Other title : A Forest Encounter With a Thieving Tanuki
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Context :
~First of all, some information about the script :~
I'm open to monetization as long as I receive credit. Minor adjustments to the script for recording are okay, as long as they maintain the original meaning. Adding sound effects or music isn't required, but it can enhance the story's immersion. The key is ensuring the listener understands the plot. My scripts are adaptable to any speaker or listener (A4A, M4A, F4A). If there are any uncertainties, feel free to ask for clarification.
Since English isn't my first language, please notify me of any errors in the script or story structure.
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Context :
You're a traveling merchant, making your living by selling various unique items across the country. One beautiful morning, you decide to head to your next destination, but you have the feeling you're being followed. Suddenly, someone jumps out from the bushes—it's a Tanuki. They say they want to look at your merchandise, but something about their behavior seems suspicious...
Audio length: 1400sw, 7-12min
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[The Listener walks on a quiet country road early in the morning]
[Speaker follows, hiding in the bushes. Sounds of rustling bushes, maybe adding onomatopoeia, as they move from bush to bush]

Speaker : Oh, uh... darn, looks like you saw me.
[Pause]

Speaker (brushing leaves off their outfit) : Well, now that I've been spotted, I guess I can walk on the path.
Speaker (innocently) : Well, what a fortuitous meeting ! What are you doing out here on this beautiful morning ?
(…)

Speaker : Oh, on your way to sell your merchandise ? So, you're an itinerant merchant, that's rather unique !
[Listener starts walking again]

Speaker : Hey, where are you going ? Why are you resuming your journey so quickly ? Wait for me !
[Speaker follows the Listener for a moment]

Speaker : Why am I following you ? Well, I'm curious, I often pass by here but it's the first time I've seen you !
(…)

Speaker (mischievously) : Come on, don't be so suspicious ! I'm just a curious tanuki, intrigued by your big cart.
Speaker : It looks like you have a lot of stuff in there. Where do you find all that ?
(…)
Speaker (amused) : Oh, I see, you're keeping your secrets. I respect that. But tell me, do you often travel alone ? That must be tough, right ?
Speaker : You know, I've always dreamed of traveling the country, meeting people, discovering new things... A bit like you, actually. Maybe one day I could accompany you ?
(…)

Speaker : « No thanks » ? Well, I see you're not ready to trust me yet.
Speaker : That's normal. After all, we just met. But I really want to learn from you and your experiences.
Speaker (moving to the other side of the Listener) : By the way, I couldn't help but notice all the unique items you have. May I take a look at your merchandise ?
(…)

Speaker : Oh please ! I promise I won't damage anything ! I'm very meticulous !
[Speaker walks closer to the Listener]

Speaker : Besides, I could give you my opinion on your merchandise.
Speaker (proudly): I know the people living in the village you're heading to very well.
Speaker (mischievously) : I could help you highlight what might interest them the most. So... What do you say ?
[Listener stops]

Speaker : Oh, thank you very much ! That's really generous of you, you won't regret it !
[The Speaker starts rummaging, sounds of objects]

Speaker (excited) : Wow, you have so many things in there ! It's impressive !
Speaker : Plushies, books, oh, and what's this ? Underwear ? Hmm, I won't comment, I'm sure someone will like it.
(…)
Speaker (continuing to rummage curiously) : Oh, this perfume ! It smells delicious. You have impeccable taste in choosing your merchandise.
Speaker : And this box ! How elegant ! It looks expensive.
(…)

Speaker (continuing to rummage) : I wasn't wrong, your items are very interesting...
Speaker (with a mischievous smile) : You really have a talent for finding hidden treasures. It's fascinating to see all this variety in your cart.
(…)
Speaker (trying to distract the Listener) : But you know what ? I think you could enrich your stock even more.
Speaker : Well, for example... Look over there, do you see those stones ? Yes, the white ones here.
(…)

Speaker : They have a really unique look, don't they ? I've heard somewhere that they're rather rare.
Speaker (trying to convince the Listener) : I think you could sell them for a good price... It would be a shame to pass that up, right ?
(…)

Speaker : It would be worth taking a look, don't you think ?
Speaker : Good decision ! Uh, me ? I'll wait here...
Speaker : Despite their beauty, these stones look sharp... I wouldn't want to hurt my precious paws...
[Listener walks towards the stones]

Speaker (in a low voice) : Well, that was easier than I thought...
Speaker (continuing) : Now, let's see what treasures I can find here while they're busy with the stones...
[Speaker rummages]

Speaker : Ha-ha ! This is interesting ! Lots of jewelry... I'll try not to take too much so it won't be too obvious...
[Speaker fills their pockets, sounds of jewelry/coins]

Speaker : Oh, but I can't leave without this pendant !
Speaker : And also this set of rings, they look expensive !
[Speaker continues to rummage]
Speaker : Hmm, this pearl necklace looks exquisite. And these earrings, they're really elegant.
Speaker : Darn, I think I took too much... I should hurry and get out of here before they come back. Too bad, there were so many other items worth stealing...
(…)

Speaker : Well, we can say this has been a productive day !
Speaker : Alright, time to put these jewels somewhere safe and plan my next escapade. Maybe I should choose bigger items next time...
(…)

Speaker (about to leave) : We'll see about that when the time comes-
[Listener is there]

Speaker (nervously) : Oh, uh... you're back already ? I didn't expect to see you so soon !
Speaker : So, those stones... What did you think of them ?
(…)
Speaker (more nervous) : Oh, so they were just ordinary rocks ? I must have been mistaken after all...
Speaker : Well, I think I'll be going now! I don't want to hold you up any longer !
(….)
(Listener grabs the Speaker's arm, stopping them)

Speaker : Hm ? Why are you stopping me ?
Speaker : Your jewelry ? They're missing ? Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen anything like that.
(…)

Speaker : You're missing some gold coins too ? Are you sure you had them in the first place ?
Speaker (provoking) : Maybe you're starting to lose your mind ?
(…)

Speaker : What ? You're accusing me ? And why would that be ?
(Listener holds the Speaker) [Sound of fabric]

Speaker : Let go of me ! I told you I didn't take anything ! You have no proof !
[Sound of coins, jewelry]

Speaker (cursing) : Damn it...
Speaker : Okay, okay, you got me. I did steal some coins. But that's all I took, I swear !
(…)

Speaker : What ? You don't believe me ?
Speaker : I don't see why I would be interested in stealing jewelry ! A tanuki like me has no use for them !
(Listener tries to forcibly take back their loot)

Speaker : Well, looks like I have no choice but to use my special technique ! I usually only do it in extreme emergencies... But you're forcing me.
[Speaker transforms into an object, adding sound effects. Their voice changes a bit due to the transformation, with a bit of echo for example]

Speaker : Haha, you can't catch me now !
Speaker : That's our power as tanuki, we can change shape and transform into objects. Good luck finding me among all your items !
(Listener seems puzzled, searching for the object in vain)

Speaker (transformed voice, mocking) : Come on, keep looking. Do you really think you can find me ? I'm well hidden now.
(Listener searches)

Speaker : Oh ? You're really bad at finding things, it seems.
(Listener grabs a box that is actually the Tanuki)

Speaker : Oh-
[Speaker reverts to their original form]

Speaker: You've found me out ! But how is that possible ? How did you know ?
Speaker : I thought my little trick would work ! But you must be very perceptive !
(…)

Speaker : Hm ? What did you say ?
Speaker : My ears ? What ? I didn't make them disappear properly !
(…)

Speaker : Oh my god, what a stupid mistake I've made... If others find out, I'll become the laughingstock of the village and be utterly humiliated.
Speaker (sighs) : Well, now that you've caught me, what do you intend to do ?
(…)

Speaker : Get back everything I took from you? But wait... Maybe we can find a compromise!
Speaker (lying) : I... I didn't want to tell you to avoid your pity, but my little brother is very sick, and, uh, I need these jewels to sell them to get the money for his treatment !
(Listener is suspicious, shakes the Speaker) [Sound of fabric]

Speaker : Hey, no need to shake me like that !!
Speaker : Okay, okay, I'll stop lying. I don't even have a little brother !
(…)

Speaker : I also stole some of your jewelry…
Speaker: But I couldn't help myself ! That loot... it was like it was calling to me ! He was practically begging me to steal it !
(…)

Speaker (panicking) : Alright, alright ! No need to make a scene ! I'll return what I took... well, almost everything.
(…)

Speaker: Fine, I'll give it all back! Ahhhh put me down now!
(Listener puts the Speaker down) [Sound of fabric]

Speaker (sighs) : Ah... Finally...
Speaker : You're really a brute, you know ! With your physique, one might doubt it !
(…)

Speaker : Uh, yes, I'll give you back your merchandise... Here you go...
[Sound of coins/jewelry]

Speaker : Well, now that everything is in order, I can leave...
[Speaker is stopped again by the Listener] [Sound of fabric]

Speaker : Hm ? What now ?
Speaker : What do you mean I have to redeem myself? I've given back everything I took from you as far as I know! I owe you nothing!
(…)

Speaker : It's true that I tried to trick you but well, it's not my fault if you're so naive after all.
(…)

Speaker : You're going to tell the other tanuki that I can't transform properly ?
Speaker : Pff, as if I cared...
Speaker : I don't risk much... Except being the laughingstock of the village for the rest of my life...
(Listener continues their threat while starting to walk away)

Speaker : Hey, wait !! Damn...
Speaker : Okay, okay, I give up. What do you want as a favor ?
(…)
Speaker (annoyed) : Helping you sell your items ? Uh, that sounds boring...
(…)

Speaker : Alright, I get it ! I'll help you... Since I don't have much choice...
Speaker : Well, let's get going then...
(…)

Speaker : The sooner we get there, the sooner I can be done with all this...
(End)
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Author's note : I've got a big script series project coming up, so I've got a lot of work to do...

Hey all,
So recently I replayed the CS arc. When I first got into these games, I started with CS and played all the way through, so obviously I was missing important context for a lot of things. After that I just went from Sky 1 through to Azure, then jumped to Reverie.
Over the last couple months I did a CS replay so I could get a “new experience” with the information I lacked before. And in anticipation for Daybreak, I replayed Reverie as well. And it made me want to kind of do a “thoughts on the series” post because the more I replay the game, the more excited and terrified I become of the future. And I kinda want to hear everyone else’s opinions on certain things.
So first I wanna talk about the characters. This series, for me, is really carried hard by a lot of the cast. Yeah, there are characters I don’t like, and some I find kinda bland, but the ones who shine really REALLY shine. But the problem is that even if we just count the playable characters across the series, we’ve cleared like 60 characters, and a lot of them didn’t make a return in Reverie - which was supposed to be the big crossover event. Like, Kloe is briefly there but she plays no role in the plot, she isn’t playable, hell outside of a Daydream she doesn't even have lines. Anelace is Master Ka-Fai’s Granddaughter and nobody even talks about her outside of the Sky series. Josette turned into a glorified bus driver. And let’s be real - at this point the Liberl crew is here out of obligation more than anything, with the sole exception of Tita. And the weird part is that, based on their story, I think they have the MOST reason to be around when dealing with Ouroboros, but they don’t do anything with this connection, really.
Now why bring this up? Because I feel like we’re going to start losing a LOT of characters in the future. They cannot keep up a cast this large. My concern, though, is that it’ll be a lot of my favorites. I mean, I love Crow, and I know Rean will show up. And let’s be real, where Rean goes, Crow is sure to follow. He doesn’t concern me. But what about a lot of my other favorites? It pains me, but I don’t see Juna coming back. Her arc is linked to Crossbell, and we solved all their problems. And the same thing goes with a lot of the Crossbell Crew. Reverie’s ending makes me think Lloyd will come back along with, likely, the main 4 SSS-ers, but what about Noel? She doesn’t have much reason to leave Crossbell. The same goes for another favorite of mine - Claire. She doesn’t really have any reason to leave Erebonia. I can’t imagine she’s coming back. Same with a lot of Class VII. Jusis is ruling a province. He can’t just go galavanting off. Same with characters like Machias, Laura, and Millium. And I think my biggest fear is the Liberl crew. Now don’t spoil me, but based on the Reverie Daydreams, I’m expecting Renne to be in the future games. But what about the rest? Falcom seems hell bent on getting rid of a lot of the Liberl crew. Like I said, we haven’t been able to play them in a long time. Kloe, Anelace, Schera, Mueller, Julia, Kevin, Reis, Josette, Zin… if they’re even around they’re a shell of their former selves. And in Reverie, Estelle and Joshua may as well be mannequins with their faces for all it matters - at least outside of the daydreams featuring them. So yeah, the future terrifies me. I really wanna see my favorites return in a big way - especially characters like Juna - but I don’t think many of them will, and if they do, they’re not going to be the same. They’ll make Juna into some traveling Michalem executive who doesn’t fight, or reduce Rixia down to just a dancer girl, maybe give some of my favorites the Kevin treatment, or just turn Estelle and Joshua into just borderline Bracer NPCs no different from Lynn and Aeolia.
That said… I’m incredibly excited for the new characters these gaps will bring. I didn't play the Daybreak Demo - I wanted to go in as blind as possible. But it's kinda impossible to ignore everything about the game at this point. I can already tell there's at least one character I’m going to love based on what little I’ve seen. I just wish these new characters didn't come off the back of others.
Next, I wanna talk about Ouroboros. Now this is gonna be controversial - I know - but I don’t know how I feel about them being the main antagonists. Because the thing is, with Osborne out of the picture, I think they’re going to move back into the spotlight as our main antagonistic force once more. The thing is… I cannot take them seriously. I know people are gonna go “B-b-but the Grandmaster can smell all possible futures with her amazing super duper god powers! She’s soooooo stupor doopur stronk!” and yeah. Sure. But here’s the thing. Her “plans” read like they aren’t made by someone who can see the future. Because they’re all effectively just sending her people in to fuck around, then lucking into whatever she needed to get - many times at a cost to her organization. Like, let’s look at the CS arc to explain. So she recruits Vita, then Vita turns on her and, because of this, Osborne steals their “plan”. He then effectively forces them to work for him, while they try to actively hunt Vita down. And by the end of CS4, they’ve also lost McBurn. Meanwhile every single plan she puts in motion during this arc is “I send person A to place B where they get their ass kicked, but somehow this results in me obtaining the key component to the Super Scrupulous Mashed Potato Penguin Plan, and for some reason my underlings will all just go “I understand. Me getting kicked in the mouth so hard that my shit has teeth marks now was all part of the master plan. Oh how wise and powerful you are! Now pardon me while I go ice my two black eyes and broken nose with a now toothless smile.” But then for whatever reason… Vita goes back to Ouroboros. It’s a good fucking thing your search parties DIDN’T find her, Grandmaster. If they had that would have ended poorly. Oh! But of course you knew they wouldn’t find her so… WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SEND THEM TO HUNT HER IN THE FIRST PLACE?! Like if I could SEE THE FUCKING FUTURE I would just not hire dumbasses who betray me, are hilariously incompetent, or fucking die. I would also simply not make plans where my people just get kicked to Ghenna and back by children. If I just know everything, why do I need to have my idiots test out magical artifacts in Sky? Why do I need to perform these little experiments since I should already know their outcomes? Hell, why do I even need to make these elaborate plans to get artifacts when I should just know where they are and just GO FUCKING GRAB THEM. Nobody would have been able to stop her if she DIDN’T create a cabal of super terrorists to go cause problems and just strolled around collecting shit. Like if she just summoned the Ark herself to get what she needed, the Bracers WOULDN’T have been onto her in the slightest, meaning they wouldn’t be around to stop her.
And that’s all just their leader. Don’t get me started on the fact that, at this point, we have either converted, killed, or kicked the absolute cunt out of 90% of their members. Like, I just can’t take these idiots seriously as a threat. I don’t care that the Grandmaster can supposedly see the future. I don’t care that she has this coalition of super beings, and I don’t care that she’s absolutely either Aidios or the Sept-Terrion or Mirage… or both. Because what she and her troup ACTUALLY are, to me, are a bunch of fucking dumbass clowns who think they’re cool. They’re basically all Wimp Lo from Kung Pow if anyone gets that reference. Fuckin “I’m bleeding, making ME the victor!” dumbasses.
It's such a shame too because as individuals, I find a lot of them super interesting. McBurn seems like he's gonna have some really cool shit coming up. I really love Vita and her role in the CS arc. I think Joshua, Renne, and Loewe were awesome. But the problem is that it's hard to take them seriously all together.
Weissman, Novartis, The Emperor, and Bell may as well be the same character for all it matters - but two of them are dead, one has been thwarted twice, and one thwarted once. Walter and Luci got their asses beat so hard they stopped being in the series. Arianrhod and Loewe are dead. Sharon, Bleublanc, Josh, Renne, and McBurn are out. And then we have Campy who basically exists to be a punching bag at this point. I don't think anyone has taken more L’s than him in this series.
I’m kind of hoping that the Calvard arcs “true” enemy is President Dickface or Heiyue. If that happened I’d be all on board. But at this point I just cannot see me getting invested in another dumb Ouroboros meme scheme that ends with us beating the actual fuck out of them, and then the GM going “Ah yes. Two more of my team died, and five others are nursing broken ribs. All according to plan.”
Finally, I wanted to touch on the general gameplay. Now a lot of this is based on spoilers I was unable to avoid - and I’m very mixed on how things seem to be shaping up in this regard. I know the combat is different going forward and I don't know exactly how I’ll feel about that until I play it, but I do think I’ll still prefer the CS system. Turn based combat is really dying out - and while I love FF16 and the 7R games with their action combat, I do miss standard turn based. And it kinda feels like a shame that Trails, a game with incredibly well realized turn based combat, is steering away from it.
That said, I also know they’ve removed the romance mechanic and… Thank FUCK for that. One of my biggest gripes with Crossbell and CS is that all the women effectively needed to be written as a sort of “Schrodinger's Girlfriend” where they are all written in such a way that they both are and aren't dating the protagonist. I mean, don't get me wrong, a lot of these ladies still number among my favorite characters - Juna, Sara, Rixia, Alisa, Altina, Fie… But at the same time, it is so damn annoying to know that they could have also been given more of their own arcs, not tied to Lloyd or Rean, if Falcom had just said “Elie and Alisa are the girlfriends” with an actually well written romance arc like they had clearly intended. I’m so fucking glad that is out, so now maybe we can see characters have actual narrative relationships again like in Sky.
Though I will say that the downside to this is losing out on the otherwise normal hangouts. The social elements of CS are what made me love Class VII even more. We got to see characters during their down time. We got to see other sides of them. One of my favorites is Rean asking Altina what she wants to paint, and almost by instinct she just points to him. It's one of the most adorable scenes that really shows both the bond between them, and the potential for Altina. But now we won't get those moments.
That said I also know this has been replaced with a Mass Effect-esque Paragon/Renegade system and… Again I don't know how to feel here. My obvious concern is that this system won't matter, just like the romance mechanic. They’ll have to make it a Schrodinger's Morality where Van both is and isn't a paragon of virtue and menace to society, and again, this bothers me. I wish they’d just make the narrative they want.
Anyway. Those are my general thoughts. I’m not necessarily looking for like… Reassurance or anything, especially if it involves spoilers, but I’m more wondering if I’m alone in feeling a lot of these. Daybreak is a game that both excites and terrifies me. Because I’ve come to love this series so much. Hell, I’d say it had eclipsed Mass Effect as my favorite video game series of all time. But seeing the state of things post-Reverie, and having some general Daybreak spoilers, kinda terrifies me of what's to come, and not in the good kind of “fear” like the horrible anticipation after CS3’s ending. So I kinda want to know what the rest of the fans think.

