to his daughter.) No one but you is happy Sheila's alive. 😒
Deacon: (💭 Dude. How is this your business? 🤔) I'm thrilled 😃 she's alive and so is Finn! 👨‍⚕️
Liam: 🤨 Ohhh, hey, that Finn part, that won't work for Steffy 😡.
Deacon: You want me to wish someone dead? 💀 Nah.
Liam: Wellll, no but you've invented an imaginary version of Sheila! 😇 Sheila BAD! 👺 She did all the very bad 😈 things. Don't you get that? Amirite?
Deacon: But not ONLY the bad things. Also a good thing - tryna save Steffy.🦸‍♀️
Liam: But the bad is very BAD 👹. And how do you know she tried to save Steffy? 🤔 You have only her word! She could be making shit up 🫲 left and right 🫱! She could be spinning stories ✍️, telling tall tales, presenting you with her fantasy 🧙🪄 fiction, exaggerating 😦, LYING!
Deacon: Or not. Look, I'm happy she's alive! And I didn't listen to anybody. If I hadn't searched texts📱, credit card 💳 receipts 🧾, and if Finn and I hadn't tracked her down and saved her from being chained up ⛓️ in that warehouse, she really would be dead ☠️😵.
Liam: Yay Columbo. 🔎 But what about STEFFY? I'm concerned about STEFFY! I have STEFFY on the brain! Finn can't protect STEFFY (💭 so I will!)
Deacon: Steffy is fine. Gah. I know Sheila's psycho 😵‍💫 history (💭🪓➰🔪🔥). And she knows I'm not a big fan of the attempted murders and shit. I was like, babe. Stop. 🛑 Not cool. And she was like, for you and my son, okaaaay, fine, I'll stop. ppffrrtt. Sheesh. 🙄
So yah, she's changed. She hasn't sprouted angel 😇 wings 🪽 but she's no threat. And Steffy can be relieved that Steffy The Blade Forrester 😏 didn't kill 🔪 Finn's birth mother.
Liam: Not funny. 🤨 All Steffy wants is NO Sheila in their lives. So maybe you and Finn could at least lay off the happy dance!🕺🕺
Deacon: Steffy could choose to be open minded and at least give Sheila a chance.
Liam: Nah! 🤨
Deacon: I'm in a happy dance🕺, cartwheel🤸‍♂️, spike the ball 🏈 in the end zone kinda mood. So's Finn. 😃
Liam: 😒

Steffy and Sheila at Deacon's apartment

(Sheila flashes back to Deacon's latest proposal. Steffy knocks, then bursts in 😠).
Steffy: YOUUUUUU! 😡😤 Alive and well! Blech! 🤮
Sheila: Hiyeee.👋 I realize that you hate me, that you don't want to see my face, that you wish I were dead 💀, that all you can think about is the list of my violent 🪓➰🔪crimes against your family, but heyyyy. Let's chat. Why not? 🫲☺️🫱. I've been wanting to talk to you.
Steffy: Grrr! Snort! 😤
I hope you can at least understand Finn's feelings 💗💕😃. He's jumping for joy 🤸‍♂️that I'm alive.
Steffy: 😡
Sheila: You too can feel the same if you just give a girl a chance, will ya? We can get our nails done 💅 and our hair cut 💇‍♀️💇‍♀️✂️ together! I can be your BFF 👯, if you'll just overlook several instances of attempted murder 🪓, kidnapping ➰, arson 🔥, and what not. I'm all better 😇 now for real for real. I'm talking all soft and smooth and not choking 😵 you even a little. So, what'd ya say?
Steffy: Grrr! Snarl! Finn's emotions are all SCREWY, SCRAMBLED up, and FRIED by YOU! 🫨 He's essentially got fried egg 🍳brain! Huff! Puff! 😤
He's GOOD! 👼 He's a doctor!👨‍⚕️ He's saves people! That's his job! He NEEDS--
Sheila: Your support! Your understanding. (💭Your personality to be swapped out. 😒). He just needs a little--
Steffy: FINN NEEDS YOUR 👉 CRAZY ASS PSYCHO 🫨 BULLSHIT to END! STAY🫸 the FUCK AWAY FROM HIM! 🤬 STAY OUT of our lives! Snarl! 😡
Sheila: (💭 This again. Reminds me of the time I shot 🔫🩸 this bitch. 🫤) I gave BIRTH to him. I--
Steffy: I! DON'T! CARE! 😤😡🤨 I DON'T CARE that YOU GAVE BIRTH to HIM! SOOOO FUCKING WHAT?! That means exactly NOTHING to ME! Grrrr! Growl! This stupid ass CONNECTION IS DONE! FINISHED! OVER! Got it BITCH? 😤🤨😡
Sheila: I'm his mother. You're a mother--
Steffy: DON'T TRY TO PLAY THE MOMMY CARD! YOU SHOT HIM!
Sheila: Well yah (💭 I was tryna shoot you). But that was 🫲 then. This 🫱 is now. Finn forgave me. ☺️ He's--
Steffy: HE'S kind and compassionate, unlike YOU! All you bring is LIES! MISERY! HEARTACHE! 💔 DESTRUCTION! 💥 TSUNAMI! 🌊 TORNADOS! 🌪️ And POOR WAIT STAFF CUSTOMER SERVICE! We could get pizza 🍕 again at the ONLY PIZZA PLACE IN LA! But you've DESTROYED our pizza outings that we just got back! We were FINALLY READY to venture into Il Giardino again. Now you've RUINED IT FOR MY FAMILY! ROARRRRRR!
Sheila: Well yah and I wanna change that. I have a new beginning. We can try different pizza toppings -- whatever you want!
Steffy: OHHHHHHH STFU about FRESH STARTS and FRESH IDEAS for TOPPINGS! I will NEVER try CHOCOLATE 🍫 or COCONUT 🥥 on MY PIZZA! It's just WRONG! Snarl! Snort! 😤 Grrr! 😡 Harumph! YOU run your STUPID, UGLY, BIG, FAT, STINKING MOUTH 👄 about FRESH STARTS every fucking time you pop back up from the DEAD 💀 like a FUCKING ZOMBIE 🧟‍♀️or get released from prison!
STOP 🛑 STOP 🛑 STOP 🛑 STOP 🛑 with your FRESH START and your TWISTED BIOLOGICAL birth mommy 🤰 BULLSHIT tie to FINN! It STOPS 🛑 TODAY! Right FUCKING NOW!
Sheila: Sputter. Ppffrrtt! Well. Gah! (💭 Little girl, aren't you the bratty, bossy bitch. Hmm. What to do about you.🤔 I'm not supposed to kill 🔪 you, dang it 🫤. Finn would prolly be mad 😠 and Deacon would scold me 🤨 and hafta bribe another judge. 👨‍⚖️ Phewy. 😕 Kidnapping ➰ is always an option, as long as they don't trace it back to me 😏. She's such a pain in my ass 🫤. I'll try to reason with her, but she's not exactly reasonable. Reformed me is an expert on reasonableness 😌.)
You're forgetting Finn saved me. He missed me and that changed him. He--
Steffy: He's DECENT! He's a DOCTOR. You ALWAYS SPEW the SAME STUPID INSANE GARBAGE. 🤮 Grrr! I gave FINN a CHOICE -- YOU or ME! He chose ME! And his SON! NOT YOU! WE are his PRIORITY! Harumph!
Sheila: Yah yah, as you should be, but he's made room in his heart ❤️ for me too. Why can't he have both? 😦
Steffy: NEVER! YOU are DEAD 💀to us. YOU don't MATTER. I don't care about you or what you do with your PATHETIC useless, pointless life. Growl! 😡
You are CANCELLED! ❌ I'm BLOCKING YOU ON INSTA and FACEBOOK! YOU OBSESSIVELY LIKE EVERY PICTURE! IT'S CREEPY AF! DO NOT try to sneakily FRIEND FINN on SNAPCHAT either! 😡 Huff! Puff! 😤 Or send him encrypted messages! And he's not even on Reddit bc he thought he was spending too much time looking at funny cats 🐱 swatting things! 😡 WE will NOT follow YOU on TIKTOK and YOU can't even DANCE💃 like a normal person! Your moves are demented 🫨! And your stories are LAME af! FUCK right tf OFF!
Sheila: But I'm MOMMY. I care about him and he--
Steffy: IF YOU actually CARED about FINN, you would LEAVE him tf ALONE! DON'T try to worm 🪱 your way into his heart! 😡
Go do whatever the fuck with Deacon. But STAY OUT OF FINN'S HEAD! 🧠 STOP 🛑 MESSING with his EMOTIONS! Snarl! 😠 FUCK OFF! WREAK your fucked up brand of havoc AWAY FROM US BITCH! Snort! 😤 YOU DON'T EXIST TO US!
If you don't, YOU WILL ANSWER TO ME! 😡
Sheila: 😐 (💭 Clearly, she's a problem 😕.)
Steffy: 😡😡😡 (💭 watching 👁️👁️ you).
The end.

