I think there’s something off about my campus
Hey everyone, I’m typing this on my phone so I apologize if there is weird formatting. Anyways, to get to the point, there’s something really off with some people on my campus. I have come seeking answers.I noticed it first walking home from my 7pm class last Wednesday.
To set the scene, most of the campus is tucked back into the woods a little, and my 7pm class is in the farthest building from the parking lot (further into the woods). I get out from that 7pm class around 9pm, so on cloudy nights like last Wednesday, the only lights on that long sidewalk are the lights radiating from the other buildings. Usually, there’s roughly 30 feet where it’s pitch black because the foliage is pretty dense. I usually walk back to my apartment with some classmates that live in the same complex as me, but I told them to go ahead of me while I finished the rest of the project.
After packing my laptop away, I started heading back home. It was roughly 9:30 at this point, and my brain was slowly shutting down preparing for the deep sleep that has yet to come.Walking down the sidewalk, I heard somebody not too far into the woods laughing like they’ve just heard the funniest joke ever. I immediately thought, “probably some Freshman walking the trails with their friends smoking weed”. Chuckling to myself, I put in my AirPods and picked a playlist for my journey back home.
When I looked up from my phone, there was the silhouette of somebody walking towards me. I have no idea how I missed them before, but honestly, it’s very possible they were just in a spot where the light wasn’t quite reaching them. A little unnerved, I shifted over to the left side of the sidewalk.
(Now I’m usually fine walking alone at night; I’m a 6’2 man who’s dabbled in the world of MMA. But something about this person gave me a primal feeling of unrest.)
When they shifted over to the left mirroring me, I felt my blood run cold. But alas, I had to keep walking because this was my only way back home. As I neared closer to the figure, I almost laughed at myself when I realized it was just some harmless girl walking towards the Murphy building. If anything, I’m the intimidating one to her.
This is where it really gets weird. She stopped as I was passing her and turned to me. Thinking she needed to ask me something, I took an AirPod out and asked “what’s up?”. After staring at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, she opened her mouth, and I kid you not, mimicked the laugh I heard moments before perfectly. Before I could chalk it up to it just being her in the trails earlier, I noticed something. Her mouth wasn’t moving at all. If I had left my AirPods in, it would just look like she was just opening her mouth and staring at me. She then shifted into a deep raspy laugh. She did all of this without moving her mouth at all; I couldn’t even see her throat moving as you would expect if someone was laughing. It was almost like she was some fucked up human-shaped gramophone. The feeling of absolute horror that came over me is something I’ve only experienced in my imagination. Before I could think to do anything next, My body began to run off some sort of primal instinct. With my legs burning, it took me about 10 minutes to get all the way back to my apartment and lock myself in relative safety.
I’m coming on here now to ask if anybody knows what I experienced? I have been hearing that same laughter outside my window every night since that night, I am too terrified to sleep well and have refused to go to any of my classes. Please I just want answers, I don’t want to keep living in fear.
Part 2:
Hey everyone, I’ve gotten some DMs telling me what it may be. I’ve heard everything from banshee to skinwalker. After further research I pray to god it was neither of them. I’m praying it was just some girl with a speaker playing some sort of cruel joke. I mean yes there are people who don’t like me on campus, I’ve made some enemies over the past 4 years. But, I just don’t understand what could’ve brought it to this point. I had to stop hiding in fear and go to my classes before my grades plummet, I’m almost done with my degree and only have a few more weeks. If I let some sort of stupid prank ruin my career, It would be everything I swore against to my parents.
A lot of you guys in the DMs were also asking what college I go to and what my name is. First I want to say sorry for not providing that information in the first post, I’m sure you can understand where my head was at typing that. So let me introduce myself, my name is Nick and In order to keep my privacy, I will only provide that I go to a midwest university.
I’m sure you may be wondering, “so did it just stop?”. I would love to say yes, but really things have just gotten weirder. Though, I am pleased to say that there is no longer laughing out my window every night.
Ever since that night, I’ve been noticing more things off with the people on campus. Now you may just think it’s paranoia, but just be patient and listen.
Yesterday, I decided to muster up all of my courage and go to class. Luckily my first class is at 10AM, when the sun is well in the sky, so walking across campus seemed much less threatening. When I sat down in my first class, I noticed something off with the girl that sits in front of me. Usually she’s chatty and excited to be in class, but today she just stared blankly ahead. I tried to say good morning and ask about her weekend, as we do every Monday, but she continued to have that blank stare. She did turn her head towards be, but her eyes read “lights on, but nobody is home”.
Thinking to myself, she may just be hungover, or going through the bout of college student depression. I decided to shrug it off and turn to the front of the class and get my notes ready. But the moment I turned around, I could feel it. Her eyes burrowing deep into the back of my head. When I flipped around to see if I was just being irrational, I quickly learned I wasn’t. Her eyes went from the blank glare, to the most enthusiastic face I’ve seen on her. It was horrible, it almost seemed like she was trying so hard to pretend she was thrilled to be in class and to speak to me. It was inhuman.
I’ve been on the internet long enough to catch on to the term “Uncanny valley”, and what I witnessed In my first hour gives me that same gut feeling I got when I saw that girl last Wednesday.
I was right to be uncomfortable though, I texted her after class to make sure she was doing alright. But her response only reignited the flames of deep fear burning in my soul.
I’ll copy and paste the messages here:
Me: Hey Is everything good? You seemed off in class today.
Steph SCI 101: Uh yeah, I’m fine. but I was not in class today, I’m severely hungover from Tanner’s party last night.
Me: Haha, good one.
Steph SCI 101: No I’m so Fr, are you okay?
Steph SCI 101: Are you trying to fuck with me or something?
Me: Nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you.
(End Of Texts)
Okay so I’m sure that this gives you all the same feeling of dread that it gave me but I’m sure scaled down a bit. This is where I have started to doubt that it’s a prank, because me and Stephanie are cool. There’s no level of hate for either of us, and even if it was some joke, we don’t know each other on that type of level.
Not only did this seem to happen in my first class, but in between classes while I was walking across campus as well. I walk past hundreds of faces in my many treks across campus, and I swear to you, at least 1/4th of the people I walked past had that same dead stare look. And the way they walked, god I hate even thinking of it. It was like they were an alien trying out their new body suits for the first time. The steps and the bends of their legs just seem so meticulous, dramaticized, and puppeteered.
I’m going to try to investigate further, because at this point my fear for my life is more of a reason to try and figure out what it is so I can try to stop it.
I’m no hero, and I’m sure as hell nothing special, but If I can know what to expect for another encounter, maybe I can avoid meeting the demise I have imagined.
Part 3

First off I would like to apologize for my 20-day hiatus. For those who were worried that curiosity killed the cat so to speak, I appreciate your concern. On top of my investigation, I have also had to go through finals and work for a boss who didn't believe in life outside of work. So let's start where we left off. I had a feeling that this task was left for me to solve. it may sound stupid, but let me explain why. That night, after my last post, I had a dream that further solidified my need to solve the mystery. I tried to write all that I remembered down the morning after so here is what I wrote. 

April 4th, 2024
I had a strange dream last night, stranger than usual at least. I awoke in the woods, laying face down in the grass with someone looming over me. I heard their footsteps flee rapidly before I flipped over. I found myself just off the trail where the “incident” happened, on the trail laid a girl, bloodied and motionless. When I got up to approach her, she was quickly dragged into the parallel section of the woods. Seeing this I turned and ran into the section of woods I was in. When my legs gave out I found myself near an old supply shed, worn and long abandoned. Searching for cover, I tried the door, which luckily gave after a quick pull. There I found a trapdoor which emanated a blue hue through the cracks. The only thought on my mind, survival brought me to throw it open and climb down. I clattered down the ladder and right before my feet touched the ground, I was pulled backwards by my shirt. That’s where I woke up.
I have always trusted my gut and having a dream that vivid gave me a sense of courage I did not previously have. I know where to start my search now. I have decided my best course of action will be to record my findings on a tape recorder app. After I finish each entry it will be uploaded to a cloud that will ensure if anything happens to me, the story will get out. I am packing my backpack now with a flashlight, glow sticks to mark my trail, and a machete I was gifted by a local in Mexico. All of my recordings will be uploaded below and auto posted after 10 days. Wish me luck everyone, I’m going to need it.
Entry 1: I have started at the only place that makes sense, the trail. It is currently 1:45 PM and I have plenty of sun left in the sky. I just needed to find exactly where to start my journey into the woods. Strangely it was very easy to find. I recall one of the trees having a funky twist near the middle of the trunk. Probably just some two lovebirds trying to carve their name into the tree and realizing there were softer trees to carve into. Anyways hiking further into the woods I believe I can see the shape of the shed through the branches. I wish you guys could see how dense these trees are so you can understand my struggle.
Entry 2: I made it to the shed, but unfortunately the floor in here is concrete. This really sucks for me because I have absolutely no idea where to go from here. It’s identical on the outside but I just don’t understand. Maybe I’m just delusional, which in that case what a waste of time and energy. I’m going to head back home and just start packing for summer. Maybe it’ll be best if I just forget about all of this and leave it behind me. I am graduating after all. Wait hold on what is this?? there’s a button behind one of these shelves. I am going to press it, but idk how it would work because this floor is seamless. I’m just going to leave this recording so if anything does happen I don’t have to worry about holding the phone the whole time. Holy shit, the entire floor is lowering. It’s a fucking elevator.
Entry 3: Okay so I’ve been going down this elevator for like 30 seconds, how far down am I going?.. Oh wait hold on, Im stopped… There’s a metal door with a padlock. Ig since I have the machete there’s only one thing to do, break it. Im going to use the blunt side so I don’t ruin this thing, I like it too much. the lock clatters to the ground after 3 solid hits. Well ig there’s only one way to go now, there’s no button to get back up so I pray there’s another way up. The metal door creaks loudly. Fuck I regret this, It’s dark and I can tell it’s a big area because it’s so echoey in here. I’m currently praising my past self for thinking about the flashlight and glow sticks. I need to find out what in the hell this place is and most importantly, if there’s a damn light switch.
Entry 4: God this place is terrifying I’ve been walking around the sterile white halls of this place for like 10 minutes and have found nothing, no doors, no light switch. I feel like a rat in a maze. Also scratch what I said about being glad I packed glow sticks, because my stupid ass only brought like 20 of these things and I’m already down to 5. Also I feel like I’m not alone, every now and then I’ll turn a corner and the glow from the previous glow stick quickly vanishes. I feel like it might just be because the darkness seems to envelop everything like a blanket. But I have that feeling that I’m being followed. You know the one, where you know somethings wrong you just can’t pin point what it is. Oh shit no way, there’s light, I think there’s a door or something up ahead.
Entry 5: Holy shit… It’s a lab, and worse, there’s people strapped too tables, completely naked and unconscious. I know they are alive because each of them are hooked up with a million different cords, and one of those are plugged into a heart monitor. This place is huge, there has to be at least 50 people on these tables.
“Hey you, you’re not supposed to be in here” yelled a man adorned in a lab coat.
“What are you doing to these kids you sick fucks.” I yelled back at the man across the lab.
In a haste the scientist rushes towards a red button, setting off a loud alarm, turning the lights to a flashing red. With no exit behind me, I could only do one thing... Rush towards him. My training kicked in as I launched into a flurry of calculated strikes. My first hit connected, a right overhand clean under his eye. The doctor stumbled back, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. I pressed the attack, keeping him off balance with a relentless barrage of punches and kicks. He fought back ferociously, but I was one step ahead, anticipating his moves and countering with swift, efficient strikes. We wrestled, the room around us becoming a blur of pain and adrenaline. I used the environment to my advantage, improvising weapons from the scattered medical equipment and turning the empty tables on my opponent. Pinning him to the ground, I laid down a harsh barrage of final blows. His face was a bloody pulp, unrecognizable. But I didn’t walk away unscathed, somewhere in the tussle, the scientist buried a scalpel deep into my stomach. With my adrenaline wearing off, the pain overtook me, sending me into darkness as I fainted from the blood loss and adrenaline dump. I awoke with my arms and legs strapped to the cold metal operating table. Before I could try to struggle, a face overtook my field of vision.
“Quite a fight you put up, you turned poor Dr.Samson into a soup” the looming face said with a chuckle. “You are the first person to put the pieces together and for that I am thoroughly impressed Mr. Hayes”
“Who are you?!” I said fighting at my binds. “Let me go!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Mr.Hayes. You have seen far too much, and I definitely can’t have you running around telling the world what you saw here. Although nobody would believe you.” “And to answer your other question, I’m surprised you don’t recognize me… really take a moment and look at me” He said pulling down his face mask.
“Dr.Blackwood?” I said as I looked back on my freshman year biology class.
“Ding ding ding ding. We have a winner!” He said in a maniac joy.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“Well Mr.Hayes, first I’m going to sew you up from your little tussle you had with my late assistant and then I will put you under and cut into that skull of yours and take out a small piece of what we call in the science world your hippocampus. Then I will draw from that all of the necessary memories to create the perfect clone of you.” He responded.
“Why? Why would you need a clone of any of us. Why can’t you just clone someone willing to be apart of this?” I asked
“Because that’s no fun Mr.Hayes, the hunt excites me. Actually you’re lucky I didn’t get you the first night. Unfortunately my creation had a little bit of a malfunction and formed a wee bit of an attachment to you. I’m sure you remember the ruckus outside your window? Anyways I digress, I do this because everyone of you lowly students will go onto do mediocre jobs where you waste away at a desk. I must also add that with having a clone of you under my control, I can do anything and get away with clean hands. My plan with you originally was to have you go into the admissions office and steal every last cent all for me. On top of that I like the power, because one day I will have a clone of every student on this campus and eventually I will cause a revolt against our comedy of a government. Who will stop me, when I won’t even be on the front lines?” Dr.Blackwood explained.
“I will” I said freeing my last hand from the binds.
What he didn’t realize is that with all of this monologue and the questions I had been feeding him, I was slowly loosening my binds with each wiggle and movement in retaliation.
Lurching forward I grab onto his collar, pulling him into a vicious headbutt. The impact sent Dr. Blackwood reeling backward, his grip on consciousness loosening as he staggered. Seizing the moment, I lunged off the table, adrenaline coursing through my veins despite the searing pain in my abdomen. With a swift motion, I grabbed a nearby surgical instrument, holding it in a defensive stance as I faced my adversary. Dr. Blackwood, recovering from the blow, snarled with rage, his once calm demeanor now replaced by a feral intensity. The room seemed to shrink around us, the tension thickening with each passing second. This was my chance to stop Blackwood's twisted plans. As he lunged forward, I met his attack head-on, the clang of metal reverberating through the room. Blow after blow, we fought with an intensity born of desperation and determination. Despite my injuries, I refused to yield, driven by a fire burnt under me to protect myself and others from Blackwood's actions . In a final, swift move, I delivered a powerful front kick, sending Blackwood crashing to the ground. The room fell silent, the echoes of our struggle fading into the darkness. Coughing he sat in the corner laughing with blood spilling down his face. “You know that it’s too late to save any of these one lying on the tables. I would’ve released you, you know that right? I would’ve simply taken your memory from today out of your brain and leaving you in your bed to wake up thinking you had a fun night” he said with final resolve as he watched me grab the scalpel from the ground taking slow steps near him.
Looking down over him, It was my turn to laugh. Kneeling down to eye level with him I grabbed him by his hair and delivered a final message to him “Fuck you and your little science experiment” as I sliced deep into his throat watching the life fade from his eyes.
I eventually found an exit door, which lead me to a storm drain deep in the woods far from my campus. It took me 2 hours to limp my way onto a main road and flag down a passing car. Pulling over I was rushed to the hospital and later interrogated by some men in suits, my guess is CIA. Here I am now, writing my final entrance. I think I heard them say something about trying a new medical process on me to help me heal quicker

I think there’s something off about my campus
Hey everyone, I’m typing this on my phone so I apologize if there is weird formatting. Anyways, to get to the point, there’s something really off with some people on my campus. I have come seeking answers.I noticed it first walking home from my 7pm class last Wednesday.
To set the scene, most of the campus is tucked back into the woods a little, and my 7pm class is in the farthest building from the parking lot (further into the woods). I get out from that 7pm class around 9pm, so on cloudy nights like last Wednesday, the only lights on that long sidewalk are the lights radiating from the other buildings. Usually, there’s roughly 30 feet where it’s pitch black because the foliage is pretty dense. I usually walk back to my apartment with some classmates that live in the same complex as me, but I told them to go ahead of me while I finished the rest of the project.
After packing my laptop away, I started heading back home. It was roughly 9:30 at this point, and my brain was slowly shutting down preparing for the deep sleep that has yet to come.Walking down the sidewalk, I heard somebody not too far into the woods laughing like they’ve just heard the funniest joke ever. I immediately thought, “probably some Freshman walking the trails with their friends smoking weed”. Chuckling to myself, I put in my AirPods and picked a playlist for my journey back home.
When I looked up from my phone, there was the silhouette of somebody walking towards me. I have no idea how I missed them before, but honestly, it’s very possible they were just in a spot where the light wasn’t quite reaching them. A little unnerved, I shifted over to the left side of the sidewalk.
(Now I’m usually fine walking alone at night; I’m a 6’2 man who’s dabbled in the world of MMA. But something about this person gave me a primal feeling of unrest.)
When they shifted over to the left mirroring me, I felt my blood run cold. But alas, I had to keep walking because this was my only way back home. As I neared closer to the figure, I almost laughed at myself when I realized it was just some harmless girl walking towards the Murphy building. If anything, I’m the intimidating one to her.
This is where it really gets weird. She stopped as I was passing her and turned to me. Thinking she needed to ask me something, I took an AirPod out and asked “what’s up?”. After staring at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, she opened her mouth, and I kid you not, mimicked the laugh I heard moments before perfectly. Before I could chalk it up to it just being her in the trails earlier, I noticed something. Her mouth wasn’t moving at all. If I had left my AirPods in, it would just look like she was just opening her mouth and staring at me. She then shifted into a deep raspy laugh. She did all of this without moving her mouth at all; I couldn’t even see her throat moving as you would expect if someone was laughing. It was almost like she was some fucked up human-shaped gramophone. The feeling of absolute horror that came over me is something I’ve only experienced in my imagination. Before I could think to do anything next, My body began to run off some sort of primal instinct. With my legs burning, it took me about 10 minutes to get all the way back to my apartment and lock myself in relative safety.
I’m coming on here now to ask if anybody knows what I experienced? I have been hearing that same laughter outside my window every night since that night, I am too terrified to sleep well and have refused to go to any of my classes. Please I just want answers, I don’t want to keep living in fear.
Part 2:
Hey everyone, I’ve gotten some DMs telling me what it may be. I’ve heard everything from banshee to skinwalker. After further research I pray to god it was neither of them. I’m praying it was just some girl with a speaker playing some sort of cruel joke. I mean yes there are people who don’t like me on campus, I’ve made some enemies over the past 4 years. But, I just don’t understand what could’ve brought it to this point. I had to stop hiding in fear and go to my classes before my grades plummet, I’m almost done with my degree and only have a few more weeks. If I let some sort of stupid prank ruin my career, It would be everything I swore against to my parents.
A lot of you guys in the DMs were also asking what college I go to and what my name is. First I want to say sorry for not providing that information in the first post, I’m sure you can understand where my head was at typing that. So let me introduce myself, my name is Nick and In order to keep my privacy, I will only provide that I go to a midwest university.
I’m sure you may be wondering, “so did it just stop?”. I would love to say yes, but really things have just gotten weirder. Though, I am pleased to say that there is no longer laughing out my window every night.
Ever since that night, I’ve been noticing more things off with the people on campus. Now you may just think it’s paranoia, but just be patient and listen.
Yesterday, I decided to muster up all of my courage and go to class. Luckily my first class is at 10AM, when the sun is well in the sky, so walking across campus seemed much less threatening. When I sat down in my first class, I noticed something off with the girl that sits in front of me. Usually she’s chatty and excited to be in class, but today she just stared blankly ahead. I tried to say good morning and ask about her weekend, as we do every Monday, but she continued to have that blank stare. She did turn her head towards be, but her eyes read “lights on, but nobody is home”.
Thinking to myself, she may just be hungover, or going through the bout of college student depression. I decided to shrug it off and turn to the front of the class and get my notes ready. But the moment I turned around, I could feel it. Her eyes burrowing deep into the back of my head. When I flipped around to see if I was just being irrational, I quickly learned I wasn’t. Her eyes went from the blank glare, to the most enthusiastic face I’ve seen on her. It was horrible, it almost seemed like she was trying so hard to pretend she was thrilled to be in class and to speak to me. It was inhuman.
I’ve been on the internet long enough to catch on to the term “Uncanny valley”, and what I witnessed In my first hour gives me that same gut feeling I got when I saw that girl last Wednesday.
I was right to be uncomfortable though, I texted her after class to make sure she was doing alright. But her response only reignited the flames of deep fear burning in my soul.
I’ll copy and paste the messages here:
Me: Hey Is everything good? You seemed off in class today.
Steph SCI 101: Uh yeah, I’m fine. but I was not in class today, I’m severely hungover from Tanner’s party last night.
Me: Haha, good one.
Steph SCI 101: No I’m so Fr, are you okay?
Steph SCI 101: Are you trying to fuck with me or something?
Me: Nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you.
(End Of Texts)
Okay so I’m sure that this gives you all the same feeling of dread that it gave me but I’m sure scaled down a bit. This is where I have started to doubt that it’s a prank, because me and Stephanie are cool. There’s no level of hate for either of us, and even if it was some joke, we don’t know each other on that type of level.
Not only did this seem to happen in my first class, but in between classes while I was walking across campus as well. I walk past hundreds of faces in my many treks across campus, and I swear to you, at least 1/4th of the people I walked past had that same dead stare look. And the way they walked, god I hate even thinking of it. It was like they were an alien trying out their new body suits for the first time. The steps and the bends of their legs just seem so meticulous, dramaticized, and puppeteered.
I’m going to try to investigate further, because at this point my fear for my life is more of a reason to try and figure out what it is so I can try to stop it.
I’m no hero, and I’m sure as hell nothing special, but If I can know what to expect for another encounter, maybe I can avoid meeting the demise I have imagined.
Part 3

First off I would like to apologize for my 20-day hiatus. For those who were worried that curiosity killed the cat so to speak, I appreciate your concern. On top of my investigation, I have also had to go through finals and work for a boss who didn't believe in life outside of work. So let's start where we left off. I had a feeling that this task was left for me to solve. it may sound stupid, but let me explain why. That night, after my last post, I had a dream that further solidified my need to solve the mystery. I tried to write all that I remembered down the morning after so here is what I wrote. 

April 4th, 2024
I had a strange dream last night, stranger than usual at least. I awoke in the woods, laying face down in the grass with someone looming over me. I heard their footsteps flee rapidly before I flipped over. I found myself just off the trail where the “incident” happened, on the trail laid a girl, bloodied and motionless. When I got up to approach her, she was quickly dragged into the parallel section of the woods. Seeing this I turned and ran into the section of woods I was in. When my legs gave out I found myself near an old supply shed, worn and long abandoned. Searching for cover, I tried the door, which luckily gave after a quick pull. There I found a trapdoor which emanated a blue hue through the cracks. The only thought on my mind, survival brought me to throw it open and climb down. I clattered down the ladder and right before my feet touched the ground, I was pulled backwards by my shirt. That’s where I woke up.
I have always trusted my gut and having a dream that vivid gave me a sense of courage I did not previously have. I know where to start my search now. I have decided my best course of action will be to record my findings on a tape recorder app. After I finish each entry it will be uploaded to a cloud that will ensure if anything happens to me, the story will get out. I am packing my backpack now with a flashlight, glow sticks to mark my trail, and a machete I was gifted by a local in Mexico. All of my recordings will be uploaded below and auto posted after 10 days. Wish me luck everyone, I’m going to need it.
Entry 1: I have started at the only place that makes sense, the trail. It is currently 1:45 PM and I have plenty of sun left in the sky. I just needed to find exactly where to start my journey into the woods. Strangely it was very easy to find. I recall one of the trees having a funky twist near the middle of the trunk. Probably just some two lovebirds trying to carve their name into the tree and realizing there were softer trees to carve into. Anyways hiking further into the woods I believe I can see the shape of the shed through the branches. I wish you guys could see how dense these trees are so you can understand my struggle.
Entry 2: I made it to the shed, but unfortunately the floor in here is concrete. This really sucks for me because I have absolutely no idea where to go from here. It’s identical on the outside but I just don’t understand. Maybe I’m just delusional, which in that case what a waste of time and energy. I’m going to head back home and just start packing for summer. Maybe it’ll be best if I just forget about all of this and leave it behind me. I am graduating after all. Wait hold on what is this?? there’s a button behind one of these shelves. I am going to press it, but idk how it would work because this floor is seamless. I’m just going to leave this recording so if anything does happen I don’t have to worry about holding the phone the whole time. Holy shit, the entire floor is lowering. It’s a fucking elevator.
Entry 3: Okay so I’ve been going down this elevator for like 30 seconds, how far down am I going?.. Oh wait hold on, Im stopped… There’s a metal door with a padlock. Ig since I have the machete there’s only one thing to do, break it. Im going to use the blunt side so I don’t ruin this thing, I like it too much. the lock clatters to the ground after 3 solid hits. Well ig there’s only one way to go now, there’s no button to get back up so I pray there’s another way up. The metal door creaks loudly. Fuck I regret this, It’s dark and I can tell it’s a big area because it’s so echoey in here. I’m currently praising my past self for thinking about the flashlight and glow sticks. I need to find out what in the hell this place is and most importantly, if there’s a damn light switch.
Entry 4: God this place is terrifying I’ve been walking around the sterile white halls of this place for like 10 minutes and have found nothing, no doors, no light switch. I feel like a rat in a maze. Also scratch what I said about being glad I packed glow sticks, because my stupid ass only brought like 20 of these things and I’m already down to 5. Also I feel like I’m not alone, every now and then I’ll turn a corner and the glow from the previous glow stick quickly vanishes. I feel like it might just be because the darkness seems to envelop everything like a blanket. But I have that feeling that I’m being followed. You know the one, where you know somethings wrong you just can’t pin point what it is. Oh shit no way, there’s light, I think there’s a door or something up ahead.
Entry 5: Holy shit… It’s a lab, and worse, there’s people strapped too tables, completely naked and unconscious. I know they are alive because each of them are hooked up with a million different cords, and one of those are plugged into a heart monitor. This place is huge, there has to be at least 50 people on these tables.
“Hey you, you’re not supposed to be in here” yelled a man adorned in a lab coat.
“What are you doing to these kids you sick fucks.” I yelled back at the man across the lab.
In a haste the scientist rushes towards a red button, setting off a loud alarm, turning the lights to a flashing red. With no exit behind me, I could only do one thing... Rush towards him. My training kicked in as I launched into a flurry of calculated strikes. My first hit connected, a right overhand clean under his eye. The doctor stumbled back, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. I pressed the attack, keeping him off balance with a relentless barrage of punches and kicks. He fought back ferociously, but I was one step ahead, anticipating his moves and countering with swift, efficient strikes. We wrestled, the room around us becoming a blur of pain and adrenaline. I used the environment to my advantage, improvising weapons from the scattered medical equipment and turning the empty tables on my opponent. Pinning him to the ground, I laid down a harsh barrage of final blows. His face was a bloody pulp, unrecognizable. But I didn’t walk away unscathed, somewhere in the tussle, the scientist buried a scalpel deep into my stomach. With my adrenaline wearing off, the pain overtook me, sending me into darkness as I fainted from the blood loss and adrenaline dump. I awoke with my arms and legs strapped to the cold metal operating table. Before I could try to struggle, a face overtook my field of vision.
“Quite a fight you put up, you turned poor Dr.Samson into a soup” the looming face said with a chuckle. “You are the first person to put the pieces together and for that I am thoroughly impressed Mr. Hayes”
“Who are you?!” I said fighting at my binds. “Let me go!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Mr.Hayes. You have seen far too much, and I definitely can’t have you running around telling the world what you saw here. Although nobody would believe you.” “And to answer your other question, I’m surprised you don’t recognize me… really take a moment and look at me” He said pulling down his face mask.
“Dr.Blackwood?” I said as I looked back on my freshman year biology class.
“Ding ding ding ding. We have a winner!” He said in a maniac joy.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“Well Mr.Hayes, first I’m going to sew you up from your little tussle you had with my late assistant and then I will put you under and cut into that skull of yours and take out a small piece of what we call in the science world your hippocampus. Then I will draw from that all of the necessary memories to create the perfect clone of you.” He responded.
“Why? Why would you need a clone of any of us. Why can’t you just clone someone willing to be apart of this?” I asked
“Because that’s no fun Mr.Hayes, the hunt excites me. Actually you’re lucky I didn’t get you the first night. Unfortunately my creation had a little bit of a malfunction and formed a wee bit of an attachment to you. I’m sure you remember the ruckus outside your window? Anyways I digress, I do this because everyone of you lowly students will go onto do mediocre jobs where you waste away at a desk. I must also add that with having a clone of you under my control, I can do anything and get away with clean hands. My plan with you originally was to have you go into the admissions office and steal every last cent all for me. On top of that I like the power, because one day I will have a clone of every student on this campus and eventually I will cause a revolt against our comedy of a government. Who will stop me, when I won’t even be on the front lines?” Dr.Blackwood explained.
“I will” I said freeing my last hand from the binds.
What he didn’t realize is that with all of this monologue and the questions I had been feeding him, I was slowly loosening my binds with each wiggle and movement in retaliation.
Lurching forward I grab onto his collar, pulling him into a vicious headbutt. The impact sent Dr. Blackwood reeling backward, his grip on consciousness loosening as he staggered. Seizing the moment, I lunged off the table, adrenaline coursing through my veins despite the searing pain in my abdomen. With a swift motion, I grabbed a nearby surgical instrument, holding it in a defensive stance as I faced my adversary. Dr. Blackwood, recovering from the blow, snarled with rage, his once calm demeanor now replaced by a feral intensity. The room seemed to shrink around us, the tension thickening with each passing second. This was my chance to stop Blackwood's twisted plans. As he lunged forward, I met his attack head-on, the clang of metal reverberating through the room. Blow after blow, we fought with an intensity born of desperation and determination. Despite my injuries, I refused to yield, driven by a fire burnt under me to protect myself and others from Blackwood's actions . In a final, swift move, I delivered a powerful front kick, sending Blackwood crashing to the ground. The room fell silent, the echoes of our struggle fading into the darkness. Coughing he sat in the corner laughing with blood spilling down his face. “You know that it’s too late to save any of these one lying on the tables. I would’ve released you, you know that right? I would’ve simply taken your memory from today out of your brain and leaving you in your bed to wake up thinking you had a fun night” he said with final resolve as he watched me grab the scalpel from the ground taking slow steps near him.
Looking down over him, It was my turn to laugh. Kneeling down to eye level with him I grabbed him by his hair and delivered a final message to him “Fuck you and your little science experiment” as I sliced deep into his throat watching the life fade from his eyes.
I eventually found an exit door, which lead me to a storm drain deep in the woods far from my campus. It took me 2 hours to limp my way onto a main road and flag down a passing car. Pulling over I was rushed to the hospital and later interrogated by some men in suits, my guess is CIA. Here I am now, writing my final entrance. I think I heard them say something about trying a new medical process on me to help me heal quicker