Tales from beyond the pulsing door presents: The Man With Square Teeth
The inaugural installment of TBPD and the inspiration for the series. The man with square teeth is based on a true story, artfully extrapolated. Listeners are encouraged to re-listen to this episode as additional entries are published. For those interested in the grand plot of TBPD, this episode will be your anchor. For all others, enjoy!
This story is available via audio narration on Tiktok, Instagram, Spotify, and Youtube. Just search: The_Pulsing_Door
***
I find it strange sometimes, the way someone can get a feeling that crawls alongside them. The sort of…feeling of “being watched” as Buggs Bunny would put it. It’s amazing – we all experience it. And then we tell each other that it’s imagined. I don’t believe in the supernatural because I’ve never seen proof, but there are times where the logical side of my mind does battle with the irrational. This is a tale of one such time.
It started when I got a dog. A floppy little chicken nugget with ruby hair and an inescapable smile. At the time I was living in a gated community – not the nicest of places, but enough sidewalk to get my little pup some exercise. Puppies require multiple walks a day, sometimes within the same hour. January 14^th was the first time I took my dog for a walk past the patch of grass that changed my life.
We (the dog and I) were walking along the sidewalk. The glow of dusk had just faded into the silent blanket of night. Him, sniffing and snorting; trotting in front of, beside, and behind me. And me, mostly making sure that I didn’t step on his tail. Then it hit me – like a needle in the back of my neck. I felt…a presence. I snapped up and glanced over my shoulder just in time to see the lights of an apartment pop on. All of the lights. All at once. It took about five or six seconds for me to understand what was happening – it was the model apartment. The one the leasing office shows to people who are interested in renting. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued my walk. What a strange coincidence – that I would turn my head just in time to see those light go on.
The very next evening it happened again. It must have been the same exact time. I couldn’t believe it. But it happened again. The feeling, the look, the lights. This time I was a little more prepared, so it was nowhere near as startling. Yet for some reason, rather than moving along, I felt compelled to look in to the apartment. The blinds, all of the blinds, were drawn such that I could clearly see inside of any room I chose. Looking through the sliding screen door I could see the living room most clearly. It was pristine. The walls were bright and white, like a hospital room. The couch was eggshell and unscuffed. On the brown ottoman sat a tray with some fake silverware, a plate, and a French press. A tasteful sheepskin rung, standing lamp, and light wall décor rounded out the room. It was uncomfortably neat. It was the sort of set up you would expect to see in a 1950s home – a place for everything and everything in its place. But why? Why did it have to be so neat? What consequences awaited anyone who would dare disrupt the pristine setup? I was rambling to myself, so I shook it off and moved on.
For a third night (January 16^th) I passed by the apartment again. It was well into the night, and the lights were off this time, which admittedly brought me some comfort. I walked passed the sliding screen door, satisfied. On the way back home I deliberately retraced my steps. As I passed the apartment again, it happened. The lights came on. A chill shot down my body. There was the same setup, perfectly untouched. The lights couldn’t have been on a timer. The past two nights they came on at dusk. The moon was high in the sky this night. So why did they come on? And why do they continue to come on as I walk by? Are they on a motion sensor? If so, why didn’t they come on the first time I walked by? I had had enough of my own questions, and I decided it would be best to take a different route on my evening walks.
A few days went by and I forgot. But then the strangest thing started happening. I don’t remember the exact date it began to happen, but gradually, I found myself gravitating back toward the apartment. Suddenly every night I was walking by the same sliding door. And not on purpose either. In fact, some nights I would deliberately avoid the patch of sidewalk that led past that brightly lit, sterile living room; but for whatever reason I would lose my train of thought, or get distracted. And there it would be. The 20 foot stretch of sidewalk, beckoning my footsteps. Calling me.
Over time my thoughts became more invasive – more erratic. I began to picture the creature that would dwell in this plastic, contrived apartment. I remember one night I stared straight into that screen door, hypnotized, imagining his manifestation. I couldn’t help but picture him in my minds eye. There he would be sitting on that eggshell couch. Dressed well. Clad in a 50’s style pinstriped suit, a bowtie, and a bowler derby hat. And he had always been sitting there. Right there. Clear as day for anyone who focused hard enough to see him. But something was wrong. It was all wrong, in fact. The suit fit him too well. The tie draped straight out from his neck. There was no separation between the hat and his hairless head. Was he even wearing clothes at all?
I leaned in closer. His eyebrows were drawn on…perhaps with marker. His skin was pale and powdered. He sat on the couch staring straight ahead, such that I could see his entire side profile. He had no nose. He had no eyelids. I’m not sure if he understood that people blink. My thoughts raced as my imagination filled in the rest of his structure. His hands were in what appeared to be pockets, but there was no beginning or end. They just faded into his upper thigh. He had no lips. The skin was there, but they lacked the pouty blush that distinguishes lip from skin on the human face. This was a ruse. Why put on such a show? Why even try to convince me that you’re human?
I was ready to leave and keep walking, but my shoes felt as if they were cement. I couldn’t stop staring into the room, picking apart my imaginary man, desperate to make sense of his anatomy. Then something unexpected happened. I lost control of my imagination. What had once been a translucent delusion was now a solid figure sitting before me. Expressionless, he craned his crooked neck in my direction. His head was a perfect 90 degrees east, the remainder of his body completely perpendicular. Slowly, a forced, trembling smile came across his face, exposing 32 perfect squares, residing in his mouth. They were not curved like the human mouth. The angles of his smile were impossible, they made no sense. An the teeth…oh god the teeth – the teeth were perfectly straight, and perfectly square. The same bleached, hygienic white as the walls. And there he sat, impersonating a smile, as if he believed that I would feel less threatened. It was as though I could melt right through the screen door and join him had I wanted. And I felt compelled to. Why did I want to sit down with him?
After what felt like hours I snapped out of my trance and shuffled off, surely leaving my dog quite confused. I checked my watch – I had only been stuck in that fever dream for a minute or two. It was as if time stood still when I was perched in front of that apartment. I didn’t sleep well that night. I couldn’t get those teeth out of my head. Or the smile. Raised eyebrows, crinkled cheeks, the blank spot where a nose should be. It was awful.
I never looked in that apartment again. I would walk past it, despite my best efforts, and note from the corner of my eye that the lights were always on now – even in the day time. I would pass it at night, the living room lamp’s hum somehow audible form my position. Most nights, in addition to the blinding light emanating from the apartment was a blurry dark figure in my peripheral. I dare not look directly through that sliding screed door. What if he was actually sitting there? What if my imagination hadn’t run wild? What if I turned to look and found a horrid creature staring at me, waiting to catch my glance? What if all he needed was my attention to lure me in? What if that smile was real?
A few months later I moved. I never had to walk past that dreaded apartment again. I thought that would be the end. But I’ve never been a hard sleeper. Many nights I’ll wake up and, just for a moment, feel the presence of the man I’ve seen before. Even as I write this now I can picture him, sitting quietly, waiting. I dream of him sometimes. In most dreams he can’t see me. But once in a while he can. And I know that he can because in that moment it happens again. My feet become heavy, my eyes gloss over, and the turns to show me his two-dimensional, uninterpretable smile. I fear that no matter where I go, or how many years pass by I will be unable to escape him. The man who quietly haunts the corners of my darkest delusions. The man with square teeth.

Tales from beyond the pulsing door presents: The Man With Square Teeth
The inaugural installment of TBPD and the inspiration for the series. The man with square teeth is based on a true story, artfully extrapolated. Listeners are encouraged to re-listen to this episode as additional entries are published. For those interested in the grand plot of TBPD, this episode will be your anchor. For all others, enjoy!
This story is available via audio narration via the following links:
TikTok
YouTube
Instagram
Spotify
***
I find it strange sometimes, the way someone can get a feeling that crawls alongside them. The sort of…feeling of “being watched” as Buggs Bunny would put it. It’s amazing – we all experience it. And then we tell each other that it’s imagined. I don’t believe in the supernatural because I’ve never seen proof, but there are times where the logical side of my mind does battle with the irrational. This is a tale of one such time.
It started when I got a dog. A floppy little chicken nugget with ruby hair and an inescapable smile. At the time I was living in a gated community – not the nicest of places, but enough sidewalk to get my little pup some exercise. Puppies require multiple walks a day, sometimes within the same hour. January 14^th was the first time I took my dog for a walk past the patch of grass that changed my life.
We (the dog and I) were walking along the sidewalk. The glow of dusk had just faded into the silent blanket of night. Him, sniffing and snorting; trotting in front of, beside, and behind me. And me, mostly making sure that I didn’t step on his tail. Then it hit me – like a needle in the back of my neck. I felt…a presence. I snapped up and glanced over my shoulder just in time to see the lights of an apartment pop on. All of the lights. All at once. It took about five or six seconds for me to understand what was happening – it was the model apartment. The one the leasing office shows to people who are interested in renting. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued my walk. What a strange coincidence – that I would turn my head just in time to see those light go on.
The very next evening it happened again. It must have been the same exact time. I couldn’t believe it. But it happened again. The feeling, the look, the lights. This time I was a little more prepared, so it was nowhere near as startling. Yet for some reason, rather than moving along, I felt compelled to look in to the apartment. The blinds, all of the blinds, were drawn such that I could clearly see inside of any room I chose. Looking through the sliding screen door I could see the living room most clearly. It was pristine. The walls were bright and white, like a hospital room. The couch was eggshell and unscuffed. On the brown ottoman sat a tray with some fake silverware, a plate, and a French press. A tasteful sheepskin rung, standing lamp, and light wall décor rounded out the room. It was uncomfortably neat. It was the sort of set up you would expect to see in a 1950s home – a place for everything and everything in its place. But why? Why did it have to be so neat? What consequences awaited anyone who would dare disrupt the pristine setup? I was rambling to myself, so I shook it off and moved on.
For a third night (January 16^th) I passed by the apartment again. It was well into the night, and the lights were off this time, which admittedly brought me some comfort. I walked passed the sliding screen door, satisfied. On the way back home I deliberately retraced my steps. As I passed the apartment again, it happened. The lights came on. A chill shot down my body. There was the same setup, perfectly untouched. The lights couldn’t have been on a timer. The past two nights they came on at dusk. The moon was high in the sky this night. So why did they come on? And why do they continue to come on as I walk by? Are they on a motion sensor? If so, why didn’t they come on the first time I walked by? I had had enough of my own questions, and I decided it would be best to take a different route on my evening walks.
A few days went by and I forgot. But then the strangest thing started happening. I don’t remember the exact date it began to happen, but gradually, I found myself gravitating back toward the apartment. Suddenly every night I was walking by the same sliding door. And not on purpose either. In fact, some nights I would deliberately avoid the patch of sidewalk that led past that brightly lit, sterile living room; but for whatever reason I would lose my train of thought, or get distracted. And there it would be. The 20 foot stretch of sidewalk, beckoning my footsteps. Calling me.
Over time my thoughts became more invasive – more erratic. I began to picture the creature that would dwell in this plastic, contrived apartment. I remember one night I stared straight into that screen door, hypnotized, imagining his manifestation. I couldn’t help but picture him in my minds eye. There he would be sitting on that eggshell couch. Dressed well. Clad in a 50’s style pinstriped suit, a bowtie, and a bowler derby hat. And he had always been sitting there. Right there. Clear as day for anyone who focused hard enough to see him. But something was wrong. It was all wrong, in fact. The suit fit him too well. The tie draped straight out from his neck. There was no separation between the hat and his hairless head. Was he even wearing clothes at all?
I leaned in closer. His eyebrows were drawn on…perhaps with marker. His skin was pale and powdered. He sat on the couch staring straight ahead, such that I could see his entire side profile. He had no nose. He had no eyelids. I’m not sure if he understood that people blink. My thoughts raced as my imagination filled in the rest of his structure. His hands were in what appeared to be pockets, but there was no beginning or end. They just faded into his upper thigh. He had no lips. The skin was there, but they lacked the pouty blush that distinguishes lip from skin on the human face. This was a ruse. Why put on such a show? Why even try to convince me that you’re human?
I was ready to leave and keep walking, but my shoes felt as if they were cement. I couldn’t stop staring into the room, picking apart my imaginary man, desperate to make sense of his anatomy. Then something unexpected happened. I lost control of my imagination. What had once been a translucent delusion was now a solid figure sitting before me. Expressionless, he craned his crooked neck in my direction. His head was a perfect 90 degrees east, the remainder of his body completely perpendicular. Slowly, a forced, trembling smile came across his face, exposing 32 perfect squares, residing in his mouth. They were not curved like the human mouth. The angles of his smile were impossible, they made no sense. An the teeth…oh god the teeth – the teeth were perfectly straight, and perfectly square. The same bleached, hygienic white as the walls. And there he sat, impersonating a smile, as if he believed that I would feel less threatened. It was as though I could melt right through the screen door and join him had I wanted. And I felt compelled to. Why did I want to sit down with him?
After what felt like hours I snapped out of my trance and shuffled off, surely leaving my dog quite confused. I checked my watch – I had only been stuck in that fever dream for a minute or two. It was as if time stood still when I was perched in front of that apartment. I didn’t sleep well that night. I couldn’t get those teeth out of my head. Or the smile. Raised eyebrows, crinkled cheeks, the blank spot where a nose should be. It was awful.
I never looked in that apartment again. I would walk past it, despite my best efforts, and note from the corner of my eye that the lights were always on now – even in the day time. I would pass it at night, the living room lamp’s hum somehow audible form my position. Most nights, in addition to the blinding light emanating from the apartment was a blurry dark figure in my peripheral. I dare not look directly through that sliding screed door. What if he was actually sitting there? What if my imagination hadn’t run wild? What if I turned to look and found a horrid creature staring at me, waiting to catch my glance? What if all he needed was my attention to lure me in? What if that smile was real?
A few months later I moved. I never had to walk past that dreaded apartment again. I thought that would be the end. But I’ve never been a hard sleeper. Many nights I’ll wake up and, just for a moment, feel the presence of the man I’ve seen before. Even as I write this now I can picture him, sitting quietly, waiting. I dream of him sometimes. In most dreams he can’t see me. But once in a while he can. And I know that he can because in that moment it happens again. My feet become heavy, my eyes gloss over, and the turns to show me his two-dimensional, uninterpretable smile. I fear that no matter where I go, or how many years pass by I will be unable to escape him. The man who quietly haunts the corners of my darkest delusions. The man with square teeth.

Tales from beyond the pulsing door presents: The Man With Square Teeth
The inaugural installment of TBPD and the inspiration for the series. The man with square teeth is based on a true story, artfully extrapolated. Listeners are encouraged to re-listen to this episode as additional entries are published. For those interested in the grand plot of TBPD, this episode will be your anchor. For all others, enjoy!
This story is available via audio narration via the following links:
TikTok
YouTube
Instagram
Spotify
***
I find it strange sometimes, the way someone can get a feeling that crawls alongside them. The sort of…feeling of “being watched” as Buggs Bunny would put it. It’s amazing – we all experience it. And then we tell each other that it’s imagined. I don’t believe in the supernatural because I’ve never seen proof, but there are times where the logical side of my mind does battle with the irrational. This is a tale of one such time.
It started when I got a dog. A floppy little chicken nugget with ruby hair and an inescapable smile. At the time I was living in a gated community – not the nicest of places, but enough sidewalk to get my little pup some exercise. Puppies require multiple walks a day, sometimes within the same hour. January 14^th was the first time I took my dog for a walk past the patch of grass that changed my life.
We (the dog and I) were walking along the sidewalk. The glow of dusk had just faded into the silent blanket of night. Him, sniffing and snorting; trotting in front of, beside, and behind me. And me, mostly making sure that I didn’t step on his tail. Then it hit me – like a needle in the back of my neck. I felt…a presence. I snapped up and glanced over my shoulder just in time to see the lights of an apartment pop on. All of the lights. All at once. It took about five or six seconds for me to understand what was happening – it was the model apartment. The one the leasing office shows to people who are interested in renting. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued my walk. What a strange coincidence – that I would turn my head just in time to see those light go on.
The very next evening it happened again. It must have been the same exact time. I couldn’t believe it. But it happened again. The feeling, the look, the lights. This time I was a little more prepared, so it was nowhere near as startling. Yet for some reason, rather than moving along, I felt compelled to look in to the apartment. The blinds, all of the blinds, were drawn such that I could clearly see inside of any room I chose. Looking through the sliding screen door I could see the living room most clearly. It was pristine. The walls were bright and white, like a hospital room. The couch was eggshell and unscuffed. On the brown ottoman sat a tray with some fake silverware, a plate, and a French press. A tasteful sheepskin rung, standing lamp, and light wall décor rounded out the room. It was uncomfortably neat. It was the sort of set up you would expect to see in a 1950s home – a place for everything and everything in its place. But why? Why did it have to be so neat? What consequences awaited anyone who would dare disrupt the pristine setup? I was rambling to myself, so I shook it off and moved on.
For a third night (January 16^th) I passed by the apartment again. It was well into the night, and the lights were off this time, which admittedly brought me some comfort. I walked passed the sliding screen door, satisfied. On the way back home I deliberately retraced my steps. As I passed the apartment again, it happened. The lights came on. A chill shot down my body. There was the same setup, perfectly untouched. The lights couldn’t have been on a timer. The past two nights they came on at dusk. The moon was high in the sky this night. So why did they come on? And why do they continue to come on as I walk by? Are they on a motion sensor? If so, why didn’t they come on the first time I walked by? I had had enough of my own questions, and I decided it would be best to take a different route on my evening walks.
A few days went by and I forgot. But then the strangest thing started happening. I don’t remember the exact date it began to happen, but gradually, I found myself gravitating back toward the apartment. Suddenly every night I was walking by the same sliding door. And not on purpose either. In fact, some nights I would deliberately avoid the patch of sidewalk that led past that brightly lit, sterile living room; but for whatever reason I would lose my train of thought, or get distracted. And there it would be. The 20 foot stretch of sidewalk, beckoning my footsteps. Calling me.
Over time my thoughts became more invasive – more erratic. I began to picture the creature that would dwell in this plastic, contrived apartment. I remember one night I stared straight into that screen door, hypnotized, imagining his manifestation. I couldn’t help but picture him in my minds eye. There he would be sitting on that eggshell couch. Dressed well. Clad in a 50’s style pinstriped suit, a bowtie, and a bowler derby hat. And he had always been sitting there. Right there. Clear as day for anyone who focused hard enough to see him. But something was wrong. It was all wrong, in fact. The suit fit him too well. The tie draped straight out from his neck. There was no separation between the hat and his hairless head. Was he even wearing clothes at all?
I leaned in closer. His eyebrows were drawn on…perhaps with marker. His skin was pale and powdered. He sat on the couch staring straight ahead, such that I could see his entire side profile. He had no nose. He had no eyelids. I’m not sure if he understood that people blink. My thoughts raced as my imagination filled in the rest of his structure. His hands were in what appeared to be pockets, but there was no beginning or end. They just faded into his upper thigh. He had no lips. The skin was there, but they lacked the pouty blush that distinguishes lip from skin on the human face. This was a ruse. Why put on such a show? Why even try to convince me that you’re human?
I was ready to leave and keep walking, but my shoes felt as if they were cement. I couldn’t stop staring into the room, picking apart my imaginary man, desperate to make sense of his anatomy. Then something unexpected happened. I lost control of my imagination. What had once been a translucent delusion was now a solid figure sitting before me. Expressionless, he craned his crooked neck in my direction. His head was a perfect 90 degrees east, the remainder of his body completely perpendicular. Slowly, a forced, trembling smile came across his face, exposing 32 perfect squares, residing in his mouth. They were not curved like the human mouth. The angles of his smile were impossible, they made no sense. An the teeth…oh god the teeth – the teeth were perfectly straight, and perfectly square. The same bleached, hygienic white as the walls. And there he sat, impersonating a smile, as if he believed that I would feel less threatened. It was as though I could melt right through the screen door and join him had I wanted. And I felt compelled to. Why did I want to sit down with him?
After what felt like hours I snapped out of my trance and shuffled off, surely leaving my dog quite confused. I checked my watch – I had only been stuck in that fever dream for a minute or two. It was as if time stood still when I was perched in front of that apartment. I didn’t sleep well that night. I couldn’t get those teeth out of my head. Or the smile. Raised eyebrows, crinkled cheeks, the blank spot where a nose should be. It was awful.
I never looked in that apartment again. I would walk past it, despite my best efforts, and note from the corner of my eye that the lights were always on now – even in the day time. I would pass it at night, the living room lamp’s hum somehow audible form my position. Most nights, in addition to the blinding light emanating from the apartment was a blurry dark figure in my peripheral. I dare not look directly through that sliding screed door. What if he was actually sitting there? What if my imagination hadn’t run wild? What if I turned to look and found a horrid creature staring at me, waiting to catch my glance? What if all he needed was my attention to lure me in? What if that smile was real?
A few months later I moved. I never had to walk past that dreaded apartment again. I thought that would be the end. But I’ve never been a hard sleeper. Many nights I’ll wake up and, just for a moment, feel the presence of the man I’ve seen before. Even as I write this now I can picture him, sitting quietly, waiting. I dream of him sometimes. In most dreams he can’t see me. But once in a while he can. And I know that he can because in that moment it happens again. My feet become heavy, my eyes gloss over, and the turns to show me his two-dimensional, uninterpretable smile. I fear that no matter where I go, or how many years pass by I will be unable to escape him. The man who quietly haunts the corners of my darkest delusions. The man with square teeth.