I don't really know why I'm writing this ... I think it's because I've tried to explain it to my uncle but all he said is that I should get my addiction under control and stop forgetting to take my meds.
I can't blame him. You see... I have a history. I've lost it in the past , twice actually. I'm not here to talk about it , but I think it's important to lay this down first. So you can understand.

I've been told something's wrong with my brain, maybe I was born this way, maybe I've been through too much. That my mother was an addict, she'd cut ties with her family for 10 years when she had me. That where she had been and who my father was, is was very unclear. She was part of a community in the forgotten part of the nearest big city when she died. I was there when it happened.
My uncle Sean and Aunt Maggie became my guardians just before my 5th birthday and I'm still with him 20 years later. Maggie left the ranch a few weeks ago after an amicable divorce, I never understood why they were together anyway she was always working somewhere, traveling a lot. I was closer to him and his sturdy way of life.

When I first arrived at the ranch, I was in a bad shape. I got better thanks to him but when I reached thirteen, all the memories from my early childhood suddenly came back. I started having flashbacks. My memories came back, but they came back wrong.

I had been told that my mother had died of an untreated infection. Yet in my dreams, I saw her , again and again , in a pool of blood. An then... Then it came. The... Thing. I won't describe it. It kind of triggers something in me that I really don't need right now.

I've been told that what happened next was so traumatic that my brain made up a monster, a fiction , to make sense of what I was seeing and not processing.
This ... Thing started obsessing me and during my early teenage years I focused all my energy on finding what it was and proving it happened. That a monster did kill and mutilated my mother. My nightmares were so bad that I stopped sleeping. I drank so much energy drinks that I ended up in the hospital twice with severe dehydration.

Thankfully, I got better. I started working more and more with my uncle's horses. I think it's why he employed me, he saw how manual work and caring for the animals helped. I even got my first girlfriend around my 17th year. I was prom king. Who would have thought?
But then... She had a cheerleading accident. In front of me. And I lost it again. I won't go into details but she broke her neck during half-time and once again... The way she fell, folded and screamed. I couldn't process. It was IT. It'd shapeshifted to get to her. I'm ashamed of it but I became violent. Looking for it franticly. Screaming non sense and talking made up words. I had to be sedated. She made it alive, but she never wanted to see me again. I was accused by pretty much everyone to make the accident all about myself. And they were kind of right....

Now you know how I came to be the " crazy" guy. I have a bit of a drinking problem too to be honest... You see I never went back to high school. I started working full time at the ranch when I came by, and sometimes, it gets lonely. It's not rare to find me passed out in the hay in the early morning in the summer. And what can I tell you... I know I shouldn't. I know it's "bad" . But I love those nights. I put music , cuddle with my dog and just look at the cold bright stars, drinking beer until they start spinning.

It's because of this bad habit that I realized something was wrong with the horses. You see, contrary to the movies, horses are pretty silent. They don't neigh unless you separate them from their best mate or bring food. And that night... The night it all started. They wouldn't stop. I could hear them galloping and snorting. I wondered if there was a stray dog but they were used to dogs. I was a bit worried. Horses get stupid when they are afraid and we had a big show coming, it wasn't the time so sprain a leg. What really troubled me was my dog. He seemed ... Weird.
Max was a pit mix my uncle had rescued when I was 15. He only woke when I got up and walked a bit to look at the paddocks. That's when I realised the moon behind me. It was huge, and red. I wondered if I had ever seen it so close and so red before. I looked at Max The white of his eyes showed and he started whining. I had never heard him make this noise. Ever.