I think there’s something off about my campus
Hey everyone, I’m typing this on my phone so I apologize if there is weird formatting. Anyways, to get to the point, there’s something really off with some people on my campus. I have come seeking answers.I noticed it first walking home from my 7pm class last Wednesday.
To set the scene, most of the campus is tucked back into the woods a little, and my 7pm class is in the farthest building from the parking lot (further into the woods). I get out from that 7pm class around 9pm, so on cloudy nights like last Wednesday, the only lights on that long sidewalk are the lights radiating from the other buildings. Usually, there’s roughly 30 feet where it’s pitch black because the foliage is pretty dense. I usually walk back to my apartment with some classmates that live in the same complex as me, but I told them to go ahead of me while I finished the rest of the project.
After packing my laptop away, I started heading back home. It was roughly 9:30 at this point, and my brain was slowly shutting down preparing for the deep sleep that has yet to come.Walking down the sidewalk, I heard somebody not too far into the woods laughing like they’ve just heard the funniest joke ever. I immediately thought, “probably some Freshman walking the trails with their friends smoking weed”. Chuckling to myself, I put in my AirPods and picked a playlist for my journey back home.
When I looked up from my phone, there was the silhouette of somebody walking towards me. I have no idea how I missed them before, but honestly, it’s very possible they were just in a spot where the light wasn’t quite reaching them. A little unnerved, I shifted over to the left side of the sidewalk.
(Now I’m usually fine walking alone at night; I’m a 6’2 man who’s dabbled in the world of MMA. But something about this person gave me a primal feeling of unrest.)
When they shifted over to the left mirroring me, I felt my blood run cold. But alas, I had to keep walking because this was my only way back home. As I neared closer to the figure, I almost laughed at myself when I realized it was just some harmless girl walking towards the Murphy building. If anything, I’m the intimidating one to her.
This is where it really gets weird. She stopped as I was passing her and turned to me. Thinking she needed to ask me something, I took an AirPod out and asked “what’s up?”. After staring at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, she opened her mouth, and I kid you not, mimicked the laugh I heard moments before perfectly. Before I could chalk it up to it just being her in the trails earlier, I noticed something. Her mouth wasn’t moving at all. If I had left my AirPods in, it would just look like she was just opening her mouth and staring at me. She then shifted into a deep raspy laugh. She did all of this without moving her mouth at all; I couldn’t even see her throat moving as you would expect if someone was laughing. It was almost like she was some fucked up human-shaped gramophone. The feeling of absolute horror that came over me is something I’ve only experienced in my imagination. Before I could think to do anything next, My body began to run off some sort of primal instinct. With my legs burning, it took me about 10 minutes to get all the way back to my apartment and lock myself in relative safety.
I’m coming on here now to ask if anybody knows what I experienced? I have been hearing that same laughter outside my window every night since that night, I am too terrified to sleep well and have refused to go to any of my classes. Please I just want answers, I don’t want to keep living in fear.
Part 2:
Hey everyone, I’ve gotten some DMs telling me what it may be. I’ve heard everything from banshee to skinwalker. After further research I pray to god it was neither of them. I’m praying it was just some girl with a speaker playing some sort of cruel joke. I mean yes there are people who don’t like me on campus, I’ve made some enemies over the past 4 years. But, I just don’t understand what could’ve brought it to this point. I had to stop hiding in fear and go to my classes before my grades plummet, I’m almost done with my degree and only have a few more weeks. If I let some sort of stupid prank ruin my career, It would be everything I swore against to my parents.
A lot of you guys in the DMs were also asking what college I go to and what my name is. First I want to say sorry for not providing that information in the first post, I’m sure you can understand where my head was at typing that. So let me introduce myself, my name is Nick and In order to keep my privacy, I will only provide that I go to a midwest university.
I’m sure you may be wondering, “so did it just stop?”. I would love to say yes, but really things have just gotten weirder. Though, I am pleased to say that there is no longer laughing out my window every night.
Ever since that night, I’ve been noticing more things off with the people on campus. Now you may just think it’s paranoia, but just be patient and listen.
Yesterday, I decided to muster up all of my courage and go to class. Luckily my first class is at 10AM, when the sun is well in the sky, so walking across campus seemed much less threatening. When I sat down in my first class, I noticed something off with the girl that sits in front of me. Usually she’s chatty and excited to be in class, but today she just stared blankly ahead. I tried to say good morning and ask about her weekend, as we do every Monday, but she continued to have that blank stare. She did turn her head towards be, but her eyes read “lights on, but nobody is home”.
Thinking to myself, she may just be hungover, or going through the bout of college student depression. I decided to shrug it off and turn to the front of the class and get my notes ready. But the moment I turned around, I could feel it. Her eyes burrowing deep into the back of my head. When I flipped around to see if I was just being irrational, I quickly learned I wasn’t. Her eyes went from the blank glare, to the most enthusiastic face I’ve seen on her. It was horrible, it almost seemed like she was trying so hard to pretend she was thrilled to be in class and to speak to me. It was inhuman.
I’ve been on the internet long enough to catch on to the term “Uncanny valley”, and what I witnessed In my first hour gives me that same gut feeling I got when I saw that girl last Wednesday.
I was right to be uncomfortable though, I texted her after class to make sure she was doing alright. But her response only reignited the flames of deep fear burning in my soul.
I’ll copy and paste the messages here:
Me: Hey Is everything good? You seemed off in class today.
Steph SCI 101: Uh yeah, I’m fine. but I was not in class today, I’m severely hungover from Tanner’s party last night.
Me: Haha, good one.
Steph SCI 101: No I’m so Fr, are you okay?
Steph SCI 101: Are you trying to fuck with me or something?
Me: Nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you.
(End Of Texts)
Okay so I’m sure that this gives you all the same feeling of dread that it gave me but I’m sure scaled down a bit. This is where I have started to doubt that it’s a prank, because me and Stephanie are cool. There’s no level of hate for either of us, and even if it was some joke, we don’t know each other on that type of level.
Not only did this seem to happen in my first class, but in between classes while I was walking across campus as well. I walk past hundreds of faces in my many treks across campus, and I swear to you, at least 1/4th of the people I walked past had that same dead stare look. And the way they walked, god I hate even thinking of it. It was like they were an alien trying out their new body suits for the first time. The steps and the bends of their legs just seem so meticulous, dramaticized, and puppeteered.
I’m going to try to investigate further, because at this point my fear for my life is more of a reason to try and figure out what it is so I can try to stop it.
I’m no hero, and I’m sure as hell nothing special, but If I can know what to expect for another encounter, maybe I can avoid meeting the demise I have imagined.
Part 3

First off I would like to apologize for my 20-day hiatus. For those who were worried that curiosity killed the cat so to speak, I appreciate your concern. On top of my investigation, I have also had to go through finals and work for a boss who didn't believe in life outside of work. So let's start where we left off. I had a feeling that this task was left for me to solve. it may sound stupid, but let me explain why. That night, after my last post, I had a dream that further solidified my need to solve the mystery. I tried to write all that I remembered down the morning after so here is what I wrote. 

April 4th, 2024
I had a strange dream last night, stranger than usual at least. I awoke in the woods, laying face down in the grass with someone looming over me. I heard their footsteps flee rapidly before I flipped over. I found myself just off the trail where the “incident” happened, on the trail laid a girl, bloodied and motionless. When I got up to approach her, she was quickly dragged into the parallel section of the woods. Seeing this I turned and ran into the section of woods I was in. When my legs gave out I found myself near an old supply shed, worn and long abandoned. Searching for cover, I tried the door, which luckily gave after a quick pull. There I found a trapdoor which emanated a blue hue through the cracks. The only thought on my mind, survival brought me to throw it open and climb down. I clattered down the ladder and right before my feet touched the ground, I was pulled backwards by my shirt. That’s where I woke up.
I have always trusted my gut and having a dream that vivid gave me a sense of courage I did not previously have. I know where to start my search now. I have decided my best course of action will be to record my findings on a tape recorder app. After I finish each entry it will be uploaded to a cloud that will ensure if anything happens to me, the story will get out. I am packing my backpack now with a flashlight, glow sticks to mark my trail, and a machete I was gifted by a local in Mexico. All of my recordings will be uploaded below and auto posted after 10 days. Wish me luck everyone, I’m going to need it.
Entry 1: I have started at the only place that makes sense, the trail. It is currently 1:45 PM and I have plenty of sun left in the sky. I just needed to find exactly where to start my journey into the woods. Strangely it was very easy to find. I recall one of the trees having a funky twist near the middle of the trunk. Probably just some two lovebirds trying to carve their name into the tree and realizing there were softer trees to carve into. Anyways hiking further into the woods I believe I can see the shape of the shed through the branches. I wish you guys could see how dense these trees are so you can understand my struggle.
Entry 2: I made it to the shed, but unfortunately the floor in here is concrete. This really sucks for me because I have absolutely no idea where to go from here. It’s identical on the outside but I just don’t understand. Maybe I’m just delusional, which in that case what a waste of time and energy. I’m going to head back home and just start packing for summer. Maybe it’ll be best if I just forget about all of this and leave it behind me. I am graduating after all. Wait hold on what is this?? there’s a button behind one of these shelves. I am going to press it, but idk how it would work because this floor is seamless. I’m just going to leave this recording so if anything does happen I don’t have to worry about holding the phone the whole time. Holy shit, the entire floor is lowering. It’s a fucking elevator.
Entry 3: Okay so I’ve been going down this elevator for like 30 seconds, how far down am I going?.. Oh wait hold on, Im stopped… There’s a metal door with a padlock. Ig since I have the machete there’s only one thing to do, break it. Im going to use the blunt side so I don’t ruin this thing, I like it too much. the lock clatters to the ground after 3 solid hits. Well ig there’s only one way to go now, there’s no button to get back up so I pray there’s another way up. The metal door creaks loudly. Fuck I regret this, It’s dark and I can tell it’s a big area because it’s so echoey in here. I’m currently praising my past self for thinking about the flashlight and glow sticks. I need to find out what in the hell this place is and most importantly, if there’s a damn light switch.
Entry 4: God this place is terrifying I’ve been walking around the sterile white halls of this place for like 10 minutes and have found nothing, no doors, no light switch. I feel like a rat in a maze. Also scratch what I said about being glad I packed glow sticks, because my stupid ass only brought like 20 of these things and I’m already down to 5. Also I feel like I’m not alone, every now and then I’ll turn a corner and the glow from the previous glow stick quickly vanishes. I feel like it might just be because the darkness seems to envelop everything like a blanket. But I have that feeling that I’m being followed. You know the one, where you know somethings wrong you just can’t pin point what it is. Oh shit no way, there’s light, I think there’s a door or something up ahead.
Entry 5: Holy shit… It’s a lab, and worse, there’s people strapped too tables, completely naked and unconscious. I know they are alive because each of them are hooked up with a million different cords, and one of those are plugged into a heart monitor. This place is huge, there has to be at least 50 people on these tables.
“Hey you, you’re not supposed to be in here” yelled a man adorned in a lab coat.
“What are you doing to these kids you sick fucks.” I yelled back at the man across the lab.
In a haste the scientist rushes towards a red button, setting off a loud alarm, turning the lights to a flashing red. With no exit behind me, I could only do one thing... Rush towards him. My training kicked in as I launched into a flurry of calculated strikes. My first hit connected, a right overhand clean under his eye. The doctor stumbled back, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. I pressed the attack, keeping him off balance with a relentless barrage of punches and kicks. He fought back ferociously, but I was one step ahead, anticipating his moves and countering with swift, efficient strikes. We wrestled, the room around us becoming a blur of pain and adrenaline. I used the environment to my advantage, improvising weapons from the scattered medical equipment and turning the empty tables on my opponent. Pinning him to the ground, I laid down a harsh barrage of final blows. His face was a bloody pulp, unrecognizable. But I didn’t walk away unscathed, somewhere in the tussle, the scientist buried a scalpel deep into my stomach. With my adrenaline wearing off, the pain overtook me, sending me into darkness as I fainted from the blood loss and adrenaline dump. I awoke with my arms and legs strapped to the cold metal operating table. Before I could try to struggle, a face overtook my field of vision.
“Quite a fight you put up, you turned poor Dr.Samson into a soup” the looming face said with a chuckle. “You are the first person to put the pieces together and for that I am thoroughly impressed Mr. Hayes”
“Who are you?!” I said fighting at my binds. “Let me go!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Mr.Hayes. You have seen far too much, and I definitely can’t have you running around telling the world what you saw here. Although nobody would believe you.” “And to answer your other question, I’m surprised you don’t recognize me… really take a moment and look at me” He said pulling down his face mask.
“Dr.Blackwood?” I said as I looked back on my freshman year biology class.
“Ding ding ding ding. We have a winner!” He said in a maniac joy.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“Well Mr.Hayes, first I’m going to sew you up from your little tussle you had with my late assistant and then I will put you under and cut into that skull of yours and take out a small piece of what we call in the science world your hippocampus. Then I will draw from that all of the necessary memories to create the perfect clone of you.” He responded.
“Why? Why would you need a clone of any of us. Why can’t you just clone someone willing to be apart of this?” I asked
“Because that’s no fun Mr.Hayes, the hunt excites me. Actually you’re lucky I didn’t get you the first night. Unfortunately my creation had a little bit of a malfunction and formed a wee bit of an attachment to you. I’m sure you remember the ruckus outside your window? Anyways I digress, I do this because everyone of you lowly students will go onto do mediocre jobs where you waste away at a desk. I must also add that with having a clone of you under my control, I can do anything and get away with clean hands. My plan with you originally was to have you go into the admissions office and steal every last cent all for me. On top of that I like the power, because one day I will have a clone of every student on this campus and eventually I will cause a revolt against our comedy of a government. Who will stop me, when I won’t even be on the front lines?” Dr.Blackwood explained.
“I will” I said freeing my last hand from the binds.
What he didn’t realize is that with all of this monologue and the questions I had been feeding him, I was slowly loosening my binds with each wiggle and movement in retaliation.
Lurching forward I grab onto his collar, pulling him into a vicious headbutt. The impact sent Dr. Blackwood reeling backward, his grip on consciousness loosening as he staggered. Seizing the moment, I lunged off the table, adrenaline coursing through my veins despite the searing pain in my abdomen. With a swift motion, I grabbed a nearby surgical instrument, holding it in a defensive stance as I faced my adversary. Dr. Blackwood, recovering from the blow, snarled with rage, his once calm demeanor now replaced by a feral intensity. The room seemed to shrink around us, the tension thickening with each passing second. This was my chance to stop Blackwood's twisted plans. As he lunged forward, I met his attack head-on, the clang of metal reverberating through the room. Blow after blow, we fought with an intensity born of desperation and determination. Despite my injuries, I refused to yield, driven by a fire burnt under me to protect myself and others from Blackwood's actions . In a final, swift move, I delivered a powerful front kick, sending Blackwood crashing to the ground. The room fell silent, the echoes of our struggle fading into the darkness. Coughing he sat in the corner laughing with blood spilling down his face. “You know that it’s too late to save any of these one lying on the tables. I would’ve released you, you know that right? I would’ve simply taken your memory from today out of your brain and leaving you in your bed to wake up thinking you had a fun night” he said with final resolve as he watched me grab the scalpel from the ground taking slow steps near him.
Looking down over him, It was my turn to laugh. Kneeling down to eye level with him I grabbed him by his hair and delivered a final message to him “Fuck you and your little science experiment” as I sliced deep into his throat watching the life fade from his eyes.
I eventually found an exit door, which lead me to a storm drain deep in the woods far from my campus. It took me 2 hours to limp my way onto a main road and flag down a passing car. Pulling over I was rushed to the hospital and later interrogated by some men in suits, my guess is CIA. Here I am now, writing my final entrance. I think I heard them say something about trying a new medical process on me to help me heal quicker

Hello all.
My partner was just hit with a bill for $4200 for a CT and Ultrasound. She did her due diligence before having these tests done explaining that we cannot afford any wild bills out of the blue. The scheduler said, "your pre-authorization is approved, so you're all good". If she had known how much this would all cost, she wouldn't have had it done.
Insurance company said that this $4200 will go towards her $7k yearly deductible. They did apparently pay the radiologists fees of $500ish, but that's all, leaving her responsible for the rest.
The thing that is so shocking is that she had a CT done in 2020 and only had to pay a couple hundred out of pocket. As far as we can tell she's kept the same plan, she's been with the same provider the whole time, and even her monthly premiums have increased slightly.
How does the insurance company decide what to pay? If they don't cover anything before the deductible, why did they pay the radiologists fees? Why is it so much this time only a few hundred dollars a couple of years ago? We are totally flabbergasted by this expense.
Any tips for dealing with this situation? This a major financial blow.
Thanks in advance for all your kindly responses!
PS> We're with Blue Cross of Idaho if that is helpful. We are in our early 30's, partner is a bartender in North Idaho - hourly wage is I believe $4.50 plus tips.

I am NOT OOP, OOP is u/ThrowRa-Lunch
Originally posted to relationship_advice
My (38F) Husband (39M) hid having lunch with a coworker (25F) and said my food was ‘tasteless’. What do I do?
Trigger Warnings: emotional affair, verbal abuse, emotional abuse and manipulation
Original Post: May 5, 2024
I want this to be quick. I feel really weird about this and I’m on the verge of asking for a separation.
So, I’ve been with my husband for 15 years, married for 11. Amazing relationship, small bumps of course but nothing like this.
I’ve always made lunch for my husband to take to work, and up until a little over a month ago that was fine. Middle of March he said that a new Turkish food stand opened up outside of his office and that he had been eating lunches there instead because they were good. Alright, no problem.
So he just completely stopped asking for lunches. I had maybe packed 5 during this time frame for him, but I’m not even sure he was eating them now.
So on Thursday I was at home working and I had a phone call from him, thought he was calling during his lunch but he had butt dialled me instead.
At first, I didn’t hear much, just him talking to someone, and I was about to hang up until I heard a woman’s voice as well. I wouldn’t say I’m a jealous person, but I was a little bit curious so I muted my call at work and listened.
It was just standard conversation at first, he was praising this woman’s cooking A LOT. Which of course made me realise that he was eating lunch this coworker made. I was a bit peeved but there’s an explanation sure.
Although that went out the fucking window when she said “is it better than your wife’s?” To which he replied “Oh yeah, without a doubt. I mean, it’s not tasteless for a start” followed by laughing.
First of all, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? 15 years of cooking and NOW he has a complaint? And not even to me but some coworker!!
Also, that absolutely isn’t innocent on her end right? I’m not crazy in thinking that’s so weird, why even bring me up?
Anyway, I raised hell, ended the call, sent him a message not to ‘worry about my tasteless cooking anymore’ and that he ‘can eat from the bin’ from now on.
Hes apologised, said that he loves my food and was just trying to seem cool in front of his coworker. I asked why he lied about where he was getting lunch from, and he said that initially he did get it from that stand, but the coworker started offering and he didn’t want to tell me because he thought that I would get jealous (yeah, can you blame me?)
So, I’ve been airing him since. I’m still pissed to be honest, I haven’t made him lunch or dinner, only for myself since he said that he dislikes it so much. He said today that he’s apologised and that I shouldn’t keep punishing him but I’m literally an inch from going to my mums. I have a suitcase with my clothes packed under our bed ready.
Dad thinks it was a stupid comment, but that I should work it out, mum is on my side regardless of my decision. I’m thinking about leaving for a few days at least, maybe a separation but I honestly just want some reassurance if that’s what’s best here?
Relevant Comments
OOP on if this was a one-off situation

OOP: It’s a one off and so insanely weird coming from him. He’s never been that type of person at all. I can’t remember a single time hes said something negative about me to myself, never mind to someone else!
He hasn’t been suspicious with his phone of behaviour at all. He comes home on time and if he’s out with friends I can pretty much confirm it, so I’m not sure. Maybe at most an emotional affair or a crush? But at the moment I don’t think he’s cheating. I honestly just feel really hurt

OOP on if her husband can cook or not

OOP: He can barely cook, so it’d be more of a punishment for me to be honest. I’ve been making him cook for himself since this happened and he’s been miserable. Definitely agree with the asshole coworker though, no clue why she had the audacity to try and bring me up like that

I didn’t know. Yeah he’s apologised, but I’m still pretty hurt over it. Cooking for 15 years just to have him badmouth me sucks. Ideally I want him to cut ties with that coworker of his too for bringing me up. He won’t mention much of her but I feel like she’s just as bad too.
I’m also pretty annoyed he lied to me for a month about the fact that he was eating lunch with this coworker, her lunch too. I don’t see why he would

Blue-eagle-23: Has he agreed to stop having lunch with her? Even if she is not hoping to get with him she is certainly not a supporter of your relationship.

OOP: He said that he’ll stop having lunch with her and apparently has done since that happened. (Although I have no way of proving this)

the_taco_life: If he's not cheating on you with his much younger coworker, he wants to/is trying to. Man my vagina would dry up and blow away in a puff of dust over such classic creepy older dude behavior.
You're not overreacting. You're under reacting.

OOP: I absolutely feel it drying up already. It’s like everything I’ve found attractive in him has gone. He’s just so plain to me now.

issa_username29: Yeahhhh honestly I’d probably leave for at least a couple of days too, overhearing something like that would piss me off! Has he been weird with his phone or any other communication devices?

OOP: Absolutely nothing! No change in behaviour either. He hasn’t been cagey or weird, he’s let me use his phone whenever before all of this happened. He’s been completely normal

 
Update May 7, 2024
I’m back. It’s not a great update but you all deserve one for all of the advice you gave me on my last post.
He confirmed that he developed a crush on her, it’s an emotional affair at least and that’s all I really need to hear. I sat him down and had a heart to heart with him.
Bottom line are these points.

• if I hadn’t of heard what he said, he most likely would have continued flirting with her, he admitted this himself.
  
• he liked the attention, she had bad mouthed me previously (I didn’t ask for examples) and he didn’t shut it down because he liked it.
  
• She has actively been persuing him for over 3 months now, he hadn’t put a stop to it until I caught him.
  
• The Saturday before last she offered to give him a blowjob during lunch together, he declined, but he told me that he let her feel his muscles over his clothes.
  

The only reason he said all of this fucking shit was because I was all sweet and I said “I promise, tell me the full truth and we can move on, I’ll forgive you, I just want to know”
Right, fuck that. He is packing his bags. This is MY house, and it will be treated as such. I really don’t care anymore. If he’s seriously deluded himself into thinking this is going to last, he can crack on.
I’m genuinely so angry more than anything. I did everything for him. I make double what he does so I paid all the bills, while we used his money for fun stuff. When we met he had crippling CPTSD and body dysmorphia. I did fucking everything to help him get over it. I dealt with his night terrors every bloody night, despite it ruining my sleep. I reassured him constantly despite not getting it back. All of it without a bloody complaint. You love someone so much just for them to throw you away so easily.
He cried, had a panic attack that I had to calm him down from and is now taking his time packing. He keeps stopping to come into the living room to ask for a hug. I can’t even express how disgusted I feel, like I physically can’t even look at him anymore.
There was no need, if he was unhappy he should have told me, I don’t know why the hell he even felt the need to get some validation from this girl but sure, whatever.
He keeps saying he doesn’t know why he did it, but of course he knows, he’s just too much of a coward to tell me.
Well whatever, it’s done now. He’s leaving, his family is back in Germany so fuck knows who he’s staying with, probably her but I’m washing my hands of him.
Thank you for all of the advice you gave me on the last post, so many great ideas that I didn’t even end up needing to use because he just down right admitted it all to me.
Relevant Comments
Katatonic92: Doesn't know why he did it? Here's my guess based on the info you shared;

1. You saw him at his weakest & most vulnerable, you are clearly still his backbone judging from his current behaviour. He doesn't get to play the toxic image of manly man to you, in his mind, you are stronger than him. I guarantee he hasn't opened up to her about any vulnerabilities he has, it sounds like she has appealed to the toxic manly man ideal of making food & offering blowjobs to the big, strong muscular man. He gets to inflate his ego in a way he can't with you.
2. Not only have you emotionally supported him, you are also the main breadwinner, the provider. You cover the bills, the roof over your head, his contribution is the unnecessary fun stuff. This is yet another blow to the toxic manly man's fragile ego. He probably considers himself financially superior to her, his money could hold more "value" to her instead of it just being fun money you won't really miss.
3. He is older than her, gets to seem like the wiser, more worldly adult of the relationship. He will feel superior to her in every way he feels inferior to you.
4. He enjoyed the negative comments made about your food, not because they were necessarily true but because it meant you weren't perfect & someone else was validating it. Again, when you are insecure it is easier to find faults be derogatory towards a perceived threat to drag them down, instead of building themselves up.