My normal posts are 2-5 paragraphs. This is long because it's a starter.
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The sloping ground around the Kiaurk family mesa had been sculpted into shelves or terraces, and it was on one of those upper terraces that Kiaurk Nshurr now lounged beneath a pergola anchored to the striated stone face behind her. The mesa rose at her back: an enormous, looming, almost sheer outcrop that her family's dwellings had been carved into the face of. Wide, shallow steps cut into the artificial (but entirely convincing) sandstone wound their way up between landings and porticos leading inward, between tiny balconies shaded by bright solid-colored canopies, between rooms with flat walls and rounded corners that came jutting out to shadow the steps below. Rriigkhans rarely used glass as window barriers; smooth-edged holes had been cut through the rock in varying shapes and sizes. It could be difficult to tell which apertures were windows and which were entryways. A physical barrier that kept out the elements was obsolete in all but the crudest dwellings, though some of these larger holes were curtained with braided string or strips of cloth that served a purely decorative purpose.
From her high vantage point Nshurr could see the shelves stretching out below her as the base of the mesa leveled out to flattish terrain that was a wonderland of vegetation in muted rainbow colors: mustard yellows, clay reds, earthy browns and the occasional dash of sage or dusty blue. This scrubland lay like a blanket around everything below that was not part of the village between the mesas. Down there, adobe compounds never taller than two or three storeys seemed so squat compared to the mesas that Nshurr could see towering in the distance, many of those family mesas only a few hours walk from her own if she traveled by foot. The village sprawled, with tile parkways winding in serpentine fashion between the various buildings, courtyards, parks, and ponds. There were no property lines, no clear division of the land into neat little plots owned by the individuals who lived and worked in these places. It all seemed to be part of a whole, with a single unifying aesthetic. The village housed those rriigkhans of the lower castes, the kharratah and chelhautah, and the humans which were a caste all their own, haukagh-ar, except for a small number who lived with their masters in the caverns of the mesas or up on the plateau.
This planet, Sgarrl, terraformed over three hundred years ago, was home to more human servants than any other Ssaarian world – aside from Earth, of course, discovered eighty years ago. The fact that humans shared so much in common with rriigkhans made them the perfect species to incorporate into the rriigkhan caste structure as servants. They breathed the same mix of gases and required similar gravities, and their nimble little fingers were very useful for all sorts of work.
The rriigkhan language was not necessarily too complex for humans, but it was wholly unfamiliar – too many phonemes that did not fit comfortably in human mouths, from grunts to huffs, to rolling trills that might by voiced or not, sometimes rumbling out like a purr. To a human, Nshurr's name was a sigh and a trill, and yet she was accustomed to humans vocalizing her name in their heavy, slurring way: Na-Shuurr! Nasher! Sometimes simply: ɽ͡r! which she recognized more easily as her name, or at least part of it, and not some random sounds.
Still, despite the weird pidgin humans had made of her language and their English, she liked the little creatures. She had come to live with her Grandmother on Sgarrl only days ago, and had never encountered them before. The males only stood as tall as her collar. The females were shorter still, much like the males of her own species.
To human eyes Nshurr was felinoid, with a muscular swimmer's body and the broad muzzle of a big cat, with watchful, forward-facing predator's eyes that seemed unexpectedly expressive, because rriikghans had almost as many muscles around their eyes as humans did around their mouths to convey the nuances of emotion. Despite being larger than even many Earth men, she was considered sleek by rriigkhan standards. She made up for that with her broader crest.
The rriigkhan crest was something like the crest of Utahceratops – a keratinized plate growing up out of the skull, except divided into three lobes instead of two, with scalloped edges along the outer rim. Unlike depictions of Utahceratops, the rriigkhan crest was not covered by skin. At least, not on the top. Thick ropy veins squiggled under velvet fur on the underside, closer to the neck. (A thick, arching neck muscular enough to support the weight of that crest meant that Rriigkhans walked with a stoop that made them seem hunchbacked, to humans.) The surface of the plate on top was often rough, even bumpy or corrugated like deer antlers in some areas, smooth in others. Every female crest had four tines jutting from the front – a pair several inches above the eyes, and another pair further up. Directly above the lowest set of tines were twin holes, the howrf channels, just big enough for a human to insert a finger. These holes were very much like nostrils – much deeper, but damp inside, and lined with short, fine hairs to protect the sensitive mucous membrane from debris. The organs housed within these channels were the heart of rriigkhan culture, the foundation of all relationships, of sex.
Male rriigkhans, of course, had only their neotonous crests: diminutive, mostly smooth with rounded edges, without tines or howrf channels. Cute.
Nshurr's crest was wider than average, her upper tines spaced further apart, and combined with a compact face this made her look top-heavy. (A human might say that she was more snow leopard than lion.) Most female crests did not interfere with the movement of the ears – highly mobile, highly expressive paddle shaped things – but the edges of Nshurr's crest did jut out enough to almost shield them.
That her crest was weighty, that it was inconvenient, that she was often aware of it – this was Nshurr's pride. Her long tail curled in pleasure when she caught males looking at it. Humans seemed to be intimidated by it sometimes, as if she might decide to gore them with her “horns.” She considered herself a confident person; not a braggart, but self-assured, and to carry her jhekaah so visibly pleased her to no end.
Her fur was an almost peachy off-white, but a mask of pale peach shaded each seafoam green eye. The mask blended into the white further up her forehead until fur gave way to bone-tan crest, and was split between her eyes by the white of her nose. Oblong spots in that same peachy color, each blending from dark to light, streaked down her sides.
These weren't the natural colors of her distant ancestors. It was unheard of to see a rriigkhan who was not gene-modified in some way, even if those modded genes had been part of rriigkhan life for so long that no one thought of them as mods any longer. She also thought nothing of the subtitles her augmented reality implant displayed whenever a human spoke, AI translated to help her decipher the pidgin. AR was simply a part of her, had been since she was a kit.
Reclining as she was on a padded lounger in front of an iron brazier, full of cold ashes from last night's fire, Nshurr was dressed in a pale coral shift only a few shades darker than the peach of her fur. Medallions trailing fringes of cloth had been sewn onto the front bottom half of the knee-length garment. A row of those ornate medallions defined a plunging neckline that bared much of her chest, muscular and broad, possibly even masculine to a human. Her breasts were lower on her body and similar in appearance to a mare's udders: long nipples on a pudge of fat nestled close together on the pelvis, just above the place where her thighs joined her body. They were only small lumps beneath the shift when Nshurr stretched out her legs so that the thin fabric fell across them. It was the roundness of her hips and buttocks that marked her female to the human eye. (As if her crest didn't make that obvious!)
She was listening to the sound of two younger female cousins wrestling on a nearby terrace, and although from her vantage point Nshurr could not see them, she could imagine the scene from what she heard: Fherou and Lahk growling while they grappled with their arms, the crack of crest hitting crest and then the scrape of tine sliding against tine. Each was fighting to control the other's head, each trying to bite the other. It wasn't easy when each had a shaggy ruff to protect her neck, and any attempt to bite the other's face would be thwarted by an interposing crest. Rriigkhan hands were less dexterous than human hands, more pawlike with stubby fingers, but capable of delivering hard blows, and once or twice Nshurr heard a cousin snarl in response to a strike against her body.
The competitive pheromones her cousins exuded from their unextended howrfs, quite unconsciously, were beginning to make Nshurr's own heart beat faster. The end of her long tail, where it hung down from the reclining chair, lashed in agitation. She was beginning to imagine sinking her teeth into someone's skin herself, and if her cousins had not been so much younger and smaller than herself she might have gone down to their terrace to show them a thing or two. It was putting her off the human flute music she'd been listening to, fed directly into her own brain through her implant for her private enjoyment. (Certain aspects of human culture were very popular here on Sgarrl; she'd been curious about it.)
She did not feel like going inside to escape the pheromones; Nshurr craved the warmth of the sun on her fur, not the cool stone and artificial light of those warrens. Most of her male cousins had gone into the village for boating today. Well, perhaps she would go down and join them after all.
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OOC Information:
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For this prompt I imagine you'd play a human servant, probably a new arrival to Sgarrl but maybe someone who was born there. Even though I've set up a situation where my character would have a lot of power and yours very little, I want to clarify that I'm not interested in abusing your character I am looking for a slow burn interspecies romance that develops naturally. This story may deal with power imbalances and even speciesism, but I'd like to explore those topics realistically.
I want to explore all aspects of loving relationship... Flirting, cuddling, kissing, lots of romantic scenes and character growth. My “type” that I'm most attracted to are men with average bodies in the 40-60 age range, with realistic personality flaws. I am more than willing to tailor my character's personality and physical attributes to suit your tastes, within reason. I appreciate partners willing to do the same.
I prefer to reply more than once a day. 2-3 replies per day would be ideal, but I understand life gets in the way. I usually write 2-5 paragraphs, or 150-450 words per post. This starter is much longer than my typical post length, but my lengths vary according to need. If I'm introducing a new character or setting a scene, my post might go up to 1,000 words.
Please send a writing sample if you have none in your post history. No need to custom write anything for me, old samples are fine. Click here to PM me!

Hey, I am 18M originally from Ireland. I am 6’2 (1.88m), caucasian, athletic build. I speak English, Spanish, and some basic French/Portuguese.
Christian journey: Growing up my family around me were not all religious, only my grandparents. As a young kid I felt a lot of pressure from them around going to church and it had the opposite effect and caused me to stray away from it as I never liked being forced into doing things so instead I rebelled by not going. For many years growing up I was lukewarm and unfortunately had no real bond or relationship with God. Last year I had been going through some challenging times and that’s when I felt an urge/calling on myself to grow my relationship with God, that’s when I started learning more, getting involved and asking those around me more questions. My grandad gifted me a Bible during this time of discovery, and since then I have been immersing myself in it all. I am on a constant path of discovery and have learnt so much already about myself too, I am so grateful everyday that God directed me back onto His beautiful path.
I have committed myself to consistently studying my Bible, I have a journal where I write down verses I find interesting or harder to understand, and like to study them to write down how I can apply them into my life and become a better man of God. I love spending time in the church to pray and it brings me a lot of peace. I have a lot to learn but I am committed. As of now I consider myself non-denominational, but it’s something I have to put more research into, but for me the priority is always my relationship with Jesus.
Interests/Hobbies: I love working out in the gym, improving physically and keeping in shape is very important to me, as is my health and nutrition. I also enjoy listening to music, reading, besides the Bible I like books about psychology, philosophy and books on self development. I love being outdoors in nature and working with my hands, and also very interested in construction. I also enjoy cooking and always looking for new dishes I can try out.
I am currently living in Ireland and plan to move to the UK this summer. I also turn 19 next month.
I am looking for someone with similar values and interests, who is also looking for a relationship built around God being at the centre and the foundation. Age preference 18-21, I would currently not be open to relocating anytime soon due to work, and long distance I’m possibly open to depending on circumstances.
If any of this interests you feel free to DM me.

I’ve seen the band twice. Once at peach in 2019 and the second time last night in Denver.
When I saw them at peach I wasn’t blown away it made a lot of sense to me why there were so many people there. A really big name on the main stage let out and whoever was up after them wasn’t the same vibe. Everybody rolled over to the small stage because well, what else was there to do? Walk to a different liquor jurisdiction at the weird montage mountain or go to the new band stage. Idk nothing about it wowed me at all. Made sense to me the real reason their festival set was absolutely packed insanely.
I was excited to see them after all the hype. Concert promoters like Peter Shapiro and others putting them on. Papa Trey giving them his full blessing. Moving from red rocks to a bigger venue this year in Denver.
These are my thoughts:
The show was a complete let down.
Maybe people really are buying the hype or they just like the band. All these songs sounded either like phish teases or Radiohead teases. I was really confused. This band isn’t doing anything anybody else is doing at all. Peter is supposedly the keys player? But given the opportunity to lay some shit down he bombed. Great, he can bounce a funky clavinet groove. Eh.
Rick totally shreds but not on a different level as any awesome guitar player in the scene. Definitely though chops to that guy and Weekz for laying some shit down. The only time I saw the place actually movin and people dancing was when Rick played an extremely funky boom clap guitar part. Then during the track when he stopped playing that everyone went back to standing around.
I really don’t understand why this band is as big as they are. I stood on the lawn and saw a mass of people hardly dancing or doing really anything. The new drummers pocket just ain’t there. I was confused why nobody was getting down or shaking their asses. Except for the people in the front who have to lol.
If this is your favorite band then that’s awesome for you and it’s always cool to see people doing well in music where literally nobody makes money. Not trying to yuck your yums.. However I implore you to go deeper. There are deep cats in the scene who write awesome music and jam way hard. This is some of the dumbest and bad over hyped shit since twiddle. Everyone is dying to have a new stadium jamband and this is simply not it. This is a fad. Anyway I’m gonna put on goose and go grab some silly bandz, mighty beans, talk to my friends through a cb radio while I watch KONY 2012. Give me a break.

I made a post about this before. Previously, I thought that the game should have a gritty feel, but I have reconsidered. The last few VFs have gone in a direction of increased realism, but what if we go in the opposite direction?
Recently, I was listening to some old music tracks from VF2/3, and I thought about how vibrant the early VFs were. We should bring back the old school feel. Bring back the catchy, 80s pop music. Make some stages beautiful and other stages dark. This would spice up the game and satisfy veteran fans along with the new generation. The VF story starts in the early 90s, so they can highlight that time period with the music and character designs. They can also incorporate minor Sci-Fi elements with the "Judgement 6/Dural" story.
To be clear, this does not mean that VF should turn into an anime game. I stick by the view that the gameplay should remain relatively grounded. But the vibrant, 90s old school theme might be the best way to distinguish VF from Tekken, DOA, and SF in presentation. What do you think about VF returning to that style?
Characters: I already mentioned new characters in my previous post, but I have some more ideas.
1) A German man regarded as the head of the J6 fighters. He is sort of the "face" of the organization that pulled strings behind the scenes. I picture him as a cross between Benny Urquidez and Lee Chaolan. Ear-length, sandy brown hair and blue eyes. Slim build and nimble. He wears a formal dress shirt with a tie. He's personable, but has a hint of bitterness. He uses Kempo Karate with Taekwondo.
2) An "Indigenous" Mexican fighter that uses boxing and folkstyle wrestling. Medium brown skin and neck length black hair (sometimes in a ponytail). He's heavyset. He has a stoic demeanor, yet comes off as heroic and kind. He wears a brown and black Native design, opened button shirt. Instead of kicking, his "K" command is tied to heavy hooks, overhands, uppercuts. He should also have a few street moves like headbutts, elbows, and knees.
3) A Canadian martial arts instructor. He is a "master" of Goju Ryu Karate. Dark brown hair, a mullet, and a Burt Reynolds style mustache. VF's first joke character. He runs a McDojo that he's trying to put on the map. He wears a well-designed red, black, and white gi. He's a big man. His style has heavy strikes and Judo-ish throws, but occasionally has bad technique. He takes himself seriously, but has some humor. He also uses "dishonest" moves like eye pokes, groin shots, and biting.
4) A very young man from China that uses Eagle Claw Kung Fu. He's in his late teens or early 20s and is around the same size as Lion. He looks like a normal, unassuming guy. He wears a sleeveless shirt and Kung Fu pants. Regular haircut, and wears glasses in his player 2 outfit. His fighting gives some Jackie Chan vibes, but without the humor. He's quite agile and acrobatic.
The wait for a VF reboot has been difficult, but I hope the developers give us something fairly unique. What do you think of the ideas?

Lifetime - Staked: 935.9u, Profit/Loss: +11.97u, ROI: 1.28%, Parlay Suggestions: 179-72 Dog of the Week: 13-19, Picks: 14-11 (56% accuracy)
2024 - Staked: 288.8u, Profit/Loss: -21.39u
As always, scroll down for UFC Vegas 93 Breakdowns. The following is just a recap of last event’s results.
~UFC Louisville (PREVIOUS CARD)~
Staked: 14.75u
Profit/Loss: -3.84u
Parlay Suggestions: 2-3
Dog of the week: Jared Cannonier ❌
Picks: 6-8
I just can’t seem to get it right on these fight night cards. Last night’s card certainly wasn’t great for me in terms of reads, but once again there was no luck on my side. The Rosas over 1.5 missed out by eight seconds, and obviously the Cannonier stoppage was widely regarded as contentious. I’m definitely going to be thinking about limiting my exposure to these kind of events, because I just can’t seem to make it work this year. I’ve got 28u profit on PPV cards this year, with 34% ROI. It’s time I paid attention to that and stopped losing money for fun on these low level competitions.
The goal for me is obviously going to break even by the end of the year, which is a miserable game to be playing, but one I believe I can achieve.
~UFC Vegas 93~
Woo, more Apex!
Worth re-iterating again that throughout the month of June I will be cutting a few corners regarding some fights I have no interest in betting. I’m on holiday the week I would otherwise be writing the UFC 303 McGregor write up, and I obviously don’t want to miss my usual Sunday release…so I am working hard to get ahead of schedule and get it all ready for before I fly.
Let’s get into it.

~Alex Perez v Tatsuro Taira~
Amazing how quickly things can turn around in MMA. Literally at the start of this year I was clowning Perez for being inactive, questioning his commitment to his career, and generally dismissing him and considering a fade at any appropriate opportunity. Fast forward six months and he’s potentially in the title picture with a win here, and a guy who cost me money last time.
Perez is talented, I’d always known it. I bet him to beat Figgy back in the day, and I do believe he could have given a great account of himself had he not been sloppy and gotten caught in the early submission. Alex has good striking, and great wrestling…which at Flyweight makes him a serious competitor. I even said in my breakdown for the Mokaev fight that if Alex somehow managed to get back to his best, he’d be a tough fight for Mokaev, or any grappling-based opponent in the division.
We’ve seen a real demonstration of Perez’s abilities this year alone. He showed his potential in the close loss to Mokaev, defending 17 of 20 takedown attempts and just generally muting the successes of Mokaev’s elite crotch-sniffing and mat return wrestling. He parlayed that impressive performance with a main event win over Matheus Nicolau, a well-rounded competitor that has been on the cusp of a title shot for some time. Perez’s striking looked great in that one, and he once again demonstrated that he has sneaky power too.
This main event spot against Tatsuro Taira is obviously going to lend itself more to the Mokaev performance from an analytical perspective, as the undefeated Japanese fighter is obviously a grappler at heart. When you consider Alex Perez’s aforementioned takedown defence against Mokaev, this one gets really interesting.
Tatsuro is clearly taking a massive step up in competition here, with his highest calibre opponent across five UFC appearances otherwise being CJ Vergara or Carlos Hernandez. In most of those fights, Taira has enjoyed grappling control time in approximately half the time he’s been inside the cage, which indicates he’s yet to really be tested in an area where he isn’t comfortable. He has scored knockdowns in two of his fights, but that finishing sequence against Hernandez most recently was pretty much the only time I’ve seen his striking has looked impressive. It’s not bad typically…just very obviously not his strong suit, and he doesn’t really do anything out at distance except jab and lowkick to set up his takedown.
The key difference here when comparing Taira to Mokaev is wrestling cardio. Mokaev’s averaging almost six takedowns per 15 minutes – he invites opponents to stand back up so he can ragdoll them back down. Taira is a different type of grappler, where most of his opponents stay grounded, and a finish comes soon after. The most he has ever landed in a fight is three. It doesn’t mean he can’t wrestle relentlessly…but there is a nuanced difference when it comes to the type of grappler you are.
So can Taira keep wrestling for 25 minutes? Obviously we cannot say for sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the Japanese phenom looks very human and beatable if this fight makes it to round three. I’m expecting Perez to ask serious questions of Taira if they spend extended moments on the feet, and the only way to stop that from happening is with a finish, or the ability to land takedowns.
I’m not convinced that Taira’s going to be able to take and hold down Perez, and I’m also not convinced he gets the better of him on the feet. Whilst that statement was true in the Mokaev fight, the British wrestler still managed to defeat Perez…but that was across 15 minutes, and Mokaev has proven he’s got the cardio to pull of that kind of style for a very long length of time.
The early submission threat could definitely be live, and there’s no reason to believe that Taira can’t still win rounds without having to dive for a takedown every 10 seconds. Perez may be coming off a great performance against Nicolau, but he’s still an untrustworthy fighter that makes sloppy mistakes occasionally. His redemption arc began with that competitive performance against Mokaev, but if we’re being honest he actually fumbled a winnable opportunity with a very lacklustre third round.
So in my opinion, this line is too wide…but I don’t trust Perez enough to take the gamble on him here. If this was up in the +200 range then I’d be tempted, but I Perez is still in the untrustworthy category for me, so I just can’t do it at +160. It’s a pass for me, but Perez is the pick.