I looked at my phone. It was quarter to three. I took a pitchfork to be safe and walked toward the clubhouse. We kept a shotgun there in a locker. The horses kept going crazy and max's tail was stiff. I was walking fast but carefully in the darkness when the music reached me. A chant. A low chant. I kind of felt it too... Like a ... vibration.
It was coming from the yearlings field near the forest patch, on the opposite direction of the clubhouse. My horse was in this field. I backtracked immediately and rushed toward the sound as I dialled my uncle. Off course he didn't answer. He didn't live on the property anymore but a few miles away. I left a message, whispering. " I'm at the stable, something weird ‘s happening. I think they're people messing with horses I'm going to see. I think you should come , I don't know...Call me back.". The weird chant buzzed in the background, louder, as if more people had joined. I saw the glow of the fire before I passed the last building. It rose , under the bloody moonlight. Dark figures circled around it. Slowly. The horses seemed to have retreated at the other end of the pasture and I was relieved. Until I saw it. The figure at the centre of this dark carousel. " What the f are those creeps doing" escaped my lips.
blazing fury filled me , like a white iron like a white hot blade blinding me . "HEYYYY" I screamed at the top of lungs. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING !? ". The figures stopped and turn toward me. I was running now , my knuckles going white around the pitchfork's stick. Max was growling. A deep growl. His hair high upon his backbone. The figure, still pretty far did not move. I could see their heavy hooded cloaks. " what kind of sick pricks are those " I muttered. " HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY" I screamed again, louder than I ever thought I could scream. And then I saw him. Gun.
Gun was my uncle's favourite horse. His old stallion's spitting image. The young horse was lying in front of the fire behind the intruders.
"WHAT DID YOU DO! I'M CALLING THE COPS!!!!". I stopped and was dialling when a figure detached itself from the group and advanced. It seemed to ... float? It moved toward Max and I... so silently.
The burning rage in veins turned cold , and heavy. I opened my mouth but nothing crossed my lips. Suddenly, Max jumped. He growled in a way I hope to never hear any dog do again. A desperate, furious growl. A life or death sound. A war cry... His warm blood spattered on my face. He... Honestly I don't know what happened at that moment. Something lied bloody on the ground but I couldn't even have told that it used to be a dog, even less Max. Acid tears filled my eyes as I realized my mouth was still open. I was tasting him.
I wanted to scream, to run, to just get swallowed by the earth and yet I did nothing at all but stare at the floating silhouette. It was so tall. " Come, my child". " We were waiting for you, we knew you'd come, Your father told us you'd be here when we'd call".
I heard those words, but I wouldn't be able to tell you anything about the thing who spoke them. I say thing because it didn't have a voice. It... Buzzed. Like... a cello.
Suddenly... I floated too. Panick seized me. Like a trapped raccoon in my
chest it dug its claws, scratching furiously my closed throat.
" Your father said you were ready. We will prepare you." I was now in front of the crackling blaze. the other figures circling me. Smiling Men and woman welcomed me. On their faces they all wore a similar mark. a cross covering their eyes horizontally, and their nose and mouth vertically. Their hands... Their hands were still dripping with gun's inside. Gun... Was ... opened.
" A necessary sacrificed" whispered a woman, still smiling. " I know you liked him very much... I'm sorry..." " I could have taken yours, but I knew you wouldn't have forgiven me'. Her voice. .." Aunt Maggie?' I croaked. Her eyes shone with a mad light. " Gosh do you look like your mother tonight... She'd be so proud. Her baby boy..." .
The tall figure made a gesture and I spined and found myself looking at the sky. I thought I'd fallen but... I wasn't touching the ground...
My aunt continued speaking." She was just like you the first time ... So... naive, so afraid.. She was only 16! That was our mistake you see, she wasn't ready for her destiny yet when she joined us... That's why we waited for you."
The chant , the low buzzing chant rose once again. The people around me started walking in a circle around me. I was just above Gun's body.
One, by one, they buried they hands in the belly of the horse and traced the cross on my face. I sealed my lips as tight as I could as the warm blood covered my face. Through the blood and tears I recognize faces. A nurse from the hospital. A teacher. The coffeeshop barista. My psychiatrist... I closed my eyes.
It was a nightmare. It couldn't be anything but a nightmare.
Yet the smell of the horse's inside and the crackling fire still reached me as they started ripping my clothes off.
" This is not real" I whispered. " This is not real, this is not real THIS IS NOT real" I screamed weakly.
'Oh , My dear I'm so sorry ' whispered my aunt. I should have told you earlier... But Dr Carter said it was better to let you grow up a bit first. He said it help you keep the secrets if you were afraid of them. I'm sure you don't feel this way, but it was an honour to watch your mother ascend the way she did. Her agony was the most beautiful thing she could have hoped for. You were supposed to ascend with her but she ruined it". " Slut" groaned a middle aged woman before spitting on the floor.
" She was my best friend you know... I thought I knew her. I thought I could trust her. But she lied to me."
"You see, we know you are his son. But... She wasn't a virgin when she was honoured."
She smiled. " It doesn't matter how cruelly she tricked us. You can help us find the perfect girl."
One by one, each member traced a symbol on my skin.
" You're so handsome... He'll be so glad. The perfect boy. The perfect vessel."
"It's almost time, Prepare" hissed the tall figure.
" You're going to give him his heir, the one ruler among the realms. You see he can't travel here whenever but you're an anchor my love. Each generation he choses an anchor until he finds one who'll give him THE son, the one who'll die for his freedom. Our freedom."
"QUIET SLAVE AND KNEEL" shrieked the tall figure.
She kneeled right near me, and whispered " You're...". I heard a slash. Aunt Maggie’s face slid horizontally. Her eyes followed me as the upper part of the face slid slowly toward the ground.
" HAIL THE PRINCE".
A chant, colder and louder than never before rose with the crackling flames toward the moon.
" Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young! » chanted the disciples."
Frozen, I watched the blazing sky above and saw a door. A perfect wooden door , in the sky. It slowly cracked open as the crowd turn to hysterics and the chant turned to mad screams.
"MY SOOOOOOOON" The whole earth seemed to split open under the weight of the sound coming from the perfect rectangle of empty darkness in the sky.
And then... I saw... I saw what I had tried to forget for twenty-years. I saw those split red eyes and their evil glare. I saw the iron hooves at the end of too many legs. I saw the tentacles who fled my mother with their thousand beaks. Everything all at once, I saw it shift, from an odious form to a more loathsome one. I burned in a way I'll never be able to describe.
I woke up two weeks ago in the nearest hospital. I was found on the ground, surrounded by the yearlings, the corpse of gun and some remains of Max. My uncle explained to me that I had found a bear feasting on Gun, that Max must have attacked it and I'd fainted or been knocked out trying to scare it away. Laying lifeless had saved me. I didn't speak of what I saw at the hospital. I knew better now. I've tried to explain to my uncle why I had to move out to the big city. That I had a mission now. That I had never been crazy and that I shouldn't have been afraid.
I know now that I'm blessed. You see he thinks I'm just having another episode, that it’s a "manic" episode and I should go back to the clinic, but I know better now. I am special. I am. And he can be too. Anyway... He'll be whether he joins or not. You'll all be. Because he is coming. He 'll bless us all. Because you see, I know I can find her and I'll give him the perfect door. A door to let him in. A door to let all of him in. He'll honour us all, all at once.
" Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young! »