Conclusion. Major insecurity, inflation of ego from someone he feels he holds superiority over. And as fucking usual, instead of recognising this bullshit, speaking to his wife who has done nothing but love & support him, go to see a therapist to work on his feelings, he goes down the easy road. Instead of doing the work to overcome his feelings of inadequacy, it was so much easier to gravitate to someone who not only let him ignore those feelings for a while, they also found a way to tear you down.
I'm sorry you are experiencing this, it is truly pathetic when someone would sooner risk causing this terminal heartbreak, than suffer short term discomfort by communicating. It's pathetic.

OOP: Jesus fucking Christ. How do I pin a comment? That’s so unbelievably true I can’t even say anything.
Physically he’s pretty intimidating. He’s 6’6 and about 270 pounds, and he can be pretty scary to people who don’t know him. But he’s always been extremely sweet and kind, and that’s one of his biggest insecurities, looking like a man but not ‘feeling’ like one. Which has always been bullshit to me. But yeah, everything you said is literally him.
I can’t even thank you enough for writing this. Having it down fully on here is so incredibly validating.

OOP on her husband’s co-worker being a problem

OOP: She is A problem. Singular. I’m not running to her house to curb stomp her because I don’t know a damn thing about this woman. But regardless. Yeah, she wanted to fuck a married man, is that fucked up? Absolutely, and if the chance comes around I’m being petty and getting revenge. But seriously, who’s the hell is she? Did I spend 15 years of my life with this woman? Did I make vows to her? NO.
Read this, then reread it sir. My HUSBAND, is at fault here, because he knew damn well what was going on. He knew this woman wanted him, he knew what was going to happen and he let it. What can I do to her? Nothing, what can I do to my husband? Divorce him. That’s the bottom line.
For the love of god, stop dick riding my husband and move on, it’s actually insane that I have to say this but no one is defending that woman, no one, we’re coming rightfully for my husband because of HIS part in all of this.

 
Soon to be ex saw my update, came to my house. I’m safe. - May 9, 2024
I can’t post another update to the relationship sub, and I didn’t know if people would see it if I just made an edit myself on my other post. Some shit went down, but I’m okay. Yesterday night STBX contacted me. A lot of people told me to delete my recent update made of the post, it honestly slipped my mind that he could be reading it too,
He said that he was a bit hurt that I’d think he would go for Alimony. But that he understands given everything. He told me that he wasn’t going to but if he needed to sign something to prove it he would.
I said given everything that’s happened he can’t blame me for being on alert. He said that he’s quit his job and that he’s thinking about returning to Germany to be with his family there, additionally he says he’s cut contact with that coworker. He apologised again and wished me the best
Right, and that would have been just fine by itself. But I woke up at about 2.15am last night needing a wee and I saw my ring door bell going off. I have footage of him just sitting outside my house talking to himself. Literally he got there at 1 ish, knocked, sat down on my front steps and just started talking. I slept through it and only woke up because I needed the bathroom. I literally sat in my closet for ages just watching the camera not knowing what to do until he left at 3am.
He’s probably going to read this too but I’m somewhere safe, I just can’t tell you all for obvious reasons. He sent me a message saying he can’t lose me, that I’m the love of his life. I told him to fuck off and blocked him.
I really can’t say much, but I’m taking action. Absolutely don’t worry about that little prick.
Just a possible last update, it’s a bit risky to tell you what’s happening now that it’s gotten a bit shittier, just in case it gets back to him.
Relevant Comments
OOP on her husband blowing up his life for his emotional affair and doing anything to get her back

OOP: I did end up asking him why he declined her offer for a blow job. I feel like at this point it’s pretty done and dusted, there isn’t really a need to keep lying.
He said the main thing was that he was a little bit afraid to cross that line, and that he had rationalised to himself that since it hadn’t turned physical, it wasn’t bad. (He didn’t really elaborate on why he was afraid, but we were each other’s firsts, so that’s maybe why?)
I cringed a bit writing about her feeling up his muscles. It feels a bit gross to type out for some reason. My STBX is a physically big bloke. He’s 6’6 and roughly 270. He was in the military for a while and he never got out of that routine. I really don’t know what he means when he says his muscles. I mean it could be any of them.
My heart does really hurt for him in a strange way. I was a bit panicked this morning after I woke up from the nights drama worried if he had a night terror or something. I know that he betrayed me, but I still can’t stop hoping that he’s okay. I’ve messaged some of his friends to check up on him just in case.

OOP on if she and her husband have kids

OOP Nope! No kids thank god! We’re childfree

 

DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP

Cigarettes and rebellion have always gone hand-in-hand, and in an age of cigarette packet-sized health warnings, now more than ever, smoking a fag says: 'I do not give a fuck.' But if Brandon Flowers is hoping to strike a seditious pose by sparking up at the start of the interview, it's not going according to plan. The Killers' frontman is on all fours rooting through the junk that carpets the anteroom at the band's rehearsal space. "Has anyone seen my lighter?" he asks, rocking back on his heels. The question hangs in the air while Brandon cocks his head, waiting for an answer like a meerkat listening for a predator. Twenty-five years old and with a delicate bone structure, there's something almost dainty about him. Receiving no response, he returns to his search. "Oh, Jeez," he sighs. "I had it just a minute ago."
It's a scene that emphatically does not suggest a rebel without a cause. The mess isn't helping. The Killers' HQ - an industrial unit sandwiched between a construction supplier and the offices of a housing development just off Dean Martin Drive in West Las Vegas - is ankle-deep in designer clothing. A Dior Homme suit lies crumpled by the door; there's a pile of shoes topped like a sundae by a pair of Marc Jacobs trainers; and anyone wishing to enter the shoebox room the band use as an office must negotiate a mountain of discarded jeans. Many items are identifiable as coming from the wardrobe of Hot Fuss, The Killers' hugely successful 2004 debut album - triple platinum in the UK with two weeks at Number One and five million sold worldwide. Look! There are the shirts, ties and suit jackets they wore when they thrilled Glastonbury 2005 with indie rock anthems Mr Brightside and Somebody Told Me. That was the crowning moment of a two-and-a-half year tour that finally concluded in October of last year. It seems that after playing that final date in Miami, they returned to Vegas and shrugged off their image onto the floor of this bland white box.
Now a fine layer of dust covers the dead clothes. The Killers have no further use for white tuxedos on their second album, Sam's Town. Today, Brandon wears a black polo shirt, black pin-stripe waistcoat, black jeans and black boots. Where there used to be a layer of foundation, there is now a beard - an untrimmed beard at that. Dave Keuning (30, guitar), Mark Stoermer (29, bass) and Ronnie Vannucci (29, drums) all echo Brandon's black ensemble. Ronnie has added Aviator shades and a handlebar moustache for a dash of motorcycle cop, Dave's frizzy bubble of hair gives him a Marc Bolan-ish air, and there's something very teenage about Mark's scuffed Vans.
Short of walking around wearing sandwich boards saying, "Our new record is a bit heavier than the last one," The Killers couldn't hope to communicate that message more effectively. And they have gained some musical girth on Sam's Town. The pop hooks that made Hot Fuss so irresistible survive intact - see the ringing guitar riffs on first single When You Were Young - but there's a newfound punchiness, coupled with an epic sweep. The minor-to-major uplifts on Bones are fabulously dramatic, the coda to Why Do I Keep Counting? thrillingly intense. Comparisons to Bruce Springsteen have been made. If they overstate the case a little, they are at leaset qualitatively accurate. The Killers are back and this time it's serious - they've got the bootlace ties to prove it.
"Hey, it says here that Springsteen's headlining Glastonbury next year," shouts Ronnie, who's flicking through the NME. He nods sagely at the page without looking up.
"Really?" asks Dave, nicknamed Crazy Dave on account of his alledgedly volatile nature.
"The Boss is headlining one night, we're playing second on the bill the next night and Kylie's headlining the Sunday," says Brandon, charging like a bull through Michael Eavis' as-yet-unannounced line-up with what subsequently proves to be a characteristic gaucheness.
But that lighter is proving elusive. This being America, none of the people hurrying to-and-fro prepping the world for the release of Sam's Town smokes. Manager Robert Reynolds - Bobby Rey to the band - barks into his mobile, booking his band onto eye-wateringly demanding tours. "We're going to make a lot of money," he cackles to himself before switching calls to make a series of stern pronouncements on legal matters. Dave, Mark and Ronnie disappear for a jam session. Artwork is approved, B-sides are decided on and schedules are hammered out.
"I can't find it," Brandon says, finally. But he's not going to be denied the opportunity to underline The Killers reinvention with a puff of smoke. "Let's go to the gas station. I'll have to buy one. It's too busy to talk here anyway."
+
Brandon's black (of course) Volkswagen Touraeg four-wheel drive is barrelling down West Flamingo Road into town. "I was a bell boy there," he says, pointing out of the driver's window at the stucco facade of the Gold Coast casino. "I was working there when we were signed."
Coming from Las Vegas, it is perhaps inevitable that casinos play a big part in The Killers' story; not only is Sam's Town named after one, it was recorded in one, too.
The band began writing songs while on the road with Hot Fuss, turning up early for soundchecks to run through new ideas. On a trip home to Vegas, George Maloof, a hotelier known for cultivating famous friends, invited them to record the album in the new studio he'd built at The Palms, his flagship hotel-cum-gambling den. When the tour finished in October 2005, they returned to Vegas and spent five month finessing the songs they'd sketched out on the road. Then, in February, they decampled to the third floor studio at The Palms and recorded Sam's Town over 11 weeks.
Producer Flood (U2, Depeche Mode) encouraged them to experiment. They overdubbed, fiddled with synthesizers and played with new equipment. It took them five weeks to get the backing vocals right. The band sang the harmonies, then double-tracked them four times. The end result recalls Queen wondering, "Is this is the real life? Is this just fantasy?" When Ronnie, a trained classical percussionist, brought some kettledrums down, eyebrows were raised; but the fabulously bombastic coda on Why Do I Keep Counting? vindicates his indulgence.
"That's kind of the Ben Hur of the album," he says. He's not wrong. Sam's Town is a record on an epic scale. "Yeah, it has drama," he continues. "But, at the same time, I think it's a little more exposed than Hot Fuss. It's a little more naked. Last time it was about a lot of fictional things." By "fictional", Ronnie means that Hot Fuss wore its predominantly British influences for all to see. Brandon's taste in music is rabidly Anglophile - he constantly references The Smiths, The Cure and Joy Division - and it showed. By contrast, Sam's Town is an unequivocally American record. The lyrical imagery is pure American dream - cars, girls, wide-open spaces and escaping to a better life. "We're burning down the highway skyline/On the back of a hurricane that started turning/When you were young," sings Brandon on When You Were Young. That's the basis of the Springsteen comparisons then, though the lack of pathos more closely recalls another blue-collar rocker from New Jersey - Jon Bon Jovi.
The phrase "this town" recurs throughout the album, and it's always receding into the distance as The Killers escape to a new life. "This town was made for passing through/I never did get along with everybody else," sings Brandon on This River Is Wild. On Read My Mind he "never really gave up on breaking out of this two-star town", while on the title track he offers something of an explanation: "Nobody ever had a dream round here."
"With the first record, there was this feeling that there was this world out there that we didn't know," says Mark later in the day. Before The Killers, he studied philosophy: now he's their quiet one. "We wanted to get out and away from this and be somewhere else. We hadn't had a lot of experience - hadn't travelled much - then we were gone for three years. We didn't sit down and say that we wanted to make a record about how we're glad to be home, but that's what happened naturally."
It's not an angsty record. The Killers have already escaped with Hot Fuss, and, having done so, they view the experience fondly now they're back. There's a mistiness to Brandon's eyes as he explains how the album got it's name.
"Sam's Town is a casino on the edge of Vegas," he says. "I grew up in Henderson, which is out on the way to the Hoover Dam. My mom and dad lived in a trailer park, and my dad used to hitchhike up and down Boulder Highway, which is the only way you could get to Vegas. Sam's Town was the first thing you saw on your way in to town. So, when you're driving down Boulder Highway from Henderson, I always thought you finally knew you were getting somewhere when you saw Sam's Town. It was kind of like a beacon."
"It's not a completely American album," contines Brandon. "We still have our English influence, but we're also from the Wild West. Somehow we've managed to unify all that on this album. it's just such a perfect resemblence of what we are."
At the petrol station, Brandon rummages through the glove box looking for change to buy a lighter. "This is a great album," he says, pointing at Highway Companion, the latest from iconic American rocker Tom Petty. "I've always been a big fan of his. He's such a great American artist."
Yes, Brandon: we get the point.
+
When Brandon finally lights his cigarette, he smokes it awkwardly, like a child mimicking something he's seen the grown-ups doing. However, when he cheerfully admits that, "I feel the same mentally as I did when I was 12," it's not a knowing nod to the fact that he sometimes behaves like a loveably precocious child, but a reference to an unusually comprehensive grounding in pop music at an early age.
When Brandon sings about "this town", he doesn't mean Las Vegas. He means Nephi, Utah or Henderson, Nevada, where he spent his childhood. His parents are Mormon and he is the youngest of six children. "I was a surprise," he says. "I've got a 42-year-old sister." If he was issues about his "surprise" status, he chooses to gloss over them. "It turned out perfect because my brother was a teenager when I was a kid," he says. "He would bring home things like Rattle And Hum by U2 and I would watch it. I remember he bought Live In Dallas by Morrissey. It was always him watching these things, or his door was shut and you'd hear The Head On The Door by The Cure blasting through the house and rattling the walls."
The Killers were formed when Brandon answered an advert Dave had placed in a local paper in late 2002. Dave cited Oasis as a big influence; Brandon had seen them play recently and responded; and, as Dave has said in previous interviews: "He was the only person to reply to my ad who wasn't a complete freak." However, the band was born in Brandon's brothers bedroom.
"His room was like a shrine," enthuses Brandon. "It was a holy place. I wish I could show you a picture of it. It was covered in posters. There'd be a big picture of Elvis wearing a bow tie that just said 'The Smiths' [the artwork for The Smiths 1987 single Shoplifters Of The World Unite]. You had The Cure wearing face paint [the artwork to The Cure's 1985 single In Between Days] - all that kind of stuff. I remember Morrissey being on the cover of the NME, with the halo [from 1985] - stuff like that. You just wanted to know about these people 'cause they were so cool. My brother seemed like such a cool person. But he was a teenager, so he wasn't going to be that nice to me, a kid."
Brandon was fascinated by his brother's collection of music, magazines and posters, but he was denied access to them - officially, at least. "I would sneak in," he says. "I knew he'd be angry if he found out, but I would go in as soon as he left the house." For a long time Brandon was too scared to actually play anything. "That didn't come 'til later. I just used to go in there because I liked it. Then I got to the point where I'd actually take a tape out and put it in. It took more guts to do that."
It was a life-changing moment. "I was ten and the first song I played was Sing Your Life by Morrissey. I remember dancing about to it."
The lyrics to Sing Your Life include the lines, "Sing your life/Just walk right up to the microphone/And name all the things that you love/All the things that you loathe." It's intriguing to wonder what Morrissey makes of the neophyte he inspired with these lines.
Eventually, Brandon inherited his brother's tape collection. "It was around the same time CDs started coming out in a big way. He started buying CDs and gave me his tapes. And that was it: it took off from there. I got a hundred of the best albums - all the New Order, all the Morrissey, all The Smiths, The Beatles. I started buying posters. I went to see The Cure in concert. It was just kind of a continuation of my brother. And it was nice because, though my parents were strict, they were already used to it from him. There was no, 'My dad doesn't understand me,' or any of that kind of stuff. My mum likes The Smiths."
Brandon was 13 and his favourite band was late-'70s/early-'80s American new wavers The Cars, and particularly their jaw-droppingly catchy 1979 single Just What I Needed.
"I wouldn't exist without that song," he says. "That was the one. I remember driving around with my mum when I was 13, and we're living in Nephi - a really small town - and I felt so cool when I put that song on. Like: 'I have something that none of these kids I'm going to middle school with tomorrow have.' That excitement is what music's about, isn't it? That's why I understand the mentality of people that don't like us because we've sold so many records. I used to like it when no one else knew about a band. So I get that - I do."
+
Brandon's first band was called Blush Response. It was never going to work out. Not because he refused to move to Los Angeles with them, but because he is utterly - comically - shameless. He's given to making outrageously boastful statements like: "It's not like the '60s, '70s and '80s now. There are only a few bands around that are really good, that just do it. I mean, there's what, five or six of us?"
For the record, in Brandon's estimation, those bands are Franz Ferdinand, Razorlight, The Strokes, The White Stripes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and, of course, The Killers.
"I don't want people to think I'm lumping myself with other people just to make us sound cool," he says. Really? It sort of sounds like you are. But he just steamrolls through it. "Yeah, but you know what I mean," he says, grinning at his own cheekiness. He's so disgracefully forward you can't help but laugh along with him - Oh you are awful, Brandon! But joking aside, The Killers are the most commercially successful of all the bands he mentions.
Later, back at the rehearsal space, the band run through Sam's Town at deafening volume in preparation for the forthcoming tour - first the US, then the world. The infectious, almost contagious, chorus of When You Were Young sounds fabulous, as do the U2-like guitars and Twin Peaks synths of Read My Mind. Meanwhile, Smile Like You Mean It and Somebody Told Me benefit from the newfound harder edge.
They somewhat heavy-handedly underline the new direction by playing Paranoid by Black Sabbath and Get It On by T Rex. That's the thing: The Killers are not a subtle band. Their songs are like a wet kiss from a girl who's a bit too drunk. They are big and brash, and not everyone loves them for it. Mr Brightside and Somebody Told Me might go down as well at hip nightclubs as they do on the festival circuit, but the DJs play them with the same guilty look they wear when playing a pop record.
"I hate that," says Brandon. "Like writing a song you can hum somehow cheapens it? It makes me think of this quote by Morrissey. Everybody knows how he read Oscar Wilde, Keats and Yates when he was growing up and that he wanted to be a writer. He was talking to this journalist who asked why he hadn't become a writer, and Morrissey said: 'What I do is more powerful than what you do because I can write down these words and you get it to a melody. How can you beat that?' I'm of the same opinion. I don't understand why a good melody that's memorable is a bad thing."
Being dismissed as pop particular aggrieves Ronnie. "When we first came out we got compared to Duran Duran all the time. Jesus Christ! We got a keyboard player now all of a sudden he's Nick Rhodes! Come on!"
"The people who criticise us for being too poppy don't get it," agrees Mark. "I think that's the problem with a lot of rock music. People are afraid to write a song any more. Either that or they can't. And that attitude hurts music in general. The best bands ever have all written great songs. You can still do it and do it intelligently and it can be original. This isn't a studio creation with a producer writing these songs for us. We're not Avril Lavigne, or something like that. We're a real band writing real songs, just like a punk band would do, except that we write pop songs."
You get the impression that The Killers knack for showboating pop hooks that border on vulgar is inextricably tied up with the brazen side of Brandon's personality. But while his ebullient charisma, not to mention the songs themselves, mitigates his outrageousness, there is a less attractive side to his ego. He has a combative streak. He can't resist taking pot shots at emo bands, notably Fall Out Boy, whith whom The Killers share an A&R man.
Has he heard how many emo kids it takes to change a light bulb? "No." None. They just sit in the dark and cry. It's a full 30 seconds before he stops laughing. When he does he admits: "Yeah, we've had problems with other bands. You know, when you walk in the room it's like..." He whistles the theme to The Good, The Bad And The Ugly. "We're like gangs."
And while the other members of the band are diplomatic on the subject of Brandon, you don't have to read too deeply between the lines to conclude that there have been internal issues, too.
"Some people will think Brandon's the big genius," says Dave, visibly bridling. "There are songs, such as Why Do I Keep Counting?, where he's written every note. But there are others, like When You Were Young, that were more of a collaboration - like Mr Brightside, where I had some of the music and Brandon came up with the lyrics. We always have arguments about who wrote what. The truth is that we all help in that process."
When asked how success affected them, Ronnie says: "There were certain things that needed adjusting. When you're on tour for two years, people can get a little needy. It doesn't help that you're surrounded by yes men and everybody's working for you. At times we've had to say, 'Who do you think you are?' to people. No one wears the trousers, but some people would like to. I think if it wasn't for the people in the band kicking each other in the ass... Let's just say there was some ass-kickin'."
It doesn't take a genius to work out whose ass needed kicking most often.
+
It's the following day and The Killers are back at their rehearsal space. The topic of discussion is what to wear in the video for Bones, the second single. It's a big deal: the director is Tim Burton. "I feel like Frank Sinatra when I sing it," announces Brandon. "With maybe a little bit of Morrissey and a little bit of Elvis, too."
Of course he does. But if securing the services of Tim Burton tells you one thing, it's that The Killers are about to get even bigger, perhaps even make the leap to the same level as Coldplay et al. Already stars, they are about to become superstars. Brandon can hardly wait.
"Do you know that Rolling Stone didn't want to put us on the cover last time," he says indignantly. "They didn't think we were stars. We sold five million albums! What more do they want from a band?"
Whatever was required, Brandon would be happy to do most things. "I'll do stuff that some people don't want to do, 'cause I want people to hear the music," he says. However, even he has limits. "The Rolling Stone thing made the record label think: 'What can we do to make them stars?' If I go on vacation with my wife, do they have to send somebody to be there to take pictures of me? Is that how you become a star? I don't want that. I walked down the red carpet one time and I realised I don't like it. But you don't have to walk down the red carpet for people to hear your music. We do still have some of that indie blood running through our veins."
He heads off at a tangent: "When you walk around Liverpool, you think of The Beatles, or you go to Manchester and you think of The Smiths or Oasis. I want you to come to Las Vegas and think of Sam's Town. And I think we've started to capture that, which is a truer version of The Killers, 'cause that's where we're from."
He pauses.
"I used to live across the street from Sam's Town. Maybe it'll be like our Abbey Road where people go to take pictures."
Is that what he'd like?
"I wouldn't mind it," he says, desperately hoping it will come true.
He puts a cigarette between his lips, looks down at his trouser pockets and pats them in search of the lighter he bought yesterday.
"Hey, I don't suppose you've got one?"

Written by u/GoldWhale & u/JD397
Thanks everyone for your patience with us getting this written up. Much appreciation to my co-author u/JD397 for his work, scouting analysis, and comprehensive background knowledge on where Demidov sat compared to historical players, and the international analysis. Please note, this analysis won’t focus on why Demidov>Levshunov. In terms of BPA, Demidov is nearly unanimously over Levshunov based on consolidated rankings. With the Blackhawks publicly saying they want to go BPA, we hope to establish a case as to why Demidov truly stands above the rest, by a good margin. We hope that this was worth the wait, and we haven’t disappointed anyone who may have wanted more. We’re amateurs, give us a small break 😉
When Deputy Commissioner Bill Daly flipped the decisive card to reveal the number one overall pick, Blackhawks fans were disappointed. They were going to miss out on Macklin Celebrini, the consensus number one center and number one overall player in the draft. After winning Connor Bedard the prior year, many fans were hoping for a one two punch down the middle, their own version of McDavid and Draisaitl, Crosby and Malkin; this was not to be.
Despite the initial dismay, fans were still happy. The Blackhawks won the second lottery, and with that, the rights to select a franchise player at number two overall. Immediately, though, there was debate. Swirling on social media there were rumors that the Blackhawks were predominantly looking at two high end prospects: Ivan Demidov (RW/C) and Artyom Levshunov (D). On one hand Demidov is an elite prospect at wing with excellent hands, creativity, and legitimate top line wing with PPG+ upside. On the other, Levshunov is a dynamic offensive defenseman with a stellar shot, solid size, dynamic skating, and most importantly right-handedness.
The Blackhawks, realistically, need both positions. Last year the Blackhawks iced one of the worst offenses in the entire league, scoring the second least goals behind only San Jose. They also had the fourth worst defense, surrendering 290 goals on the season. Neither are acceptable in the push for a playoff spot in the coming years, but ultimately with number two, you can only choose one of the two players. After our hours of analysis, u/JD397 and I believe there is no debate – as good as Levshunov is, Demidov is closer in skill and projection to Celebrini than anyone else in the draft is to him.
So who is Ivan Demidov? He’s an 18 year old forward playing for SKA 1946, a MHL affiliate of SKA of the KHL. Since the 2023 draft the big story out of the KHL was the dominance of Matvei Michkov. This was a kid who destroyed the MHL by putting up 38 points in 22 games and going PPG+ in the playoffs his D-1 Year. Michkov then outperformed Connor Bedard by putting up 16 points in 7 games at the IIHF U18s in 2021. Michkov was, and still is, borderline generational but there was someone else waiting in his shadow. In his D-1 Year, Ivan Demidov put up 62 points in 41 games, and scored 1.3PPG in the MHL playoffs. While putting up a lower PPG pace than Michkov, Demidov’s game was substantially more well rounded and scouts started to take notice of another potential franchise winger in Ivan Demidov.
Demidov exploded in his D-0 Year, putting up a literal 2.0 PPG pace in the MHL the highest pace ever for a player 18 or under, and the third highest PPG in league history. In the playoffs, despite an injury, Demidov posted a ridiculous 28 points in 17 games. This production was unheard of beforehand and bested Kucherov’s 1.87 point pace at 18. Not only did Demidov have better production AND two way play, but he also did it nearly 7 months younger. Demidov remains a bright spot who is able to elevate his play to the competition. Before talking about playstyle, strengths, comps, projections, etc. it needs to be noted just how dominant Demidov was on the scoresheet.
Now that fans know who Ivan Demidov is, let’s address the elephant in the room. Demidov is Russian and with the political climate worldwide, being a Russian is associated with an inherent risk of a prospect not coming over. Rest assured – there is no such concern in this case. Last year, rumors swirled around Michkov not coming over due to three factors:

1. Michkov did not meet with more than two teams and actively told specific teams he would not play for them.
   
2. Michkov was incredibly difficult to get ahold of predraft and it made scouts and front offices skeptical on his character and desire to come to the NHL.
   