How I line this fight: Alex Perez +120 (46%), Tatsuro Taira -120 (54%)
Bet or pass: None
Prop leans: Taira Submission early, would probably be the angle I’d look towards.
Live Betting Leans: If Taira goes bat shit with the grappling, there’s a potential angle for Perez to turn the tables here.

~Tagir Ulanbekov v Joshua Van~
The unique selling point of MMA is that it challenges fighters to be equally diverse at striking and grappling disciplines. That’s why we love it, but damn do I wish they’d sometimes consider what they’re doing when they book certain matchups. I understand that the Flyweight talent pool is smaller so options are much more limited, but it’s still frustrating.
Reason being, Joshua Van looks like a very intriguing and exciting striker, but we are only just at the start of his journey to becoming a fan favourite. It’s far too soon to be throwing him in against a Dagestani wet blanket that’s likely going to cuddle him for 15 minutes and tarnish Van’s hype and prospect status. Let the guy marinate a little before you decide his fate. Especially at 22 years old!
Having said that, I’ve no idea if Van’s got the defensive capabilities to win this one. We haven’t seen him face takedowns from anyone who is anywhere near the level of calibre of Tagir Ulanbekov, and without that we can’t even begin to predict how this fight should go. Furthermore, he’s managed to get up pretty well any time he has been taken down, so our knowledge on his defensive grappling is even weaker.
Van is a great striker, so I would expect him to be leading the dance and winning the bout on the feet, but again that lack of experience could easily eat into his confidence and create a reluctance to commit to his striking. We see it time and time again in a striker vs grappler matchup, where suddenly the striker puts on a low volume and outright bad performance on the feet…it’s because they worry that if they throw with any sort of force they’ll be off balance and susceptible to being taken down. Cast your mind back to rounds 2 and 3 of Cesar Almeida vs Roman Kopylov a few weeks ago to see what that looks like.
So I’ve simply got to agree with Tagir being the favourite here. He has proven himself to be a high-level wrestler, his style could naturally nullify Van’s best qualities…and I also just do not have the evidence to believe Van is going to have the tools to stop Tagir’s grappling. Especially at his age. I never used to be particularly high on Tagir as a prospect as he’d had a few underwhelming performances, but the way he dominated Cody Durden was certainly eye-opening to me.
I can’t have too much confidence here considering Van could have Jose Aldo level takedown defence, but it’s likely he doesn’t and that this too much, too soon. I think the line on Ulanbekov should be shorter than I was able to get him. So I played him for 2u at -167. This is more of a play based on experience and logic, than any tape-based stylistics, but I just had to at that price.
How I line this fight: Impossible to say for sure, but Tagir should probably be trusted at -200 or slightly steeper.
Bet or pass: 2u Tagir Ulanbekov to Win (-167)
Prop leans: None, no idea of Van’s defensive abilities.

~Shayilan Nuerdanbieke v Melq Costa~
A showdown between Steve Garcia’s bitches!
Melq Costa has had a weird UFC career so far, he’s either getting dominated, or dominating opponents. He got the opportunity to show off his ability against everyone’s favourite Ai-generated UFC 5 character, Austin Lingo, but that’s not really saying much. No shame in getting shut down and submitted by Thiago Moises, but getting womped by Steve Garcia isn’t the greatest look.
Shaylian Nuerdanbieke is also coming off a loss to Steve Garcia, where Garcia came back from the brink of defeat after a dangerous opening round. It put an end to a run of three successive UFC wins, but the kind of opponents Shaylian was beating were all lower level and similar.
I honestly don’t know what to make of this one. I don’t really know why Melq Costa is -200 here because I think he’s proven untrustworthy enough to not warrant that price, but I’m not sure if Nuerdanbieke is being flattered by facing lower comp. Either way, I didn’t want to look into it any further from that point. Pass from me.
How I line this fight: I didn’t tape it.
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

~Ikram Aliskerov v Antonio Troccoli~
Third time lucky for Troccoli trying to make his UFC debut? You’d think that by now I’d have done some tape on the guy, given he’s been waiting to get in there for some long.
15-1 Ikram Aliskerov is one hell of a guy to debut against though…Ikram looks like he could be the real deal. He’s dusted three opponents with complete ease in DWCS/UFC so far, and his only professional loss comes against none other than Khamzat Chimaev.
I’ve no idea about Troccoli, so that’s as far as I can go. Given the high finishing rate of both men, and this being a 205lbs fight, it feels like the -1000 price available on Aliskerov may not have any value (no shit!)…and I obviously don’t want to bet Troccoli on the return. Easy pass, but I’m sure it’s another showcase for an interesting prospect in Aliskerov.
How I line this fight: No idea specifically but Aliskerov large fav.
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None, there literally cannot be value on Aliskerov’s props unless you’re playing contrarian

~Garrett Armfield v Brady Hiestand~
Garrett Armfield impressed me in that recent performance against Brad Katona. I rated Brad’s minute winning ability very highly before the big focus was put on fight ending intentions, so I definitely made a mistake in trusting him in that spot. Katona’s not a dangerous fighter, so his style relies on domination and flawless defence these days. Damage and fight ending intentions are key factors to consider – and a great example of that is the first round of Brady Hiestand’s win over Fernie Garcia – he won 80% of the minutes in the round, but he got dropped momentarily in the first 20 seconds with one punch and all three judges gave it go Garcia.
Hiestand is riding a hard fought two-fight winning streak coming into this one. I don’t think Danaa Batgerel or Fernie Garcia are comparable wins to Brad Katona, and even less so when you actually dissect them. All three of Hiestand’s UFC fights have seen him get knocked down (unofficially with Garcia, but it was treated like one by the judges!), which is obviously a huge concern…especially when you consider he’s not even a super dangerous guy once he gets top position.
Hiestand’s standup isn’t threatening at all. You can tell he’s uncomfortable. He tries to sit at range and throws a kick or a single punch as he bides his time for his next takedown attempt, but he does so whilst backing up the entire time, so anyone with decent sprawling abilities should be able to see them coming. He is counter-able right after that initial shot too, as Danaa Batgerel figured out.
When Hiestand does get top control time it’s also pretty ugly. He’s very erratic and tries too hard to force a submission attempt (he tries to wrap the arm around for an RNC when he’s got nothing else going on the set up), and it often results in him getting reversed. I saw him end up on his back from having his opponent’s back at least three times. A good scrambler on the mat should have no trouble staying safe, and ultimately finding their way back to the feet if they’re patient.
Hiestand’s biggest strength is definitely his cardio, which was solely responsible for his win over Danaa. That was a very weird stoppage, as Danaa definitely wasn’t defending himself, but the punches from Hiestand were pretty inoffensive that I would imagine Danaa could have gladly eaten them for another 90 seconds and gone on to won an easy 29-28. He did gas though, as he didn’t protest what would otherwise have been a very brutal loss to suffer. It wasn’t exactly an impressive finish from Hiestand, he got very lucky to win that fight as the finish came 100% from Danaa gassing/quitting.
So how does Armfield matchup against all that info on Hiestand? Very well, I think. He’s got nice pressure and great hands that he throws in high volume. His performance against Kazama was basically the exact outcome he wants here. He fights with a low stance to pre-empt the takedown. Against Katona it was more of the same, and despite getting taken down four times he still defended five. He got straight back up every time he was taken down as well. They were mostly bodylock attempts, but I think his defence of single/double legs is better than his bodylocks. He got tired in the third against Brad (it was a high pace fight). But still got up off a takedown in the 14^th minute.
So I think Armfield’s got a very favourable match in front of him. Hiestand’s performance against Danaa was a clear indication that he cannot hang on the feet with a lower-level UFC opponent, so Armfield really should do work with the hands. He’s proven competent enough at stopping Hiestand’s only route to a victory also, so I think this one’s a gift for him. I initially wrote that -200 wasn’t steep enough, so I’m surprised the line continues to get better on him. I’ve played him for 3u at -175 (which is rare these days).
How I line this fight: Garrett Armfield -300 (75%), Brady Hiestand +300 (25%)
Bet or pass: 3u Garrett Armfield to Win at -175
Prop leans: Might be tempted by Armfield KO, serious levels on the feet and Hiestand’s been dropped by everyone he’s fought in the UFC so far.

~Asu Almabaev v Jose Johnson~
Asu Almabaev is looking very impressive, isn’t he? The way he dominated Ode Osbourne was certainly eye-opening, but the way he made light work of CJ Vergara was equally appealing to me. I’ve always said CJ’s a hard guy to look good against, and we also got to see Asu’s cardio look totally fine across 15 minutes.
He faces Jose Johnson for his third UFC appearance. Jose’s been a back-and-forth kind of guy. He has to fight hard for his wins, because he’s like a magnet for grappling. I don’t know how, but the guy has next to no ability to maintain distance and keep fights striking – where he wants them. He’s not a bad grappler when he is on the mat, but it’s still not his preferred place. He also gives up his back worse than anyone I’ve ever seen.
All of that will be music to the ears of Almabaev, who likely justifies his -400 price tag and smothers Johnson with grappling. It’s all well and good showing good grappling ability on top and bottom against Anheliger and Jack Cartwright, but Almabaev is a whole different league. Almabaev likely smokes him here. I played Almabaev in a parlay with Josefine Knutsson for 2u at -110.
How I line this fight: Asu Almabaev -400 (83%), Jose Johnson +400 (17%)
Bet or pass: 2u Assu Almabaev to Win (parlayed with Josefine Knutsson at -110)
Prop leans: Likely a submission win for Asu with the way Johnson gives up his back!

~Miles Johns v Douglas Silva de Andrade~
Miles Johns is an impressive and well-rounded fighter, but he lacks a killer instinct and sometimes has questionable cardio. Whilst those flaws are still good enough for him to get the better of guys like Vince Morales and Cody Gibson, he’ll struggle against more dangerous opponents that can match his pace, throw power, and not get stuck on the bottom.
Douglas Silva de Andrade strikes me as the kind of guy who fits into the latter category there. We know he hits hard, we know he has sneaky submission ability, and we know he can go a confident 15 minutes. He’s never been a high level minute winner, but he’s got the explosiveness to turn the tide of a round in an instant.
It’s not my usual way of thinking or breaking down a fight, but de Andrade just strikes me as the kind of guy who is going to benefit from the recent dismissal of USADA. He’s Brazilian, he’s absolutely jacked, and he’s at that age where he might need a little bit of help in keeping up with the younger guys in the division.
That’s a thought I cannot ignore unfortunately, so it’s enough for me to not want to get involved here. I do lean towards Miles Johns and I did initially want to consider betting him, but 2024 has definitely been a year where a lot of older guys have had a resurgence – fading older fighters is not the reliable narrative that it used to be. I pick Johns, but it’s a pass.
How I line this fight: Miles Johns +100 (50%), Douglas Silva de Andrade +100 (50%)
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

~Lucas Almeida v Timmy Cuamba~
Chaotic and explosive hard hitter that cannot defend a takedown faces off against Man not good enough to win on DWCS.
Much variance. Just going to pass on this one.
How I line this fight: Didn’t tape
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

~Nate Maness v Jimmy Flick~
Nate Maness is not good enough to be -400 in the UFC. His game revolves around mauling via takedowns.
Jimmy Flick is very, very one dimensional, in that he is submission from guard or bust in pretty much every fight. Whilst sometimes that’s a terrible predicament that leads him to get absolutely destroyed by good strikers…Nate Maness’ style could hand Flick is path to victory on a platter.
Jimmy Flick fights are silly, and the betting odds are always tricky. Flick looks like massive value at the start, but when it falls apart it looks awful.
Easy pass for me. If you wanted to roll the dice, Flick by Submission is the best value bet you can make here.
How I line this fight: Nate Maness -300 (75%), Jimmy Flick +300 (25)
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: Flick by Submission to get the best out of his price.

~Adam Fugitt v Josh Quinlan~
A striker vs grappler affair, but neither guy is particularly good at their side of the duel. Adam Fugitt is an energetic grappler that’s keen to get in your face, but he’s not got the best top control and he can be deterred by a hard hitter.
Josh Quinlan is a guy I’ve been keen to fade since he got the UFC contract, because he very much seems like a R1 finisher or bust. He’s super aggressive and will go hard for the finish, but does leave himself open to being finished himself. Furthermore, he just isn’t a particularly good minute winner either.
I could very easily see Quinlan hitting that early finish against an opponent like Fugitt who isn’t defensively sharp or earning of respect. I could also easily see Fugitt surviving and turning the tide in the second and third. I lean towards Quinlan because I think Fugitt’s approach in the opening round will be asking for trouble, but there’s no way I’d bet on the moneyline here.
How I line this fight: Adam Fuggit +125 (45%), Josh Quinlan -125 (55%)
Bet or pass: None
Prop leans: Betting Quinlan early would probably be the way I’d go, if I had to.
Live Betting Leans: If we’re still going into R2, Fugitt’s chances should increase as Quinlan’s dangerousness fades.

~Carli Judice v Gabriella Fernandes~
Interesting that we’ve got another DWCS split decision loser that’s making a UFC appearance after not getting signed…despite not fighting since. The DWCS fighter laundering continues, as now you don’t even need to win to get a fucking contract.
I actually bet Judice in her DWCS fight. I expected her to have the higher volume and just completely out-hustle her opponent, but weirdly that’s exactly what her opponent did to her. It was a weird one because my read was perfect, just that the other fighter implemented it haha. I also bet Karackaite in her UFC debut, so nice to reclaim a bit of the money lost.
I still think Judice is decent enough for a fighter so inexperienced, and she’s more than just a woman with a 3-1 record. Gabriella Fernandes has historically been unable to stuff a takedown also, which is an interesting narrative that I’m beginning to think about more in the future. I’ve lost two bets this year (Cesar Almeida and Robelis Despaigne) because I didn’t expect their opponents to exploit the obvious grappling disadvantage, so I think it’s worth considering it could be in play for Judice here.
I understand the difference in experience, but this line seems ridiculously wide to me. You simply cannot trust a fighter with bad takedown defence and next to no get ups at -2XX. Judice also isn’t a bad striker, so I don’t think she’s going to get completely obliterated in Fernandes’ world either…so I absolutely can see a path to victory for her.
I’m not going to say I have any idea where the line really should be, but I think fading Fernandes specifically at this price is a totally viable option. I will therefore have 0.5u on Carli Judice at +210.
How I line this fight: Hard to say but definitely not this wide.
Bet or pass: 0.5u Carli Judice to Win (+210)
Prop leans: Judice by Decision, probably

~Julia Polastri v Josefine Knutsson~
I can’t remember if I broke this fight down the first time before it got cancelled, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I bet Knuttson originally at -250, and luckily for me the price actually got better this time around.
Polastri is a fighter I’m familiar with. She’s rangey, and she’s a decent enough striker. She will finish opponents that aren’t on her level, but her awful takedown defence means that her level will always sit somewhere in the middle of the division.
Josefine Knutsson is quite young in her MMA career, but she’s definitely showing some serious promise. She’s got a decent kickboxing record, and was regarded as one of the best P4P female kickboxers before she transitioned over to MMA. In short, I expect her to have a striking advantage against most opponents, Polastri included.
But what makes this one a confident pick, and what makes Knuttson -225, is that she has used her advantage in the standup to dedicate time to working on her grappling. We saw that in her UFC debut – she may have been fighting a can that had no business being in the cage with her, but she was able to show off her grappling, which looked to be at a pretty decent level. It’s probably still a work in progress, but Polastri’s aforementioned lack of takedown defence should make things much easier to the Swede.
So to summarise, Knutsson should be the better striker, and she can easily mix in the takedowns and win with offensive grappling if she needs to. In a sport like WMMA where the ‘puncher’s chance’ is much less reliable an outcome, I struggle to see how Polastri asserts herself as the dominant fighter here. -250 isn’t short enough, so I’ve got Knutsson in a 2u parlay with Asu Almabaev at -110.
How I line this fight: Josefine Knutsson -300 (75%), Julia Polastri +300 (25%)
Bet or pass: 2u Josefine Knuttson to Win at -110 (parlayed with Asu Almabaev)
Prop leans: None

~Jeka Saragih v Westin Wilson~
Jeka Saragih lost to Anshul Jubli, who has gone on to show you how low level the Asian MMA scene really is. I don’t think many/any of the fighters that came from Road to UFC are going to stick around too long, and Saragih is likely to be included in that. He got a shock win against Lucas Alexander last time (shoutout to me for suggesting that might happen), but a 90 second KO is a great way to fugazi the fans into thinking you’re better than you actually are.
Westin Wilson is a roleplayer who isn’t fit to fight in LFA, let alone the UFC. It’s an absolute joke that he’s fighting for a second time in the company.
Jeka is -300. Horrible price for someone of his calibre, but I understand why Wilson is being given so little chance himself. An ugly fight, and a betting line that captures that well. Just pass.
How I line this fight: no.
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

Bets (Bold = been placed)
2u Tagir Ulanbekov to Win (-167)
3u Garrett Armfield to Win (-175)
2u Asu Almabaev & Josefine Knutsson to Win (-110)
0.5u Carli Judice to Win (+210)
0.25u Parlay Pieces (+400)

Parlay Pieces: Tagir Ulanbekov, Asu Almabaev, Josefine Knutsson, Garrett Armfield
Dog of the Week: Carli Judice
Picks: Alex Perez, Tagir Ulanbekov, Ikram Aliskerov, Shayilan Nuerdanbieke, Miles Johns, Timmy Cuamba, Asu Almabaev, Nate Maness, Josh Quinlan, Carli Judice, Josefine Knutsson, Jeka Saragih,

Good marrow, bonelickers!
Early last month I announced the 19th Speedlang Challenge. I broke the mould with it a little bit by confining how the ambitious among you would actually put together your speedlangs rather than defining a number of requisite features. The bulk of this process had speedlangers root all their creative linguistic decisions in a small set of natlangs, and these natlangs specifically had to be native to areas representative of a chosen clade of organisms. To ensure the clade of organisms was well represented, I also asked for a number of lexical items and conceptual metaphors that had to be specifically inspired by the clade in some way, as well as some aspect of the phonology.
Like last time, I'll provide my thoughts about what I think makes each submission special and the features I particularly like. Afterwards, I'll quickly review what was inspired by the chosen clade, in case that has any bearing on what you kind readers might like to check out, and give out brownie points for any easter eggs I spot, whether intended or not.
Overall this has been a deeply creative round of submissions and I learned a lot, both things I set out to achieve when I thought up this particular challenge. I hope it was just as rewarding a challenge for everyone who submitted as it was for me getting to read up on each entry, and I hope it will be the same for anyone who reads up on them, too.
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Seba Bàsa by Miacomet