Part I of my Story on the Empress GF, which may or may not yet come as a Meme in this AU from u/Sweet_older-Sister. But whether or not, I wrote this up and wanted to share it with you, with Part II soon to follow.
WARNING: If you expect this to be a harsh takedown or bashing of AU!Big E, I have to disappoint you. She WILL be criticized, but I personally prefer him/her to be a sympathetic, ultimately well-meaning, if highly flawed, Character. Also, the SO for Big E is both perpetual and a Psyker, just not one anywhere near her Level. That said, I kept them Gender-neutral, so if you wanna imagine them and Big E as Golden Space Lesbian Mommies, feel free to do so!
Regardless of all that, however, I mostly just hope you can enjoy this! Have fun!
I open the door to her chamber, paying no heed tot he noises of raging battle, clearly audible despite all the walls, doors and distance between us and them.
As always, despite the gold-plated…everything, the most radiant thing in this room is still her.
Tall and proud she stands as she puts on the last pieces of her golden armor, light glowing off o fit, pure and bright. Her mighty sword hangs by her side and her long, raven black hair is flowing down her back. When she turns around, her glowing eyes, which seemed so often to somehow hold both the untold wisdom oft he wises changes and yet also the boundless arrogance oft he most reckless fools widen upon seeing me, before they swiftly narrow again.
„…I told my Companions to keep you away“, she says, her voice sounding cold and rejecting.
„Well, too bad“, I say, meeting her eyes without fear. „They know better than to try and keep me away when the two of us have to talk.“
Anger briefly flares up in her eyes. „There is nothing to talk about. You are distracting me from preparing for battle!“, she says, her voice cold, harsh and regal, demanding obedience. „As your Empress, I order you to leave. At once!!“
Most other men and women would have crumbled at this moment. Hastily apologized and retreated.
But not me.
I stand my ground and return her cold glare without flinching. „…I am not your Subordinate“, I say, firmly and steadfast. „Not at this moment. Right now, I am your Consort and equal, and as such, I refuse that order!!“
Her eyes widen before she grits her teeth. „You DARE defy your Empress?!“ She stomps a foot on the ground. „I command you, LEAVE!!“
I narrow my eyes. „No.“
„I SAID LEAVE!!!“ Her scream shakes the room far more harshly than the distant Artillery Fire ever had. Her voice rings not just in my ears, but in my mind and soul, as psychic pressure seems to drown the room.
And still, I stand my ground and glare up at the Golden Giantess above me. „NO!!“
Her mask is slowly cracking, her eyes wide and her breathing starting to become uneven. „I…I ORDER you to LEAVE-“
„And I REFUSE!!“ My own shout is not nearly as impressive in terms of sheer power…but it seems to hit the Empress of Mankind like a whiplash.
Her breathing going ever more ragged, she turns away from me. „There is NOTHING to talk about, now!! Leave!!“
I clench my fist, a wave of anger rushing through me. „You think you can just shut me out like that?! Confine me to a secure Chamber while you rush off to your Doom?! You selfish BITCH!! That’s NOT how it works!! Didn’t you promise me, all these Millennia ago?! That we would see this through together, come what may?! That you would never ignore me or shut me out?!“ I snort bitterly. „But, well, I suppose you broke that last promise a while ago. What’s one more, eh?!“
I swear I can hear her breath hitch in her throat. My heart clenches at the sound, but I soldier on. She NEEDS to hear this.
„And where did that lead us?! Oh, right: Besieged in our Palace by our own daughters and their sons that have fallen prey to our worst enemies, with all that’s left to do being a reckless assault on their Leader that could well get you killed!! An assault that I just NOW learned about from one of our older sons!! How could I forget that?!“
„Stop it!!“, she growls. „I…I have to-“
„You ALWAYS ‚have to‘!! And yet, you have never stopped considering if maybe you SHOULDN’T!! That would have saved us a lot of trouble, wouldn’t it?!“ I shake my head, glaring at her. „Maybe it’s time for you to finally get that obstinate head out of your golden laurels-“
„STOP IT!!“
„-and stop being the Empress of Mankind for a few fucking minutes-“
„S-stop it!“
„-so I can finally have a real fucking talk with the woman I fell in love with again-“
„S…stop…“ Her voice sounds almost pleading now, but I steel my heart and prepare the final blow.
„BEFORE I MIGHT LOSE HER FOREVER, JUST LIKE WE LOST OUR DAUGHTERS, YOU STUBBORN OLD WOMAN!!!“
I am panting heavily, finally feeling the hot tears running down my face. I didn‘t even realize that I have begun to cry…but, laying my wounded heart bare like this has brought up all the pain and suffering from the last few years all too strongly.
Slowly, hesitantly, she turns back around to face me. The Golden Halo framing her head has vanished, as had much of her glow…and her eyes, usually so regal and proud, are now brimming with tears, looking so ancient, tired and sad as they turn towards me.
The Mask that is the Empress of Mankind has crumbled away…and what remains is the woman I had learned to know and love, all those Millennia ago, when we first met at on shores of old Albion.
A woman so old, tired, weary and sad, so beaten down and wounded that I had begun to fear she was forever lost.
„I…I am sorry…“ Her voice is almost a whimper, carrying untold grief and regret as she collapses onto her bed, which nearly breaks under her weight. „I am s-so sorry…I…I ruined everything…!“
She buries her face in her hands and begins to sob.
My heart clenches and I breathe out the last of my anger, relief flashing through my mind. I have gotten through to her, finally, for the first time in years.
Too late, I remind myself as sharp regret flashes through me. Far too late for far too many people…
But at least not entirely too late.
I sigh as I slowly walk up to and then sit down next to her. I reach up and gently place my hand on her armored arm.
„H-how…“ She finally whispers between sobs. „How did I screw this up so badly…? How did I let it come to this…?“
I sigh again. „…It was not entirely your fault“, I finally say. „The Game was rigged against us the moment the Four kidnapped them. The seeds were already sown. And…“ I look down, overwhelming regret in my heart. „And while you fucked up, it’s not like I have done too much better of a job...“
Images flash before my mind. Images of my…OUR daughters. Our darling little Girls and their significant others, our sons and daughters in law. Our greatest hope for Mankind and the Galaxy, our pride and joy. So many of them now lost forever, through our enemies fault and our own hubris.
I remember giving my blessing Hathor‘s attack on the Interex to avenge her Moonbeam, thinking nothing more of it, only for her to emerge as the Chosen Warmaster of Chaos…
I remember trying and failing to convince my Empress to give Petra more meaningful assignments, Campaigns where she can truly show her worth and skills, only to let myself be convinced that she and the Iron Warriors were needed too badly in these grueling Sieges…
I remember trying to talk Aurelia out of her worship of her Mother, to stop spreading Cults to her service over the Worlds she conquers, only to fail miserably...and to fail even more miserably in comforting her after she lost her Little Light on Monarchia…her mother and I had not talked for a while after that…
I remember chastising Alpharia and Omega for their reckless approach to collateral damage in their style of Warfare, chosing my words too harshly…
I remember coldly telling Alakhai that I do not approve of her significant other, getting into a loud shouting match over it…
I remember harshly rebuking Magnolia after Nicea, her reckless pursuit of Warp Knowledge pressing all the wrong buttons in me and, in my anger, making me compare her unfavorably to Lyanna and Mortia…
Next to me, she keeps crying, her shoulder trembling as years off suppressed guilt, regret and grief finally break through to the surface. „Our daughters…our sweet children…m-my fault…all my fault…!!“
Bitter guilt roils in my soul. „No“, I whisper quietly. „It was my fault, too. I…I wasn’t that good a parent, either…not to them, and not to our children in-law…“
...Where had we gone so wrong? We had raised children before! And not too badly, at that! So why had we now failed so miserably at keeping our Family together?!
…The answer is simple and bitter. Because we had severely overestimated our ability to be the parents they deserved while running an ever-expanding Empire of Conquest and balance between the two issues, especially since our daughters were vitally important Generals. Because we had trouble trusting people we didn’t know for a long time already, like Malcador, after Millennia of heartbreaks and betrayals. Not at all helped by the fact that we had been unable to bond with our daughters before they were taken from us as embryos.
But that is no excuse. The Lion’s share oft he blame falls on both our shoulders, and we know it. We had placed what we believed to be the needs of Mankind and the Imperium before our Family too many times…and now, we all had paid the price for this.
Oh, how the Four must be laughing at our foolishness…and, much as I HATE them for all they have done to us and our Family, I have to bitterly admit that they would be right to do so…
Still crying, she pulls me to her into a hug, which I gently return. Despite her towering over me, I had always felt the most comfortable with her when she was at this size.
…It provides a small measure of relief from the agonizing knowledge that a Number of our Children, now in service to those four fucking Cancer Tumors upon reality, are currently trying to breach into the Imperial Palace and destroy us, Mankind and all we have ever worked for. And the knowledge that some of our other children have already died at each others hands.
And now, my Empress would have to kill one more of our daughters to end this. Hathor, our best and brightest Girl, beloved and cherished, now our worst, most bitter enemy.
Our ultimate failure as Parents, laid bare.
„…I can never make up for what I have done“, my love finally says, her voice sad and resigned even as her tears still flow. „Not to them…and not to you. I am sorry…but I know that it changes nothing…“
I gently place a hand on her cheek. „…It does change one thing“, I say quietly. „That I know the woman I love is still there…“
„…I was not a good wife to you in these last years“, she whispers. „Almost as bad as I was a mother…“
I gently press my head against her. „…I forgive you“, I finally say.
She shakes her head. „I don’t deserve that…“
„Maybe not. But I forgive you, anyway.“ I look at her. „Just, please…promise me to never let your mask control you like this, again.“
She nods, burying her face in my shoulder. „I swear…I swear, I won’t…“
She is sincere. I can tell. I have known her too long not to.
„I didn’t want you to come here“, she says quietly. „I knew that if I saw you, I would crumble again…“
„Perhaps it was time for you to crumble“, I answer sadly. „To remind yourself that you are still human, at the core…not just the cold, calculating, uncaring Empress you had become…“
She tightens her hug, silence reigning for a few seconds. „…Thank you“, she finally whispers. „Thank you for…for snapping me out of this, one last time…“
Fear now rises within me. Despite knowing that this may be the last time I see her…I do not want to think about this. The idea of losing her forever after all we have been through…it is terrifying.
„…Please, don’t…don’t say that.“ Now it is I whose voice is shaking. „Our other daughters and children in-law…they still need you. The Imperium still needs you. I still need you! You…you will make it. You have been in tough spots before! You-“
She interrupts me, gently pressing her forehead against mine. „…If…if I don’t come back…promise me you’ll be there for them. For as long as you can. Please, my love…promise me you won’t give up. Promise me that you will be a better parent than I was…“
I swallow. „I…I promise.“ I finally whisper. And I mean it, as much as I desperately hope I will never have to face this future without her.
I try to calm myself. She will be fine. She will win…and after this War is over, we will finally make all the amends we can, save as many of our children as possible and finally, FINALLY do right by them…as they deserve, as we should have from the start!
We will!! We HAVE to!!
…I desperately cling onto this hope. The Alternatives…are too much to bare imagining.
She tightens her hug around me again as we sit there, quietly wishing that this last moment of quiet and calm, filled with regret and sorrow as it may be, would never end.
But it would. Soon. The Teleporters would be ready in mere Minutes.
Oh, how I wish I could accompany her onto the Vengeful Spirit, to confront our wayward daughter, perhaps, as I hoped foolishly, even save her…but I know that this is the one thing she will never allow. As a Psyker, I am powerful, but never as strong as Malcador, let alone her or any of our daughters. Chaos would not hesitate to kill me or worse aboard this tainted vessel and I can not afford to slow her down and make her waste time and energy protecting me.
And besides, if any Daemons make it through the defenses while she is gone, I will be needed to keep them from reaching the Throne.
I know that this, she would be adamant about, now more than ever. So I do not even try.
…It still causes an awful feeling in my gut, nonetheless, as we stay hugging each other for as long as we can, two foolish, flawed and weary parents, sharing in our grief, regret and sorrow over our destroyed family in these last moments before the Final Clash…

Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Brick, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, MK, Ripper, Scott, Sky
Episode 7: The Chefshank Redemption
"Last week, the dry desert heat baked our favorite pardners like roadkill on the black top! But, crispy bottoms or not, they still had to mount their ancient steed… from a hundred-foot platform!"
“But that wasn't all. A calf-roping contest had the teams lasso each other. When Trent threw challenges for Sky, she gave him a much deserved talking to, which led to some Total Drama from Justin. Well, poor old deputy Trent found himself hitching a ride on the 3:10 to Loserville.”
"With ten remaining, it's anyone's guess who will win this week!" The camera now showed the cast trailers, with nobody in sight. "Will the Gaffers manage to win again?" the host asked as the shot moved to the team of five, loitering together beneath a tree.
"Or will the Grips even things out?" Chris asked next as the shot cut to the team of five, all sitting outside at a picnic table.
"It can happen!" Anne Maria said.
"Right," Chris said in a close-up before smiling at the camera. "See for yourself, next, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Theme Song)
The episode properly opened on a scene of the morning sun, a lilting tune playing as the camera panned down and over to the cast trailers. The sound of snoring could be heard as the shot zoomed further in on the boys' trailer, and cut inside to show the boys all in the beds they'd picked at the start of the season, though Justin was in the middle of a facial while a fan was blowing on his nails.
An air horn was sounded loudly as the shot zoomed in on Chase, who woke up with a snap. The focus switched to Scott, who opened his eyes and rubbed them before Ripper sat up and yawned.
"I call dibs on the bathroom!" Chase said after he got out of bed, rushing to the door of the trailer. The scene cut to a close-up of the handle as he grabbed it and pulled to no effect, leading him to frown and try pulling with both hands, still with no results.
Chase then saw Justin still in bed. "Can you help with this?"
“This is day 12 of my manicure!” Justin replied. “To risk any more cuticle damage would be madness!”
"I'll open the door if you can't," Ripper told Chase as he stood next to him. “I have more muscle than all of you wimps.”
“By all means, go ahead and give it a try,” Scott encouraged insincerely.
Ripper grabbed the handle and pulled to the best of his ability, but the door remained closed. "I can't open it. We're trapped."
Confessional: Ripper
“I'm pretty much the strongest of my brothers," Ripper told the confessional camera. "In my school, I'd usually have to rip open lockers so I could either stuff somebody into it or take money. I'd usually get weeks of detention for that though."
Confessional Ends
“Why did they even trap us in here?” Chase complained as the scene cut back to the guys' trailer.
“They probably want us to fight each other to see who'll come out on top,” Scott theorized.
“We should find a way out instead of doing that,” Justin argued. “My hands have just been manicured.”
The camera cut back outside as the scene panned over to the girls' trailer, and the camera cut inside to show Millie jiggling the girls' door handle.
"I don't know how I ended up inside this trailer when I slept in a tree, but we have to open the door," Jasmine panicked as the scene panned over to her. Anne Maria and Sky were sitting on the lower bunk next to her.
“I'm pretty sure they snuck you in here while you were sleeping,” Anne Maria said. “And why are you so worked up about this?”
“I have claustrophobia, and I hate being in tight spaces,” Jasmine said.
Millie gave up pulling the handle. “This thing is jammed. I'm not able to get it open.”
"So we should try a different exit," MK walked past the bunks and pointed up at the ceiling. The other girls looked up as well and the camera followed their gazes, stopping on an emergency hatch.
"One of us should be able to squeeze through it," Sky noted and tilted her head down at MK.
“Uh, why are you staring at me?” MK asked gruffly.
Confessional: Sky
"I'm not happy to see Trent leave this early," Sky confessed. "He did do some questionable things in the past few challenges, but I thought he could get better after our talk. Regardless," she looked at the camera with determination, "I have to not let this affect my game now that I'm competing without him for the first time, and we are still together, unlike me and Keith."
Confessional Ends
"You should be the one to do it," Sky told her petite teammate. "You are the smallest one here."
MK furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't like being singled out because of my height, but for the sake of escaping this trailer, I'll excuse it." The techno looked back up at the hatch. "I will need a boost though."
"I'll help you get up there," Jasmine offered as she walked over to the girl. "My height will definitely come in handy."
The scene flashed back over to the guys, showing them looking up at the hatch.
"So obviously, we need someone to fit through the hatch and open our trailer," Scott deduced.
"Count me out," Ripper huffed. "I'm too heavy to fit through."
“I'd do it, but I would need more people to climb up through,” Justin said. “This would be a lot easier if Brick was here.”
“Speaking of which, where is Brick anyway?” Chase asked aloud.
The scene cut over to the craft services tent before flashing inside to Brick standing in the kitchen wearing a pot as a hat while Chef stood next to him in his drill sergeant uniform. "Okay maggot," Chef said. "I'm gonna ride you 'til your confidence coats the back of a spoon and your self-respect forms stiff peaks!" He showed the cadet his reflection in a cleaver and said, "No more War Child Brick. Watch and learn." He used a knife to cut a banana, a can, a bitten apple, and a boot into pieces.
"What is that?" Brick wondered.
"Taste perfection, boy," Chef poured the sliced items into a pot and served a spoonful to Brick, who cringed in disgust. "What you're tasting is pride, son. The most important virtue in a man's life. Now stir that pot!" the cook ordered before storming out.
"If Chef wants pride, then I'm going to give it my best effort," Brick talked to himself as he stirred. "What he gave me was an order, and I always follow orders."
The scene flashed back to the guys' trailer, cutting inside as Ripper placed himself in a fighting position with his arm folded and sticking out in front of him.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Ripper?” Justin asked in concern.
"Of course," Ripper said. "All I have to do is show that door who's boss by bursting through it!" Moments later, he charged across the room, yelling at the top of his lungs.
The door opened outside just before Ripper reached it, and unable to stop himself, he flew outside, past a smirking Chris wearing a police uniform, and landed next to the girls who had already gathered outside their own trailer.
"Hope you all enjoyed your first taste of the gulag," Chris said as he walked over to them, the other boys coming out of their trailer and joining the group.
"Gulag?" Anne Maria asked as Ripper stood up and dusted himself off. "What even is that? Food?"
“Gulag means prison, not food,” Sky pointed out.
"Correctamondo," Chris told her. "Because today," the camera quick-panned to a prison set with high walls rimmed with barbed wire and several wooden dummies in prison uniforms set up in a courtyard, "is Prison Flick day!"
The castmates groaned.
"Ah, prison," Chris continued. "The confinement, the claustrophobia!" he said, getting excited as he began to pace back and forth in front of the unimpressed contestants, a tense tune building up in the background. "The vile, nasty food! And you're always lookin' over your shoulder, 'cause Mr. Killer Dude wants to cut ya for takin' the last tater tot! And no matter how hard you try, digging out spoonfuls of dirt, year after year, there's no escape!"
"Unless you get voted off, of course!" he added plainly.
Confessional: Chase
“As if this place wasn't prison-like enough,” Chase muttered. “Now we have to actually live like criminals. It won't surprise me if in a year or two, Chris gets locked up for teenage abuse.”
Confessional Ends
"Lockdown, people," Chris said with a grin as the footage cut back to him in the interior of a prison lit by a handful of stage lights. "Let's get this challenge started!" The shot pulled back, revealing the teams standing across from each other next to tables filled with a variety of cooking dishes. A covered cart sat near the hot, and in the background were a pair of cages.
"Teams, take a prisoner from the competition," he told them in a close-up as footsteps were heard in the background, "and Chef,” Chef arrived on screen in his earlier outfit, "I mean Warden," the host corrected with a wink. "Lock 'em up."
The shot cut over to the Grips. "Okay," Justin whispered as the five huddled, "we have to pick the weakest member of the other team."