3. Michkov had 3 more years left on his contract with SKA.
   

Demidov, on the other hand, is actively engaging with teams. He’s hosting a workout in Florida before the draft for multiple teams to attend, and is actively having his agent coordinate interviews and meetings with interested front offices. Demidov has publicly declared his intention to come over to the NHL as soon as possible, even venturing so far as to say he’s looking at options for getting out of his KHL contract to get to the NHL for the 24-25 season. Finally, Demidov only has 1 year left on his contract so there isn’t long term concern about losing the ability to develop him internally. An interesting note that we found during analysis was that Demidov’s agent, Dan Milstein, is “hated” in the KHL because of how consistently he pushes for his clients to leave Russia and transition them to the NHL. Even if Demidov is stuck in Russia all of next year, there’s almost zero risk he doesn’t come over.
On Demidov, the other large question that looms is his lack of play in the KHL, and SKA’s decision to play him in the MHL. Despite being the one of the best players in MHL history, Demidov only saw action in 4 KHL games and scored a total of 0 points which has also turned off many scoresheet watchers. Let us reassure you – Demidov was predominantly the 13th forward and played an average of 3-5 minutes per game with unfamiliar linemates. He did not have a chance to play enough to succeed, and built no chemistry with the teammates he was playing with in his limited time. SKA is notorious for handling their prospects poorly. Young players are consistently given limited ice time, especially when they’re expected to leave Russia. Michkov, despite his skill, couldn’t crack the SKA roster in his D-0 or D+1 simply because of this bias. All said, this is not a concern scouts have when it comes to the potential drafting of Demidov.
With the Russia question answered, we believe there is no doubt that Ivan Demidov is the pick to make in the 2024 draft. Ivan Demidov is really really good. He is the complete package for what you look for in a franchise winger. Demidov has excellent hands, dynamic edgework, elite hockey IQ, high end compete and energy, a relentless forecheck, creativity in the offense he provides, solid two way play, and finally rapid speed in terms of release and puck control. There is no one like him in this draft who offers such an elite skillset with no obvious flaws in his game outside of his build. He can also play center when needed which gives him additional offensive flexibility and adds even more dynamism to his game.
While analytics don’t tell the full story, they can often be a useful baseline to build from. The first item we want to call attention to is Byron Bader’s model, which projects Demidov as the best #2OA prospect since Eichel.. Let's again be clear, we don’t put much merit into this due to the low gradings of Carlsson and Laine, but it’s important to contextualize how Bader’s model works. It compares prospects to the league they’re in and projects them out. Demidov dominated the MHL to such a degree that the model favorably views him due to being almost untouched in play, and setting multiple records. Continuing with Hockey Prospecting and Bader, who is an active NHL draft consultant, they project Demidov to be an absolute STUD based on production. No forward who they’ve ever given 99%s to has ever been less than PPG+. Demidov has a very comparable offensive game to Celebrini, and is all but guaranteed to be a star due to his production and skillset. Alanen also projects Demidov to be elite in all 3 zones, and gives him a total RARE grade of 100, due to his next level offense and transition, and above average defensive work despite his assignments. Again, analytics aren’t an end all be all by any means. They’re just an exceptional base to build from when scouts, data scientists and NHL draft consultants unanimously believe a player to be elite. From our research, no prospects with comparable profiles have busted or not succeeded in the NHL.
Whilst reading multiple articles, watching videos on Demidov, and going through tape, we compiled the following scouting report.
Physical Attributes:
Demidov is not very physically imposing, or even one of the most physical players in the draft. He’s expected to show up to the combine around 6ft tall and weighing 170lbs. Admittedly one knock that some scouts have for him is his build and need to bulk up. Thankfully, this is easy to build at the professional level. Nonetheless, Demidov has sturdy base that enables him to dominate around the boards and in front of the net due to his rapid twitch movements and lower body power. Demidov is able to outskate and outwork larger and stronger players by being smart with his legs and driving to the inside consistently when in transition. His remarkable agility and lower-body strength allow him to outmaneuver opponents and maintain possession in tight spaces, or separate for quick attacks or desperation back checking.
Skating:
Demidov's skating is characterized by irregularities; while he exhibits great power on his edges, his transitions suffer due to a wide stance, leading to questionable but explosive pivot work. Despite this, his rapid acceleration and agility enable him to navigate through traffic seamlessly, while his powerful stride generates significant momentum, making him a constant threat in transition. Let’s clear up a misconception; Demidov is not a bad skater. He’s got decent speed, a good handle on body control, power on the inside of his edges and with quick crossovers, etc. His posture and stance need work, but this is something that looks completely fixable at the NHL level. It doesn’t require a rebuild of his skating style, rather a retool that can utilize his edgework as a base. Instead of hunching over at the end of a shift and losing speed and energy, Demidov can rely on quicker small movement cuts on for rapid movement and longer, albeit slower strides while holding himself higher to preserve energy while covering distance. While the 10 and 2 skating that Demidov employs isn’t conventional, it allows him to see a good deal of the ice, and when in close provide breaking speed towards the play. Fixing the reliance on 10 and 2 also offers faster top level skating and easier quick pivoting in a 200ft game, rather than a longer turn. Again, his skating is unorthodox – but it isn’t bad. It’s not mechanically sound, but it can be polished to a high level without a large amount of concern. Because of how unpredictable his skating is now, scouts across the board acknowledge that it potentially even grants an advantage as his body is harder to read.
Scoring Ability:
A natural sniper, Demidov possesses a lethal shot with pinpoint accuracy and a lightning-quick release that catches goaltenders off guard. Whether he's unleashing a blistering wrist shot from the slot or wiring a one-timer on the power play, Demidov consistently finds the back of the net with precision and finesse. One really underrated part of Demidov’s scoring ability comes from the aforementioned elite edgework. Due to how rapidly he can change directions while holding full control over the puck, he can create scoring lanes with almost zero room, and his accuracy is again one of the best we’ve evaluated as amateur scouts in the last few drafts. When there isn’t an immediate opening or shot, Demidov is patient, draws coverage where he wants, and again has no qualms about firing the puck to the net. If there’s one question about his ability to score, it’s his slapshot. He hasn’t had to use it in almost any occasion due to how the offense is structured on SKA 1946, and therefore it’s not as developed as his snap or wrister. This is a relatively minor knock, though. Demidov can take slapshots and find twine without much difficulty, it’s just the least refined part of his goalscoring ability.
Playmaking and Elite Hands:
Demidov has the best hands that we have scouted. Better than McDavid, better than Fantilli, better than Hughes, better than Bedard, better than Michkov, and yes, better than Patrick Kane as a prospect. Yep, that good. Hadi Kalakeche, one of Dobber’s lead scouts says, “…he has THE best handling skill I’ve seen… he’s the closest thing we’ve seen to Pavel Datsyuk since Pavel Datsyuk.” The rapidity of his movement, the purposeful puck placement, the astounding protection rate, and his ability to pull defenders off of him without moving his body is unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. Again, he has the most individual puck skill and innate offensive talent in the draft. These skills with his hands allow him to become an absolutely next level playmaker. Demidov is crafty, and has a history of faking shots to make a pass, or vice versa to help his team. He’s able to create lanes and take advantage of his puck control by having absolutely next level zone entry to set up the offense on a consistent basis. While his decision making needs some work when it comes to choosing the best move, he almost always makes the right one, and is able to think through solutions when there’s no apparent move forward. Whether it’s a drop pass, running the puck up the boards, a regroup, finding a teammate with a perfectly slotted pass, Demidov has no real ceiling. The only question remains is whether these skills will work as well at the next level. All said though, there’s no real debate between scouts that he’ll be a franchise winger.
Creativity and IQ:
Demidov is electrifying, brilliant, dynamic, innovative, transcendent, and any other adjective you want to use. There is no prospect in this draft with Demidov’s offensive upside, including Macklin Celebrini. As mentioned above, Demidov has been compared to Datsyuk: he is stellar at opening up lanes with his body or finding passes, even if they’re banked off the boards. While Bedard is a guy who was expected to shoot first, Demidov is a passer. This works in his favor, though. Demidov certainly doesn’t lack a scoring touch. His positioning and body will tell goalies and defenders he’s planning to pass and he’s able to quickly change direction using his edges to put a shot on net. His ability to think several steps ahead of the play allows him to execute highlight-reel passes and capitalize on scoring opportunities that others on his team might miss, or simply not have the skill to execute. He’s unpredictable because his vision is at such a high level. He’s got a game reminiscent of Jack Hughes and Patrick Kane, and the way he views the game has scouts absolutely over the moon about his pro projection. There really is nothing that Demidov doesn’t have the ability to do – this year in the MHL he took advantage of the strength of competition and tested it out. Demidov tried different reads, different styles, working more heavily down the middle, shooting, playdriving, etc. We’re blown away by the flexibility that he shows across every facet of the game. A really fun quote to mention from Lassi Alanen, EP’s director of Euro scouting is, “I still have like 100+ unused clips of Demidov's play from this season. He must be the most clippable prospect I've ever watched. Something eye-catching happening almost every shift during his second half of the season.” Demidov’s highlight reel isn’t really a “reel” – that’s just how he plays the game on most shifts that he takes.
Physicality and Defensive Awareness:
Demidov's physicality extends well beyond his height, as he isn't afraid to throw his weight (all 170lbs) around and engage in board battles to win possession. His defensive awareness is equally impressive, as he uses his size and reach to disrupt passing lanes and apply pressure on opposing forwards both in the defensive zone and in the neutral zone, showcasing a commitment to playing a complete, two-way game. As briefly mentioned, Demidov doesn’t exclusively play wing – he plays center too. While he’s not going to be Patrice Bergeron he is capable of handling both ends of the ice, and has consistently improved his defensive play throughout the year.
Work Ethic and Engagement:
While almost all prospects “work hard” to play their best on the ice, Demidov does that little bit more. Despite being a winger, he’s consistently one of the first players up and down the ice. He rarely coasts and drifts around but is engaged rather consistently all around the ice. One thing that’s often hard to teach prospects is how to be aggressive and assertive without being risky. Demidov never worries about challenging his opponents, fighting hard board battles, or giving his all to get back into a play after he’s low after driving to the net. This is something that the Blackhawks LOVE in their players, and should hopefully encourage GMKD to pull the trigger, if everything else didn’t sell him. As we see Demidov continue to improve in skating with NHL coaches, this should only give him more energy to expend in the 200ft game, and improve his engagement across plays. He’s an absolute workhorse, and consistently pushes to improve which evidenced by the massive improvement across this season in the MHL. There’s no reason to think this same drive can’t come through on the NHL level.
Areas to Improve and Questions:
With all the hype around Demidov, it’s hard to initially understand why he’s considered a lower end prospect than Celebrini. Digging in, though, it becomes more clear. While Demidov has the higher ceiling, he also has a much lower floor. The number one factor that limits Demidov is his exposure to higher end competition. The MHL is a good league, but Demidov was ready for the KHL last year. Since he wasn’t exposed to higher end competition there is still question on how much of his skillset will translate when playing higher level men’s hockey. There isn’t an expectation of a problem, but when a player lacks that experience, it undoubtedly makes them more challenging to project. Remember, Demidov didn’t really play meaningful KHL minutes when he got 4 games this year. He got 13th forward exposure and didn’t play with the same linemates that he worked with in the pre-season. Nonetheless, he wasn’t perfect. He did see some questionable decisions while trying to adapt to higher competition. There’s little concern that this is an actual issue, but Demidov needs to grow and play against men, even for a few games, before coming to the NHL. Thankfully, he should have the entire season in 2024-2025, and I haven’t read a single scouting report that expects him to have an issue putting up Michkov+ numbers.
The second factor is skating. Demidov is a good skater, but he’s unorthodox at best. While this skating relies heavily on his edgework which gives him amazing playmaking ability, his pivoting, high end speed, position and stride could all use refinement and improvement. While these are all skating mechanics that are easier to fix, skating is NOT a guarantee. If he’s unable to improve his skating with NHL skating coaches, it could limit his upside. He is still expected to be a top line winger, but it could be the difference between 70+ and 100+ points if skating doesn’t develop. Remember, some scouts view his skating as a “hidden” upside in his game, but improving skating not only gives him more offensive flexibility, but also defensively. There’s room for improvement, and it could be an easier lever to correct to see high rewards from.
The third factor is decision making. Demidov is creative to a fault, but just like in art, not every project works out. With such an advanced toolkit, Demidov needs to work with video coaches to better understand which moveset is appropriate in which scenario and when to deploy it. There’s a difference between decision making and IQ. Decision making is hard to fix when a prospect is set in their ways based on playstyle, but if playstyle is more flexible, then there’s much less of a concern. IQ, on the other hand is uncoachable, and Demidov has arguably the best offensive IQ in the draft. There’s no reason to believe that he can’t fix this, but due to being stuck abroad, and potentially even the MHL again next year, it could take him a bit longer to get up to NHL speed.
The final factor is defense. While it seems that every single forward prospect has a knock on their defense, we can qualify Demidov’s specifics a bit more easily. Demidov is a competent defender, and a very good well rounded player, but again decision making plays a factor in the challenge of projecting him here. While players like Celebrini are dominant both ways, Demidov often doesn’t make the right choice when defending – he has a lot of offensive instincts which have him sit higher on the blue, and while he is always engaged on the puck, he needs to be more responsible in coverage rotations. Off the rush, Demidov doesn’t always read the play correctly, and the inconsistency can create shooting lanes for his opponent. Just like Michkov, he can also cheat on plays where he finds himself a bit further away from a play and loses sight of his defensive assignment. He’s extremely energetic and consistently pushes to get back, but working with him on understanding when to cheat will be important for his development as well. We again want to reemphasize that Demidov plays solid defense and a good two way game, especially for a wingecenter. But there’s room for improvement in terms of bridging the gap between him and other recent prospects like Celebrini, Carlsson, and Johnston.
Pro Projection:
While he doesn’t have the skating that Jack Hughes had, he’s still a great projection and comparable. A smaller but nimble player who isn’t afraid to get involved on the rush, around the boards, or in transition. Demidov’s offensive upside is similar as well – like Hughes, the defense isn’t the best, but he’s able to run an entire offense both on the wing and playing center. He’s creative to a fault, has a great set of hands, and the toolkit to be a consistent top 5 player at his position in the NHL. Pro projections are always hard because you can never guarantee how a player will turn out, whether they’re undrafted or a #1OA, but Demidov is truly all but a sure thing. His creativity rivals players like Nikita Kucherov and Mitch Marner in their ability to think ahead of where the play is, his handling rivals Kane and Datysuk, his defensive play is above average for a winger, he has a great shot comparable to players like Matt Tkachuk, and is a bitch to get off the puck. Even when Demidov is literally on the ground, he’s consistently able to hold possession and find a play with no room left. With a toolkit like his, decent size at an estimated 6ft, there should be no reservations that Demidov should succeed at the next level. Most scouts see his floor around 65-70 points, and his ceiling closer to 120. I stand by the Jack Hughes comp I made earlier. While they differ in skating, they play very similar games, and should expect similar success at the next level.
Quotes:

“He’s got the best hands in the draft… and has made more one-on-one skill plays so far this season than almost any prospect I’ve scouted for any draft. He’s also a pretty engaged off-puck player who keeps his feet moving, hunts pucks on the forecheck, and can turn a steal into a game-breaking play in an instant.”
Scott Wheeler, The Athletic
“Demidov is already a game-breaking forward who can move the puck effortlessly and there’s no question he’d be a fantastic partner to some of the best prospects in the NHL today. His production in the MHL is comparable to Patrick Kane’s 2006-07 season with the Ontario Hockey League’s London Knights… Demidov is a bonafide first-line winger who will score tons of goals.”
Dayton Reimer, The Hockey Writers
“In a vacuum he’s the most talented forward this draft class has to offer outside of Celebrini. Demidov possesses many of the same traits Celebrini does, only his track record is against younger, more unproven talent."
Sam Cosentino, Sportsnet
“The talent of Demidov is impossible to deny. His raw skills might be the best in terms of offense in the entire draft. His puckhandling, shot, passing, and even skating makes him a unique hockey player and prospect. There are many great offensive players, but not many quite like Demidov. Especially who will also have a great drive and motor to play a strong 200 foot game… he could easily be a point per game player in the NHL on most teams first line.”
Frederik Frandsen, Last Word on Sports
“At the end of the day, what you get in a player like Ivan Demidov is a generational offensive dynamo with the mind of a master chess player. Each time he gains possession of the biscuit, his ability to think many steps ahead of the opponent, find creative solutions involving his puck handling abilities, as well as creating tremendous execution at creating space with his skating or precisely hitting the net is considered to be up to par at the NHL level.”
Tyler Ballesteros-Willard, Draft Prospects Hockey
“Any forward that has ever had the type of equivalency we’ve seen from Demidov in his pre-draft year and draft year, going back to the ’80s, has turned into a point-per-game-plus superstar over their careers… You need stars to compete and contend in the NHL, and Demidov is almost guaranteed to be that.”
Byron Bader, Hockey Prospecting
“Demidov is the most dynamic, verstatile, and creative [puck] handler we’ve seen come through the draft in recent years. Elements of his on-puck decision-making remain raw, but his upside as a 100-point top-line winger is supported by decent off-puck and defensive engagement and lightning-quick processing of the game. His elite-level of on-puck intelligence and his trifecta of dynamic handling, playmaking, and goalscoring tools give him the foundation to become an electrifying creative force and offensive driver.”
Sebastian High, Dobber
“Demidov breaks defences. He spots a tiny gap in coverage, bursts right through, and blows it open. He plays mostly a finesse game, but does so hyper-aggressively, attacking everything he can. Demidov succeeds at pulling off plays that most prospects can't. He plans, processes, and anticipates faster than he can stickhandle. He's a pure creator with the puck, making plays out of nothing.”
David St. Louis, Elite Prospects
“Demidov is the more dynamic and flashy prospect [Than Michkov].Demidov is the single-most gifted handler in the entire 2024 class. He projects to be the superior one-on-one attacker…someone who can single-handedly create out of thin air. When it comes to passing ability…Demidov’s ability to chain together handling sequences into following passing plays is second to none.”
Lassi Alanen, Elite Prospects
“It’s a no brainer[at #2OA]. It’s Ivan Demidov all day, every day, 24/7. You run to the stage and pick him… if you ask me, Ivan Demidov is better than Matvei Michkov… He’s the only prospect in our rankings who we gave a 10 grade to for a specific ability. It’s not just the handling skill in isolation it’s the creativity. He comes up with solutions no one can expect.. his motor is underrated, puts in work defensively… it’s a no brainer there.”
Hadi Kalakeche, Locked on NHL/Dobber

Our Scouting:
Clip 1:
As we talked about prior, Demidov has a great IQ and the ability to create lanes and plays out of nothing. Demidov pushes up the ice and enters the zone with pressure closing onto the side. He uses his hands to pull in control, but more impressively, puts his body between the defender and the puck. He uses his edgework and breaking speed to push past the defender, then is patient enough to draw 3 defenders towards him, away from his teammate. When he sees the trailing defenseman waiting, he immediately finds a tight pass for a wide open teammate to capitalize.
Clip 2:
There’s a difference between a safe move, and then there’s an insane move. Watch as Demidov comes up on the left side. He sees that the defender is getting desperate and goes for a large poke. Demidov slides the puck under the Dman’s stick and once again shows off his patience. Instead of going for a quick shot he reads that the other defender is slowly coming across the crease to prevent a passing lane. Instead of just shooting like most players, Demidov baits the goalie into thinking he’s going to run into the defenseman, and in that second, puts the puck in the net.
Clip 3:
Small play, but this is just about how slick his passing is. He slides the puck through a very tight lane while baiting the defenseman into sliding due to not knowing where the play is going to be.
Clip 4:
While we can put on nonstop highlights, it’s also important to see how smart Demidov’s game is. Demidov and the other SKA players move the puck around a bit trying to find an opening until they give it to Demidov. Demidov reads an open play and passes the puck down, but instead of immediately following the puck or staying at his spot, Demidov uses his high engagement to instead move to the other side of the net down low to offer accessory support for his teammates on his anticipated cross crease pass, should there have been a rebound.
Clip 5:
Not every highlight is going to be a goal. One really underrated part of Demidov’s game is how well he’s able to read the offense. As he holds high initially, he’s able to help move the puck out in order to reset the offense when the play fails. His motor keeps him in the play and with his excellent edges, he’s able to make a quick pivot after rushing around in order to step up and create an open shooting lane. While his teammate can’t make the pass to get the puck to him, Demidov read where the play WOULD be, not just where it was. Those IQ aspects really can’t be taught, and are part of what makes him so special. By anticipating the open play rather than following the puck, he establishes himself as a play driver by creating options rather just following and executing structure at a high level.
Clip 6:
We're not even going to analyze this one. It’s just fucking fun. Talent oozes.
Clip 7:
This video has a ton of highlights, which I’d definitely recommend watching, but we’re going to focus specifically on the play at 0:45. We can post clips of Demidov scoring goals, finding breakaways, etc. all day long, but when thinking about translation to the NHL, IQ and decision making is what we’re really drying to drill down on. Demidov arrives in the zone through to middle and pushes the initial F1 to the F3 spot and changes the rotation. The puck is dumped to him and the initial F1 leaves a drop pass for Demidov approaching the goal. As soon as Demidov gets the puck, at 0:47, you can see him primed and in a good shooting position. The bigger defender misread the play and has drifted too far towards the center of the ice, leaving Demidov with a nearly unobstructed shooting lane as the netfront defenseman is also too far toward the middle. Instead of taking the shot, he instead waits to draw over the netfront defenseman, and the bigger defenseman closer towards him, leaving his teammate literally untouched across the crease. Demidov trusts his hands and ability with an extremely quick and accurate pass through the stick range of three defenders to find his teammate wide open. His decision making has been progressively improving and his ability to look off the shot to find an elite pass will translate extremely well to the next level.
Clip 8:
Another play where you can just be excited about Demidov. The puck is wrapped up around the boards and the defenseman sitting at the top of the blue just pushes the puck back into the zone without a clear target, or a player who has an explicit opening to the puck. If anything, the puck is put in the middle of all 5 Karpat skaters. Despite starting on the outside, Demidov’s engagement shines through where he uses his edgework to get a rapid explosive burst of speed, and pushes through both defenders in front of him to gain possession. Once he gains possession, his ability to control the puck, and his handles help to demonstrate just how strong of a prospect Demidov is. Even when the defender is falling onto him, Demidov is patient, makes the netfront defender bite to believe he’s going wide, creating a lane (effectively bypassing 3 separate Karpat players) to get to the goalie unobstructed. Then, his hands come out and he absolutely undresses the netminder with moves that the video literally cannot fully capture. He makes highlights like this look routine, every single game.
Clip 9:
Sometimes when you see a play it’s hard to say anything but wow. Demidov leads the rush through the neutral zone and reads the coverage a much less conventional 1-4 scheme. The offensive rush is a bit unconventional as well, but can offer a smart solution. By having 3 attackers, two concentrated up the middle and one wide, it allows for quick movement up the middle, and post defensive collapse onto the puck, a pass to the outside for a clear entry lane and shot. Demidov passes to his teammate directly across the center of the ice as he expects that teammate to immediately get puck to their teammate on the outside as coverage collapses. Demidov gauges where the openings are pre pass, as evidenced by the head movement. Unfortunately, instead of immediately passing again to the outside for an open lane, his teammate runs into pressure, and panics. He passes back to Demidov who is less than 8ft away and will inevitably will run into immediate pressure as well. Somehow, this is no problem for Demidov. He collects the puck with the literal tip of his stick, uses his body push the defender off, and then pulls the puck in while facing the wrong direction to slip past the defender. Despite being placed in a no win situation his hands and creativity shine through and he creates a clean lane to shoot the puck at the net. It’s almost inhuman what he’s able to do with his hands. When he gets to the net, he’s patient, baits the goalie, pulls wide, and then puts in a clean backhand. Some of these highlights are literally awe-inspiring.
Closing Thoughts:
If this scouting report doesn’t get you excited for Demidov, we don’t think anything will. He’s truly the most electric player in the draft with absolutely ridiculous hands, compete, dynamic play, and highlight reel performance. His IQ is next level, and his hands allow him to do truly amazing things with his skillset and competency. Demidov’s vision is absurd; he consistently makes passes to his teammates without looking, or sends a pass before a teammate has a clean break by using anticipation. These RARELY lead to a turnovers and are often not only creative but unorthodox methods to continue to move the puck up ice. Although his skating is unorthodox, he’s explosive, able to create comprehensive offensive maneuvers due to quick transitions, and make off angle passes with ease due to his edgework. He is elite in transition and able to run a breakout, an offense, and play any of the F1/F2/F3 roles when the situation calls for it. Despite his expected size of “only” 6ft 170lbs, Demidov knows how to use his body and hands. He not only protects the puck on offense but can draw defenders away from his teammates in predictable patterns, once again opening up space for him to capitalize. The same goes for defense where he's able to use his positioning to get the edge on his opponents for a rapid takeaway or a box out off the rush.
As we mentioned earlier, Demidov’s game isn’t limited only to offense, he has a decent understanding of the two way game as well. He’s a relentless forechecker, aggressive on the boards, and also always willing to use his high running motor to jump back into a play that leaves the zone, even if he’s right next to the net. Demidov has the most skill and raw talent out of any player in this draft, including Celebrini. Had Demidov not been demoted to the MHL due to SKA’s poor management, there is almost no doubt that he would be considered nearly neck and neck with Celebrini. As it is now, Demidov is ranked #2 on most boards, and the overall #2 in the consolidated ranking. Demidovs don’t come around often; people last year were genuinely considering whether Michkov was at Bedard’s level. Demidov rivals Michkov if not exceeds him.
You can nitpick the analysis we have of any one single aspect of Demidov. Not everyone buys analytics. Not everyone buys playmaking in a lower league. Not everyone likes irregular skating. Not everyone is on board with the MHL stat sheet, our hype etc. etc. We get it. Really, we do. But at the end of the day, when you step back and appreciate the full body of work, the comps, the analytics, the rave scouting reports, unanimous love, models, stat sheets, skill, work ethic, and more that ALL say that this kid is elite, there’s fire beyond the smoke. Demidov is THE guy. There should not be a debate at #2.
For those of you who made it to the end, thanks for reading! Ultimately we know there will be inevitable debate about a prospect, but we appreciate you hearing us out, and at least letting me, u/GoldWhale, spam the sub over the last few weeks in love of Demidov. Whether or not you agree with our analysis, we encourage you to do your own scouting, read from the authors we've included, watch through all the highlights in the linked videos, and draw your own conclusions!
We appreciate everyone in this community, and will try to answer any questions that you may have in the comments. If you so choose, please feel free to crosspost to other subs, edit, or utilize this writeup anywhere you like (forums/blogs/youtube etc.), just link back to our original post! For those in professional media who have contacted us with the hope of utilizing our writeup, feel free, again just link back to the original post as well. Thanks again!