Gyps (griffon vultures); Chamic, Bengali, Santali & Mundari
With a name including the element Bàsa, I knew this had to have Indic flavours of one sort of another, and indeed it does! This conlang is largely Austronesian in origin with sound changes from Old Cham, but it has a lot of Bengali influence and is well situated in the Indian subcontinent, and I greatly appreciate the nod to Parsi funerary traditions as an inspiring reason for choosing Gyps. Amusingly, this conlang has many features that fit right into the inspiration for the last speedlang challenge, which I find just delightful, with some split-S marking, dative enclitics, and grammaticalised constructions for simultaneous and sequential events, and light pronouns. Therebeside, the historical clipping, CVK syllable structure, postpositional pronouns, and aspectual auxiliaries speak to sensibilities in my own conlanging, and the dissimilation processes in some of the affixes are a nice touch, too. I'm also a big of fan just how the split-S system is implicated in some verbal polysemy, and I really like how the few voices seem kinda muddy but have clear use cases. What really sets this conlang apart, though, is the consideration paid to the effect of prestige languages. Some phonemes are restricted to loanwords from the local prestige language, and one is even only confined to prestige language-educated speakers, which causes some allophony other speakers don't have. Loaning processes are detailed, too, and the number and classifier system also draws nice lines along the prestige axis with a total of 3 parallel number systems, spread out across both divisions of native vs. loaned classifiers, which themselves have specific semantic domains they each classify, and across divisions of prestige language education. The story at the end, too, is a real treat: it's a translation of Hindu vulture myth, perfect for this project.
Seba Bàsa's Gyps-inspired phonology includes the development of creaky voice from the loss of glottals, glottalised consonants, and final /s/ in Old Cham to recall vulture cries. It's inspired lexicon includes some fun polysemy of vulture behaviours like circling = waiting or sheepling = looking for something desirable. I'm also a big fan of kite (the bird) = messy eater. It's inspired conceptual metaphors include dividing the beginning, middle, and end of a process into eating skin, meat, and bones, respectively, and equating head height/position with one's health or comfortableness as inspired by how vultures droop their heads when ill.
We're starting off string with double brownie points for meeting both the space epic easter egg by calquing the Ewokese word for 'outsider' and the empress easter egg by referring to Buddha's Birthday!
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Kogëdek by u/Porpoise_God

Setonix & Macropodidae more generally (quokkas + kangaroos & wallabies); Noongar, Pitjantjatjara, Wajarri, Guugu Yimithirr, Miriwoong, Guniyandi, Dyirbal, Mbabaram
Aside from the one splant you'll soon see, I think this entry gets the prize for the most unique chosen clade by being A) not a bird, and B) not an ungulate. As great as birds are, quokkas are pretty amazing, too. I'm not too familiar with Pama-Nyungan languages but this did a good job of affecting some of the features I've come to know them for, including but not limited to the phonological natural classes of peripheral vs. coronal, coverb constructions, and the word for 'dog' bearing a striking similarity to English. Split-ergativity features across the noun-pronoun axis, and there's a unique set of duals that specifically refer to sibling, parent-child, or spousal pairs of individuals that I might have to steal for myself. The case marking includes a lative case I haven't seen before, and implicates the comitative in a neat way in comparative constructions. I also appreciate the what-looks-to-be resumptive subject pronominal proclitics; very speedlang 18, and a great example of a fossilised mistake, which I always love to see! The verbs also feature multiple conjugations, and the imperative is implicated for its tenselessness in certain subclause constructions, which has a certain type of quirkiness I'd expect out of some past speedlang challenges.
Kogëdek's Setonix-inspired phonology included a /ç/ in the proto-lang, which bears some resemblance to quokka calls, although it was lost to /s/ and /x/ in the modern language. The inspired lexical entries include roots for different kinds of macropods and styles of jumping, and conflates jumping with breathing. Some of the idioms include "pouch-baby" for pejorative "mama's-boy" and using kangaroo badassery as a metaphor for all sorts of less than ideal situations.
Brownie points for a particularly insidious word-form for 'father'.
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Yatakang by Lichen

Bubalus (water buffaloes); Hindi-Urdu, Thai, Vietnamese, Khmer, Burmese, Malay
This one's a little rough around the edges, but it's a good foundation for a nice mix of both SEA features, like the isolating morphosyntax, and unique features, like the class agreement system. It's also got clicks limited to avoidance speech! Diachronics from a proto-lang where considered, and I really like how the typologies of the inspo langs were used as targets for the sound changes. I'll have to keep this workflow in mind! Some of the sound changes include expanding the number of stop contrasts to match the average number of contrasts, or eroding the number of vowels to match that of Malay. Phonotactics were carefully considered with full structures for both mono- and disyllables as well as bare roots vs. compound stems. Grammatically, morphology is mostly limited to a host of different reduplication patterns, which in itself is something I'd really like to see more of! Where this really shines, though, is with its agreement system: nouns are sorted into a 3x2 matrix of 6 classes, portmanteau agreement particles mark for the class of both the subject and the object, the system implicates the social hierarchies common to many SEA languages, and the position of the particle marks modality. Incredibly inspired to pack all that into a set of maybe 36 particles, if you ask me, never mind how it helps to disambiguate fluid word class and how it might be implicated in future plans for Indonesian object-oriented verbs. I'm also a fan of how the temporal question verb patterns like an agreement particle to mark for tense by co-opting the modality marking. We also get some prosody-syntax interfacing with different pitch contours at clause boundaries operating as different sorts of conjunctions.
Yatakang's Bubalus-inspired phonology includes a combination of creaky voice and syllabic nasals to affect a mooing phonaesthetic. The lexical entries exhibit some nice semantic drift from water buffalo activities and behaviours towards more human behaviours, and the planned phrase of hat-hand stroke fur for "suddenly realise a problem, and then pretend there isn't one" just feels exactly like an observation a water buffalo would make observing its human, which I really like. The inspired metaphors are also simple and straightforward, likening roundedness to goodness or knowledge to food, which makes for some brilliantly idiomatic language like "I ate the book" to mean "I read and understood the contents of the book."
Extra brownie points for including both halves of the space epic easter egg to placate both sides of nerddom; the term 'tax-man' is everything it ought to be.
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Kurikiri by Jjommoma

Casuariiformes (cassowaries and emus); Dhuwal, Motu, Tok Pisin
Compared to most other entries, this one's very short and sweet with some Australian sounds and some head-final Papuan grammar (however loose a description that is). That being said, Kurikiri is very inventive in being partially signed with much of its grammatical marking encoded by actions done with the foot, including number, case, definiteness, and some basic TAM.
Aside from the cassowary foot action grammar markers, as well as some lexical entries there-related, Kurikiri also equates flightedness to being ostentatious, disdaining flighted birds out of envy, which I think is a fun thought process for these terrestrially confined birds. There's also some neat phonosemantics in the taboo word for predator being especially difficult to pronounce.
This wasn't the intent, but I'm giving some space epic brownie points for the foot grammar if for nothing else than that it reminds me of Paul Frommer's Thark from John Carter and its telepathic grammatical and verbal lexical expression.
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Whaynisiday by u/Fimii

Spheniscidae (penguins); Māori, Xhosa, Quechua
What do you do when the entire population of penguins achieves human-like levels of intelligence after some gene splicing and they start calling for a language to call their own? Why, you do exactly what the prompt of this challenge asks for and combine the languages native to the homeland of the blue, african, and humboldt penguins! The write up for this conlang does a great job of pointing out what features are from which language exactly, and plays a fun balancing game between some of the phonological and grammatical extremes in its sourcelangs. In so doing it has a few quirks that really tickle the intersection of my linguist and conlanger venn diagram, specifically the presence of what I'd have to interpret as onset morae, as well as semantic noun class marked solely through agreement (which is very Varamm, so I'm not at all biased towards it). There's a handful of fun, rare cases, and the simulative mood fits right into the inspirations for the last challenge to create some vaguely Tupian simultaneous actions. There's a bunch more little grammatical bits that are fun, but impressionistically I appreciate how the more isolating grammar of Māori was incorporated into the synthetic common ground of the other 2 sourcelangs.
Whaynisiday's Spheniscidae-inspired phonology includes a couple syringeal sounds to complement the otherwise human capable inventory. The highlighted lexical entries pay special attention to how penguins locomote with basic stems for different kinds of movement options both on land and in the water, as well as a split in breathing for whether its on land at rest or in the water being active. The conceptual metaphors include a great model of time with the past on land and the future in the inky depths, and the very adorable notion that safety = community, and so naturally a farewell would be a wish of friendship.
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Poro by The Inky Baroness

Rangifer tarandus subsp. (domestic reindeers); Proto-Samic, Komi-Zyrian, Tundra Nenets, Chukchi
Where do I even begin with this one? I was excited to read this one when I first received it, but it was even better than I could have hoped when I got round to reading it! Although, not for any linguistic reasons: the first half of the doc reminds me of Gillian Teft's Anthro-Vision as an anthropological account of reindeers written by a fictitious Finnish researcher rather than any sort of sketched reference grammar, which I love dearly. The latter half, meanwhile, goes into great detail about what went into the first half, including all sorts of motivations or reasons for the decisions made. Some diachrony is detailed, as well as the effects of language contact rooted in actual historical events relevant to the chosen sourcelangs, which is just great to see. I loved the ways in which each of the different sourcelangs were all represented in the final product with it being Samic in origin but including some phonological and grammatical borrowings from Komi and Nenets like the lack of consonant gradation, the verb-final syntax, some vowel changes, and a fantastic predestinative affix that interacts with the conceptualisation of time in some neat ways. All the while, care was taken to do a wealth of research at every step in the process with a fairly extensive bibliography. Hoof clicks all around for this one!
Poro's Rangifer-inspired phonology includes a deer bellow as some sort of epiglottal obstruent that actually patterns with the Nenets glottal stop, as well as some other approximated reindeer vocalisations including what I presume to be grunts or chuffs, both oral and nasal. Care was also taken to think about what a fully reindeerised descendant of Proto-Samic would look like as accords with the included etiological myth for reindeers and reindeer husbandry, but this was well beyond the scope of a speedlang. The lexical entries include all sorts of terms for reindeer physiology, including but not limited to antler velvet, different types of vocalisations, and hoof clicks. These lexical entries feature in some wonderful idioms using antlers to describe social hierarchy, useful- or uselessness, and glibness or malicious intent, as well as an equivalent to "when pigs fly": "to catch a bird between one's hooves."
Extra brownie points both for the nominal hierarchical exaltation of mothers baked into reindeer culture and inclusion of an anti-imperialist message in promoting the research of the under-represented and often stigmatised language and culture of traditionally reindeer herding peoples. Also do keep an eye out for Dr. Dolittle easter eggs: Inky will reward you handsomely if you can spot one!
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Kiwi by NerpNerp

Apteryx & Novaeratitae more broadly (kiwis + cassowaries & emus); English, Māori, Traditional Tiwi, Miriwoong, Bardi
Given the number of bird entries with Indo-Pacific flavours, I'm almost half surprised this was the only kiwi entry: they're such good birbs! As might be expected, this conlang endeared itself to me just as its namesake does. The phonology has all sorts of trills and rhotics, and limits itself to high vowels; it's also got some neat phrase level prosody to mark different sorts of modal information and focus, even including an intrusive glottal stop at the sentence level. Noun incorporation is varied and detailed, and can create some polysynthetic constructions as a consequence of just how exactly the rest of the otherwise fairly analytic morphosyntax works. I'm a particular fan of the deictic categories including 7 different degrees of deixis characterising both distance and motion, and I'm also a fan of of the grammaticalised time of day. Heximal numbers and coverb constructions also feature. There's even a kiwi-capable featural alphabet that each of the examples show off!
Kiwi's Apteryx-inspired phonology includes the trills and high vowels being inspired by kiwi calls and I imagine a little of their anatomy with those long, thin bills. The inspired lexemes include specific types of smells humans can't detect at the expense of any colour terms, reflecting kiwis nocturnal, smell-based lifestyles. The idioms for "a long time ago" or "once upon a time" is absolutely delightful--"when kiwis flew"--and the grammaticalised time of day subdivides the night but not the day, as might be expected from a nocturnal beastie.
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Asamiin by Christian Evans

Asamina (pawpaws); Ottawa, Unami, Tuscarora, Mikasuki, Chitimacha, Timucua
The speech that nourishes! And a splant, too, no less; I was hoping for at least one of these! This one's made all the better by delving into some Eastern North American languages and I really like the flavours this lends itself to. Syncope is abound with all sorts of morphological obfuscation through detailed phonological processes, and animacy plays a key role in the verb complex. Care was also taken to find a phonological common ground between all the sourcelangs, which made for a really interesting set of vowels with a basic 6 vowel inventory, but with 2 nasal vowels that can surface as vocalic allophones to the nasal consonants. The grammar is fairly straightforward but has a few quirks that I really appreciate, including but not limited to the fluid O placement to make for some syntactic focusing strategies I so adore and the optional, enclitic case marking narrowed by various postpositions used as another, separate means of focus. Overall just really well laid out and the formatting is really cute, something I've now come to expect after Yumpịku last time.
Asamiin's Asamina-inspired phonology includes a pharyngeal approximant to recall the really long taproot pawpaws grow, as well as regressive sibilant harmony to recall the mimicry the flowers employ to attract pollinators, both of which are some really inspired departures from the sourcelangs.
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Ekaangäq by Atyx

Haliaeetus pelagicus (Steller's sea eagle); Chukchi, Alyutor, Koryak, Itelmen, Ainu, Nivkh, Evenki, Uilta
A bird that escapes any Indo-Pacific flavours? Well I'll be! Instead of South Pacific this one gives all sorts of North Pacific energy being spoken by a population of eaglefolk native to the Sea of Okhotsk and representative of the languages spoken along its coasts. The Ainu flavours are especially strong with both an Ainu-based consonant inventory and a kana orthography, among others. The vowels also show some interesting lopsidedness with 2 creaky vowels complementing an otherwise fairly straightforward 6 vowel system that feature in a front-back vowel harmony system, though I'm a real fan of the sandhi rules at word boundaries that cause all sorts of fun consonant alternations. Word stress is also detailed and has funky placement rules at odds with my understanding of theoretical prosodic processes! Grammatically there's a few quirks that really stand out to me and tickle my curiosity: a dual distinction on the nouns but not in the pronouns, and polypersonal agreement in a transitive alignment system, the only departure from direct, accusative, and/or ergative alignment in this round of submissions. I also appreciate some of the syncretism in the pronouns!
Ekkangäq's Haliaeetus-inspired phonology includes entirely unrounded vowels and a lack of any labial consonants to reflect the speakers have beaks, as well as the 2 creaky vowels as rooted in their physiology, a common theme for this challenge. The lexicon includes some distinctions between diving and eating as it applies to different kinds of prey. The conceptual metaphor, though, I think is really great equating the passage of time with ice: an iceberg calving off a glacier is birth, melting is ageing, and melting all away is dying. Great stuff!
I think I actually have to give negative brownie points for this one: as much as I appreciate 3 separate orthographies (Kana, Cyrillic, Latin) for some historicity, they are all at odds with the anti-imperialism the brownie criterion requires, and there's no girl power to balance it out.
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Taqồpaq by accruenewblue

Gallus (jungefowl); Hindi-Urdu, Burmese, Thai, Punjabi, Tamil, Indonesian
I'm a little surprised this is, I think, the only truly tonal submission despite all the SEA birds, and it's less synthetic than most in this round of submissions. In either case, this one does a great job of illustrating some tonogenesis and some recent and still very transparent synthetic developments from a formerly isolating language. The tones are simple registers, but they interact with morae in some neat rightwards reassigning sandhi patterns, and they complement a system of 12 vowels in a 3x2x2 matrix of height, frontedness, and roundedness. There's even some vocalic nasal allophones (which is twice now in this round of submissions), and labial consonant-vowel harmony to boot! Grammatically I greatly appreciate all the call-outs for similarities to natural languages, and I wanna shout-out the use of a positive tag question instead of negative. The numbers have this funky sexagesimal base with an octal sub-base and remnants of an old decimal sub-base, which recalls some of the duodecimal remnants in the otherwise decimal system of many European languages.
Taqồpaq's Gallus-inspired phonology includes the tonal system being described as recalling a rooster's crow. The lexicon includes roots for all things chicken, including using the word for 'wattle' as a classifier for hanging things, which is so delightfully what I wanted out of this challenge. The more idiomatic language makes use of chicken behaviours as descriptors: dust baths are metaphors for something useful but not everyone's cup of tea, and continuing to brood after the chicks have hatched is a metaphor for doing a good thing so long it has negative consequences.
Extra brownie points for exalting queen Trưng, first queen of Vietnam, and a nationalist hero who fought against Chinese imperialism. Double whammy right there!
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Ngālin by u/borago_officinalis

Aptenodytes forsteri (emperor penguins); Awabakal, Māori, Norwegian
We already had a penguin splang but this one's a nice twist by focusing on the territorial claims of Antarctica rather than the ranges of more temperate inclined penguins where there are actually native languages. This does a great job of shirking the indigenous implication in the language selection step of the challenge (although I'm very glad to see no English or Spanish), so there's a really neat mix of isolating Māori particles with a fusional Germanic verbal system, and I was able to easily pick up on both reading through the doc. The verb system actually pleases me greatly with a strong/weak contrast and a V2 word order wherein the strong verbs mark tense through stem change and the weak verbs with a tense auxiliary, all whilst maintaining a very Polynesian aesthetic despite the very Germanic number of vowels. The Māori possessive system is also really fun, I think. I can't speak to the Awabakal influences, but I was able to pick up on the one, tiny Mapudungan influence of tone tag particles before it was even explicitly mentioned! Not sure where the negation system came from, but it implicates the weak verbs in a way I so adore. Really sweet, despite the fun grim facts about emperor penguin hatchlings, and I found this one just darling. The myth at the end about how penguins lost their ability to fly is also real treat and is a perfect fit for the project.
Ngālin doesn't have any A. forsteri-inspired phonology, but it makes up for it with the inspired lexicon and idiomatic language. The emperor penguin breeding cycle is detailed with translations for all the important terms along the way, including but not limited to the ritual of transferring egg from mother to father and "motherless" to refer to a newborn, whose mother hasn't yet returned from the sea. There's some great, everyday idioms elided down from full phrases for greeting and consoling another penguin being "which way?" and "next year", and conceptualising a long distance as specifically the distance from colony to see is a nice touch. I also appreciate how the relationship between creche-mates is more important than that between (half-)siblings.
I have to give queen exaltation brownie points purely for the one illustrative example of āmā o pipa "hatchling's mum" grammatically indicating the senior authority of an empress penguin.
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Honourable Mention

I've been kept somewhat apprised of a Urile (North Pacific cormorants) splang by u/PastTheStarryVoids. It's still very much in the works, but it sounds funky with both some polysynthetic flavours, no doubt inspired by some PNW languages, I imagine, and some formorant (cormorant formant) analysis! Keep an eye out for it, I'm sure it'll grace the sub in due time!
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And that's everything I've seen in the time I put together this showcase. I know there were a few among you all who felt inspired but couldn't put anything together during the course of this challenge. I remember mention of a banana and a tree kangaroo splang on the announcement post. If anyone ever uses the challenge to inspire a future project of theirs, please keep me apprised! I'd be interested in seeing them if for nothing else than to see some more projects outside of South Asian and Oceanian birds, as great as those birbs are. I can't believe I didn't see a single monotreme or non-ungulate eutherian, and that there weren't any non-avian reptiles or anything fully aquatic! And no fossil clades, too, for that matter! I'm positive there are the makings of some really funky splangs if the relevant modern continental and climactic boundaries didn't yet exist.
In any case, I hope all parties involved had a great deal of fun through the course of this challenge! I know I did! Until next marrow, bonelickers!