“We do have to weigh our options,” Millie said. “Chase once told me that he swallowed ten bugs into his mouth in under a minute as a dare, and Scott and Sky have strong stomachs as evident in the eating challenge from last season.”
“Ripper doesn't seem the type to chuck out what he eats, so we're picking MK,” Jasmine decided.
The shot cut over to the Gaffers' huddle. "Obviously, we need to pick Millie for this," Scott suggested. "She's less likely to handle gross food."
"I would say Jasmine since she's less likely to go through being locked up because of her claustrophobia," MK said, "but using someone's fear against them would make me look bad."
"Looks like we have a choice," Chase finished.
"Choices?" Chris announced suddenly. "Gaffers?"
"We choose Millie," Sky announced, causing the writer to groan.
"Grips?" Chris followed up, taking a few steps to the other team. "Now remember, this is an important choice. Whoever gets the upper hand here could win the whole challenge!"
"Because of that," Brick announced, "we're picking MK." The techno girl gulped.
"Today's first game is," Chris announced as he walked back over to the covered cart, "the Prison Chow-llenge!" A few deep notes played as he grabbed the cover and whipped it away, revealing the stinking, rotting, half eaten food lying beneath. "Each team of prison chefs whips up the foulest, nastiest, most barf-inducing slop this side of Alcatraz," he explained as the camera moved in for a close-up of the 'food', then cut to a cringing Brick and a again to a somewhat surprised-looking Anne Maria.
"Millie and MK have to stomach as much as they can," the host explained. "Last one to power-hurl wins!"
"Technically, this isn't an actual prison," Millie said as Chef herded her into the cage closest to the Grips. "If I was, I'd be protesting how unfair my “arrest” is."
"That's what some of them say," Chris told her with a smile as the door slammed shut and the camera pulled back, showing that MK had been locked up as well.
Confessional: Millie
"I'm not exactly hyped for this," Millie confessed uncertainly. "With the exception of the Brunch of Disgustingness, I'm not the kind to eat gross food, and I don't plan on doing so in the future, but since I've already been nominated, I might as well just suck it up."
Confessional Ends
The camera panned across the Grips' table, showing only a handful of dishes filled with unidentifiable mush. "This just keeps getting worse and worse!" Millie said as she looked at it in horror.
"The reward better be worth it," MK said from her cage.
"Have I ever let you down?" Chris asked before quickly adding "Wait! Scratch that!" He smiled before continuing. "Anyway, the winning team gets this!" He held up a golden shovel, which gleamed in the light.
"A shovel?" Millie asked skeptically. “Seriously?”
Confessional: Jasmine
"Given what I know about confinement cells, I think I know what the next part of the challenge will be," Jasmine told the confessional camera. "If it's digging, then we have to believe that Millie will pull through for us."
Confessional Ends
"Prisoners ready?" Chris called from between the two cages. "Aaaand, culinate!"
The host continued his rapid commentary as the Gaffers were shown making their first moves around a large bowl of something brown. "Ripper goes right for the roaches. Chase tops it off with some moldy pineapple slices and oh! Here come the horse lips!" The burly boy dropped his ingredient into the bowl and walked away while the daredevil stuffed the pineapples into the bowl and grabbed some horse lips in order to add them in.
Sky approached the table from the other side. “Where did you even get these things?” the athlete asked.
"I found some leftover pineapples from the beach party," Chase told her before they left the table.
“Gross, but effective,” Sky said.
Scott arrived with his wife beater taken off and in his hands. “This oughta be good,” he snickered as he twisted his cloth and squeezed out all the sweat into the bowl. After doing so, he put his wife beater back on his bare chest.
The camera cut over to the Grips as Justin took some dead hair out of his pockets and put them into his team's bowl. "Looks like Justin is sacrificing some of his dead hair," Chris commented as Jasmine stepped forward with a cheese grater and a moldy onion, "and Jasmine adds a topping of ripe onion." The Australian woman quickly grated the onion and walked away as Anne Maria walked up to the bowl.
"Remember," Brick whispered to the Jersey girl, "we're trying to make the food gross, not tasty."
"I know that, which is why I'm throwing out these expired lip gloss," Anne Maria said as she took out two sticks of lip gloss and put them in the bowl, followed by her using her spray can on it.
"Time's up!" Chris announced suddenly and with a grin. "And jailbirds, hope your appetites are primed!"
"Hope you're not feeling queasy today," Jasmine said with a smirk as she delivered her team's bowl of white-and-moldy 'food' over to MK.
"Here is what me and my team put together," Chase said as he walked past to take a bowl of something mostly brown to Millie. “Sorry if it grosses you out, babe.”
"This looks," Millie said before gulping, "uh, incredibly...not so bad..."
"Are you maggots ready?" Chris asked excitedly. The shot cut to a close-up of maggots squirming beneath the white mush, the camera zooming out to show a horrified MK. "One minute to down that chow! Aaaaanndd...Dig in!"
The hacker took a spoonful of prison food and forced it into her mouth, cringing and shuddering immediately.
Confessional: MK
"I don't even know how the contestants could go through the Brunch of Disgustingness without dying last season," MK admitted in the make-up trailer. "I clearly don't have the iron stomach for this challenge, even after eating Chef's grossening excuse for food for two seasons."
Confessional Ends
The footage cut back to Millie as she hesitantly plunged the first spoonful into her mouth. She swallowed it whole and moaned. "What did you even put in this? Anchovy paste?"
"Not gonna answer," Ripper snorted cruelly.
Millie took another spoonful, and after a pause, she opened her mouth and pulled out a moldy pineapple slice. She shuddered again and flung it away from her.
A quick-pan over to MK showed the short girl forcing her way through her own meal. "Don't think about it," she said with a disgusted grimace after a swallow. "Do not think about it!" She took another bite, shuddered, and swallowed.
Seeing her struggle, Scott quickly conducted a plan. "Wow, who knew Millie had such a strong stomach?" he said to his team. "Especially after I squeezed all of my sweat into the bowl!"
“What?!” Millie's eyes went wide as she dropped her bowl of food to the ground with an off-screen splat. She vomited moments later, in a stream that hit a stunned MK in the head.
"MK keeps it down for the Screaming Gaffers," Chris announced over a piece of triumphant music, "and wins the reward!"
The Gaffers cheered, Sky holding the golden shovel in her hand.
"Hey Chris, can I throw up now?" MK asked as Chris let her out.
"As long as you don't get any puke on my hair and below, go right ahead," Chris told her.
"Cool," MK said, holding her stomach as she walked out of her cage. The moment the host left, she turned around and grabbed the side of her former cell, and puked right into it.
"Are you gonna be alright?" Sky asked as she and Scott walked over to her.
"Yeah," MK said after she turned around. "I was just waiting for Millie to puke her guts out."
"And because of me, she did it much faster," Scott gloated. “My sweat came through for us.
“You didn't need to say it out loud,” Sky told her teammate. “That was sort of cheating.”
"You say cheating, we say getting an advantage," MK said before getting queasy again. "Now can you excuse me for a sec?" Without waiting for a response, she turned back around and puked again.
The camera cut to Chef on another part of the set. "Sir, we may not have won," Brick said as he ran over to the cook, "but I can take pride in the fact that we created a meal that even you wouldn't eat."
"You've still got more to learn!" Chef shouted.
“Pardon?” Brick grew confused.
“Pride and two bucks will get you a cup of coffee!” Chef said. “What a man really needs is loyalty, and you clearly came through for your team. If it wasn't for the sweat thing, you would've won!”
“Thank you?” Brick said confusingly.
Chef placed a hand on his shoulder. “I was once like you. Young, weird, kinda ugly. But you've got a gift. Now own it. Don't let it go to waste. Like I did,” he sniffled and returned to his gruff state. “Meet me in the kitchen after the challenge. You're on permanent KP duty, soldier,” he said as he left.
Confessional: Brick
“I had no idea Chef could show empathy towards me, and though I don't like going against my morals by doing this secret alliance, that was the highlight,” Brick said with a smile.
Confessional Ends
(Commercial Break)