I’m so glad this sub exists because I’ve been annoying everyone in my life with my theories about these two … I figured this would be the right place to post my speculation/lyric breakdowns of songs that they may have written about each other, split into different posts for albums for ease of reading.
Starting with Reputation (2017) – I imagine the failed relationship with Matty was still fresh for Taylor during the writing/recording of this album. Her reference to her “longings locked in lowercase inside a vault” definitely made me look back at Rep in a way I hadn’t before (and I do think we’ll see some Matty-coded vault tracks on TV”. That said I don’t want to erase her other relationships, especially with Joe, so I’ll make notes of where I think I’m either stretching for a Matty connection or I think there are multiple muses.
Special mention to “Getaway Car” which feels like another (fictionalized?) response to Robbers but the story she tells is very similar to her fling with Tom, especially given the third man in the song. I usually claim it for the maylors anyway bc who cares about Tom. Let me know what you think.
“...Ready For It?”
Knew he was a killer first time that I saw him / Wonder how many girls he had loved and left haunted / But if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom
I can't ignore the connections here to two other songs thought to be written about M - Ghost (2014) and Haunted (2015) by Halsey (I won't bother going into the HalseyMatty lore here but I could in another post...)
"You're a Rolling Stone boy, never-sleep-alone boy / Got a million numbers and they're filling up your phone, boy" (Ghost) "I'm begging you to keep on haunting me" (Haunted) "My ghost / Where'd you go? / I can't find you in the body sleeping next to me" (Ghost)
I can be a phantom holdin' him for ransom / Knew I was a robber first time that he saw me / Stealing hearts and running off and never saying sorry / But if I'm a thief, then he can join the heist / And he can be my jailer
Robbers is one of The 1975’s most famous songs. In the music video two lovers stick up a convenience store - definitely worth a watch if you haven't seen it. In 2014 M dedicated the song to T in Dallas in November 2017 (a week after she attended the concert in LA) here and here
Burton to this Taylor
One of my favorite references that I think reveals a lot about the messy but irresistible relationship M and T seem to have. Here's a link to a great article about the wild love affair between Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.
Every love I've known in comparison is a failure / I forget their names now, I'm so very tame now / Never be the same now
This sentiment is repeated throughout many of the songs I believe are about M. The idea of a life altering love is obviously prevalent across TTPD but also in folklore, evermore, and Midnights. ex. "I'm never gonna love again" (cowboy like me), "I don't remember who I was before you painted all my nights a color I have searched for since" (Question...?), "I felt aglow like this / Never before and never since" (loml)
Also want to mention This Must Be My Dream from 2016, which M has said is about an older gf but may fit: "Let me tell you 'bout this girl / I thought she'd rearrange my world"
No one has to know / In the middle of the night, in my dreams / You should see the things we do, baby
See Guilty as Sin? lol
Baby, let the games begin
Taylor in an interview with Glamour in February 2014:
TS: [Nods. Pauses.] I think everyone should approach relationships from the perspective of playing it straight and giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Until he establishes that this is a game. And if it's a game, you need to win. The best thing to do is just walk away from the table.
CL: Is that winning?
TS: It is when they come back. [Laughs.] And if they don't, then they didn't care enough to begin with.
conclusion: I believe ...Ready For It? is a response to Robbers and reveals M and T's similar romanticism (sometimes toxic but so addicting). The mirrored stylization of ...Ready For It? and Question...? makes me think the latter is a continuation of the former. The mentions of “island breeze” and “we’ll move to an island” have made people believe this song is about Tom Hiddleston but other lyrics, namely “younger than my exes” pretty clearly contradicts that.
"End Game"
I wanna be your end game / I wanna be your first string /I wanna be your A-Team
Funny reading this after The Alchemy and So High School.
Big reputation, big reputation / Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations / And you heard about me / Ooh, you and me would be a big conversation
And they were! Especially because T hadn't been really linked to anyone after Harry, the speculation about her and M came hard and fast. M especially was inundated with questions in the months after the LA and NYC shows.
And I heard about you / You like the bad ones, too
Another possible reference to a Halsey song, this time Hurricane from 2014: "He says, "Oh, baby, beggin' you to save me / Well, lately I like 'em crazy/ Oh, maybe, you could devastate me"
I don't wanna touch you, I don't wanna be / Just another ex-love you don't wanna see / I don't wanna miss you / Like the other girls do
Very reminiscent of The 1975's song Somebody Else, released in 2016, speculated to be about T: "I don't want your body / But I hate to think about you with somebody else"
I hit you like bang, we tried to forget it, but we just couldn't
"Flashbacks waking me up / I get drunk, but it's not enough" (Death By A Thousand Cuts)
And I bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put 'em
"I circled you on a map / I haven't come around in so long" (The Alchemy)
Reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy
"And they tried to warn you about me" (The Albatross)
And I can't let you go, your hand prints on my soul
"Marked me like a bloodstain" (Cardigan)
It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold
So many of the songs speculated to be about M reference his eyes but the most relevant (not the starry eyed motif which we'll get to in the future) are: "Eyes like sinking ships on waters / So inviting I almost jump in" (gold rush) and "But your eyes are flying saucers from another planet / Now I'm all for you like Janet" (Snow On The Beach)
"Deep blue, but you painted me golden" (Dancing With Our Hands Tied)
You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks / So here's the truth from my red lips
From the same Glamour article, Taylor talking about her 'trick' when dating:
CL: What's the freeze-out?
TS: You don't respond to any of his texts or calls until he does something desperate [like] shows up. Or he calls and leaves a voice mail. Something that makes it very clear to you that he's interested.
disclaimer: I am someone who thinks the Tom relationship was not that serious for T, so this song imo fits what she may have told us about her relationship with M more, though the beach reference does point to Tom in a way.
"Don't Blame Me"
I've been breaking hearts a long time / And toying with them older guys / Just playthings for me to use
See the quotes from the Glamour article above. "Younger than my exes, but he act like such a man, so" (...Ready For It?)
Something happened for the first time / In the darkest little paradise
May refer to the dark concert venue where they met for the first time (see So It Goes... for more)
For you / I would cross the line / I would waste my time / I would lose my mind / They say, "She's gone too far this time."
Sentiment that is repeated throughout TTPD, but most clearly in But Daddy I Love Him
My name is whatever you decide / And I'm just gonna call you mine
Though this could be a stretch, in the spotify storyline for The 1975's Oh Caroline (2022), speculated to be about T, M said "It's an invented character, where the cadence really mattered. It couldn't be "Oh Linda" or "Oh Jane" [or "Oh Taylor"] - you had to have a 3 syllable that really works. I knew what the song was about, I had felt that about someone before and I got to write an episodic, mini movie about the subject"
disclaimer: If about M, this song is very on the nose with the drug references. Generally it's a very vague song and could easily be about Joe or another ex.
"So It Goes..."
See you in the dark / All eyes on you, my magician / All eyes on us / You make everyone disappear
Likely refers to the first time T saw M in person, when she was front row at The 1975's LA show. All eyes were on M then (including T's)
"Once upon a time, the planets and the fates / And all the stars aligned / You and I ended up in the same room / At the same time" (Mastermind)
Tripping, tripping when you're gone
May relate to Don't Blame Me: "Trip of my life / every time you're touching me"
'Cause we breakdown a little / But when you get me alone, it's so simple
Maybe a stretch but M famously had a breakdown on stage in Boston on December 6, 2014. In an interview with the Guardian he said: “There was girl stuff. There was family stuff. There was financial stuff. There was drug stuff. I remember hearing the crowd and having an identity crisis. I thought: ‘If you want to see a show, I’ll give you a fucking show. If you’ve come to see the jester drink himself into a slumber, I’ll give it to you.’ I felt like I’d become an idea as opposed to being a person.”
“And I was 25 and afraid to go outside” (Give Yourself a Try)
And all the pieces fall / Right into place
"I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork / The dominoes cascaded in a line" (Mastermind)
Getting caught up in a moment / Lipstick on your face
"I said, "Don't fall in love with the moment" / She said I've got a lot to learn / Don't fall in love with the moment /And think you're in love with the girl" (She's American)
Come here, dressed in black now
"Yeah, we're dressed in black from head to toe" (Chocolate). Taylor was also wearing all black the night of the LA show.
conclusion: You did a number on me / But, honestly, baby, who's counting? / I did a number on you / But, honestly, baby, who's counting? ( "King of My Heart"
We met a few weeks ago / Now you try on callin' me "baby" like tryin' on clothes
The reason why I don't necessarily think Joe fits. They met at the Met Gala in 2017 and she very quickly started seeing Tom, obviously it could still be him but I wanted to note this.
"Don't call me 'kid,' don't call me 'baby' / Look at this idiotic fool that you made me" (illicit affairs)
And you move to me like I'm a Motown beat
M loves Motown, even sampling a track by The Temptations on Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy). He's also always loved dancing, which you can see in the videos for A Change of Heart and Oh Caroline.
Salute to me I'm your American Queen / Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff
He's English, obviously.
And we rule the kingdom inside my room / With all these nights we're spending / Up on the roof with a school girl crush
Totally speculation but M and T hiding out in her NYC home makes a lot of sense from other pieces she has shared about the relationship “My kingdom come undone” (Hoax)
Late in the night, the city's asleep / Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep
Speculation again but fits with the story of M and T as mostly loving each other in secret (see Dancing With Our Hands Tied and Dress)
Is this the end of all the endings? / My broken bones are mending
As mentioned above, T had seemingly taken a break from dating after the breakup with Harry.
disclaimer: Definitely not 100% sure on this one as there is convincing evidence that it is about J
"Dancing With Our Hands Tied"
I, I loved you in secret / First sight, yeah, we love without reason / Oh, 25 years old
M and T were both born in 1989, M was 25 when they first met and dated and T was turning 25.
My, my love had been frozen / People started talking, putting us through our paces / I knew there was no one in the world who could take it / I loved you in spite of / Deep fears that the world would divide us
“A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground / With no one around to tweet it” (The Lakes)
In an interview with the Guardian Matty said: “The day after she’d been to a show of ours, someone sent me a screenshot of E! News with the headline ‘Who is Matt Healy?’ That freaked me out. I’m not ready to indulge in that world and I’m not ready to be judged by that world.” So sad to read knowing that they dealt with a similar situation nearly a decade later.
Picture of your face in an invisible locket
“Wear you like a necklace” (So It Goes…)
And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis
“Now you hang from my lips / Like the Gardens of Babylon / With your boots beneath my bed” (cowboy like me)
I'd kiss you as the lights went out / Swaying as the room burned down / I'd hold you as the water rushes in / If I could dance with you again
Reminds me so much of the music video for cardigan, where T slips into a rough ocean and hangs on to a piano. Also from cardigan: “Leaving like a father / Running like water”
“Dress”
Our secret moments in a crowded room / They got no idea about me and you
"Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room / And every single one of your friends was / Making fun of you" (Question...?)
There is an indentation in the shape of you / Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo
M seemingly makes a lasting impression: “Deep blue, but you painted me golden” (Dancing With Our Hands Tied) “The mark they saw on my collarbone” (Maroon) “Marked me like a bloodstain” (cardigan)
'Cause I don't want you like a best friend
T often seems to refer to a friendship with M, perhaps they tried it a few times: “We were supposed to be just friends” (Glitch) “Like you were my closest friend” (Maroon) “Just say when, I'd play again / He was my best friend / Down at the sandlot” (My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys)
And if I get burned, at least we were electrified
“I'd kiss you as the lights went out / Swaying as the room burned down” (Dancing With Our Hands Tied)
I'm spilling wine in the bathtub / You kiss my face and we're both drunk
Many of the possible M songs refer to M and T’s love of wine. “And I can see us twisted in bedsheets / August slipped away like a bottle of wine” (august) “The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me / And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was (maroon)” (Maroon)
disclaimer - Obviously most likely about Joe given the reference to the 2017 Met Gala but I think it was worth a mention!
“Call It What You Want”
My baby's fly like a jet stream / High above the whole scene
Probably a double-entendre. M considers himself slightly on the outside of the ‘scene’ but this can come across as self assurance. This also could refer to literally being high on drugs
Loves me like I'm brand new
After T’s clever use of The Starting Line in TTPD I’m convinced she’s referring to the band Brand New. M posted a Brand New album on his ig story in 2020.
All my flowers grew back as thorns
An interesting contrast to “I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy” from Don’t Blame Me
Windows boarded up after the storm
“I look through the windows of this love / Even though we boarded them up” (Death By A Thousand Cuts)
I'm laughing with my lover
“Laughing with my feet in your lap” (Maroon) “Please don't ever become a stranger / Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere” (New Year’s Day)
Making forts under covers
Matty famously built a fort in ATPOAIM 3. “I'll build you a fort on some planet / Where they can all understand it” (Down Bad)
Trust him like a brother
“Like I lost my twin” (Down Bad)
Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night
So many starry eyed references which is terribly romantic and terribly sad. “Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?” (High Infidelity), “Your opal eyes are all I wish to see” (ivy), “Eyes full of stars” (cowboy like me), and “Gazing at me starry-eyed” (The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived)
I want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck
“Picture of your face in an invisible locket” (Dancing With Our Hands Tied) “Wear you like a necklace” (So It Goes…)
I recall late November, holding my breath
Late November fits perfectly into the timeline of M and T’s 2014 relationship. Late October to Late DecembeEarly January makes the most sense.
Slowly I said, "You don't need to save me / But would you run away with me?"
“You're mad thinking you could ever save me. Not looking like that.” (A Change of Heart)
disclaimer: Again lots of Joe references in this as well so take this with a grain of salt.
“New Year’s Day”
You and me from the night before, but / Don't read the last page
From Me and You Together Song (2020): “I think the story needs more pages, yes.” The reference to “the last page” also makes this song feel like more of a reminiscence than a song about a current lover.
I want your midnights / But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day
Impossible not to reread these lyrics after Midnights was released as a nod to M: “When the morning came we / Were cleaning incense off your / Vinyl shelf ‘cause we lost track of time again” (Maroon)
You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi / I can tell that it's gonna be a long road / I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe / Or if you strike out and you're crawling home
Especially after the release of TTPD it seems that both T and M made many promises to each other that they couldn’t keep
Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you / Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you / Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you / And I will hold on to you
The reference to memories here creates a bit of a confusing feeling about the muse for this song. Although T seems to be talking in the present tense I do think these are memories and dreams for a past relationship.
“Hold on and hope that we'll find our way back in the end / Do you think I have forgotten? / Do you think I have forgotten? / Do you think I have forgotten / About you?” (About You)
Please don't ever become a stranger / Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere / Please don't ever become a stranger / Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere
Not much to say about this but ow!
You and me forevermore
Again reminds me of Me and You Together Song (which I do buy as a song at least partially about T). And of course links to Evermore.
disclaimer: This could absolutely be about Joe but it does feel almost like a goodbye to M, closing the album. It’s as if she is reading “the last page”
Congrats if you read this lol. I clearly have too much time on my hands

Hey yall, I'm making a tier list with EVERY X song on it, not just released but also obscure leaks and unreleased. I'm taking it step by step slowly covering all of his songs into the massive tier list with the 16th ranking being X and ski songs!. if I miss something or u disagree with a ranking lmk and I might change the position next post.
I’m pretty sure these are all of the X and Ski collabs I haven’t ranked yet, if I missed one pleasssssse tell me lol (I’m not counting selfish with ski since it’s obviously not completed with his verse, I’m gonna be ranking another version of that song later)
IWATCHEDHIMDROWN - S tier. Hard asf, ski starts the song off smooth asf and X just elevates it to perfection
ILOVEITWHENTHEYRUN - S tier. ANOTHER hard asf track, hook is excellent, everyone does great even yung bans, X screaming makes it S tier tho.
SPACEGHOSTPUSSY - A+ tier. Amazing diss track, Denzel to X transition was godly. Low key ski brings the energy down, but it’s still amazing.
Save yourself! - A tier. Great track, could use a lil more energy but still fire.
GnarlyGuyAnthem (Hell Version) - S tier. I love X’s high pitched voice, ski is also fire as fuck, hard as fuckkkk
GnarlyGuyAnthem (og) - S tier. the normal-pitched version of the song, fire as fuck I wish X used this flow more often, it’s one of my fav songs by them, tied with the hell version but probably a bit better.
Netflix and Chill - S tier. I’m ranking the high quality version with hotboycaleb, it’s fire as fuck the beat is hard too, X and ski do fucking amazing as always and the hook is pretty good too.
GANG CYPHER FREESTYLE - B+ tier. An older song, CARRIED BY X, ski does good too but the others kinda bring it down so I can’t rank it higher :(
take a step back - S tier. Classic X and ski rave song, gets me lit every time listening to it fr
Ghost busters - A+ tier. Infinitely times better than the version on trippies album lol, quavo is hard, ski has one of his hardest verses, and X just goes nuts as always.
Tier list (song to the left of list = better song) S tier = perfect songs A - A+ tier = amazing songs B - B+ tier = good songs C tier = mid D tier = bad
S tier: Guardian Angel, hope, WingRiddenAngel, KING, alone part 1, NEVER, Jocelyn Flores, let's pretend we're numb, I dont wanna do this anymore, i dont let go, train food, teeth (interlude), yung bratz, i spoke to the devil in miami he said everything would be fine, Look at me!, Ayala (outro), vice city, IWATCHEDHIMDROWN, infinity (888), king of the dead, rare, Netflix and chill, gnarlyguyanthem (og), gnarlyguyanthem (hell version), moonlight, woah (mind in awe), slipknot, freddy vs jason, pain = BESTFRIEND, IGOTPLENTYDICKTOSHARE, ILOVEITWHENTHEYRUN, valentine, SAD!, take a step back
A+ tier: white girl, rare part 2, save me (MOV2), RIP ROACH, very rare forever freestyle, bowser, ecstacy, everybody dies in their nightmares, snow, 777, HEARTEATER, fuck love, revenge, going down!, LIMBO, UP LIKE AN INSOMNIAC, curse, changes, NETHERRACK, make eem run!, restinpussy, carry on, SPACEGHOSTPUSSY, ghost busters, ALONE PART 3, you're thinking too much stop it, Ice Hotel (intro), daemons, the remedy for a broken heart
A tier: Dead inside (interlude), looking for a star, broly, the fall, eat it up, A GHETTO CHRISTMAS CAROL, ghost, wanna grow old (I won't let go), Red Light!, indecision, skin, save yourself!, love yourself (interlude), I AM!, gassed up!, THE ONLY TIME I FEEL ALIVE, I LUv My CLiQuE LiKe KaNyE WeSt, ATTENTION!, planet drool, UGLY, ex bitch, triumph, theresanelephantinthisroom, sauce!, $$$, LUNACY, ITS ALL FADING TO BLACK, hate will never win, BAD!, NUMB, 0C3AN, sounds of a melting pot, difference (interlude), Butthole Girl!, news/flock
B+ tier: i dont even speak spanish lol, FUXK, One Minute, MANIKIN, supra, STARING AT THE SKY, floor 555, schizophrenia, h2O, touch eem body, depression and Obsession, bitchcallmecaptainmorgan, Orlando, GANG CYPHER FREESTYLE, DEAD, failure is not an option interlude, BLOOD STAINS, a message to Tina belcher, Off the wall!, palm trees
B tier: Amy winehouse, save yourself!, boost!, what in XXXTarnation, bad vibes forever, SMASH!, fuckabitchface, maxipads for everyone, i changed her life, GXD DAMN, the interlude that never ends, whores on the boards, INUYASHA, TUMMY TUCK, northstar, school shooters, static shock, hi wendy!, save me, came2kill, find me (intro), before i close my eyes, VERYRAREBOYZ, LEAVE, voss, what are you so afraid of, royalty, numb the pain
C tier: kill my vibe, XXX (intro), before I realize, CHASE / glass shards, FUCK V2, hot gyal, M011Y
If u guys disagree with anything make sure to comment, this is a discussion post :) what should I review next