*Second and Third paragraphs are not relevant to the topic you might as well skip them\*
Hello,
I am an incoming international master's student in Data Science, and I am a bit confused about the concept of "studying for a master's degree in the UK."
As an international student, my options included Switzerland, the Netherlands, Germany, the UK, and the USA. The cheapest top 100 universities are in Switzerland and Germany. However, I did not want to live in a country where English is not the native language. Although I know that most people speak English and that English is used in universities, this is just a personal preference.
I also did not want to live in Germany at all, and I felt that it might be difficult to stay in Switzerland after graduation. The costs of studying in the Netherlands and the UK were similar, and the USA was way out of my budget—not to mention the difficulty of staying there after graduation. This left me with two options: staying in my home country or going to the UK.
I have applied to a few universities in the UK, and as of June, I have a £10k scholarship from the university. I was happy and felt that everything was falling into place. I believed that this experience would be valuable, and I was excited about the education and promising opportunities ahead. However, I've been hearing from many people, mostly from the UK, that spending £40k on a master's degree is a waste of money.
I understand that getting a job is difficult; I’m familiar with this concept. In my home country, people often struggle to find a job even years after graduating. I was fortunate enough to find my first job during my junior year and landed a good position even before I graduated. But I'm a bit tired of always trying my ass off to be an outlier. Maybe that's just how the world works if you're not wealthy, I do not know.
I wasn't planning to be lazy or avoid working, but now I feel like I need to study like a robot to ensure that I don't waste £40k—a truly insane amount for me. I can cover my living expenses, but spending without working would make me stressed, so I definitely need to work part-time. Ideally, this would be in my field, but if not, I'll take whatever job is available—cashier, waiter, dishwasher, anything. It's all part of the experience, right? However, when I graduate, I’ll have to pay off two more grants, and I might end up without a job even then. If I find myself in a situation where I've wasted a lot of money and have to return to my home country, what is the point? Well, I might as well say that it's not always about money, work, and status. It's also about the people we meet and the memories we make. I mean, that's important. I'm coming to Glasgow not only to study but also to meet new people and have new experiences. But then the question is, how do I know it will be worth it? Nobody knows, and I know that there is no true answer for this question. I just wanted to hear from you guys: what did you feel and what happened when you studied, or if you're starting this year, how do you feel right now? I believe I just need a few perspectives to put my mind at ease.

Ok I feel crazy I remember putting this on for my daughter back in 2021. She didn’t care for it but I remember the opening scene and I can’t find it. It looked like it was made in the last 10 years possibly by Netflix studios (can’t find anything in dreamworks or Disney) I don’t really know the premise per se but in the beginning there was this big bad guy that has “come back” and him and the main character end up in the same scene in the beginning. He’s a really big guy. I can’t remember if he’s tall and buff and suave like Gaston or just big like wreck-it Ralph. It was set in a similar setting as coco kinda Mexican or old west style. I do remember the big bad guy has a very large mustache and a bandolier

This story is one that started a long time ago, but still affects my (32F) day-to-day life. Sorry everyone, it's a long one.
It began about 17 years ago, when I was 15 and still in school. I frequented internet forums including several fan sites of video games and books I enjoyed. One of these was a role playing forum where I and five others were writing stories together in our favourite universes. I got along well with the other members and it was a great way for me to learn English. Importantly, we only ever communicated through text, never through voice or video calls.
This is where I met the main character of this story, let's call him Tom. Tom said he was 19 years old, and was the only guy active on the forum. He had a great way with words, was mature beyond his years, and had a natural charisma about him. Naturally, as a 15-year-old with no prior experience with relationships, I was instantly drawn to this mysterious, well-spoken figure. Over the course of a month since meeting him, our conversations grew in frequency and depth, until eventually we spoke to each other on chat clients for 3-4 hours a day. At the same time, we continued writing our stories, including a plethora of romantic scenes between our respective characters. We also shared poems that we had written. It was an intense experience for me - I had never really had such a deep connection with a 'boy' before.
My parents never really taught me the importance of internet safety, and I can't blame them: it was all still very new at this time, also to them. It was Tom and my other friends on the forum that stressed how important it was to keep personal information private, especially when they learned my age. Tom especially was adamant never to share my location or photo with anyone, not even with him. It made me feel safe with him - for how could someone who so actively dissuaded me from sharing my information be a monster?
Of course I fell in love with him, to whatever extent a 15-year-old brain can comprehend love.
From written descriptions I had given of myself, Tom had expressed that he thought I must look beautiful, and so the fool that I was I gathered up the courage to send him a picture of myself anyway, desperate for his approval. He was complimentary, but did ask me why I had sent him a picture. I admitted my feelings for him. Tom was understanding, but stressed that he would never be able to give me what I needed from him.
Still, that did not stop either of us from progressing the nature of our interactions into something more sinister. I call it sinister looking back on it as an adult; at the time it was titillating and exciting. We started to send each other 'kisses' goodnight, sent back and forth explicit drawings depicting characters that looked like us, and described other intimate interactions over chat.
My mother once came into my room and witnessed Tom calling me by an endearing term. She interrogated me and I begged her not to make me break off contact with Tom. She listened to me, but made me promise her to be sensible. I want to scream at her now for not stopping it then.
My school friends did what my mother could not: they were concerned for my safety, and stepped to the headmistress, who called me into her office. After telling Tom about the encounter, he panicked. He told me we could no longer chat, and made me promise to tell the headmistress that it was over. I was heartbroken, but promised him.
I did ask Tom if we could still communicate through other means - we were doing some online art projects together that we both wanted to finish. He said yes, we could still maintain contact over e-mail and forum DM, but chat was off the table for now. I took what I could get.
The years that followed were chaotic. Sometimes our contact would be e-mail only, then we would move back to chat. At times, when things got too hard, I would decide to go no-contact for a while. I had my first real relationships in the lulls, but I would always come back. Tom would always receive me with open arms, either as a friend whenever I was dating someone, or rekindling our romantic interactions when I was not. He was always kind, patient, sensitive, and seemed selfless in his interactions with me. He made me feel so good about myself that I became obsessed with him, convinced he was the love of my life.
Three years in, Tom knew my real name, knew where I lived, and had seen nudes of me (he used one as his desktop background for years). At the same time, I knew nothing about Tom. What was worse, the few details he had unintentionally revealed weren't adding up.
Tom always portrayed our story as one of star-crossed lovers who due to circumstance outside our control could never be together. He told me I would never love him if I ever saw him in real life. First he claimed that his face had been ruined by flesh-eating bacteria. When my biology degree taught me that it's nearly impossible to survive that, he claimed body dysmorphic disorder (which I think to some extent was true).
Things reached boiling point six years into this mess. He slipped up, and revealed a detail about his life that directly contradicted the only concrete thing he had ever told me about himself: his age. I took a day to process, then confronted him, asking him how old he really was. After some initial resistance, he admitted that he had lied.
Mid-thirties, he said. A decade(!) older than he had at first claimed. I should have been furious, but after 6 years of being charmed and manipulated by him, I could only feel sorry for him. When I assured him that nothing between us had to change because of a 'number', he dropped the next bombshell:
Tom: "Alright then. Mid-forties."
I felt like I couldn't breathe. For years, I had been having sexually explicit conversations with someone old enough to be my father when I had believed him to be my age. What was worse, it had all started when I was underage. I gave Tom an ultimatum: either tell me the full truth about who he was; or lose me forever. I gave him two weeks to send me his information. He decided not to, which should have immediately set off the alarm bells that there was even more he was lying about; more he had to hide. I didn't even consider that in the moment; my heart was broken once again, and I cut off contact.
At the time, Tom and I had a number of mutual friends that we both spoke to regularly. Two of these were my cousin and his wife. I went to see them after I found out about Tom's real age, trying to find solace and understanding from someone who also knew him. I felt incredibly betrayed and angry, and asked that they also break contact - maybe that was a bit of an a-hole move. They said no: after all, Tom had never revealed his age to my cousin or his wife. As such, he had never lied to them, only to me, and they were not willing to end their friendship with Tom over that. When I asked what they thought of a 40-year-old having explicit conversations with a 15-year-old, they said that from a certain age, the teenager also has a responsibility in preventing this.
My cousin and his wife were not the only mutual friends that knew what was going on. Amazingly and invariably, NONE of our mutual friends chose to break contact with Tom over this. It caused immense doubt in me. Was I wrong in judging Tom for lying to me? Maybe the lie wasn't so terrible. And all those explicit conversations? Well, I instigated a large number of them, not Tom, so maybe I was equally, if not largely, to blame.
The way I see it now: Tom is like a cult leader: no matter what he does or says, his 'followers' will defend him; even blame themselves if it strips him of guilt. What is worse, anyone who dropped out of his inner circle would feel incredibly isolated and excluded. My friends would not play games with me because they preferred playing games with him. They would not write with me, because writing with him was so much more fun. I wish I'd had the strength to stay away, but one year later I came crawling back, desperate to be included into his circle once again, desperate for his affection that the others seemed to thrive under.
I was 22 at this time. Our contact was sporadic for the next four years - I was hesitant to engage romantically with him, even though part of me, despite everything he had put me through, still 'loved' him (trust me, writing this down, my naivety is making me want to claw my eyes out). I entered a relationship with someone else during this time, and went back to no-contact for most of its 4-year duration. When that relationship ended, Tom and I started talking more again, slowly slipping back into old habits and using the same terms of endearment we had used in the past. Tom revealed more details about himself now - he would talk about his boss, his sister, his friends, his home-town, and discussed things that were going on in his personal life. We also started talking over voice-chat, and damn it, he had an attractive voice.
I had just turned 27 when a response of his triggered me. We were recalling the early days of our interactions, and I mentioned how he had once accidentally sent me an e-mail from a throwaway account. I recalled the address letter by letter (I have a mild form of autism). He went very quiet, and then said that my memory was astounding.
Something in my lizard brain decided to look up the name in that e-mail address. I had done the same 12 years prior, but I had much more information now. It took me three hours to cross-reference the tidbits of information he had fed me over the months and years within the context of this name. And what do you know: it WAS his real name. I continued looking for the rest of the evening.. and I found much more than I bargained for.
You see, Tom was not the only person registered to his house. He was reported to live there with a woman who shared his last name, let's call her Hannah. I naively thought she might be the sister he mentioned (though he had given another name). Fortunately for me, Hannah was a lot less careful than Tom with her personal information, and I soon found a link to her blog on her Twitter page. A goldmine of information, going back over 10 years, covering almost every single day since Tom and I started talking.
My blood went cold as I started reading. It soon became clear to me that not only was Hannah his WIFE of 25-or-so years, they had an 11-year-old SON together (let's call him Jacob). I was 100% sure it was his wife writing - I could easily cross-reference the little things he had told me (assembling a bookcase, having lamb for dinner, visiting SIL for the weekend, getting a sunburn) with the details she was sharing about their life.
Once more, I should have run for the hills. Once more, I didn't. I often wonder how I could have been so stupid as to let this shitshow continue for so long, despite the thousand-and-one reasons Tom had given me to drop him. I can only attribute it to some kind of twisted sunk cost fallacy. By recognising Tom for the monster that he was, I had to face having loved that monster for over a decade. It meant admitting to myself that I was a terrible judge of character, and how could I possibly trust anyone ever again if I could not trust my own judgment? Also, all our mutual friends had always normalised his behaviour to the extent that it seemed almost arrogant to say that HE was in the wrong.
Because of the reactions that I had received from my friends and cousin last time, I kept what I knew to myself, even from Tom. Enter the next ridiculous phase of the story: Tom was saying how he was ordering a passport SO THAT HE COULD COME TO VISIT ME AND MY COUSIN. And idiot that I was, I wanted nothing more, because I was STILL IN LOVE WITH THE SH*T even after everything he had done, now not only to me, but also to his wife Hannah and his son.
I met him in real life five months later. He would be visiting my house for the day, and I was planning to confront him about what I knew. I had given one of my close friends his real name and address, and had told them to contact the police in the event they didn't hear from me by evening - I had no idea how Tom would react when exposed. Probably the fact that I felt unsafe in the first place should have been enough reason not to meet him alone.
We met, and I wish I didn't feel attracted to this 50-year-old but I did. We talked a lot. Eventually, I decided to test him, to see if he would be disloyal to his wife. While our conversations had definitely been flirty over the past year or so, I had never actually been straight with Tom and told him I still felt the same way. So I told him. Credit to him where it is due, he said he couldn't pursue a relationship with me, but followed it up with 'that we could still hold hands and hug'. He did not tell me why he couldn't, of course.
Only then did I reveal what I knew. I told him I've known for months now what his real name is, where he works, where he lives, and who he lives with. I probably could've been a bit more sensitive in how I brought it up (but let's be honest he doesn't deserve it and I was pretty pissed off keeping this stuff inside for 5 months). He turned incredibly pale and said that I could ask him anything I wanted to know. I asked him about his wife and their relationship (which hadn't been good for years according to him), his son (the pride of his life), and why on earth he had chosen to have explicit exchanges with a 15-year-old as a married man ('I was drunk').
During his stay, we were never intimate in the 'spicy' way, but we did hold hands a lot, he would have his hand on my leg, and we shared long hugs. He stayed the nights at my cousin's, and a few days later he left to go back to his country.
I am not proud of what happened next. Over the next months, we video chatted almost every evening. The conversations got flirtier, the amount of clothes we were wearing diminished until we both went into the calls topless.
One night, things escalated. We had gotten into a fight earlier in the evening - he had revealed that during that first real-life meeting, he had made an audio recording of the whole conversation, apparently so he could later prove to his wife that nothing happened. I responded that it was ok (it totally wasn't but that's beside the point), that I had taken precautions as well, and told him about the friend I had contacted. He lost it, saying I had no right to share his personal details with my friend or anyone else. I got angry in return, saying that he had no reason to distrust me as in the 12 years of knowing each other I had never lied to him; on the other hand I had EVERY reason to distrust him as he literally hid a wife and son from me, and had lied to a 15-year-old girl about his age.
We were both emotionally drained after, and I took things a step further that night, and seduced him into doing more together in front of the camera, maybe knowing that he would be too drained to refuse. He asked me later if I had consciously manipulated him into going along with it, choosing a vulnerable moment to strike - maybe I did, and I regret it.
Over the next months, our 'mishap' developed into a full-blown affair. I visited his home-town about 5 times in the year that followed. We kissed, and did basically everything apart from the 'deed' itself. I think he never wanted to have traditional sex either because then he could keep justifying to himself that he hadn't cheated on his wife, or because he was terrified of getting me pregnant. During my stays in his home-town, he would bring his son Jacob along to our lunches and dinners. Mostly to pacify his wife I suspect, for how could it be an affair with his son around? I loved the kid, we got along well, but I hated the lie that I had to live. To put myself through this was one thing, but it was so unbelievably unfair on Hannah and Jacob.
The whole situation sent me into severe depression. I was abandoning my morals for this man whom I still could not trust. I was lonely, and didn't date because I refused to be a cheater myself (maybe hypocritical). With every real-life meeting, his mask slipped further, and by the end there was little left of the charismatic, caring man that I had imagined him to be. Still, I was so entangled with him that I could not imagine my life without Tom. I did not know who I was without this person, who had completely overshadowed at this point almost half my life and all my adult life. I was stuck.
Eventually, I gave Tom an ultimatum again: Hannah, or me. I gave him two months to make up his mind. We spoke daily, and as his 'deadline' was approaching he became verbally aggressive with me, saying that he wasn't enjoying our conversations as much as he used to because I kept bringing up the choice he had to make. I asked him what he needed from me. He said he needed more time. I am ashamed to say I gave him that time.
I was lucky to have found two very close friends among my colleagues over the course of this whole drama. They had slowly witnessed the situation devolve into something unmaintainable. One of them often visited when I had panic attacks; she even slept next to me on the bad nights to make sure I'd be ok. They recommended me to make written lists of the red flags that I saw, the abusive behaviours Tom had demonstrated, and the effects the whole situation was having on me. They made me see how he would never choose me, that he was happy using everything and everyone as long as it served his needs. They slowly guided me into making the right decision during a work conference, when I didn't have time to contact Tom. Being away from his reach for a week, combined with the continuous talks with my two friends throughout the conference, made me strong enough to make a decision. Together, we agreed that as soon as I got back home, I would call Tom and cut ties with him. My friends would be available on call straight after.
Thanks to my friends, I went through with it. I cut contact almost three years ago now. As expected, he did not fight for me, and never tried to contact me again. My friends saw me through the worst of it.
Four months after cutting ties with Tom, I met the man who is now my husband, and we are currently expecting a baby. He makes me unbelievably happy, and has taught me what a loving relationship should feel like. He knows about this whole story and is very supportive. He even encouraged me to post this as he believes it'd help me process things.
I am still in touch with some of Tom's friends: my cousin, his wife, and a 40-year-old woman who has been my friend since the start of this whole story and was my MOH during my wedding. I have decided not to hold it against them that they cannot let go of Tom - hell, I couldn't let go for 14 years. It just demonstrates the horrible grip and influence he has on people. My MOH and I have an understanding that we don't discuss Tom, and that saved the friendship - we actually have a lot in common and enjoy each other's company a lot. I refuse to lose any more people over him.
I am in a good place now, looking forward to the future, and can't wait to meet our child. Still, this experience has not left me unscathed. I still struggle with trust, in other people and myself, and feel that I am responsible for a lot of what happened. I feel incredibly ashamed and naive for my behaviour over the years. I especially feel horrible about what I did to Hannah and Jacob - as far as I know, Tom never told them about the affair, but I would be very surprised if Hannah didn't know what was going on. I do have my suspicions that I am not the only one Tom did this with, but I have no proof, and it does not take away any of my responsibility in all of this.
So reddit: did I seduce Tom as a 15-year-old, or did he groom me and manipulate me into falling for him? Or was our interaction simply toxic on both sides, and not any one person's fault? And AITA for having pursued this affair even after I found out Tom was married? Also, should I reach out to Hannah (though honestly I would be a bit scared to do so, and I don't feel at all like reinserting myself into Tom's life in any way)?
And finally the question that still keeps me up at night: did Tom ruin half my life, or did I do that all by myself? And if I had a role to play in this, am I fit to be a mother?
TL;DR: As a 15-year-old, I fell in love with a man who claimed he was 19 but was actually 40. 12 years later, I found out he had a wife and son, but had become so infatuated with him that I pursued an affair with him. I ended the affair two years later but still feel guilty. I feel like much of what happened is my responsibility, since I instigated most of the intimacy. AITA?

Should I move from France to San Francisco for a pay rise and more fulfilling job despite only having lived here for half a year?
I moved from Canada (Vancouver) to France (Grenoble) about 6 months ago for a job. My work situation has been terrible since the moment I got here. My boss is socially awkward and avoidant and won't give me enough work to keep me busy. He never answers my emails and messages within one work week and without follow-ups despite me sharing a desk with him. He is apparently very busy, so I keep asking him if I can take on some of his work. I have the formal education to do these tasks, but he doesn't want me doing them because they're not my job description. I'm being kept totally in the dark on the projects I should be involved in. I'm being told over and over that things will speed up, that it will get better, that I'll get more responsibility.
My boss told me to my face that "your job will be boring", and mostly consist of tracking changes, putting together reports, and delegating hands-on work to technicians, and the interesting stuff will have to come from small side projects where my time will be monitored. I've been told that they would consider me moving to a different position "later down the line". There's no work from home either, so I have to pretend to be using my time effectively in front of my coworkers.
The question comes in now: one of my professional connections is setting me up with his company in the Bay Area. 140k USD compensation with options (non-public company) at a job that seems interesting on day one. They have real machine shops and work on mechatronics projects by hand. My current compensation is 42k Euro with options (non-public company) and the path to an interesting job is to wait an unknown amount of time before switching positions internally.
I love living in France. I speak French at a C1 level. I love living without a car. I love that everything is at maximum a 20 minute walk from my house. I love spending time just chatting on terraces. I love being able to bike 30 minutes from my house to bomb mountain bike trails, or going climbing at the crag 10 minutes from my office, or going skiing at one of the hills less than 1.5 hours away. I love having 7 weeks of vacation to travel around Europe.
But I also can't handle being bored and sitting in the office pretending to work all day. My current work life is taking all of my energy and all I want to do is go home and sit on my computer after work. I don't want my career to stagnate and be stuck with a boring, low-paid job. I'm scared that the promise of more interesting work won't ever come at my current company
Is living in SF as challenging as people say? Does the compensation work out higher despite the increased living costs? Will I struggle trying to find places to climb and ski and mountain bike? Should I stick it out a bit longer at my current company? I'm feeling very lost right now.