First Previous Next Volume 1 Volume 2 Volume 3 Volume 4 Patreon Newsletter
A knock came at the door while Saphira was washing her hands in the basin.
“One moment!” she cried as she dried her hands on a nearby towel. She brushed her palms against her apron and made for the front door. Two familiar faces greeted her on the other side. “Espada! Goose! Come on in!”
Espada offered a curt nod and procured a bottle of dark wine from behind her back. “I know you’re avoiding the stuff, but Goose and I want to have a couple of glasses if you don’t mind.”
Saphira shook her head. “Not at all!”
“Thank you, thank you,” Goose sang as she skipped into Saphira’s home.
Saphira shut the door once they were all inside, then briskly returned to the kitchen, where two pots of stew cooked over her stove. She grabbed a mitten and cupped it over the knob beneath the pot, and pulled open the door. The fire was still going strong, so she nodded and shut it before setting the mitten back to the side.
“It smells delicious,” Espada said, taking a seat on the sofa.
“Thank you. It’s an old recipe of my grandmother’s. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure it’s amazing.”
Saphira swung open a cabinet above her and plucked two glasses from within, holding them upside down with one hand. Years spent farming meant she had practiced hands, and she took great pride in her ability to accommodate friends and family. Grabbing a wine opener from a nearby drawer, thoughts of the last time she’d shared a glass with Matt pricked her tail. She strolled over to where Espada and Goose were sitting, cheerily humming as she gestured for the bottle of wine in Espada’s hand.
“It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve been here,” Espada commented, surrendering the bottle. “Keepin’ busy?”
“Every day is busy,” Saphira giggled as she set the glasses down. “Not that I mind it. I have excellent company.” She gestured to the crib against the back wall that Espada and Goose had built. Marie was happily playing with a few blocks that Goose had as a kitten. It baffled Saphira that Marie could already walk. Not that Marie could walk well just yet, but the fact that she’d picked it up so quickly and easily had Saphira wondering if she’d learned anything that early. “What about you?”
“Things are quiet lately, what with Matt and his Party gone. Demand for weapons and armor is low without ‘em. So I’ve been working the irrigation and home repairs lately.” Espada shrugged.
“Where’s Tabitha?” Saphira asked. Tabitha was a rambunctious woman, obsessed with dirt and everything beneath it. She had her heart set on being the one responsible for Junonia’s irrigation, and she worked as the village’s carpenter in her off time.
“We’re not sure, but she did mention checking out the other towns on Ni Island. Maybe she just got tired of this place.” Goose shrugged.
“It feels strange to take up her post,” Espada continued. “Not exactly my field of expertise. But it’s a living, and it’s oddly satisfying work. Besides, Goose is makin’ sure I don’t lose my touch.”
Saphira uncorked the bottle and set the opener to the side, blinking. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re looking at a [Fighter],” Goose said with a toothy grin. “Been hearing all about Matt and his Party from Espada and the other girls, so I thought I’d make my own waves out there.” She emphasized the point by imitating an ocean’s current with her hands.
Saphira smiled. Ni Island wasn’t known for its plethora of adventurers. Most of them ended up calling it quits before Second Class—choosing quieter lives in tending to children, farming, cooking, or living off the land. She couldn’t think of the last time she heard of someone leaving Junonia. Well, except for Matt and his group. “Are you thinking of exploring outside the island?”
Goose shook her head. “Not yet. I’m thinking of hunting some small-time Encroachers for a few Bells. Espada’s been helping me.” She nudged Espada playfully.
Espada chuckled. “She has a good sword arm, so I’ve been teaching her in my off time.”
“Espada, you’re the best I’ve ever seen! You must’ve trained on Nyarlothep,” Goose said.
“Something like that.” Espada had always been tight-lipped about where she came from before she settled on Ni Island. Whenever she was asked, she’d shake her head and change the subject. If anyone pushed too hard, then she’d suggest they go on their way.
Saphira didn’t mind it so much, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. Still, it wasn’t her place. She offered her own change of topic as she began to fill Espada and Goose’s glasses. “That’s so exciting, Goose!”
“It feels so good to train and Level. Don’t you think, Saphira?” Goose asked, leaning forward with eager eyes. She watched Saphira pour the wine, gripping the glass’ neck using her first two fingers and her thumb.
Saphira could hardly remember how long she’d dabbled in her Class after her choosing. Every catgirl selected a Class when they came of age, but it was a distant memory to her now. “A-ah… I admittedly don’t remember much.” She giggled and poured Espada’s drink next. “I know that I selected [Scout], though.”
“Huh. I would’ve figured you for a [Chemist] or a [Mage],” Goose said.
“I’d heard from Keke that [Scout]s were good at finding Encroacher parts, so I figured that I might become a leatherworker at some point,” Saphira said. She shook her head. “I’m not one for combat, though. I only ever reached Level 2.”
Goose nodded as she swirled her glass. “That’s our Saphira. Pure to the core.”
Saphira flushed and curled a lock of her hair around her finger. “Hardly.”
“You could charm the evil out of the Defiled,” Espada laughed before draining nearly half her glass.
Saphira wondered if Espada knew that wine was a bit different than ale. “That’s kind of you to say.” She could feel her cheeks growing hotter by the second. “I’m going to finish up dinner.”
By the time the food was ready to be served, Espada and Goose were laughing up a storm. Saphira set three hearty plates on the table, then strolled over to her daughter’s crib. Marie cooed and reached for Saphira’s finger, gripping it tight so as not to fall over.
“You’re so smart!” Saphira said in a high-pitched timbre. “It’s time for dinner!” She reached down and picked Marie up, cradling her in her arms as she approached the table in the living room. It was perfect for the occasion. She’d tried to share dinner with her daughter at the dinner table, but it had proven difficult with its height.
“Thank you for the meal,” Espada said with a nod. She’d finished her wine before dinner and didn’t seem any worse for wear. The same amount would’ve seen Saphira sleeping on the floor within minutes.
“Yeah, thanks!” Goose said.
“You’re welcome,” Saphira smiled as she took a seat across from Espada and Goose. Bouncing Marie on her knee, she plucked a fork from the table, skewered the steamed meozuna greens, and hovered the vegetable over Marie’s head. “Oh, look what I got you!” The kitten batted the air for her mother’s food, grabbing hold of Saphira’s wrist after the third attempt. Marie guided the fork to her mouth, nibbling on the soft veggie, and her tiny ears perked straight up. “Oh, what a good girl! Mommy’s little kitten is so smart!”