Part 1
Chicago, 2016. Flinn Gerald is doing his best to make it in the city. Born in Selma, Alabama, he has spent his entire life trying to escape the ever tightening grasp of his small town. But alas, he made it out and is adapting to life in the big city. With a big fancy corporate job, an endless supply of friends, an apartment with a stunning view of the lake, and great distance from his family, what more could he need? Well, there is a lot more (or less) that he needs, but of course that is a story for later.
On a typical Tuesday night at a bar, the regulars crowd in. Flinn is late, as usual, as he stayed late at work (again), but on his arrival, the cheers and hugs from all the friends make everyone forget of the regular inconvenience. Conversation ensued, starting with all the boring finance jargon, but as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation, moving away from work and more into life. This is what everyone preferred.
“Another round, anyone?” asked Raheem, enthusiastically. After a murmur of concurrence, he stood up to make his way up to the bar. “Flinn, care to lend a hand?”
Raheem Bartlett was Flinn’s college roommate and the first person he met outside of his hometown. The pair hit it off instantly despite having wildly different backgrounds. Even in their freshman year, the engineer and the finance major would get into all sorts of trouble together, but eventually they leveled out. Six years later, they still have each other’s backs just like day one.
The pair made their way up to the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. “What's up with you, bro?” asked Raheem. “You’ve been seeming a bit off.”
“Oh, ya know. Work, life, everything kinda happens so fast. Work has been busy as of late, and the hours long.”
Seeming displeased by this answer, Raheem stared back in concern.
“Really, I’m fine… just long hours.”
“Back in school you’d pull back to back all-nighters and then still make it to a morning class. I find it hard to believe that the mighty Flinn would be so setback by ‘long hours’.”
Flinn took a moment to ponder, staring down at the bar covered in various stamps and postcards beneath the epoxy surface. “I guess, ya know, it's not all it was cracked up to be. I guess I had expected more.” Flinn had mostly dropped his accent, but occasionally it would still slip out.
Despite coming from a long line of mill workers (mostly paper) and farm hands who never ventured further than the Dallas county line, Flinn yearned to leave his small town and conquer the world from a young age. Coming from the poorest county in Alabama, his family always squashed his dreams, labeling them as impossible. But Flinn knew better. Or, at least he knew he could do better. Graduating top of his class a year early and winning a full-ride scholarship to Northwestern University, he had proved everyone wrong and set his own path. The path he was told was impossible became his reality.
“More what?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, what more is there? This is what I always wanted, right? The stable job in the city, never having to worry about money. It’s great, and I couldn’t be more grateful, but… something is missing. Doing the same thing day after day staring at a screen, moving clients money around. I… just hoped it would be more fulfilling, especially after all it took to get here.”
Before he could finish his thought, the bartender came up to take their order: another round for the table, plus a round of shots, plus two more shots.
“What am I saying, really?” added Flinn. “I shouldn’t be complaining. Look at where I am now compared to six years ago. So much has changed. My home, friends, even my diet. I just feel a bit off. Like I need something more to do..
“I get it, bro. Adjusting to your new life can be rough. Enjoy it for a minute or two.” Raheem slides a shot in front of Flinn. “Here, take this.”
Tuesday had become fairly consistent to this point for this group of misfits: Raheem and his girlfriend Amy; Jack; Jasper, from Flinn’s firm, and his wife Max; and of course, Flinn. For nearly two years, these six have been meeting at O’Malley’s every Tuesday night for drinks and trivia. Some nights are more wild than others, but Tuesday has become the staple of the week among them.
Drinks flowed pretty regularly and heavy over the next few hours as the clock approached the end of day. Still going round for round on alternating tabs, the useless debates began to heat up.
“You can’t seriously think Wicker Park is the best neighborhood outside the Loop. Y’all need to get out more,” said Flinn.
“Bro it’s obviously Wicker Park,” argued Raheem.” Right on the blue line, getting to O’Hare is insanely easy, plus you can’t find better music in the city. Besides, Wicker Park has Davenport’s.”
“No one ever says Wicker Park,” adds Jack. “Have you ever heard someone say Wicker Park before?”
“Dude, but you can obviously get to O’Hare from anywhere in the city,” said Flinn
“Sure, but beats walking through that dumb Block 37 Center transfer like you and your red line. No transfer is the way to go, plus the blue line gets you right to the center of the loop.”
“So does every other L line as long as ya don’t mind walking a few blocks!”
“You’re both wrong,” adds Max. “Neither matters because Midway is better anyways.”
“Woah!” the whole table murmurs, sharing shocked looks as if she just confessed to a crime. Flinn rolled his eyes at this notion.
“Who flies out of Midway?” asks Raheem.
“What? Less people, cheaper flights, and more space. Why wouldn’t I fly out of Midway?” said Max.
“Wait, wait, that aside,” interrupts Raheem, “can we go back to the fact that Jasper thinks Sheffield is the best neighborhood? I feel like we moved past that too quickly.”
The debate rages on for many more minutes, until Flinn, seemingly out of nowhere, had enough.
“Can y’all just shut the fuck up! Why does it even matter?” Everyone’s glance quickly shot over to Flinn as a deafening silence overtook the table. Everyone pondered how to respond, and couldn’t seem to find an answer. This behavior from Flinn was unexpected, nay, unheard of. Flinn was the most level headed amongst them by far. Not even Raheem, his best friend of six years, had ever seen him get angry, let alone over an inconsequential friendly argument. “I…” Not even Flinn knew what to say next. “I’m going to go home. Long day tomorrow.” Already on his feet, he quickly walked away from the table and out the door.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk home was fairly brisk, but Flinn had grown fond of the cold. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and hunched his shoulders forward, only looking down at the pavement ignoring the mostly asleep but still wide awake city surrounding him. His thoughts ran wild and near out of control. Of course, his intoxication did not help with clarity, but the inner dialogue was deafening. Not even he knew what was bothering him, but he was obviously bothered, deeply. He made a fool of himself in a way he never had before, and right now he felt he did not recognize himself. Surely some sleep will help, right?
He slowly made his way down the steps to the platform, carefully watching each step as to not fall, to wait for his train. He posted up against a pillar and stared off onto the dark, empty tracks. What has gotten into me? He did his best to calm his racing, wasted mind searching for some legibility amongst his thoughts.
Once he finally got home, he slumped down on the couch and scarfed down some week-old sushi he found in the fridge. He turned on some old documentary and was asleep before he knew it.
Suddenly, he was woken up by his phone ringing. It usually does not ring this time of night and was less than thrilled to be woken, so he let it keep ringing. It stopped after a couple of seconds, and he glanced down at the screen:
Mama
(2) missed calls
Dad
(1) missed call
Now concerned, he calls his mom back in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Flinn? Your grandfather, he’s dead.”
Part 2
The wet air engulfed Flinn’s face as he stepped out the airport doors into a warm February day. Six years had passed since he smelled the Alabama air. Even after all this time, it still smells just as he had remembered as if not even a day had passed. The drive to Selma was another ninety minutes, and despite having five days to mentally prepare himself for his arrival, it was not nearly enough time. He had not seen or spoken to anyone from his town, not even family, since he left early that August morning all those years ago. He left everything behind to start his new life. The life so many told him to not start, that he needed to stay. He left anyway and never looked back.
That was, until now. He had little choice in this regard. He knew he would have to make his return someday, but he knew not when nor for what. But today was that day. Flinn and his grandfather (Pops) had always been close. If anyone had been supportive of him, it’d have been Pops, but he was a man of little words. Even when he could talk, he hardly chose to. He was a great listener, and not just because he could not speak. He showed he was engaged and listening no matter what Flinn had to say. At times, he felt Pops was the only one who understood him as if he had been just like him before, but no one would ever talk about his past. All Flinn knew is Pops lost his tongue after a failed lynching.
The familiarity of the scenery zipping past was bittersweet. He had not realized how much he missed the rolling hills and thick forests beneath the unforgiving southern sky. He kept his head pressed against the cool glass of the car window even through the constant bumps in the road. He couldn’t look away. So many memories happened here, and the closer he got, the more plentiful the memories became, and the more potent they were, and the more painful they’d become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the dust settled behind him, he stood on the driveway staring at his childhood home still unsure how to process his emotions. It was all so overwhelming. He was thinking everything at once. He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and swallowed. He reached for the door handle, hesitating slightly, and took a step in. One foot, and then the next.
“Martin!” Flinn smiled as his old friend and childhood dog rushed towards him without hesitation. He knelt down and embraced him as Martin excitedly rustled through his arms seemingly showing more energy than he had in years.
He walked down the hall and around the corner into the living room. There, both drawn to the large television like moths to a flame, he saw his parents sitting beside one another on the couch watching some daytime program with their backs to him. They seemed to pay no notice to the commotion at the front door nor the loud creaking footsteps he took along the old wooden floors. They knew he was there; they just chose to ignore him. He walked into view to greet them. "Mama, dad." His father smiled slightly but caught himself and refrained.
Mama kept a straight face, but seemed to be fighting tears."Howard, help Flinn with his bags, dear."
“No, it's alright, I know where to take them,” said Flinn. “How are y’all?”
“Service is tomorrow at eleven down at the ole First Baptist Church. Make sure to wear something nice.”
“Alright, mama. I’ll... I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Whole family is coming tonight. Dinner is served at...”
“At seven, I got it, just as always.”
“It’s good to see you, kid.” said his dad. “Let me know if you need anything”
He did not expect things to go like that, not that he knew what to expect. He had hoped time would have been more forgiving. Perhaps leaving unannounced in the middle of the night was not the best plan, but at the time he felt as if he had no other choice. Everyone knew he was leaving. That was no secret and had not been for years before any plan had actually been set into motion. No one knew the date or time, except for Pops, of course, but he’d never tell. Of course he wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to be proud of him, but it was too big of a risk and commendations were too much to expect. Besides, Mama always had her schemes, and had she known, she would have found a way to stop him.
Not much had changed since he’d been here last. The old wood paneling still lined nearly all the walls, crack in some spots, replaced in others, but all coated by decades of cigarette soot. On the walls were a combination of family portraits from over the years and cheap artwork found at the flea market. Old green furniture, too many house plants to count, and a tacky themed kitchen, it was all still the same.
His childhood bedroom, however, was much different. Hardly even recognizable, what was once his bedroom was now a storage room filled with endless shelves and boxes. He set his things on the lonely cot in the corner, sat down, and took it all in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not realizing he had drifted off, Flinn awoke and looked at the clock. 6:55. Convenient. He sat up and brushed his hair down with his hand as he suspected it was sticking up in the usual way. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the dining room. The whole family was there, probably about twenty people or so, all scattered about throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room engaged in various conversations. His nana, aunt, and Mama were cooking away putting the final touches on the large meal.
“Well if it isn’t this fucker…” said a familiar voice to his left, laughing. Flinn looked over to see his cousin who’s just a year younger than him.
“DeAndre, how are you?”
“Never thought I’d see you again, even since you left. Thought maybe you ‘ood be dead.”
“Nah,” Flinn laughed. “Still very much alive.”
“I can see dat. Wearin’ your fancy suit and all.”
“Yeah I’ve been doing pretty well. Work has been… good. I have a great job at a finance firm in Chicago. Everything has been… Good. Yeah, good. How about you?”
“Now you ain’t goin’ city on us, are you?”
Flinn laughed. “I think I might already be.”
Just as dinner was finishing up, a line started to form and people found a seat wherever they could, be it at the table, on the couch, near the counter, or outside.
“Flinn!” his dad called out. “I saved ya a seat here at the table, kid.”
Flinn took his seat right next to his dad which positioned him right across from Mama. The table could sit eight, and the seats filled in pretty quickly so he was lucky to get one. Besides his sister, all of the oldest family members took the other four chairs.
The dinner itself was mostly uneventful, except for the food of course which was extraordinary. Flinn had not eaten Mama’s cooking, or anything like it in six years. The southern food in Chicago was alright, but nothing like what you can get down here, and no restaurant is going to have the same quality and taste as a home-cooked meal. By God, he had not realized how much he needed this. It was almost healing, like a part of his soul had been lost and he found it once again. The last week had been incredibly overwhelming, and last Saturday he never foresaw being here now, but he was glad he was, regardless of the looming tension. All the stress from work and life back home in Chicago was now all gone. All he had to worry about was… oh yeah, the family drama. The dreaded interactions, what he had suppressed for so long, that had kept him up at night for years. All those long nights doing homework or anything else beside sleeping. They had not been by choice but rather necessity. He would have slept more if he could, and some of those nights he really needed to, but instead was kept motivated by the pain. The pain of knowing no matter what he did, no matter how successful in life he became, he would never be good enough for his family, good enough for Mama, because he left them.
If there ever was a time to clear his conscience and get everything out of the way, it would be today, or at least over the next couple of days. When else would he have the chance? Not that any of this had been planned, and his therapist would probably advise against it. She did not even know he was here. What would she have to say? Avoiding conflict has always been his choice. He has always been quiet, never been at the center of drama, but some things need to be said. Just, maybe not by him. If he waited long enough, perhaps they would come up on their own. So he decided to wait, but he knew time was limited and he could not wait forever.
“Mama, could you pass the butter?”
Mama just stared back at him. “Get ya own damn buttah, since ya can do everything else on ya own.”
Flinn stands up and reaches for the butter. “I can do everything myself, and I have. I hope you’re proud, Mama.”
“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my job, my degree, everything I have been able to do to build a good life for myself.”
“I don hear anything worthy of praise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mama.”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? You could’ve fooled me. Is that how you felt when you left? Unbelievable.”
“I left because I had no other choice.”
“Oh don go lyin’ to me now. You did have a choice. You had a choice and you chose to leave us. You didn’t say goodbye, and you were just gone in the mornin’.”
“If I had not just left, you would’ve stopped me.”
“Cause you ain’t got no reason to go nowhere.”
“I had plenty of reasons to want to leave, and not because of you. I’ve always had dreams, Mama, ya know that. I’ve always been bigger than just this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re too good for us, city boy? Huh? I don wanna hear no more of it.”
“It wasn’t about that, Mama. Look at all I’ve been able to do.”
“I ain’t see nothin’. You never call and you never visit. How am I supposed to know what you been doin’?”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming around any more?”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Glad to see you still have some brains left.”
“Well excuse me. Maybe it's best if I leave again. Sorry I ain’t make you proud, Mama.” Flinn got up and left the table.
Part 3
Just as the early light began to peak through the blinds, Flinn was woken up by a firm knock at his door. “Flinn, may I come in? It's Uncle Terrence.”
Flinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yep, come in.”
“How are you this morning, kid? Ya know, she’ll never admit it, but ya Mama missed ya.”
“I find it hard to believe.” Deep down Flinn knew it was true, but she was hard as a rock, and arrogant. She would always find a way to be right, even when she knew she was wrong, and she would never let you know she knew she was wrong.
“Well, we’re all proud of you, kid.” Flinn hated when Terrence and everyone called him kid. “Just wish yoo’d come around and see us every once in a while. I know ya busy with all the big city stuff and all.”
“I thought no one wanted anything to do with me any more?”
“At first, maybe, but I miss ya, kid. Ya know who missed ya most of all?”
“Pops?”
“Yes, of course. He always wanted to know about ya, every time I’d come round. He couldn’t call, but always wanted me to.”
“I should have called.”
“I think everyone wanted to call, but as time went on, it became harder and harder to push that button. It was already so hard at first, and only got harder.”
“I thought about everyone a lot, especially at first. Leaving was really hard, and I almost didn’t, but I always wanted more. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in this town, and if I had not left when I did I probably never would have. But it was still hard. I wanted to go home so many times, but I convinced myself no one wanted me here no more or that y’all would’ve said ‘I told ya so’ or sum bullshit. No one wanted me around any more and I had left, so I was stuck on the path I chose. And I’m happy, and I’ve done so much, but it’s never been easy.”
“Pops was a lot like you when he was your age. Set on leaving as quickly as he could. Things were different back then, not that they are any better now, but Hank... my brother… Pops, was just like you.”
“What changed?”
“Well, he never did. Just no one talks about it anymore. After what happened on that day, they blamed his behavior. Said he should’ve played it safe and he’d still have his tongue.”
“No one has ever told me the story.”
“And they won’t. It changed the whole family.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell. I don need an earful from ya Mama.”
“I promise.”
“Hank couldn’t be confined to Selma, just like you. He joined the army right out of high school, and after he was done in Lebanon, he didn’t go straight home.”
“Where did he go?”
“Everywhere but here. He used the small amount of money he got from the army and went anywhere that would let him in. Across Europe, parts of Asia, Northern Africa, even parts of South America. Of course, a young black man traveling by himself at the time was challenging, but Hank could hold his own pretty well. He still ran into all sorts of trouble. He spent more nights in jail than he would have liked, but he would have done it all again if he could.”
“What happened when he got back?”
“He was much different, but for the better. He couldn’t wait to get back out there again. He had confidence like I had never seen before. That’s what got him in trouble not too long after.”
“How’d he lose his tongue? I’m guessing that is what changed everything.”
“When he got back, he got involved with a girl, I think her name was Susan. She was the mayor’s daughter. They snuck around for a while. Their relationship was not acceptable, especially to her father. If he found out, Hank would be in a lot of trouble, and of course eventually he did find out. He spent about a month in jail in just awful conditions even for the time. They didn’t have anything to hold him on so eventually they had to let him go. About a week after he got out, he was walking downtown and some guys grabbed him. He took him out to a field and tried to lynch him. Luckily, they failed and he survived, but they took his tongue as a warning. He was never the same after that. All of his confidence was gone, and of course he couldn’t speak no more.”
Flinn did not know how to respond. It all made sense now: why the family so desperately wanted him to stay, why they were so hurt by him leaving, and why they’d feared who he was becoming. They were all traumatized and wanted to protect him. They did not want him to suffer the same fate as Pops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral itself was fairly uneventful and went nearly as perfectly as expected. The church filled in with hardly any empty seats, tears were shed, and speeches were given. Pops touched the lives of almost everyone he met, and they came to show it. After the service was the reception, and yet again, the food was spectacular. Everyone got along just fine today and there was no more residual drama, at least for now. Today was Pops’ day.
After the reception, the family gathered back at Mama’s house for the reading of the will. Pops did not have many possessions, at least not of monetary value, but what he did have was meaningful in other ways. He was very clear on who he wanted to give off, and handpicked what would be most substantial to each person.
Everyone gathered around much as they did at dinner, and the lawyer began his reading:
I, Hank Gerald, a resident in the City of Selma, County of Dallas, State of Alabama, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby absolutely revoke any and all other wills and amendments previously made by me.
The reading went on for some time as there were many beneficiaries. Flinn began to daydream about what could be left for him. Flinn was not a very sentimental person, so trinkets and heirlooms paid him little interest. Perhaps his car, or maybe money. Something that will be useful to him.
To my dear brother, Terrence, I leave my 1964 Pontiac GTO and all tools and parts associated and necessary with/for the running and upkeep of the vehicle.
The further down the list he went, less was given, but this is to be expected. As the end of the list neared, Flinn began to wonder what would be left for him if anything at all. The will had been in order of age, to this point, so he should be up soon.
To my Granddaughter, Nia,...
Nia? She's younger than me… Flinn thought.
I leave her my grandmother’s locket containing a picture of my Grandfather before he left for the Great War. She looked at it everyday to keep the memory of him alive until he eventually returned to her alive.
How could he skip me? Perhaps I should have called, or never left. Flinn got lost in his own thoughts and barely paid attention to the rest of the will. He and Pops were so close, and he never imagined he would be taken out of the will. But that is my own fault, afterall. I left, and I never even care to call. He died, and I never even said goodbye.
Just as Flinn began to accept the consequences of his actions, they got to the last beneficiary listed in the will:
Finally, to my oldest Grandson, Flinn, who is more and more like me than I ever could have wished to have been, I leave my journal. I hope whenever you need the motivation, you read it to find the meaning you are looking for in life.
Part 4
Flinn sat at his desk unable to focus. It was fairly slow for a Friday, but he still had work to do. After a chaotic weekend back home in Alabama, he was ready to settle back into his monotonous routine. The experience had been healing in some regards, but still left a lot unanswered. What did he mean by finding the meaning in life? Flinn wondered as he flipped through the endless pages of Pops’ journal, all filled with endless recounts, drawings, symbols, and pictures from his travels, just as he had since Monday. The journal consumed his whole attention, and nothing else seemed important enough to focus on. He had even ditched his friends all week which he never does.
He is supposed to meet Raheem for drinks tonight, but now he is wondering if he even wants to go. There is just too much in his head right now. He just wants to be alone. 12:37. The clock is moving too slowly. Flinn clears his calendar for the rest of the day and decides to go home.
At home, he still finds himself flipping through the pages of the journal, not even reading them but just looking at them. Again and again, he flips through until he has enough. He drops the journal on his lap and stares off into the distance at the gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. The endless city and skyline take up most of the horizon until it just stops, cut off by the endless ocean-like lake. He stares at it for quite a while until something catches his eye. He has seen this before. Well, of course he has. He lives here and this is his view everyday. But he knows he has seen it somewhere else.
He picks the journal back up and flips through in a hurry. There it is. He holds the journal up to the window to show a matching two-page drawing of this exact view. Well, not exact. It is a slightly different angle, but it was close enough. Pops was here. He would have loved visiting. I should have invited him. This made Flinn sad, and he threw the journal down on the table in frustration.
Just then, that is when he noticed it. There was a page sticking out from the journal, but it was not like the rest. The page was white and pristine, aside from a few wrinkles, as if it was new, whereas the rest of the journal showed its age. He rushed over to grab it. He opened it to find a letter, addressed to him:
Grandson, When you left, I knew that you would accomplish everything you set out to do. I also knew, however, you would find yourself lost someday, returning home for answers. I was hoping I’d be able to give you those answers myself, but as time goes on that seems less likely. I too found myself lost, and I knew not why. I had gone and seen the world, and it changed me, but I was still not fulfilled. I came home still looking for the answers, and it took a while, but eventually I did find them.
Through this journal, I hope to share my findings so that you too, when you are lost, find the answers you seek. Whenever you are ready, follow my journey and the clues I have left for you. Go out and see the world, just as I did. You will find that what you want from life is less than what you expect.
I hope the experiences you have are less harsh than my own, but still be careful. The world has changed a lot, but still not enough. But don’t skip ahead for the meaning may be lost. Take only one step at a time, and when it comes time to take the next step, it will reveal itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven o’clock rolls around and Flinn walks into the bar to meet Raheem. He hasn’t seen Raheem, or anyone else from the group, since last Tuesday when he had his outburst. He begins by telling the story of the events of this last weekend, but leaves out the parts about Pops’ past.
"Pops left me a hidden letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raheem.
“Like in his journal, I found a hidden letter. It was addressed to me.”
“What did it say, bro?”
“He says he was a lot like me when he was my age. He wants me to go where he went and learn what he did.”
“In Alabama?”
“No, everywhere but there. He wants me to start in Western Europe and follow his clues around the world.”
“He traveled?”
“A lot, apparently. I never knew. He was in the army, and after he got out, he traveled… everywhere, basically.”
“Why did no one tell you?”
“They wanted to keep me safe, I guess.
"They wanted to keep the whole family safe after what happened to him.”
“What do you mean, bro. What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it, but it doesn’t matter now anyways. I’m living a different life now.” Flinn never shared much about his past or his family with anyone, not even Raheem. It has always been a mystery. This was the most he had ever shared with him.
“Well, are you going to go?”
“No, I can’t. I have work. It took too much to get here. I can’t just give it away.”
“It’ll still be here when you get back, bro.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“It can be. You have money saved up. Chicago isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. Plus, you’ve always talked about traveling more. Why don’t you take some time to do it.”
“I suppose, but I like my life here.”
“If you don’t do it now, when will you? You’ve taken a leap before, why not take another one. You’re smart, you’ll land on your feet, bro. Besides, your grandfather thought it was important enough to not only give you his journal, but hide you a letter for you to find when you needed it most. Maybe now is when you needed it most. You’re way too stressed at work anyways, and I can tell you’ve been off for a while now. Perhaps some change could give you what you need.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, when Flinn gets to work, he walked straight to his boss's office. He turned in his letter of resignation.
Two weeks later, he took the red line to the blue line to O’Hare. Journal in hand, he boarded a flight to Dublin.

--- Last night I had words and feelings wanting to escape, which has basically never happened to me before. I'm not a writer, either professionally or recreationally. I thought some other people might enjoy or relate to this, but it's really just me spilling my emotions onto the internet. ---
You're seven months old. You're sick with yet another virus from daycare, a place that is never free of disease. Coughing, again, after finally shaking the last cough, which lingered for a month.
You're finally asleep, laying on my chest, which you don't do a lot anymore. You went to bed in your crib but kept waking up with high pitched cries and whimpers. You'll sleep as long as I'm holding you, though, so here we are.
Illness aside, this is what we do at night. You wake up, I feed you, and most of the time you fall asleep right away, but occasionally I have to rock and sing you back to sleep. Often I put you back in your crib, but sometimes I keep you in bed with me.
Seven months of nights with you. Seven months since you turned my world upside down, as they say, although it wasn't disorienting. This new life was unfamiliar but felt right somehow, like a long-forgotten home.
My world didn't shift when I got pregnant. It stayed more or less the same, except worse in practically every way. I was nauseous, I had depression, I missed sushi and herbal tea. My pelvic joints - yes, your pelvis has joints - hurt for the entire third trimester.
I didn't love you when I was pregnant, not really. You were wanted, and I never held you responsible for how terrible I felt; I just couldn't really imagine you. You were a concept, an abstraction.
When you give birth, even though you know a baby is going to come out of you, it is somehow still completely shocking when it does. Suddenly, there you were. A tiny, perfect baby covered in slime.
Postpartum hormones are a trip. I didn't have the baby blues, but I did have a debilitating case of loving you so much that I became completely irrational. On the second night, I was so afraid to miss a single moment that I stayed up all night, crying. Your dad went to get water and came back to find me with tears streaming down my face, saying, "She's two days old and I already miss her being this little!" That feeling never went away, the sensation of time slipping through my fingers like water.
You're still on my chest. You've always slept better on me, or next to me. When you were tiny - compared to your newborn onesies you are now gigantic - you were on my chest all the time. I could pretend it was for the benefits of skin-to-skin, or say you were a velcro baby, but really I just loved having you there. I was your safe place, your favorite place, and you were mine.
When you were tiny, you slept with your legs tucked up under you, just like when you were inside me, only without all the kicking and somersaults. It used to annoy me that the gymnastics would always start when I tried to sleep on my left side, the only side I was supposed to sleep on.
Sometimes I wish I could go back to that time and appreciate it properly, knowing and loving you like I do now. Be comforted that you were safe inside me and not out in a world that suddenly seems so dangerous. Feel more joy in being physically connected to you, in being your home.
It's funny how a baby on your chest, in your arms, feels so right. You can tell it feels right to them too. They settle. They snuggle into you. As bored as you get when you've left your phone in the other room, you don't want to put them down.
There are times, like now, when it feels like we are still one being. I can feel you breathing, your belly rising and touching mine. You're listening to my heartbeat, the first sound you ever heard.
I think you might always be tucked inside, permanently a part of me. All my life I was just myself, and then suddenly it was the two of us, distinct but not separate. Connected even after you were born, each of us needing the other. Me revolving around you, you revolving around me, like binary stars.
We're still here. You listening to my heart, me feeling you breathe. You are home. We are home.▪️

Burst Rex of Awakening

RUSH DUEL Etymology/Translation Corner
Tagline: "Executing a join and pairing of the azure skies with courage at ultra-high speeds! Fusion Summon! Time to come on out! Bluetech Burst Rex!!"
CM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OfSMAg9axf0
Yuhi: "Yu-Gi-Oh! RUSH DUEL! Executing a join and pairing of the azure skies with courage at ultra-high speeds! Time to come on out! Fusion Summon! Bluetech Burst Rex!! There's new themes in here?! They both look interesting. These legendary dragons also get an Over Rush Rare! And there's still way more!"
This is a list of translated Japanese names for all of the cards in Burst Rex of Awakening. See below for further notes.
Each card name is linked to an image!! (Use an image-zooming extension like Imagus to view them instantly.)
Any questions or issues you may have about the translations are welcome.

• Five-God Dragon / F·G·D

1. Rocky Tank Jariot
2. Gray-Bronze Dragon
3. Hybridrive Scale
4. Hybridrive Tusk
5. Hybridrive Lizard
6. Hybridrive Screwdriver Full artwork
7. Stray Familiar Witch
8. Releaslayer
9. Chemispet Inko
10. Dice-Key Mekuru
11. Dice-Key Ku
12. Dice-Key Ribbon
13. Cyberspyce Hotpot
14. Cyberspyce Cinnamon
15. Cyberspyce Turmeric
16. Cyberspyce Cumin
17. Wheatcloth Demeter
18. Cyberspyce Nutmeg Alternate artwork
19. Cyberspyce Garam Masala
20. Dark Matter Dead-Yell
21. Dark Matter Lockdoll
22. Dark Matter Jelly
23. Dark Matter Craydoll
24. Dark Matter String
25. Dark Matter Knight
26. Dark Matter Hazardoll
27. Dark Matter Freya
28. Rocky Machine Gareking / Rocky Demon God - Gareking
29. Dragonic Geist
30. Twin-Edge Phantom Dragon
31. Imperial Guard of the Wise Emperor
32. Advance Form
33. Granmarg the Earth Emperor
34. Water-Mirror Serpent
35. Dragon Remover
36. Fusionic Tribern
37. Fadrawnir the Purehearted Full artwork
38. Data Eater
39. Defrostrooper V2
40. Sumskull
41. Swellskull
42. The Seven Treasure Gods - Beidai / The Seven Treasure Gods - Rice Supreme Full artwork
43. God Demon Beast - Garzett
44. Bluetech Burst Rex Full artwork
45. Sevens Road Ultima Witch Full artwork Alternate full artwork
46. Cyberspyce Queen Cinnamon
47. Cyberspyce Karipandrapery
48. Dark Matter Enigmata
49. Dark Matter Enigknight Zuwieger
50. Blue-Eyes Blazing Bright Dragon / Fiercely Shimmering Dragon with Blue Eyes Full artwork
51. Tribe-Mirror Dragon
52. Hybridrive Back Fusion Alternate artwork
53. Hybridrive Restruct
54. Blue-Tooth Reconnect
55. Spycecloth Mix
56. Dark Matter Storm
57. Dark Matter Force
58. But a Mere Jest of the Cosmos Princess Full artwork
59. Hybridrive Bumper
60. Spycecloth Secret Recipe
61. Spycecloth Black Pepper
62. Dark Matter Assassinate
63. JAM:P Catch! Alternate artwork
64. Dragonic Domination Alternate artwork
65. The Enkindling of Divine Doubt
66. Delirium Invitation Full artwork

Etymology and other trivia:

• Jariot is a portmanteau of jari (Japanese for "gravel") and chariot.
• The Gray in Gray-Bronze Dragon seems to be a contraction of great.
• Hybridrive is a portmanteau of hybrid and drive—a mass-storage hardware device in which the mechanism for reading and writing data is integrated with the mechanism for storing data.
• Releaslayer is a portmanteau of release (the OCG term for Tributing), Lilith, and slayer.
• Inko is the Japanese name for the true parrots
• Mekuru is Japanese for "to turn over" or "to flip over," and is the OCG term for excavating.
• Ku comes from baku—a Japanese supernatural being resembling a tapir that is said to devour nightmares.
• Cyberspyce is a portmanteau of Cyberse, cyberspace, spy, and spice.
• Hotpot is likely based on BellaBot—a versatile service robot with a cat-like appearance for serving guests in hotels, restaurants, bars, and events. A hotpot is a mixture of meat and vegetables, sometimes including sliced potatoes, cooked slowly in a covered dish inside an oven, or in a special heated pan.
• Demeter is the Olympian goddess of the harvest and agriculture, presiding over crops, grains, food, and the fertility of the earth.
• Garam masala is an aromatic mixture of ground spices used in Indian cuisine. The rest of the Cyberspyce monsters are mostly named after spices used in this mixture.
• Dark matter is a theoretical substance existing in space that does not give off any light.
• The yell used in Dead-Yell's name is Japanese wasei-eigo for cheering (esp. for a school sports team).
• Craydoll seems to be a portmanteau of cradle and doll.
• Hazardoll is a portmanteau of hazard and doll.
• Freya (Fureiya) is a pun on furē (the Japanese pronunciation of "hurray"), a phrase commonly shouted during cheering, and Freya or Freyja—one of the preeminent goddesses in Norse mythology.
• Gareking is a portmanteau of gareki (Japanese for "rubble" or "debris") and king. Machine (Mashin) is a pun on the Japanese word mashin (meaning "devil" or "demon god").
• Geist is German for "ghost."
• Imperial Guard of the Wise Emperor has a similar name and effect as the OCG's Imperial Guard of the Flame Emperor (Royal Firestorm Guards in the TCG).
• Tribern is a portmanteau of tribe (the OCG term for "Type") and wyvern.
• Fadrawnir is a portmanteau of Fafnir (a lindworm from Norse mythology) and draw.
• Sumskull (Tasudokuro) is a pun on the Japanese word tasu ("to add numbers").
• Swellskull (Masudokuro) is a pun on the Japanese idiom masumasu ("more and more").
• Beidai is based on Daikokuten—one of the Seven Lucky Gods and the god of commerce and prosperity. He is sometimes considered the patron of cooks, farmers and bankers, and a protector of crops. He is also often depicted as riding on a rice bale, hence the kanji for "rice" appearing in the card name. Beidai is also used in the Japanese phrase beidaitōryō, used to refer to the President of the United States of America, and fittingly this card's artwork is drawn in the style of an American comic book.
• God Demon Beast - Garzett is a reference to God Mazinger—an anime, manga, and novel series created by manga artist Go Nagai.
• Karipandrapery (Karīpandoraperī) is meant to sound like a typical name for a Hindu deity and is a portmanteau of Kali (a major Hindu goddess associated with time, change, creation, power, destruction, and death), karē-pan ("curry bread"), Pandora, and drapery (due to all the Cyberspyce cards also having a cloth motif).
• Enigmata is a plural form of the word enigma. It is also a pun on the Latin māter ("mother").
• Enigknight is a portmanteau of enigma and knight, while Zuwieger is a pun on Zuwijo (a character from the GO RUSH!! anime) and Sieger (German for "victor" or "champion").
• Tribe-Mirror Dragon's name in Japanese (Toraibumirā Doragon) is made up of sounds from the other FGD-related monsters in this set: Gray-Bronze Dragon (Gureiburonzu Doragon), Water-Mirror Serpent, and Fusionic Tribern.
• Spycecloth (Supaisukurōsu) is also a pun on cross.
• Hybridrive Bumper is a reference to Jointech Bumper, which has a similar effect.