It's because I'm "black," I know. And in a suburb, the same one I grew up in, in fact in the same HOUSE I grew up in, upper middle class uppity snob "mostly-Asian these days" not even "white" suburbia. Back HOME, really. Well, I don't have a car anymore, my last car got impounded in upstate New York when I was driving through on my way back to Massachusetts, because people up there (the police) thought I was "homeless" just because I look "black" and was driving THROUGH their state on the interstate with all my suitcases in the car. You know, GOING somewhere. ON MY WAY. ON THE ROAD. With out-of-state plates, which is the reason for the "stop" in the first damned place. Out of state plates. You know, someone from another state driving THROUGH theirs on their INTERSTATES. While "black" or "brown." Not allowed? 14th Amendment violations, all around. But I have yet to win my appeal from all of that.
So anyway, I'm back HOME without a car. So I ride the bus. There's a bus stop half a block from my HOUSE, but as I'm getting ELDERLY and have already had one STROKE I have to sit down to wait for the bus which after all runs only every goddamned HOUR if it shows up at all. I'm dressed what I think is "normally" for someone who has to walk everywhere, to the store, to school, to the library, what not. So this [Hispanic, as if that matters] lady in a white Honda Civic drives up to where I'm sitting waiting for the bus and says she'd thought I was homeless and was going to offer me some water. I don't know why I didn't tell her to f*** off racist bitch, sort of thing. That's RACIST. I'm not saying anything is wrong with actually BEING homeless if you are, but really. In this area it's a slur. It's a "you're black, you obviously don't belong here, you couldn't possibly really live here and have grown up here and gone to that college prep school around the corner let alone Yale and Harvard..."
Is this ALL because of the combination of my skin colour (NATIVE AMERICN/PACIFIC ISLANDER but to passersby it's "brown so you must be African American"...racist bullshit) and the fact that I don't have a car?! I can't afford a car with no JOB, people. And no, because of that aforementioned run-in with the racist police in New York I now have a "record" so I can't ever TEACH again, not most places, anyway. And I have to go get a PhD in "something else" if I'm ever to work again, let alone have enough money to buy and own and operate a CAR, people. So that's not in the foreseeable future and probably not for the rest of my life as I said I've already had ONE Stroke.
Yeah, I was mistaken for "homeless" when I WAS a teacher, dammit. In a state other than the one I was teaching IN, obviously. Why is it, "black" + "riding the bus" = necessarily "homeless"? Or is it that that's a Hispanic/Mexicans are racist, thing? There's no changing those things if that's what's making me get taken for "homeless". I get it on the campus of the community college I tutor Maths, at, too. Mistaken for "homeless" by the homeless people who hang around on campus looking for discarded food, sort of thing. I was accosted by one of them on-campus the other week, he made me give him some of MY things thinking I was "homeless" or what the bloody well ever it is I look like? I'd report that to Campus Police but come to find out he GOES there. I mean, you can be a student and be homeless too, I know that. But "you must be homeless" JUST because you're a minority?! I don't "dress the part," I mean other than not being able to wear heels anymore because I don't have a car and do have to walk everywhere. If I start "making a scene" every time it happens I come across as insulting the homeless. And I have been homeless in my adult life, so I wouldn't want to do that.

People have been asking about the usefulness of the Flood Pod Infectors when spores seemingly did the same thing but potentially better. This is a fair question and something I really wanted to discuss after writing the Flood spore lore post a year ago, so I hope I can offer some clarification.
So, while both type of Flood forms were broadly categorized as Flood Infection Forms in the new encyclopedia, both served different purposes, and one type was more suitable in situations where the other wasn't.
Top Start off:

Pod Infectors

Arguably the most memorable of all Flood creatures, the Pod Infectors have appeared since the first game and were originally called simply as Infection forms, before this term became an umbrella label for different types of Flood forms sharing the same function.

Infection Forms:
All Infection forms share several key morphological traits across their variations, each suited for subduing and subverting any avaliable organic targets. The most commonly encountered Infection forms have a frond-like array, which act as the creature's sensory system, steming from soft, pod-shaped bodies filled with noxious gases that allow them to bound over the ground and obstacles at surprising speeds.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2022, p.406)

So, from this passage, we know that Pod Infectors had a good degree of mobility. In Halo Wars, it was even referenced that they could climb over cliffs, so rough terrains would not hinder their march.

Pod Infectors:
Though individually weak and easily killed, pod infectors strike in vast numbers and can move over cliffs.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Log)

In contrasts, Flood spores had no means of self-propelled locomotion; they can only float aimlessly instead. The anime Halo Origins also shows us Pod Infectors that could perform guided flight. The reason why we haven't encountered these Flood types in the games might be due to the fact that the parasites were more evolved and more powerful during the Forerunner-Flood war.
So we clearly see that the regular Infection forms have an advantage over spores in maneuverability, but what matters more is another factor: Pod Infectors have weapons.

Infection Forms:
Each tendril ends in nano-scale barbs which can latch onto the target's body and cut through armor or environmental suits.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Log)

While the virulence of Flood spores shouldn't be underestimated, the fact that they had virtually no offensive capabilities (they are usually just clusters holding Flood Super Cells together) means that decently protective gear such as fully-sealed environmental suits would be sufficient in keeping you safe in areas where the air is contaminated.
Moreover, Infection via a Pod Infector is by far the fastest method, which often just takes seconds to complete. This is due to the far higher dosages of spores being injected by a Pod Infector injects than infection via inhalation of spore-contaminated air.
And yes, Pod Infectors still use spores for infection.

343 Guilty Spark: "You can see how the body has been transformed by the genetic restructuring of the Flood infection. The small creatures carry spores that cause a host to mutate."
(Halo Combat Evolved, Level: The Library)

And after all, spores are just Flood cells grouped together.

Spore:
Encysted Flood cells form spores, which can remain dormant for centuries.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2022, p.404)

There's another usage for Pod Infectors, which is what we're all familiar with: to create and control Combat forms.
According to the encyclopedia, infection via spores would instead turn the hosts, living or dead, into incubation pods rather than mutating them into the typical Combat forms.

Spore:
Spores can parasite sapient and non-sapient species, consuming them and transforming their biomass into egg-like incubators for larger, more mobile Flood Infection forms.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Logs)

These incubators are commonly called "Blisters" or "Flood eggs".
The necessity of a Pod Infector in order to create a Combat form is implied by another passage saying that the Flood cells in the wounds would transform the target into a Blister rather than a Combat form.

Infection forms:
Even if the infection form is quickly removed, Flood cells in the wounds will slowly consume the victim and turn them into quivering, spore-packed Blisters.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Log)

This actually makes sense, since a Pod Infector does possess some rudimental level of sentience. This enables the creature to control the infection processes, while spores simply just convert original biomass into more Flood matters.
In action, Pod Infectors replaces the brain as the host's commanding "organ", controlling all functions, processing all knowledge and experience from the host, and absorbing them to the collective hive-consciousness.

Infection forms:
Though barely intelligent on their own, once an infection form infiltrates a sentient creature they turn the victim's cognitive power to the furtherance of Flood goals. Each is an insidious puppeteer, able to sift through memories of any sentient creature to learn of military countermeasures, security access codes, and the location of population centers.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Log)

Pod Infectors can perform biological modification for the host.

Combat form:
The infection form does augment its new body and repair minor damage in order to better serve as a living weapon, but ultimately the combat form is utterly disposable.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Log)

This comes in the form of alterations of the host's anatomical structures.

Combat forms possess unnatural physical strength, perhaps gained through the mutations of the host's musculoskeletal structures.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2009, p.165)

We've also seen some very extensive bodily restructuring, such as this human being grotesquely contorted.
Nevertheless, there are a few instances where the creation of Combat forms occured without Pod Infectors present.

1. UNSC marine Orlav was slashed in the back by a Combat form. Even when a piece of Flood flesh was removed, she turned into a Combat form not long after.
   
2. On the infested surface of Shield World 0459, one ODST mentioned he was bitten by the Flood before inevitably transforming into a Combat form.
   

No explanation has been given; my reasoning would be that both incidents happened near a Proto-Gravemind. One was in the engine room of UNSC Mona Lisa, and one was on Trove, so the respective Compound mind can assume direct control over the Flood easily by themselves.
All in all, Pod Infectors are the more direct threats. They are very agile, they have razor sharp claws, they convert victims far quicker than any other forms, and they can choose what they will do with their victims.
Now, what do Flood spores excel at?

Spores

• Subtle Propagating:

Unlike Pod Infectors, spores don't aggressively attack prey, which makes them seem as the lesser threats compared to other Flood presences. However, this works only in the Flood's own favor, as spores can spread further and under everyone's noses because the defenders are too occupied.
Moreover, the tendency of the spores to infest insignificant organisms as well as propogate on inanimate objects actually keep them and their growth under the radar.

How did it get there in the first place? Adequate wondered. It was highly improbable that the Flood could have arrived here independently. Yes, Flood spores could spread on meteors and comets, as well as derelict space equipment hurtling around the stars.
(Halo Fractures, Defender of the Storm)

In one short story, "Defender of the Storm", the Forerunner space station of Seclusion had pods filled with microscopic lifeforms that broke down biological wastes from the residents.

Worst of all, they had collectively decided the dirtiest assignment on the station should again fall to him: gathering up packs of the occupants’ waste for delivery to the digester units, one located at the end of each vane. Microorganisms inside the units broke down the foul matter to generate power, while releasing unwanted gases into the atmosphere.
(Halo Fractures, Defender of the Storm)

It was suggested that these pods were secretly tainted with Flood spores.

“Yes. The infestation likely began in the replacement digester units just installed by the service team.”
“The apparatus that breaks down waste. That’s why the outbreak started on the tips of the vanes.”
“Correct. They bring in fresh pods of microorganisms annually. Flood spores must have been mixed in with them and been awakened. ...
(Halo Fractures, Defender of the Storm)

The Ancilla further commented on the likelihood that Flood spores feasted on the microorganisms as well as the body wastes brought to those pods to further their growth.

"... The malleable seals would have given them a means of escape. They must have infected several of our sentries, taking them directly to combat forms—and their bodies gave rise to the infection forms we now see. I also suspect the Flood is drawing on the biomass in the digester pods to create an environment that might exponentially increase the rate and severity of infestation.”
(Halo Fractures, Defender of the Storm)

So spores eats everything... even shit or the soil, and unless you actively keep track of every surfaces and every hidden spaces, you're bound to miss pockets of infestation caused by spores.

• Self-Perpetuation

This is perhaps Flood spore's biggest advatange. The spores' reproduction and propagation processes are extremely efficient, even by Flood standard.
I'll be using the Blisters mentioned above as my examples.
According to official depictions, we can see that the hosts who were turned into Blisters are completely broken down and molded into large egg-shaped entities.
This is why I call it efficient, as there is no biomass that was left out or wasted. Spores eat everything and transform what they eat into more of themselves, but it doesn't end there.
As purpose-built forms, Blisters are created to produce more Flood creatures, ranging from simple Pod Infectors, to more complex Pure forms, and, you guess it, more Flood spores.

Blisters:
Non-sapient animals and mangled corpses deemed unfit for being harnessed into larger Combat forms are seeded with Flood cells and quickly transformed into sacs filled with Infection forms and membranes that function as incubation chambers for the development of spores.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2022, p.407)

For those instances where spores do turn their victims into Combat forms, one similarity remains.

Combat Form:
Combat Forms are covered in spore-filled polyps and much of their internal organs are in the process of being consumed and replaced with FSC accretions that function as support lattices, protecting a sickly green liquid that contains Flood spores in suspension.
(Halo, Encyclopedia 2022, p.408)

Combat forms additionally operate as mobile incubators and gestate spores, though they may produce a lower quantity. After all, unlike Blisters which are hosts whose entire body mass is transformed into a single-purposed and stationary pseudo-organ, Combat forms still need body parts for mobility, attack, and handling of salvaged equipment and technology.
Do be noted that this really isn't a new lore. It has been this case since the first game.

Guilty Spark: "The mutated host then produces spores that can pass the Flood to others. It is insidious and elegant. As long as any hosts remain, the Flood is virulent."
(Halo: Combat Evolved, Level The Library)

The fact that Combat forms spawn spores means that any physical harms inflicted on them...

Combat Form:
Ironically, damages incurred by this form scatters small chunks of infected flesh and distribute it in the environment, aiding the Flood in spreading its influence.
(Halo, Encyclopedia 2022, p.408)

... would inadvertently distribute fatally virulent substances everywhere.
And this trait isn't unique to Combat forms. Pod Infectors are stated by Guilty Spark to also carry spores, which I mentioned above.
Pure forms which are the products of masses of Flood Super Cells morphed into biological war machines would carry spores inside them as well. For example, we see the Spawner forms constantly emit clouds of spores from the holes on their back.
It's also stated that the Gravemind can create a huge quantity of spores by itself.

The Gravemind's tentacled body produces billions of Flood spores.
(Halo, Encyclopedia 2012, p.169)

Now the next and my final point.

• Building Infrastructure

I am now looking from a broader perspective — by combining all the characteristics discussed so far and tying them into the discussion about the Flood's modus operandi.
So, we know spores can spread and infest stealthily. We know spores can operate for a long duration of time. We know spores can consume practically anything organic. We know spores can create constructs to create more sproes (Blisters, Combat forms).
In fact, tiny spores can evolve into living Flood creatures...

The Gravemind:
The Flood is the ultimate parasite. It's able to use any sentient being as food, and those infected by the Flood stand no chance. Infection is a gradual process, whereby an Infection Form, grown from a tiny spore, bonds the victim to the Flood's central intelligence and slowly consumes the contents of the host creature's mind.
(Halo, Encyclopedia 2011, p.20)

All these traits combined make spores the integral aspect of the parasite's expansion and conquest.
To put it this way: Flood spores are products of the Flood infestation, and at the same time, they represent the parasite's ... "means of production".
The phenomenon of "Blightlands" best exemplify this.

Blightland:
For its part, the Flood will seek to adjust local environmental factors in its favor immediately after reaching the Coordinated stage. If not stopped, Blightlands are the result of uncontained Flood expansion: Areas around established hives filled with FSC growth and Spore bodies, which harvested the vitality of the soil, soak up solar energy, and consume all native lives within its boundaries.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2022, p.413)

Notice that the passage said "around" the hives?
In regards to Flood infestations, the parasites don't just build hives, which are either repurposed buildings or completely made out of pure biomass, but they also set up the fundations and infrastructures by seeding spores and other bioforms to the surrounding regions.
Basically, the Blightlands are Flood-controlled regions where spores and other growth gathered "resources", from lifeforms and latent energy alike, and the hives are the buildings and bases within the regions.
Blightlands also serve as foundations for future Flood structures and hives to build on top of. We've seen this at the start of the outbreak on High Charity, numerous disparate Flood growth of varying sizes appeared in the corridors and on walls. They continued to fester until they formed into a new hive that blanketed every surface areas there was.
There's more, but before I talk about that, there's an intriguing quote from the encyclopedia:

Hives:
The Flood's only desire is to expand and corrupt. Once enough biomass is available, the parasite can establish lairs for defense and the growth of specialized forms. ... These tumorous blights are the most obvious targets for attack and cleansing, but they are simply a sympton of Flood infestation, not its causes. The Forerunners recognized this distinction far too late, after countless sterilization missions resulted in empty victories.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2022, p.404)

Interestingly, destroying the hives wouldn't necessarily deliver the critical blow, and I think Flood spores' various attributes contribute to this phenomena.
We have concluded that Flood spores are incredibly common: All types of Flood forms carry and disperse spores either voluntarily or by outside factors (i.e. combat damage). This makes it easy for the Flood to cause environmental corruption over a large area, which will create Blightlands.
We also have concluded that spores are fruitful "building tools". When a spore land on an environment of ample bio-organic materials, they can feast on all the resources and convert them into Flood forms or structures, which eventually become new hives; it can be even described as "self-replicating".
This makes the Flood stand out from other factions in Halo. When the issue regarding manufacturing comes to mind, other races — other the Forerunners, are reliant on specialized instruments or facilities to process and refine raw substances and factories to fabricate products.
The Flood can do that with just their most basic vectors that all known Flood forms carry and generate; hives simply do things more efficiently and on a muuch larger scale.
The spores allow the parasite's "industry" to be decentralized, and the expansion wouldn't be crippled when the birthing hive is destroyed. Given enough time, another hive can arise from the surrounding Blightland.

TLDR

Pod Infectors possess superior mobility and actual weaponry. Their speed and ferocity make them suitable for building up an army, and their rudimentary intelligence makes them much better at managing a fighting force.
Spores are adept at facilitating a comprehensive and expanding network of infrastructure, which they can do without the enemy's notice. Spores may work slower, but their subtlety and pervasiveness make them extremely dangerous threats, especially when their infestation goes unnoticed or uncontained for too long.