Goose and Espada watched with smiles on their faces as they picked at their food. Saphira continued to spoon and fork her food, sharing every other bite with Marie. To her relief, Marie was not a picky eater—Saphira’s mother had always liked to tease her about how fussy she was as a kitten.
“I can’t believe how fast she’s growing,” Goose commented while she wiped at her mouth with a handkerchief.
“I know, isn’t she beautiful?” Saphira glowed. “I love her with all of my heart and soul.” She and Marie touched foreheads, eliciting an excited coo from the kitten.
“It’s still so weird to me that Matt left,” Goose continued. “He’s such a…unique man.”
That was the perfect word for Matt. Saphira had never heard of a man traveling the other islands so quickly, nor had she ever heard of one working with the neighboring islands. It wasn’t unheard of, but she pined for Matt’s smile, his laugh, and his embrace. His presence brought so much hope and life to Junonia, and his absence was sorely felt.
Every day spent without him was another day Saphira spent worrying for his safety. As strong as he was, she feared that his kindness and consideration could bring him harm.
I hope you’re okay, Matt.
Espada snorted. “I can think of a few other words for him.”
Saphira guided another spoonful of potatoes into Marie’s mouth. “What do you mean?”
“We got off to a rough start.” She pushed her empty plate forward and leaned back against the sofa. “I was already pis—” She hesitated, glanced at Marie, then coughed into her fist. “I was in a bad mood that day. So I told him off when he tried to barter.”
Saphira gasped. “Espada!”
In a rare moment, Espada looked uncomfortable. “I work hard on my craft, and I wasn’t about to let him take advantage of me just because he was a man.”
“But they’re here to protect us.”
“I get that,” Espada said, her tone lowering, “I’ve just seen others who flaunt their influence, and I’m not okay with that.”
“I hope you apologized later.”
Espada blinked. “Sure. Yeah, I did.”
Saphira wasn’t quite sure if Espada was telling the truth, but she decided not to pry. “Well, it sounds like you’re on good terms now, then.”
Espada shrugged. “I think so. I gave him a few pointers when I had time.”
“You mean when it was convenient,” Goose jabbed Espada between the ribs playfully. “I know what those words really mean.”
Espada shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Sure you do.”
Marie grabbed one of Saphira’s bangs and pulled her closer. “Aauuooo?”
“Sweetie, you’re hurting Mommy,” Saphira said as she unhooked her daughter’s hand from her hair. She giggled and used her free hand to fix her hair. “You know, I’ve always wondered, Espada.”
“Hm?”
“What brought you to Ni Island? You know so much about weapons and armor, and you learn things so much faster than I would.” She tilted her head inquisitively. “Where did you learn?”
Espada didn’t answer immediately. “I used to work in Nyarlothep as a smith.”
“I knew it!” Goose cried.
A warning glance escaped the corner of Espada’s eyes. Goose quieted, and she continued, “I got tired of my work there and decided to come here instead.”
“A fresh start?”
“You could say that,” she said quickly. Her tone was flat and snappy. “I guess I just got tired of the politics and making weapons and armor for those who didn’t deserve them.”
“Well, I’m glad you decided to come to Ni Island,” Saphira smiled. This was a sensitive topic for Espada, that much she could tell. It was time to let the matter drop. What did it matter, anyway? “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Espada’s easy smile returned. “Thanks.”
The room was warm and comforting. As the conversation continued, Saphira eventually let Marie walk around under the condition that Goose sat on the floor with her. It was much easier to keep an eye on a curious kitten with multiple people. The three of them played with Marie, and when it was her bedtime, Saphira placed her daughter back in her crib and kissed her forehead.
“Thank you again for dinner,” Espada said. “It’s been a while since I had such a nice home-cooked meal.”
“You’re so welcome!” Saphira clapped her hands together. “We should do this again sometime.”
“I agree! Maybe next time I’ll bring the meat,” Goose said. “Fresh kill and all that.”
“As long as I don’t have to, well, prepare it.” Saphira swallowed hard. She couldn’t imagine being the one responsible for skinning and bisecting an Encroacher for food. She always left that to the butchers.
“Don’t worry. I could never ask you to do that.”
“Then it’s a plan!”
Espada and Goose waved their farewells, and Saphira shut the door behind them, leaning against its surface when they were gone. The room was quiet now, with only the crackling of the hearth and her daughter’s snores to keep her company. For a few moments, she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. She had the family she always dreamed of. Marie was every bit the blessing from Saoirse she imagined.
But the longer she stared, the longer she listened, the more empty the room started to feel. Her hands clenched into fists behind her, and her longing for Marie’s father heightened.
I wish you could see your daughter right now, Matt.
Espada Pro Tip: It was good to see you, Saphira. Don't be a stranger, okay? Let me know if your tools need maintenance.
First Previous Next Volume 1 Volume 2 Volume 3 Volume 4 Patreon Newsletter
Thanks for reading!
Advance chapters, Side Quest voting, exclusive NSFW chapters, full-res art, acrylic pins, WIPs, and more on Patreon!
Everyone's a Catgirl! Volume One is available now on Kindle Unlimited and Audible! Volume Two and Volume Three are out on Kindle Unlimited and Paperback!
Matt and Ravyn have a stream!
EaC! is also available on Royal Road!

I took my evil sim on a trip to the Goths’ to sweep some stuff and blackmail them. Morty wasn’t home, but Bella was outside, so I stroke up a rude conversation and confronted her. She got pissed and went inside before I could blackmail her, so I started working on Cassandra.
I confronted her, taunted her and the blackmailed her, which angered her greatly. Out the corner of my eye I saw Bella coming back inside from kicking over the trash cans, so I went downstairs and blackmailed her. Bella and I proceeded to have an unpleasant conversation while Cassandra cooked herself some eggs and toast for dinner.
The second she finished cooking I grabbed her meal and ate it myself. She cussed me out, which negatively affected her manners, and then she started making a garden salad.
As soon as she’d finished that, and while I was pranking the toilets, a very angry Bella came over and snatched it from her. Once again Cassandra cussed her out and took a hit to her manners.
Bella sat down to eat and Cassandra stormed out of the kitchen with a ham and cheese sandwich. I snorted loudly.