Blue-Eyes Duel Set bonus card

1. Blue-Eyes Bright Dragon / Shimmering Dragon with Blue Eyes

Yu-Gi-Oh! GO RUSH!! Blu-ray & DVD DUEL-7

• Elite Secret Investigator Miss-Tery

Saikyō Jump June 2024 Edition bonus card

• Mage Power

Club Vlad sat near the confluence of Central Avenue and Washington Avenue, Albany’s two main thoroughfares. Two stories with blackout windows and a box office from when it used to be a movie theater, it was swarmed with people when Dom first spotted it ahead. He was somewhat familiar with it: He passed it every day on his way to work, and it was always busy around his time of evening, even on weeknights. Part of him always wanted to go inside and be a part of the scene, but he never did.
The man in sunglasses - his name was Joe - led Dom toward the club, and even before Joe spoke, Dom somehow knew that it was their destination. “There,” Joe said. “We’ll go around back.”
Dom and Joe had been walking for what seemed like an hour but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. Dom stuck as close to Joe as possible as if for protection, and had become accustomed to his pungent smell. It was noticeable only at extremely close range, part sickly sweet and part…something else, something Dom could not place but still somehow recognized. They were two blocks from the club, maybe three, and Dom could hear the pulsing techo/house/whatever music as clearly as if he were standing in the middle of the dancefloor. He could hear the chatter of the people inside, or at least he imagined he could. He could smell them too: Beneath the odors of perfume, desperation, and spiritual rot was something richer, something blissful. Dom realized for the first time that he was parched - so parched - and drool filled his mouth.
A crowd of people waited outside Club Vlad, talking and laughing; some vaped, some stared down at their cellphones like Gollum with his precious ring. Dom’s first reaction was to avoid them. Perhaps sensing this…or perhaps feeling it himself…Joe ducked into an alleyway two doors down from the club. “We’ll go in the back,” Joe explained.
The back entrance to Club Vlad was a single door underneath a bare bulb. The music was so loud that Dom’s head began to throb. Inside, a dark hallway terminated in an archway filled with throbbing white light. Dread filled Dom as they approached it - he didn’t want to be around people - but thankfully they went into a room off the hall instead. An office. A cramped desk, a filing cabinet. A set of stairs disappeared into shadows.
“Sit,” Joe said.
Dom obeyed, sitting in the swivel chair.
Joe went up the stairs and Dom was alone. The deep coldness that had long settled into his bones made itself known again, and Dom leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his chest for warmth. The muffled music vibrated in his skull, setting his teeth on edge, and the various smells wafting in from the main room assaulted his senses. He was alternately repulsed and aroused by the crashing din of scents: The good, the bad, and the mouth watering. A sharp pain cut through his stomach like the killing edge of a knife, and Dom hugged himself tighter. Had his throat always been this dry? His throat felt like sandpaper; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and getting it unstuck hurt so badly that tears sprang to his eyes.
Dom rubbed his arms with his hands and tried to still his chattering teeth. He looked around for a blanket, a discarded jacket, something to cover himself with, but there was nothing. Only drifts of glitter on the floor and walls. He supposed it came from a party or something. He’d never been to a night club but it seemed fitting.
A sound drew his attention to the door leading back into the hall. A woman - no older than a girl - stood there, looking confused and unsteady. She was dressed in black, wore glow sticks around her wrists and neck, and held a red solo cup. “I have to pee,” she said drunkenly and laughed. “I thought this was the bathroom.”
A cold wind washed over Dom, and Joe was standing next to him. “The bathroom’s up here,” he said.
“Oh, good,” the girl laughed, “I thought it was here but I didn’t know. This is my first time here.” She held her cup aloft. “Take me to it.”
Joe glanced at Dom. “Come on.”
They formed a party as they climbed the stairs, Dom in the tear and Joe at the head. The girl stumbled and held onto the railing, talking incessantly. Her voice hurt Dom’s head, but the hot smell wafting from her was intoxicating. Drool coursed down his chin and his breathing came in short, hot bursts. Another sharp pain rent his stomach, and he winced.
At the top of the stairs, where the lights were cold and white, a woman in black stood by a doorway, her back ramrod straight and her eyes vacant. Her face was gaunt, her white flesh pulled tight across her skull. She wore a black dress and her black hair long and straight. Dom only caught a glance at her before looking away again.
She looked like a ghost.
“Show her the bathroom,” Joe said.
The woman’s eyes slowly, ponderles, went from Joe to the drunk girl. Her expression, like Joe’s, was dead. She had no expression. “This way.”
She and the drunk girl disappeared down the hall, and Joe led Dom into a room. Though it was pitch black, Dom could still see; not very well…but he could see. Suddenly, a blinding white light flicked on in front of him, causing him to stop and fall back a step. Ahead, through an archway, sat a vaulted chamber, at the center of which sat a man. To Dom’s light dazzled eyes, he seemed a proud king perched upon a throne, the skulls of his many enemies piled around him. Dom blinked and turned his head slightly to the side. His eyes began to adjust, and the world came into focus.
The man was not, as it had first seemed, sitting on a throne. Instead, he was esconded in a motorized wheelchair. The piles of skulls were actually various pieces of machinery, the kind you’d find in a hospital room. A clear tube extended from one of them to the side of the man’s neck: Yellow liquid flowed from the machine and into the man. Another tube, this one in the other side of his neck, filtered out a mixture of what looked like yellow pus and black sludge. An infected malodor filled the air, and the machines whirred softly as they worked.
As for the man himself, his appearance was normal at first glance, Dressed in a flowing red velvet robe, a blue and green blanket with a plaid pattern draped over his shoulders, he was portly, about fifty, and had shoulder length grayish hair with a bald spot in the middle. If the local theater put on a production of Hamilton, they could cast a worse Ben Franklin than him.
On closer inspection, he was not normal at all. His complexion was yellow and waxy, like a statue, and his body was lumpy, misshapen, resembling an overfilled trash bag stuffed with cotton. His eyes were sick and yellow, and something about his posture seemed…off. It didn’t make sense, but the only thing Dom could think was: He looks impossible.
Joe stopped at the edge of the shadows, where the line between light and darkness lay. He seemed to stand up a little straighter, a general greeting his king. “Here he is,” Joe said.
The man squinted slightly against the glare of the light and motioned with one gnarled hand. “Step into the light,” he said. His voice was soft and kind, that of a senile though loving grandmother. Dom imagined he felt a pull toward the man, and did as he was bidden, wincing as the light stung his eyes.
For a moment, the man stared at him, his waxen features frozen fast as stone. Then, a subtle look of compassion flickered across his face. Dom did not believe in God, but he suddenly felt like a man standing before God, his every thought, feeling, and transgression laid bare. He had never felt so naked in his life, so exposed. He had the sense that the man before him could see everything, knew everything.
“You’ve been through a lot,” the man said. It was not a question, but a statement.
Everything Dom had been through over the past couple of days came back to him in a rush, and hot tears filled his eyes. He nodded.
The man nodded slightly, more to himself than to Dom. “Kneel down,” he said, “I want to look at you.”
Dom knelt without question.
The man lifted one hand and touched Dom’s face, tilting Dom’s head from one side to the other like a farmer appraising a horse. His fingers were long and bony, his nails ragged and unkempt; his touch was like ice. He brushed his knuckles over the purple bruise on Dom’s cheek, and there was such gentleness in that one act that Dom broke down sobbing. He leaned into the man’s touch like a cat and gave voice to his misery.
“Shhh,” the man said, “it’s all over now.”
“W-What’s happening to me?” Dom asked.
In his heart of hearts, however, he already knew.
“You died,” the man said patiently. “And you came back.”
Hearing it stated so plainly, Dom cried even harder.
“Only a handful of people throughout history can claim to have defeated death,” the man said, stroking Dom’s hair, “and you’re one of them. You should be proud.”
“How?” Dom asked between sobs. “What am I?”
The man stroked Dom’s cheek. “You’re the same thing I am.”
At that, Dom looked up at the man. “What are you?” he asked.
A little, knowing smile touched the man’s lips, and when he spoke, his canine teeth were longer and sharper than before. “I’m a vampire.”
“No,” Dom moaned and shook his head, “no, no, no.” He grabbed the man’s hand and held tight, his tears coming faster. He trembled like a frightened animal and squeezed his eyes closed, as if by doing so he could escape the hell his life had become.
But there was no escape.
“You have a lot of questions,” the man said, monologuing now rather than speaking directly to Dom, “I had the same questions when I was your age. I have spent the last forty-two years of my life trying to answer them, but every answer I find leads me to still more questions. There’s one thing I’m certain of, though.”
Dom blinked the tears from his eyes. The last of them had been squeezed from his dead tear ducts and he had no more to give. He simply stared into space, trying to come to grips with his situation.
“There is freedom in death,” the man said. “Death is easy. It’s simple. Once it’s over, you feel no pain, no sadness, no grief. It’s living that’s hard.”
As he spoke, he brushed his long nails across Dom’s scalp. It was a soothing feeling, and served to calm him. “People have so many troubles.” A note of revulsion crept into his voice. “So many needs, so many desires. People are complex but we’re not. We’re easy to please. A vampire wants only two things: A little blood and one more night.”
The combination of his touch and his voice had pacified Dom to the point of almost tranquility. “I’m scared,” Dom heard himself mumble.
Nodding almost reluctantly, the man said, “Fear is one of the only emotions a vampire can’t escape. Everything feels fear. Do you want to know a secret?”
Dom nodded.
“I’m afraid too,” the man confessed. “I’m afraid of death. Well…death as it were. I’m terrified that my body will rot away and leave me a pile of bones somewhere, unable to move but still aware”
A shudder went through Dom.
“As I’m sure you’ve seen yourself, the movies lied. We rot just like any other dead thing. Our flesh decays, our organs turn to sludge, and we go from rational men to monsters whose only thought is feeding.”
Now it was his turn to shiver.
“But…you’re not like that,: Dom said.’
The man smiled. “I’m lucky, I guess” A thin yellow fluid began to drip from his nostrils. He did not seem to notice. “What is your name?”
“Dominick,” Dom said.
“I’m Merrick,” the man said, “and this is my family.”
Dom realized that they were now surrounded by others, ten in all. They stood ramrod straight, their eyes vacant and their faces devoid of humanity. They were mainly men, though one was a woman. Some were pale, others were blue or black, and one was little more than a skeleton clad in withered brown skin, a white button up and jeans hanging from its frame.
A thought occurred to Dom. “You said my brain was going to rot…”
“Not necessarily,” Merrick cautioned, “though it’s possible.”
“Am I going to be…?”
“Like them?” Merrick asked. “Braindead and staring?”
Sheepishly, Dom nodded.
“Maybe,” Merrick allowed. “But these people are free of everything that troubles humanity. You were human just a short time ago. I’m sure you remember all too well what it was like. The constant politics, the moral quandaries, the philosophical pontificating. Human beings - and make no mistake, we are humans - were not meant for all of that. We’re animals. We were made to hunt, fuck, and sleep. Somewhere along the way, we got pretentious and started complicating things.” He looked at Dom, sizing him up, seeming to read him. “Things that animals take for granted, people work their entire lives to achieve. If an animal wants to fornicate, it fornicates. If a man wants to fornicate, he needs to be tall, handsome, rich, funny, progressive when it suits women but traditional when it doesn’t. If a man wants a home, he has to work thirty years for it. An animal has only to dig a hole in the ground.”
Every word struck a chord with Dom.
Because every word was true.
“Unfortunately, the living won’t allow us to live that freely, so we have to hide. These people here - my children - need a guiding hand, a protector, someone who can lead them. And I, an old man, need help.” Here he smiled playfully and patted his bulging stomach. “My body is mostly sawdust and cotton balls at this point, so I can’t do much. I share my wisdom and my knowledge with them, and they take care of me.”
“Why haven’t you…rotted?” Dom asked.
“Embalming fluid,” Merrick said. “Blood doesn’t sustain you. Embalming fluid does.” He smiled at Dom. “It can sustain you as well. If you’ll stay with us. We’re not the most attractive bunch, but we’re a family, and we really wish you’d join us.”
A family.
Dom’s parents had broken up and he lived with his mother. He had never had a family before, and had always wanted one, a real one, like in the movies. Even as a grown man, he sought the love, acceptance, and belonging that a family brings. He sought it in the wrong ways, but that - and not sex, not romantic love - is what he had really wanted all along.
This is what he had wanted all along.
“I want to,” Dom said.
Working quickly, Merrick slashed his wrist open with his thumbnail. An ugly mixture of stale blood, siphoned from someone else, and embalming fluid leaked out. “If you choose to drink, my blood will be in you. You will be my son and I will be your father. You will obey me as your father. You will do whatever is asked of you for this family, as this family will do for you. You will not reveal the secrets of this family to anyone outside of it. You will protect this family from all threats, both inside and out. Do you accept?”
He held his bleeding wrist out to Dom.
Dom did not question, nor did he hesitate. He grabbed the hand of his father, brought it to his mouth, and drank from the seeping wound. The fluid was cold, thick, and vile.
It tasted like belonging.
“Have you fed yet?”
“No,” Dom said.
“Before you do, I have a question for you. Who did this to you? Who made you?”
Dom thought. Everything was hazy. “Was it someone in this room?” Merrick asked.
Dom shook his head. “Her name is…” he wracked his brain. “Heather.”
Merrick nodded. “So there’s another out there.” He looked at Joe. “Did you turn her?”
“Yes,” Joe said.
Merrick looked annoyed. “I’ve told you not to go out and feed on your own. You have no self-control. You drink too much and create others, which creates headaches for the family. Tomorrow night, I want you and Dom to find her and bring her here.” “Okay,” Joe said.
Merrick looked over Dom’s shoulder. “Jess? Can you come here?”
The black haired woman from earlier came out of the shadows, the drunk girl with her, arms tied behind her back. The girl looked dazed. “Max,” Merrick said to the skeletal corpse-thing, “help her.”
Max, Jessie, and another vampire named Matt tied chains around the girl’s ankles and hoisted her aloft via a pulley system. Upside down, she swung back and forth. Merrick instructed the others to leave the room. “Max,” he said.
On his way out, the corpse-thing produced a knife and dragged it across the girl’s throat, slicing her skin; blood spurted out. Max leaned in to taste it, but Merrick shooed him away. When he and Dom were alone, Merrick told Dom, “Go to her.”
But Dom was already on his feet, his eyes transfixed by the crimson life flowing from her pumping throat. The hot, rich smell filled his nostrils and tantalized his senses. Saliva filled his mouth and his stomach panged with hunger. Some small, human part of his decaying brain screamed at him to stop, but he did not listen to it. He had been human for almost thirty years, and he had been miserable. Now, in this chamber of the undead, he gave himself over to his dark thirst. Like a man in a dream, he shuffled to her, inhaled the sweet scent of her blood, and shivered. He was so lost in lust that he hardly noticed the strange, cumbersome feeling of his descended fangs.
“Drink,” Merrick said.
Opening his mouth wide, Dom sank his teeth into the girl’s neck. Her blood filled his mouth and splashed down his throat. Warmth thawed the ice in his marrow and spread through him. His dead heart began to flutter, then to pound. His knees shook, his body trembled, and his mind rolled away on a tide of ecstasy.
As it was his first meal, he couldn’t drink much. Before long, his stomach was hard and distended and his body burned with fire. He collapsed to a heap on the floor and twitched as random nerve endings, stimulated by the blood, began to misfire. He felt full, warm, and drunk. He closed his eyes and let himself drift.
Dominick Mason had died.
And this…
This was heaven.
***
With all that was happening in the city of Albany, the last thing Bruce Kenner needed on Thursday morning was a visit from Bertha the bitch, but that’s exactly what he got. She flew into his office like she owned the place and instantly started in on him. Young man this and have you talked to Joe Rossi that. You’d think she was his boss. And if she were his boss, he’d quit and find another line of work. He heard McDonald’s was hiring.
Bruce almost snapped at her. He’d been up most of last night riding around Albany and looking for Dominick Mason. He and Vanessa expected him to drop dead somewhere close to the medical examiner’s office, but if he had, he’d done so in a super secret location.
“I’ve been busy,” Bruce said, “but I’m going to go by his place of work today.”
Tired and still confused over that bullshit from last night, he had no energy to argue with the old crone. He could spare a few minutes to talk to Joe Rossi, he figured. He assumed that Jessie was safe but he owed it to her to check. If he found the girl, he’d take her back to her grandmother (sorry, kid, really) and try to avoid arresting the guy. Unless he came off as a creep, then he’d bust his ass. See, people assumed that an older guy with a younger girlfriend was some master manipulator hell bent on evil deeds. Sometimes they were, but hell, his grandparents married when his grandpa was twenty-one and his grandma sixteen. They were married for fifty-five years and loved each other to the end. Maybe it was innocent, maybe not. It wasn’t his job to judge either way. Just gimme the girl so I can get her grandma off my back and no one gets hurt.
“It’s about time you started doing your job,” Bertha said, “I heard on the police scanner last night that you people lost a body. What kind of town is this? Your coroner is a drunk who makes up stories about bodies walking away. He probably sold it to black people.”
Bruce couldn’t help it; he snorted laughter.
“Now what would black people want with a dead body?”
“Probably to use it as a prop in one of their rap videos.”
Bruce didn’t know much about music videos, but he was pretty sure that the people who made them didn’t like the smell of corpse any more than the rest of us. “I’ll be sure to round up all the local rappers for questioning. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Luckily for him, there was not, and Bertha left shortly thereafter. Alone and able to hear himself think, Bruce sat back in his chair and went over his mental checklist for the day. First order of business, go to Club Vlad. Second, find Dominick Mason. There were others, but that was the most important. He wanted the body found so someone could get to work explaining this whole weird thing. There had to be an explanation. The thought that there wasn’t, that a dead guy literally rose from the grave and disappeared into the night, deeply disturbed Bruce, and the more this whole thing remained ongoing, the more disturbed he would become.
Needing some fresh air, he decided to hit up Club Vlad.
Outside, the day was hot and sunny. Waves of heat shimmered from the pavement and not a single breath of air stirred in the whole world. Bruce slipped on a pair of sunglasses and drove over to Club Vlad. It occurred to him that the place might be closed during the day; it was the only place Joe Rossi was associated with. His address in the computer system was Glens Falls, far to the north. The messages he sent Jessie indicated that he lived onsite at Club Vlad.
The build, wedged between a corner store and a check cashing place, was as grimy and dumpy looking as it had always been. The front windows were blacked out and covered with posters and fliers for punk concerts, house bands, and far left political organizations: The Albany Social Justice Center, something called Bash the Fash 2025, and Bruce’s favorite. ACAB. He caught some kid spraying that on the side of the police station once, and under extreme police torture (ie, a good tongue lashing), the kid told him it meant All Cops Are Barnacleheads.
Bruce shot the kid on the spot and planted a gun on him.
How's that for barnaclehead?
Calm down, he didn’t really do that. He made him clean the graffiti off with a toothbrush. LOL he was out there for hours.
The sidewalk in front of the former theater was empty save for some little. The box office was abandoned. There was no open sigh, but then again, there was no closed sign either. He parked his cruiser at the curb, killed the engine, and got out, sweat instantly springing to his brow.
To his surprise, the door opened. Inside, a couple steps led down to a dance floor. A bar lined the wall to his right, and a couple more sets led up to a railed platform filled with tables. Above, a huge balcony looked down on him. A giant disco ball hung from the ceiling like a pair of glittery nuts and there were cages here and there. Presumably where girls danced go-go style. Oh yeah, nothing hotter than a woman behind bars. Why do you think Bruce became a cop in the first place?
Speaking of glittery nuts, there was glitter everywhere. On the floor, on the tables, on the bar. It twinkled like flecks of diamond and swirled around your feet when you walked. Bruce imagined big buckets of the stuff raining down on the dance floor at midnight and he shuddered. Imagine having glitter stuck in your hair. That shit would never come out.
Music played from the sound system, not as loud as it would be during operating hours. It sounded like ‘80s metal, not exactly what he expected from a place like this.
Some say life she's a lady
Kinda soft, kinda shady
I can tell you life is rich
She's no lady, she's a bitch
Being morning, the place was deserted except for a man behind the bar, busy at cleaning the countertop in anticipation for the night’s events. He was tall, Hispanic or Italian, and feminine, with a single earring and a tank top.
Bruce moseyed over to the bar and the barkeep looked up, missing a beat when he realized the fuzz was here. He sat down his rag and walked over. “Can I help you?” he asked in a whispy voice.
“Yeah,” Bruce said, “I’m looking for Joe Rossi. Is he here?”
“I don’t know,” the bartender said. He looked nervous. “I can check.”
Before Bruce could answer, he scurried off, leaving him alone.
They suck my body out
But friend there is no doubt
I'm gonna pay the devil his dues
Cause I'm sick of being abused
Bruce looked around, his fingers absently drumming on the countertop. Club Vlad was a clashing mix of grunge and glam that made his head hurt. He imagined what the place must be like at midnight, packed and noisy, and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was the spot, he guessed, the place all the cool kids went, if they went anywhere anymore. Hell, if he was thirty years younger, he might come here.
He had been waiting for almost twenty minutes when a voice spoke behind him. He turned with a start, and beheld the strangest man he had ever seen in his life. Short and plump - lumpy, even - he sat in a wheelchair, a red blanket draped over his shoulders and his hands resting on his knees. He was about fifty with sparse gray hair falling to his shoulders and a plastic-looking face. He looked like a wax statue of Ben Franklin come to life, and a deep sense of disquiet stirred in the pit of Bruce’s stomach.
Just can't fight the temptation
It's become my inspiration
Gonna get myself an axe
Break some heads, break some backs
It was only then that Bruce noticed the sickly sweet smell of death.
It seemed to come from the man in waves.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the man said, “my name is Merrick Garvis and I own Club Vlad. Maybe I can be of assistance.”
Bruce grew up in the south where manners and saving face were paramount. His mother and his grandmother both taught him that it was impolite to stare. Maybe he'd been in New York so long that he’d forgotten himself, or maybe Merrick Garvis was just the strangest looking man in the world. Either way, Bruce couldn’t help gaping at his strange appearance. Recovering, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I -”
Merrick smiled and waved one hand. Why was it so goddamn skeletal? “Don’t worry. I was injured in a fire a long time ago and this is the best they could do for me. To be honest, I’d stare too. What can I help you with, officer?”
“I’d like to talk to Joe Rossi,” Bruce said. “I understand he works for you.”
“He did,” Merrick said, “but I had to let him go. Did he do something wrong?”
Bruce sighed. “Well, yeah, he’s shacked up with a sixteen year old runaway.”
A look of concern crossed Merrick’s features, such as they were. “Oh, my, that is concerning. I haven’t seen him in several days. I assume he went home. He lives in Glens Falls.”
Bruce nodded, his mind working. If Rossi really was in Glens Falls, that meant the whole mess was someone else’s problem. He could send Bertha up there to bother some other poor barnacle head and be rid of her. Yet…he didn’t think Rossi was in Glens Falls. Bruce had a knack for knowing when people were lying, and he was certain that Merrick Garvis was doing just that. It couldn’t be a facial tick, as his features were largely unmoving, like clay. Maybe it was something in his cloudy eyes. Maybe it was the tone of his voice. Or maybe Bruce had the shining and knew things just for the hell of it. In any event, the certainty that Merrick Garvis was lying grew stronger with each passing second.
“Why’d you fire him?”
“He got drunk and hit one of the customers.”
“What did he do?” Bruce asked. “What was his position?”
“He was a bouncer.”
“Aren’t bouncers supposed to hit people?”
Merrick fumbled. “Well…not to punch them in the face for bumping into them.”
“How long did he work for you?”
“Six months.”
“Did you ever see him with an underage girl?”
“Of course not,” Merrick said, “you have to be twenty-one to get in. I make sure everyone’s ID is checked at the door.”
“What if she had a fake ID?”
“Then I guess she’d get in, but I’d assume she was of legal age.”
“You said he shoved someone, when did this happen?”
“Last week,” Merrick said.
“I thought you said he hit someone.”
Merrick again fumbled. “I did.” Now his face seemed to darken a little. A strange yellowish liquid, too thin to be snot, began to drip from his nostrils. Bruce barely suppressed a smear of disgust. “I understand you have a job to do but playing mind games with me isn’t going to solve anything. I can give you his address. Other than that, I can’t help you further.”
“Fair enough,” Bruce said. “But I’d like to see your ID please.”
Merrick glared at him. “I suppose you want my name, rank, and serial number as well.”
“Actually, yeah, I’d love that.”
Merrick drew a deep sigh. “Okay.”
In five minutes, Bruce had Merrick’s ID, social, and all other relevant information. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered, even though he was well within his rights to ask for this information from someone he was questioning. But something about Merrick Garvis was off, and not just his weird face or strangely bulbous body. Bruce was just smart enough to realize that something was going on here, but not quite smart enough to even begin to imagine what.
When he had everything he needed and saw no reason to stick around, Bruce bid Merrick farewell and left the club. Before he could do anything else, he got a call from dispatch: Officer needed assistance in Pine Hills. Bruce slipped behind the wheel and went forth to help, momentarily putting Merrick Garvis out of his mind.
But soon or later, he would get back to him.
Oh yes he would.