“Another piece removed from play.” A powerful voice said as Waldo felt himself get dragged across the floor. Waldo was confused and his body hurt everywhere. Waldo wondered what had happened and he tried to move his limbs but quickly realized he could not. Waldo tried to look around but his body did not want to respond. He knew he was in a cave of some kind because the ceiling is covered in small stalactites. Waldo suddenly felt himself being lifted up and saw an old grizzled Orc smiling as it slammed him into a chair. Waldo felt pain shoot all through his back. “Oh, well that won’t do. I cannot send you in a cripple.”
“Aaaahhh!” Waldo screamed as he felt metal passing through his body and ripped out his chest. Waldo felt himself bleeding to death with his innards ripped apart. Waldo began to weep from the pain as he felt the light begin to fade.
“Don’t be so dramatic. It is just a little pain.” The Orc said, lifting his head up to look him in the eyes. “I’ll have you put back together, before future even knows you're gone.” The Orc said, ramming his hand into his chest. Waldo felt himself being healed as the Orc’s hand moved around in his body. “Just another day.” The Orc said with a smile that made Waldo’s blood run cold. However, after a moment Waldo almost felt whole again and his neck began to obey as he looked around the cavern seeing hundreds of identical Orcs working on people and moving them around. Waldo watched as they passed through portals with people coming back with different ones. “Enjoying the show Waldo?” The Orc said, moving into his line of sight.
“What is this place?” Waldo asked, through gritted teeth pushing through the pain. “My workshop of course.” The Orc said smiling.
“What are you?” Waldo asked.
“We are not a what but a who. We are all one and the same. We are the reaper. The reincarnator. The collector of the lost. The healer of all. I am Death.”
“What happened?” Waldo asked, not really understanding.
“I decided to remove you from play. I can’t have you around to interfere with other plans and this gives you a chance to become more. I directly intervened, I am not supposed to do that as a rule but you have chosen to serve Future or Jonah and he seeks my extinction. Unfortunately, for you I won’t go extinct without a fight.” The Orc said calmly as Waldo’s innards finished reassembling themselves. “For all his power he never really took the time to understand it. He thinks a thousand years is enough time to come into his own as a god making a Future?” The Orc laughed cruelly. “He lived eighty million years learning and growing, but is placed first in one tournament of conflict using a fraction of his experience only accessing six life times worth of knowledge and thinks he can destroy me?” The Orc scoffed.
“Future is wonderful, he will save us all from you.” Waldo retorted.
“No one is coming to save you, Dragon Killer. Time has spoken. Mother of all. The goddess of movement. Without her there is nothing. Future crossed a line and all his dragon killing generals are dead. Did you think we wouldn’t notice cause you play at being a little foot soldier. No one fools death. No one escapes death. I always get my due. I could have left you to your hunts and mothers agent would have eventually brought you to my door. However, I could not wait on you. Your potential is so much more than Jonah sees.” The Orc responded coldly.
“What do you want of me?” Waldo asked, feeling dread realizing the Orc was telling the truth. Future had been impossible to reach and Waldo was in hiding. Waldo just did not know why but this made sense. Time had moved to protect her people and Jonah had sold them out so he could keep moving forward. Waldo had the pieces but until now he refused to accept the obvious.
“I want you to come into your own. I will crush Jonah, I expect more gods will be needed and this time I want those with the potential to be prepared. The others think they can stay out of Futures war with me but they are learning he is making war on all of us. I told father that a man could never be future and I am proving to be right. Some part of me thinks he knew and this is a test of some kind but I cannot fathom why he would do this. He has always beaten me in any game we play. You must learn and since Jonah is failing to prepare you, I will.” The Orc spoke as he went through the things Waldo was carrying.
“How do you intend to do that?” Waldo asked, trying to struggle against his bonds and then realizing the room had shifted. They were now alone. Waldo was not sure when the workshop had changed but now they were in a simpler room.
“First, I will give you access to a million of your lifetimes.” The Orc said, placing a bowl on Waldo’s lower lip. “Drink in your extracted memories.” Waldo tentatively touched his tongue to the liquid and suddenly he stood on a top of a small hill holding hands with a girl. Waldo realized he was a child as she was but somehow felt she was beautiful. “All of it please.” The Orc said bring Waldo back to the moment. Waldo drank it in feeling life times wash over him. He did not know how long it took but when he was done drinking he felt both young and old. Waldo laughed lightly. “The reunion is always pleasant, then I tell them it is a price paid for a toll.”
“What?” Waldo asked, feeling fear rise in his chest.
“Oh, nothing too terrible. Not like I am removing your memories of your love or sending you to a barren waste world. I am sending you to a gaming world. It should be interesting at the very least. It will make you invisible to Jonah and I will call off mothers’ hunters so you should be able to live out the rest of this life there. The world is even hosting your soulmate in the age I am placing you in. I will even land you near her.” The Orc said smiling.
“Then what is the toll?” Waldo asked.
“Two fold. No more magic.” The Orc said, placing a hand on his chest. Waldo felt his skin ignite then the feeling ran to his bones. Waldo screamed in agony. The pain was beyond all comprehension and suddenly it was no more. Waldo woke up with a hand slapping him lightly. “No sleeping on the job.” The Orc said lightly.
“Why did it hurt so?” Waldo asked weakly.
“I had to bind the spell to your bones. I changed the very shape of what makes you… you. That is no simple thing since I am only removing your ability to do magic and nothing else. You will remember all you know but just not be able to interact with it in the way you had. A change of this caliber is always painful. Now for the second part.” The Orc said, bringing out a red flask. “Taking your magic really is a low cost affair. Especially since it only will last for your time on Ur. Really, I only need to give you a lifetime or two of memories for that. This is the really pricey part. You thought that was painful. This, well it is extreme even for me. However, you have shown resilience and I expect this will add new dimensions to your character. Last time I did this it took years for the soul to recover but that was rushed and crude. I have been careful this time. My hope is that as you come to terms with it that you will start to see the curve of the universe and appreciate all things more. However, the final outcome of this will be all up to you. I cannot force you to be what I want.” The Orc stated, looking at the flask.
“What is it?” Waldo asked, nervously.
“More memories. Copied memories.” The Orc said calmly.
“Whose. . .” Waldo started to ask but as his mouth opened the Orc moved faster than he could react. Uncorking the bottle with one finger and shoving the bottle in his mouth and forcing Waldo to drink it. The memories flooded into Waldo and he stopped struggling before he had even swallowed the foul red liquid. “Why?. . . why?. . . why. . .” Waldo wept.
“Why indeed? Do you see the fool you have been blindly following Jonah? The pain you have caused?” The Orc asked, releasing Waldo’s bonds, dropping the bottle to shatter against the ground.
“It was supposed to make things better. It was supposed to give him more control to destroy you.” Waldo said, weakly feeling the full repercussions of each dragon he had killed, even Time’s pain at losing a child of her race.
“Of course he would tell you that along with telling you that I am keeping you trapped in an infinite cycle of reincarnations. However, now you know the truth, which is no simple thing to come to terms with after what you have done.” The Orc said, turning to look away.
“I cannot bear this, please take it away.” Waldo cried.
“You cannot bear the burden of truth!” The Orc said, angrily grabbing him. “You must and you will learn or you will fail to become. You think your burden is great? You made your burden! All I did was force you to carry your mess.” The Orc dragged Waldo across the room to a mirror and touched the side of it, turning it into a one way viewer. The Orc held him up forcing Waldo to view the scene of a woman working in a village field surrounded by others working in the same field. “My love is banished from the heavens. She chose to sacrifice everything for a better future because she could not see a way forward. She relinquished her position as future and was banished from heaven because she decided she had failed. She has never betrayed me. She never betrayed the gods. She never decided to fight everyone. She only did what she thought was best after careful thought and consideration. However, now I can only see her once a year for one day. I only get this privilege because I continue to serve my father. We used to spend every moment together. Billions of years side by side and for the last five thousand years I see her once a year for one day. We both only do what we think is best but we have been forced apart. Can you even begin to imagine what that is like? And you cannot bear the burden of your own making.” The Orc said, angrily dragging Waldo next to the table he had been strapped to. The Orc picked up a piece of metal he had extracted from Waldo earlier. “Find a way and become or wallow in your own self pity. I don’t care anymore.” The Orc picked up Waldo’s pack and strapped it to him and even placed his sidearm in his holster. Lastly, he rammed the piece of metal into Waldo’s arm. “Find a way or never leave Ur. Regardless, I will send your soulmate to you as often as I can.” Then unceremoniously tossed Waldo into a shimmering pool.

What's this?: Each month in Doctor Who Magazine they have a column by Russell T Davies (formerly 'Letter from the Showrunner', before that 'Production Notes') - a column by someone involved in the production of Doctor Who, and normally in the form of either the showrunner writing pieces about writing Doctor Who or the showrunner answering reader-submitted questions. Because these pieces and questions have often been used as a source for blogs to write misleading stories, they started being typed up for /gallifrey.
Hey thanks for doing this! Now I don't have to buy it: Yes you do, otherwise you'll be missing out on: in-depth previews of the four episodes of the new series (73 Yards, Dot and Bubble, Rogue, The Legend of Ruby Sunday); an interview with Jonathan Groff (Rogue); behind-the-scenes set reports from Space Babies, The Devil's Chord and Boom; an interview with Steven Moffat; a feature on the script-to-screen process behind the effects in Space Babies; a deconstruction of "The Rescue"; the first part of DWM's Fifteenth Doctor comic-strip "The Hans of Fear"; reviews for all of this month's DVD/CD/Book releases and EVEN MORE.
It's available physically in shops and digitally via Pocketmags.com!
Want an archive of the previous Production Notes that have been posted on /gallifrey?: Follow this link.
I am writing this in New York! It's the Doctor Who press junket (definition of junket: a sweet milky pudding, or a promotional trip, discuss). This is how it works. We're put in a hotel, me, Ncuti, Millie, plus their agents, with fleets of publicists. We all have a chocolate TARDIS in our rooms, to welcome us! (And none of this comes out of the licence fee, don't worry.) Then an entire floor of the hotel is set aside; there's a room of food, which ends up untouched because we're so busy, plus rooms with cameras in, one for each of us. (You've seen these rooms on every bit of publicity made in the last 20 years, usually a dark curtain with the logo in the background, often with Alison Hammond nearby. I wish! We want Allison!) And there's another room where, for half an hour every day, Ncuti and Millie and me are brought together to face a zoomful of journalists, 20 faces in boxes, all staring at us. This is my least favourite half hour of the day; Ncuti and Millie look beautiful, I look like the Werthers Original Grandpa.
Then it's back to our individual rooms. I sit there, on camera. Sometimes a journalist will come to sit opposite me, but most appear on camera, from Spain, from Berlin, from Rio. And it's fast! The PR in charge tells them 'You have six minutes.' Once in a while, it's 'You have nine minutes' and I wonder what Faustian pact has gained them the extra time. Once a day, someone has 15 minutes and I think this must be a Pulitzer winner!
This amounts to, on average, 28 interviews every day. 48 if you include that zoom. Over three days that's 144. It's dizzying! The thing is: you're encouraged to repeat yourself. Or you'd go mad. No one has 144 different anecdotes. At the same time, you're encouraged to, as the PR speak has it, 'Bring your roses.' I hooted at that phrase, but I've come to like it. It means, give out gifts. Have certain stories that you can choose for each journalist; that's for you, that's for you, that's for you. And now and again, if you really like an interviewer: have the bunch!
It becomes a mad blur. I repeat. I forget I've repeated and repeat again. I act, I try to make every story sound new. Sometimes I lie. Sometimes I bait. An imp in my mind still wants to find 144 stories - isn't that my job?! - so while I talk, a searchlight in my head is sweeping those dark corners for treasures. I'm in a freefall of words and find myself saying things I haven't thought about for years. Lots of journalists ask about The Devil's Chord, how the expensive copyright on Beatles tracks inspired my idea to have Maestro taking music away, but then suddenly, one afternoon (is it afternoon? The windows are still curtained, we are cocooned) I find myself saying, "It's Peer Gynt." A pause. "Oh?" "Yes, it's Act IV of Peer Gynt, the tumbleweeds appear and tell Peter: We are the songs, you should have sung us. A thousand times, you stifled and strangled us. In the mine of your heart, we've lain and waited, we were never summoned. Curse you, curse you." A pause. A silence. Then. "So what was it like to work with Jinkx Monsoon?!"
But that's true, that's what inspired Maestro draining Timothy Drake's heart. Where do you get your ideas from? Ibsen! Somehow the blur of words has woken that fact from its hiding place.
On and on it goes, and it's knackering - though I'm not complaining, I love this stuff because I think it's important. We want Doctor Who in every headline across the world. So onwards, onwards!
Then suddenly, oh faithful DWM reader, it all comes full circle. Out of the blue, one journalist - I'm sorry, I can't remember, was it Eric? - finishes his six minutes. "Thank you, bye!" But then he says quickly, "I just wanted to say..."
Argh, hurry up, the switchover from one interviewer to another is fast! It's brutal! You're on a bobsleigh, Eric, you've got about eight seconds! What?!
"I just wanted to say thank you for your page in Doctor Who Magazine."
"Oh. Wait! What? This page?"
"If it wasn't for that, I wouldn't have got into journalism, I wouldn't be doing this job today."
"Really? Gosh! But how - ?"
"Well, because - "
Click!
"Hi, this is Amber from HotSpike in Chile! What was it like to work with Jinkx Monsoon?!"
Gone. Eric. If it was Eric. Goodbye.
But what a lovely thing to say. No one's ever said that before. And I reckon there's a chance that Eric might still be reading, so...
Thank you. Hugely. Thank you.
Onwards.
"Amber, we had so much fun! Like Ibsen says..."

This is a deeply speculative post, but I've tried to cite quotes and specific figures wherever I can to help support the analysis.
I don't want to call this a proper theory because I'm not entirely confident in it, but I do think there's enough plausibility that it's worth sharing the hypothesis and hearing from others who may be able to contribute evidence for or against it.
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The Inteyvat is the national flower of Khaenri'ah, and it has "Teyvat" in the name. So it seems like it's safe to assume that it's a native flower to Teyvat, right?
But as I reviewed some of this version's new lore, I came to an interesting realization, given these two quotes:
Here's the two dialogues that mention it:

Mary-Ann:
You're from a very, very faraway place, aren't you, (Traveler)? What sort of flowers bloom there?
{__
Aether:
(Describe the flowers your sister wears in her hair.)
Mary-Ann:
Ah... Those do sound like lovely flowers.
or
Lumine:
The flowers I wear in my hair.‍
Mary-Ann:
I thought those flowers were beautiful the moment I saw you.‍
__}
Traveler:
But I fear that they'll be hard to find now.
-Ann of the Narzissenkreuz, Act III: "If She No Longer Dreams of You...", Mary-Ann's Story

​
Traveler's Sibling:

At the end of my journey, I arrived at a place known as "The Sea of Flowers at the End."
Do you remember? A long time ago, when we traveled between worlds together...
You told me... You wanted to find a place in the universe where that one flower was in full bloom.
To have a place like that suddenly appear before me...
Well, would you think of that as a coincidence?
-Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act VI- Bedtime Story, World-Order Narration

​
This first quote implies that the Inteyvat is a flower that also appears in the homeworld of the Twins, and the second quote confirms that this is a rare flower, that the Twins were traveling worlds and had rarely if ever found such a flower in other worlds.
But there's something strange about all this: the Sibling comes across The Sea of Flowers at the End and saw a field of these rare flowers. Why would this rare flower appear in Teyvat of all places and not anywhere else in the Twins' journey?
Here's one comically simple explanation: Teyvat just so happens to have been a world where these flowers bloom. This is entirely possible and if it turns out to be the case then that's it, problem solved! If Mihoyo comes out and says "yup, it's a coincidence guys!" I'd be totally fine with that and the rest of this speculation would be quite pointless.
However, we don't have such a clear-cut answer on the Inteyvat's origins. I hypothesize there's a different reason for the appearance of the Inteyvat, one that assumes it's not just some random lucky coincidence– perhaps the Inteyvat is actually an artificial flower to begin with.
​
Consider the following: why would the Inteyvat be subject to a condition where being removed from Khaenri'ah causes it to turn hard and lose its softness, as Dainsleif says in the Chasm? If we make the assumption that the Inteyvat naturally grows on this world, why would it be confined to a single nation and subject to a "curse" or "special condition" such as that?
There's something else going on here. The Sibling asks, "Well, would you think of that as a coincidence?" It does seem hard to imagine this being a coincidence, as these flowers seem to be so rare. But the Sibling seems to be approaching this with the attitude of taking this as some sort of sign.
What if this wasn't some prophetic sign that Teyvat was a special world to have the same flowers as the homeworld of the Twins, but rather an illusion meant to deceive the Sibling?
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Let's step back for a moment and consider the circumstances so far, by the time the Sibling would've encountered this so-called Sea of Flowers at the End.
The Sibling is surprised at finding this vast field of rare flowers that have a great emotional significance to themselves and their Twin, the (soon to be) Traveler. This is a field of flowers from their homeworld, yet which also just so happens to be the national flower of Khaenri'ah. This is a nation that's had a long history of research and study of the Abyss, with several prominent figures including the Five Sinners. When the Sibling appeared in this nation, they were supposedly meant to play some meaningful role in shaping its fate.
Among these Five Sinners we have "The Visionary" Vedrfolnir who seems to have had contact with the Sibling during their journey with Dainsleif, and "Gold" Rhinedottir who seemed to play a crucial role in the Cataclysm due to the widespread appearance of her creations and whose mastery over Khemia would reach the point of being able to create an artificial human. These people were major figures during the last days of Khaenri'ah and they would've almost certainly had contact with the Sibling, given that they were already in Khaenri'ah and had met figures like Pierro.
So we have the Sibling, a being from beyond the world with some great significance to Khaenri'ah. The Cataclysm eventually strikes and this Sibling tries to immediately flee, and is then stopped by the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles. The Sibling wakes up alone on Teyvat again and then continues to travel with Dainsleif, until eventually meeting Chlothar and then encountering Vedrfolnir shortly prior to the establishment of the Abyss Order; and within a few years the project to create the Loom of Fate would begin.
There are clearly powerful individuals who have some vested interest in the Sibling, and likely have worked covertly or overtly to influence them. In the end, we see the Sibling has become the leader of the Abyss Order and is waging war on Celestia. Importantly, they specifically mention that Sea of Flowers when speaking with the Traveler, strongly implying that it's one of their biggest motivations for walking down this dark path.
​
This is why I suspect that The Sea of Flowers at the End might have been an illusion created by taking a precious memory —that of the flowers of the Sibling's homeland and their desire to find those flowers with the Traveler— and creating an illusory memory space with the intention of striking at the Sibling's heart.
After all, this entire conversation takes place in a memory space created by Caribert and Caribert himself fabricated an appearance since he never grew to be an adult before becoming the foundation for the Loom of Fate. Who's to say that The Sea of Flowers at the End couldn't also be such a memory space?
Furthermore, this could've served as a catalyst for the Sibling making a final decision to walk down the path of the Abyss Order, and seeing how Vedrfolnir directly acted in the past to encourage this decision, it's not hard to imagine that Vedrfolnir and other associated figures may have had some hand in making this illusion happen as well.
​
​
Now we have to ask why the Inteyvat is associated with Teyvat in the first place. Dainsleif calls it the national flower of Khaenri'ah, for instance, but how could such a thing be if the Teyvat never existed in Teyvat in the first place?
​
First, we have the physical existence Inteyvat itself. It clearly exists, so how does it exist on Teyvat if it's merely an illusion? The answer is clear... Khemia.
I mentioned Rhinedottir for that reason, because Rhinedottir was incredibly skilled at Khemia, even being able to create a homunculus. And this homunculus, Albedo, also learned Khemia and uses it to create artificial life such as flowers or tree branches.
So it's very likely that Rhinedottir (hell, maybe even a lesser mage) could've used the art of Khemia to create an artificial Inteyvat for the Sibling back when they were still in Khaenri'ah pre-Cataclysm. This explains why there would've been an Inteyvat in Lumine's hair back when the Cataclysm was happening: if Lumine is the Traveler, then Aether placed it in her hair when they were still in Khaenri'ah; and if Aether is the Traveler, Lumine had it in her hair already when he finally woke up.
​
Then, we have to answer the "spiritual" existence of the Inteyvat. Dainsleif calls it the national flower of Khaenri'ah, after all. But... Dainsleif is an inhabitant of Teyvat and thus susceptible to Irminsul's influence.
If someone implanted a false memory of the Inteyvat into his mind, and the minds of all other people from Khaenri'ah, then that could convince him and others that the Inteyvat was always an important flower to the people of Khaenri'ah. And since the Sibling seems to be a part of Irminsul's "database" and thus may be susceptible to it as well, then the Sibling could also have fallen under this spell.
Furthermore, consider that Rhinedottir is part of the Hexenzirkel as well. We already have another figure in the Hexenzirkel, Nicole Reeyn, who is known to be actively aware of Irminsul's memory-manipulation power; she's the voice who speaks up in the Sumeru interlude quest when Scaramouche wipes himself from Irminsul. Regardless of whether Nicole personally plays a role in the fabrication of the Inteyvat, we can at least assume that Rhinedottir would be guaranteed to have learned about these properties of Irminsul via Nicole if she wasn't already aware of them.
Though I suspect the Five Sinners likely knew about Irminsul's properties anyways given their power and influence; mentioning Nicole is just my way of guaranteeing that we have at least one solid link between this Irminsul fact and the figures like Vedrfolnir.
​
Now, we have an explanation for the physical presence of the Inteyvat (Khemia) and the mental presence of the Inteyvat (Irminsul), and we have a motivation for its fabrication.
It takes a deeply intimate part of the Sibling's personal experience and implants it into the very history of Teyvat and specifically Khaenri'ah, establishing a stronger connection between them.
The Five Sinners would've had the means to fabricate such a flower and then implant it into the memory of the survivors of Khaenri'ah, so they could easily produce "evidence" of its role in Khaenri'ah's history.
This all could've been a big part of pushing the Sibling to become the leader of the Abyss Order: the Sea of Flowers at the End clearly had a big impact on them and they chose to explicitly mention it to the Traveler when discussing why they've chosen to lead the Abyss Order and wage war on the Heavenly Principles.
​
Finally, I'd also like to suggest that perhaps the Sibling has already figured out that it was an illusion. After all, in the present they do seem to be aware that memories in Teyvat can easily be manipulated.
However, even if they became aware of this memory manipulation via Irminsul they might still be on the same path for one of two reasons: either they incorrectly assumed they're immune to its effects and thus don't suspect the Inteyvat to be a fabrication, or they know the Inteyvat is fake but believe they've walked too far down this path to turn back now.
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I hope this analysis is substantial enough for y'all! It's hard for me to put these kinds of thoughts into exact words because I tend to try and looking at big-picture ideas and speculate heavily as a result, meaning it takes a lot more work to find concrete evidence to support these ideas.
I've got a variety of similarly "big-picture" hypotheses that I've yet to write about because of that– especially the "Abyss =?= Sea of Quanta" hypothesis.
But I think this is one case where there's just enough evidence in the current story that it's at least worth suggesting this possibility, and further story developments about the Inteyvat can help support or disprove this hypothesis!
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(As a side note, I could almost swear there was something in Genshin's lore that stated that there was a different curse on Khaenri'ah, where people from the Seven Nations who enter Khaenri'ah are forbidden from returning– and if they did, they'd turn to hilichurls.
I can't recall what source it was though, and my searches on the Genshin wiki are futile, so if anyone remembers what this source is [if it even exists] then I'd love to hear it! It was going to be a big part of my theory here, but I can't find the source to cite it so I won't elaborate on it)