Reddit Account: u/spyraxes
Discord Tag: spyraxes
Name and House: Visenya Targaryen
Age: 54
Cultural Group: Valyrian
Appearance: Visenya is a woman covered head to toe in striking features. With silver-gold hair worn braided or bound, allowing herself easy motion and vision in combat, purple eyes that stare from a harsh face with deep cheekbones and stern expressions, the Bloody Queen is a dominant figure in courtly and martial situations. Some say she bathes in blood to keep her youth, others that her rigorous training and love for battle keeps her body fit. Whatever the case, Visenya is a unique and unsettling woman.
Trait: Strong
Skill(s): Dragonrider, Swords (e), Essosi Blademaster (e)
Talent(s): Training, Glaring, Thinking Deeply About Things
Negative Trait(s): too cool
Starting Title(s): Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Lady of Mooncrest, Mother of the True King, the Bloody Queen, Wielder of Dark Sister, Rider of Vhagar
Starting Location: Opening Event
Alternate Characters: jesus christ its day 1 dont make me alt please!
Name and House: Marsella Egen
Age: 24
Cultural Group: Valeman
Appearance: Marsella is as cold-faced as her Queenly mistress, though more prone to smiles creeping through. She is tall, broad-shouldered, with a powerful build shaped by years of training and journeying the realm. Her hair is red and cut short, her face scarred and her green eyes deep-set and surrounded by scars.
Trait: Hale
Skill(s): Two-Handed Weapons (e), Brute
Talent(s): Dancing, Drinking, Gambling
Negative Trait(s): n/a
Starting Title(s): Sworn Sword to Lae Targaryen, Heir to Mooncrest, Cavalier
Starting Location: Opening Event
—

Bio-Timeline

• 29 BC - Visenya Targaryen is born, the first child of Aerion Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone, and his wife Valaena Velaryon.
• 27 BC - Only a few years later, the boy who would later become the Conqueror, Aegon Targaryen, is born. His betrothal to Visenya is arranged almost the moment he is swaddled.
• 25 BC - Rhaenys Targaryen, youngest of the trio, joins the family. She is the last Targaryen born before the Conquest.
• 21 BC - Visenya begins to train with Lord Quenton Qoherys, Master-at-Arms of Dragonstone, and shows exceptional skill at arms. Later on, Aegon and Rhaenys both join her in practising their swordplay. Visenya always seems to get an edge, despite their shared significant skill.
• 14 BC - Between training sessions, Visenya finds herself exploring quiet places on Dragonstone. It is during one of these outings that she comes across one of the island’s non-human occupants. Vhagar, one of the smaller dragons on the island, bonds quickly with her. It takes a few months of bonding, but Visenya quickly becomes close to the beast - and soon enough she becomes its one and only rider.
• 9 BC - As arranged many years before, Aegon and Visenya wed. It is a marriage of duty, but all know Aegon holds love for his younger sister over the elder. Visenya holds no resentment. She knows duty and love cannot always intermingle, but she will do hers.
• 7 BC - Rhaenys and Aegon marry two years later in a pivot from tradition. Visenya spends more time with Vhagar and less with her siblings in the wake of it, though her love for Aegon does not dull. She remains close with the pair even with her physical distance.
• 2 BC - After a while of planning and plotting, the three Targaryens fly forth to conquer Westeros. House Stokeworth fell to Vhagar’s flames, and Duskendale knelt to the Queen after the fall of their army in Aegon’s first test. With the lands that would later become the core of Targaryen dominion secured, Aegon was crowned King of All Westeros, a crown placed atop his head by his elder sister and his title proclaimed by his younger. As the Stormlands fall to Rhaenys, and Harrenhal to Aegon, Visenya finds herself tasked with the conquest of the Vale. After destroying the region’s fleet, though not without losing a large portion of the Targaryen navy itself, Visenya circles back to Blackwater Bay, landing in Crackclaw Point and accepting the oaths of fealty of the local lords in the wake of Harrenhal’s destruction. With the Claw pacified, Visenya flies to join her siblings once more. They take a smaller force to the Reach, to meet an army of the Gardeners and Lannisters in battle. Nearly through dragonfire alone, the armies of Reach and West crumble, House Gardener nearly becomes extinct, and House Lannister kneels to the new royal house. Visenya receives an injury in the battle, taking an arrow to the shoulder, but it does nothing to hamper her skill.
• 1 BC - In the wake of the Field of Fire, Visenya retreats to the Aegonfort to recover from her injury. It does not take long for her to return to action, though, joining her siblings at the Trident to await the arrival of a Northern host led by the King of Winter. Visenya has no qualms with burning every Northman who wishes to cross the river, but Torrhen’s surrender is a move she views as wise. With the northern border secure, Visenya deals with her only loose end once and for all. On dragonback, she travels to the Eyrie as the Queen Regent of the Vale amasses an army, her attempt to arrange a marriage between herself and Aegon a failure. Visenya’s arrival is met by the young King, who sits himself up on her lap to await Sharra Arryn’s arrival. When she turns up, Ronnel asks to fly on dragonback - and that is enough to make Sharra capitulate, handing over the crown of Mountain and Vale to the dragonrider. Visenya’s act of mercy endears her to the young king and his mother, who becomes a close companion of Visenya in later years.
• 1 AC - With the Conquest brought to an end, besides the Dornish and the Ironborn homeland, the royal family fly to Oldtown to witness the crowning of Aegon I Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. To gain the sympathies of the people, the Targaryens convert to the Faith of the Seven - though Visenya holds fast to her Valyrian beliefs behind closed doors, unwilling to abandon her heritage to please those who she conquered. With Aegon’s victory, King’s Landing’s construction becomes the focus of the realm. For a while, anyway. During this initial period of peace, one attempt is made on the life of the King, with Visenya putting down the assassins. Aegon believes his guards are more than sufficient usually, and she proves him wrong by opening up his cheek with the tip of Dark Sister before any of his men can respond. Not long after, Ser Corlys Velaryon is named Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and six knights are selected to join him in an act honouring the false gods of Westeros.
  • Far from the capital, in Mooncrest, a daughter is born to Lord Lyn Egen and his wife. She is named Marsella.
• 2 AC - Once again, the peace is fractured. House Sunderland resumes their rebellion against House Arryn and the Crown, and the Ironborn continue to war with Westeros as a whole. Whilst Aegon deals with the raiders to the west, the Queen flies north and puts down Queen Marla Sunderland and her rebels, turning the hold of House Sunderland and the entire line to ash, naming House Borrell as overlords of the Sisters, and bidding them swear fealty to House Stark of Winterfell in place of the young Lord Arryn. Before returning to King’s Landing, she takes a quick stop at the Eyrie to berate the Lady Regent for her negligent handling of the situation - though she leaves with a far more forgiving stance, and perhaps a touch of regret for her harsh decision.
• 3 - 7 AC - Visenya assumes a position in the royal court enforcing Aegon’s will, assisting the Kingsguard in protecting him from attacks, and providing an intimidating presence for those who would overstep their bounds. She maintains contact with the Arryns of the Vale, letters flying back and forth to keep her friendship with the Lady Regent alive. She gives and receives advice, whiles away time writing, and promises to visit.
• 7 AC - At a feast to celebrate the seventh anniversary of the Conquest, during one of Rhaenys’ visits to Dorne, the King is attacked. Goldcloaks perform the assassination attempt in great numbers, and the force of Visenya and the Kingsguard isn’t enough to stop them from getting to Aegon and wounding him. Despite their failure to protect him, the fight ends in royal favour as Ser Malwyn Blackwood takes some of the assailants captive and Visenya tends to the fallen king. He is unresponsive but alive, and Orys promises to take care of him whilst the prisoners are interrogated. Reluctantly, the Queen agrees. It does not take long for the truth to be revealed - that House Tully of Riverrun plotted the attack, in an attempt to kill the King. It seemed unlikely that they would fail, in the end, but Visenya refused to let them see their day of victory. Only she is told, and she acts immediately, leaving the city on the back of Vhagar and heading towards Riverrun with only one objective in mind. When she reaches the castle, there is little hesitation - fire envelops the people and the structures, turning all to ash. No Tully survives, in her reckoning, and she takes the signet ring of Lord Edmyn as proof of her victory and their failure. Naming the land Aegon’s Rest, she pens a writ bestowing it upon Baelor Belaerys, a man in her husband’s service and descendant of dragonlords of old, and names Lord Lannister the overlord of the territory. She returns to King’s Landing, but her visit does not last long - when Aegon’s death is confirmed, and the Master of Laws reveals the plans to split governance three ways, she leaves for the Vale almost immediately. She only stays around long enough to have her pregnancy confirmed - an heir to the throne.
• 7 - 10 AC - It doesn’t take long for Visenya to arrive at the Eyrie, welcomed in her grief by Sharra and her children. She is visibly pregnant, and her small retinue settles in well. Most of her time is spent with the Lady Regent and the children, and the birth of her first child - who she names Laenor - is no deterrent from that. In fact, it often seems that Visenya has more affection for her host’s children than her own. She becomes almost a second mother to the Lord of the Eyrie and his three siblings. Despite her closed-off nature, she finds a constant companion in Sharra Arryn, and becomes as close to friends as she can with many others present in the castle including Lord Lyn Egen, an advisor to the Lady Regent. She splits her time between training, flying, the children, and her own heir.
• 10 AC - Ronnel Arryn comes of age, and is wedded to Serena Stark. It is an arrangement made by Rhaenys, one that infuriates Visenya to no end initially. She becomes irate at Sharra, but quickly turns around and accepts it. Their relationship remains warm and close. However, nearing the end of the year, Sharra dies. Once more, Visenya retreats into herself, spending most of the days in the sky on Vhagar’s back alone. She is convinced to return to life by the Arryn children, and continues to raise them into adulthood. Without Sharra, it is a harder task, but one she confronts all the same.
• 13 AC - Despite their devotion to the Seven, gods Visenya only considered to be hers in name, the formation of the Cavaliers brings joy to the Queen in the Mountains. She places her support behind the order, continuing her return to public life within the Vale. She takes on the duty of training the daughter of her good friend Lord Egen, teaching young Marsella how to fight. Despite their difference in weaponry - Visenya’s preference for smaller longswords versus Marsella’s for large hefty greatswords - the two get along fiercely well.
• 15 AC - When news of the tragedy in the Kingswood reaches the Eyrie, Visenya sends her condolences to the regent for the deaths under his watch. There is something cold about the way it is written.
• 16 AC - News of Dorne’s integration into the Seven Kingdoms pleases her no more than the Kingswood Catastrophe, especially when the stipulation upon which it happened is made known to her. Unwilling to dishonour the deal, Visenya ensures that she has it in writing that Laenor will one day marry the Princess of Dorne’s daughter, but she is irate over Rhaenys’ move - but also a little proud of her younger sister for outmanoeuvring her.
• 19 AC - After a long period of courting and an even longer period of talking, a wedding is held at Mooncrest between Visenya Targaryen and Lord Lyn Egen. There is jubilation, a tournament, a grand feast, and perhaps the first real smile on the lips of Visenya since the death of Sharra Arryn. It is proof that there is still a drop of the old Visenya beneath the cold, disconnected surface, that very few see. It is not the end of ceremony for the Egens in that year, as Marsella is inducted into the Cavaliers. She is sworn to protect Laenor Targaryen, too, her sibling and friend.
• 20 AC - Early in the year, after a prolonged illness, Lyn’s eldest daughter Carolei passes. There is sorrow in Mooncrest, but it is solved in part by good news. Just a year and a bit after their wedding, Visenya and Lyn’s first and only child is born, a young girl named Maegelle. She is Lyn’s third daughter, second living, and only one present in Mooncrest - Marsella left a note in the wake of her sister’s death that she was taking some time for herself in Essos and would be back when she viewed it right. Some wonder if she is participating in Orys’ plans to create closer relations with Essos, but the Egens know that is unlikely - Marsella cares little for politics and less for the enemies of her father’s wife.
• 20 - 25 AC - Visenya and Lyn remain quiet at Mooncrest and the Eyrie, engaging in politics and plotting and regular court life (moreso for the latter than the former), as Laenor becomes more and more shaped into the ruler they’re meant to become. Meanwhile, across the Narrow Sea, Marsella becomes more grizzled a warrior, serving with the Lost Legion before their arrival in Westeros, meeting the Blue Sails and their leader Helya Harlaw and joining them briefly, and taking on mercenary work across the Free Cities and the Disputed Lands for anyone who would pay for a Westerosi warrior. Her contact with Mooncrest is limited, bearing only a few words attached to packages for Laenor alone.
• 25 AC - As Laenor comes of age, and the realm at large is summoned to King’s Landing to celebrate the namedays of her and Rhaenys’ children, Visenya prepares for the worst - her sister will not move aside easily, and she knows well enough that Rhaenys might have to be forced. But there is no doubt in her mind that she is ready for it - she just prays the realm is to join her. From the East, Marsella returns, ready to see her kin and friends for the first time in half a decade. She is not the same woman she once was.

—

Family Tree

House Egen
House Targaryen
—

Supporting Characters

Lord Lyn Egen - b. 24 BC - Archetype: General - Wise and a touch ferocious, Lyn is a skilled commander and a protective father, ready to do whatever he can to protect his daughters and Visenya’s own child. Skilled enough with a sword but more comfortable ahorse or behind a commander’s desk, the man who served as Keeper of the Gates of the Moon during the Conquest and was ready to cut his teeth against dragonfire now acts as the most loyal and proud follower of the very Queen who conquered his lands, his own wife.
Lorra Egen - b. 6 AC - Archetype: Builder - Despite the martial inclination of much of House Egen, Laenor is not the only occupant of Mooncrest who has grasped numbers well. Lorra Egen is a skilled mathematician in her own right, left in charge of the finances of the castle when her distant step-kin isn’t there to run them, and often assisting them in doing so. She is prim and proper and prone to judgement, but she is kind at heart. No niece of Lyn Egen would survive not being so, in truth.

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

Thank you to Space paladin for the canvas and u/Acceptable_Egg5560 for proofreading and critique
Content warning; Educator abuse and syrupy love
[First]-[Prev]-[Next]
Memory transcript: Maarchal , MESEA Astronomers. Date: [Standard Farsul calendar ] January 26th, 3667
PLUNCK
Ponthyts blue stick clattered on the board, rolling around in a circle. Before settling on three. He then pumps his paw and moves to move a soldier that many paces.
“Well, I got you cornered now, whatcha going to do about it?” I smirk at Ponthyts soon to be dashed confidence as I take out my red stick and flip in the air much higher than he did with his own.
It hits the board with a loud clatter, bouncing on each end before settling on rolling. To which it landed on seven. I move my last interceptor through his ranks and take his general. The gobsmacked look on his features was evident, with his previously wagging tail so still it made stone seem fluid.
“I win.”
“How did you do that?”
I rolled my shoulders and readjusted my legs underneath. “Well, you left a clear path for my interceptor.” I pointed to the gaps in his remaining pieces.
“I know that! I mean how did you know you'd get a high enough number to do that? Your interceptor was all the way back here and it's your last red piece!!!”
I lean my head back and lean against the wall behind me. “I didn't, I just saw an opportunity and took it.”
He pointed a digit at me “ Mershit, that was some grandmaster trap!”
I give him the ear position of resignation with a mirthful little grin. “I promise you it was just luck.”
He waves his paw dismissively. “I don't believe you.”
“Well believe it, because I don't plan ahead like that. Want to play another game?”
He shakes his head. “Nah I think four games is enough for one night.” He begins moving the pieces into their containers and folds up the board and places it on top of them. Closing the box. He then stands up and offers me his paw, I use it to pull myself up off the floor.“Well Maarchal, I’ll see you tomorrow at the observatory. I’ll bring the set if you want to play it during lunch if you want.”
I froze, “what! What time is it? He turns over to look at the clock above his strove.
“Ahh about Fifteen minutes past 18.”
“Uh, that's not that late! We could play another game! C’mon let's have a tie breaker!”
He rubs his eyes, “I’m tired and we have work in the morning. Is there something you're avoiding?”
I rub my upper right arm and look off into the corner. “...”
He took on a worried look, “Why don't you want to go home Maarchal?”
I sighed and took a seat at his dining room table. “I… I don't like that house, I’ve lived there since I moved to LIghra six years ago but it's not a… home like here.”
I looked around at the messy abode. Dirty cloaks were strewn about on the back of chairs and the rubbish trough was just barely not overflowing. Paintings either from family or Ponthyts own paw were hanged up in the hallways, and the lightbulbs cast a warm orangish light. While the dishes from our dinner were placed in the sink, covered with animal gravy slathered all over them. It was tidy yet just barely so. A place filled with all the markers of being lived in.
“You've lived here less than a year but it feels like it's always had you in it. I feel … so comfortable here. My own home is so… cold and sterile. I Worked a lot the first few months I moved here. I just never got around to making it a home. It feels so bare, I started to work overtime just to avoid it. Which just made the problem worse.”
He sat down across from me, He put his head in his paws and looked at the scratched wood of his table. He held that position for a minute or two before breaking it and placing his paw on my own. “Maarchal, you are my best friend, I want you to feel comfortable. So if you want you can sleep on my coach, I can also help you make your home feel like one."
​
I shake my head, “no no, I shouldnt of imposed on you. Making myself feel at home is a job I need to do and have been avoiding for far too long. It's just… it's just so much easier to avoid you know?” I grabbed his paw and squeezed it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
​
I stand up and make my way to his front door before he speaks up.
​
“Uh hey Maarchal?”
​
I turn to address him “yeah?”
​
He shifts in his seat and fidgets with his fingers. “I’m uh, going to Ootra lake next week. I was wondering If you'd like… to come with me? I promise if you don't have a tent I’ll bring you one. We could have a fire, roast some meat on it and share ghost stories and stargaze… if you want?”
​
“ What about work?”
​
He rocks in his chair. “We'd have to call in for a day or so.”
​
I contemplated his words and mulled them over. It would be the first time I’ve ever willingly taken off a day, tarnishing my perfect attendance. But the prospect of spending more one on one time with Ponthyt was overwhelmingly tempting.
​
“Sure, I’d love to go. But I haven't gone camping for years so you will need to bring me a tent.”
​
He leapt from his chair, launching it backwards, before calming himself down. “I’ll take care of all the prep. You just have to come along. I promise it’ll be loads of fun!”
​
I chuckled while I watched his clearly restrained display as I slowly closed the door.
​
I could hear him howl with enjoyment as I turned into the driveway to get to my auto.
​
**\*
​
“Huff, Huff, you doin alright there Ponthyt?” I turned back to see him walking behind me.
​
“Yeah, oof I haven't walked this much in years!”
​
I waited for him to catch up, we sat together when he did and we caught our breath before tuning to make our way back up the bluff. When we reached it there was a stone gazebo made of limestone. The angle of the sun let it shine into it. We walked into it and sat down on the stone benches. I looked around at the lake.
​
It was surrounded by steep hills with many rock faces visible, the layered stone was clearly visible. The topography of the area around the bluffs was shaped like a bowl, with the sight of land of higher elevation faintly visible in the distance despite its gradual slope. Giving a scene of depth that was not as extreme then in more mountainous areas. This view was normally hidden by the trees below.
​
“Well isn't this view alone worth the trip?” Ponthyt proclaimed.
​
I looked around letting the mid morning sun warm my back, I stretched my arms and breathed deeply. Taking in all the wonderful scents of nature.
​
“Yeah, it's beautiful.” I let myself relax, just letting the sounds and scents of nature calm me like I have never been since I was a pup on an archeological trip with mom and dad.
​
“Hmm, I've missed this.”
​
I don't know for how long I had been like this, but Ponthyt broke the silence “Ahhem, so, you've gone camping before?”
​
I nodded, “yeah when I was a pup my parents would sometimes go off to a site for a couple of weeks and we would come with them. We would have to get homeschooled then. But we would always have to camp and I and my siblings would go off exploring while they worked during the day.”
​
He smiled and his tail was wagging.” That sounds wonderful. I only got to camp for a couple days a year. It was always so hectic. Me and my siblings would just muck around the camp and eat, sometimes hiking around. Heh” Ponthyt looked towards the ground and held his paws together, rubbing his digits together.
​
“What's wrong Ponthyt?”
​
“Oh it's nothing it's-” I put my paw on his shoulder which drew his attention towards me.
​
“I know that's not true, you can trust me. Just tell me what's wrong ok?”
​
He gave a look of reluctance before caving to my request “… sigh… I grew up in a big family, and I love them all but… I was born at a strange time. I was second to last of my parents pups. Which meant they were busy with the older ones' events and taking care of the youngest. I kind of got mixed up and forgotten. My interests rarely lined up with the others and I often messed up tasks that my sibling would just fix or do for me. It got to the point that I… didn't really do anything. They will never say this but… I don't think my parents ever expected anything of me.”
​
I rub his shoulder,” well… I know that you have amounted to something. I mean, you're an astronomer! You work to understand the nature of reality. You're also so… kind and patient. I tried to scare you off but you weren't deterred at my standoffish behavior.”
​
He turned his head and gave me a shallow but joyous expression. “Heh well living in a house that's rarely quiet leaves you with a high tolerance for stubbornness. '' he wipes away a single tear “Sniff well… should we make our way back to camp? Or can I take out my stuff?”
​
I shake my head. ”Nah, you can paint. I’ll just sit here and let this place wash over me.”
​
He smiles and gets up and sets up his easel, taking out his supplies from his bag and gets to work painting the landscape ahead of him. He was slow and each brushstroke was as deliberate as he could manage. He… wasn't very good, only starting out when he moved here. But his drive to get better was admirable. Even in adulthood he tried to learn, to grow, to become more than he was yesterday.
​
I kept staring at him. Feeling something warm in my gut, something an academic wasn't supposed to feel. Shame overwhelmed me and I quickly turned away. Cursing myself for having those accursed feelings.
​
​
**\*
​
Ponthyt, returned from his cauto (Cargo auto -> pickup truck) with an armful of wood he brought with us. He set most of it aside and threw a piece onto the fire he had started, causing a cascade of embers to fly into the late evening air. The dull purple of the sky cast overhead between the canopy of the trees as the chill of the night began to come in. A pleasant coolness that most would take advantage of to seek the comfort of warming oneself close to a fire.
​
Not me, I paced to a fro as Ponthyt set up our campsite. He had placed his painting for the day inside the cabin of his cautoa and was now seasoning some raw meat strips to cook on the open fire. Snacking on one or two as he did so. He hung them on the tripod to roast, the fat that dripped off them as they were cooking sizzled as they burned on the coals below.
​
“I’ll have these done as soon as I can, please sit down Maarchal. Walking like that is only going to make the wait worse.” He says as he prods the suspended meat with a claw like utensil.
​
“Hmm, ok I’ll just sit and wait. Waste my time. Make a waste of the whole evening!!!” I snapped back at him, throwing my paws into the air.
​
Ponthyt recoils from my outburst with his ears pinned back. “ We’re camping, there is no way to waste it.”
​
I turned to address him, “we shouldn't be here! This trip means nothing and we are just wasting our TIME!!!” I cross my arms and scratch at the biceps. Rufflying the fur and making a mess of myself.
​
Ponthyt drops his utensil and walks over to me. “ We’re together and we spent the whole day just mucking about. How is this any more of a waste than that?” He says as he looks at me with eyes full of worry.
​
“We’re scientists, academics!!! We don't waste time like the ignorant masses! We should spend our time wisely!!! Every action of connection is just another moment we waste that could be spent to advance our field.” I had tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Scratching at my fur until I felt a wetness on my arms and paws.
​
“We’re supposed to sharpen our minds! No-not seek pointless relationships! ” I said as I bared my teeth and began growling at him.
​
The look of betrayal and abject worry he had on his face was overwhelming. I didn't want to hurt him. What am I doing? He doesn't deserve my ire. My legs gave out and I cried into my hands.
​
Ponthyt walked over to his cauto and brought out a cover. He wrapped it around me and rubbed my arms through it. He rested his head on top of mine while I sobbed. I couldn't take this anymore. Repressing and lashing out at any attempt to connect. Ponthyt hugged me and rocked back and forth. Humming and rubbing on the cover. He was warm and soft. I don't know how long we had been like this but by the time my sobs turned to a faint whine the meat over the fire was well done and the sky was pure black and the stars were out.
​
“I-I think i’m good no-now.” I choked out. Ponthyt grabbed my hand and helped me stand up. We didn't say another word. He collects the meat and places it on two plates. I stare at my portion for some time, Ponthyt doesn't eat any of his either.
​
“Sigh… I know you might not want to but… Could you tell me why you said those things earlier?” He says with trepidation clearly miring his words.
​
“Yeah, it's just… When I entered college It was… not what I was expecting… I was sort of a hyper teen. Always going off about some book I read. Drawing pictures of stars, space stations or colonies we would make on inhospitable planets.”
​
He sits up and places his plate by his side. “You draw? I’d love to see some of them.”
​
“I used to. But I haven't since that first year of college.” I turned to stare at the dying inferno warming us. I pull the cover around me tighter.
​
“When I was doodling before class one day the professor walked by me. He noticed what I was doing and grabbed my paper. I objected but he just stared at me. When he started to address the class he showed it off and mocked me for wasting my time.” Ponthyt turns his head to look at me.
​
“That's a dick move, But at least he couldn't do the same when you did it in your free time right?” I turned to him with a somber expression. He seemed to understand the implications though he seemed to be confused as to how.
​
“He couldn't have gotten into your room right? That'd be a huge breach of privacy!!!”
​
I grabbed the poker and stirred the coals of the fire. “You're right, he couldn't. But he didn't need to, my roommate would take them with her to class and he’d pin them up on the board to mock. I called the staff but since she was my roommate she didn't break any privacy laws and since my art was only ever worth the paper it was on it wasn't even enough to get a misdemeanor theft charge. I tried to hide it but she would always find them. I tried to get another roommate but he stonewalled my attempts and I couldn't afford to rent a place in town. ”
​
He took on a look of absolute despair. “... How… how could he be so aggressively intolerant of such an innocent hobby?”
​
I chuckled “It wasn't just mine, a few others had made the mistake of having a roommate with the same professor. I remembered one who loved going out in the woods for hikes. When he found out about that he mocked him for “Pointless exercise and admiring a random assemble of dead and dying shit””. I waved my arms about to emphasize how he inflicted his words.
​
Ponthyt stared at the ground between us with a look of utter confusion.” … He mocked someone for appreciating nature and being healthy?”
​
I nodded, “if you were not engaging with study of his topic you were wasting his and everyone else's time.”
​
Ponthyt looks at me with concern and shared pain. “Why, why didn't you go to a different school?”
​
I stared at him in his eyes. A scene of shame overtook me. “It was the top class in the country. My family was so proud of me. I was so proud of myself, I didn't want to disappoint them and me. Looking back on it, I realize my own pride was something I rarely contended with until then. It didn't help when he found out who my family was.”
​
Ponthyt recoiled and waved his arms in a “what” fashion. “Wait, what does your family have to do with this?”
​
I poked at a log to knock off the charcoal to expose the untouched wood underneath. “They were happy. He spent a lot of time in academic circles so naturally he met people who knew my parents. And the way they described this happy family irritated him something fierce. He gave me such a hard time with it. Mocking me for being a lazy nepotism pick who didn't deserve her seat in his class. He mocked anyone for having any kind of non professional relationship, we never spoke to each other outside of class. We never left or met with friends or family. If we tried too he’d find out and call the one in question a “Lazy sentimental idiot.””
​
I breathed in deeply, “... that hurt my pride so severely that I just stopped seeing them or any of my friends. I always said I was busy or had a field study, but I was just reading and rereading his lectures. I didn't even go home for the summer breaks, I just apprenticeshiped at his museum to study even more. At graduation he looked so… proud, I only realized he was proud of what he turned me into and not what I did a few weeks after I met you. How I let him turn me into an angry starile shell of a person.”
​
Ponthyt turned his head towards the fire. His ears straight up and a soft growl in his throat. “... If I ever meet that piece of.. nuclear waste, I’ll kill him.”
​
He turns to me and his features soften immediately. “Anyone capable of manipulating someone as passionate and creative as you... I can't even imagine the kind of living hell he made you seek…”
​
I chucked and a slight wag entered my tail.” I’m responsible for my life. MY pride kept me there for him to mold. I hate him, but I hate myself for it too.”
​
Ponthyt shoots up and screams at me “MERSHIT, Maarchal, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You had a right to expect your teachers to be respectable people. Not abusive and manipulative Sherkires (Ambush insect. Commonly seen as sneaky and unhonorable due to making pheromones and calls imitating other insects mating signals). He starts to speak softer as he turners to address me.
​
“Even this version of you, so cut off of why you love space in the first place is just.. You are one of the most remarkable people I have ever met. So humble with addressing yourself. You inspire me to be a tenth of the person you are.” He kneels in front of me and grabs my paws in his own.
​
“You are… you are so passionate, so creative. Even with being a self described shell. I can't even imagine how you will be when you open up again and explore your creativity in full and banish that monster's influence for good.”
​
I turn and I can't help but smile at his words.”... I haven't been in practice in years. But … I’m willing to relearn it with you.” I stared deeply in his eyes and that feeling again bubbles within me. The feeling of never wanting to leave his side, the feeling as though I found a piece I had been missing. Before I knew it I bit on his snout, recoiling when I realized what I had done.
​
‘I-I’m so sorry!!! You were just so close and and I felt something and before I knew it-” I was caught off guard when he bit my snout, holding my top jaw between his own set. I bit down on his lower jaw and we locked together. He tried to let go after a while. But I growled to let him know I wasn't ready yet and I used my leverage to lead him into my tent.
​
**\*
​
I got up and exited my tent. I stood up and stretched and twisted my back around. Lifting my arms above my head and pulling them as far out as I could. I looked at the coals still burning in our firepit, I could only tell they were burning from the heat going off of them as the glow was hidden by the sun's light. Before noticing the meat Ponthyt prepared last night still on the plates on the log we sat on.
​
“Pff, hey Ponthyt. Come out here!!!” I said behind me. He crawled out my tent with a head of messy fur.
​
“Wut ?” He said with half closed eyes and a disposition of utter exhaustion . I pointed to the cold meat. He still had a look of drowsiness before he realized what the significance of the strange strips were.
​
“Heh, I guess we won't need to make breakfast?” I chuckled as I sat down and hugged his head. I groomed his messy fur as I absorbed the morning sun. I don't know what the future of my career looked like anymore. But it was no longer the most important thing in my life. I loved space, I loved to learn. But In these years I had lost track of what was truly important. As I groomed him Ponthyt fell asleep with his head in my lap.
​
As I felt the joy of reciprocal love again for the first time in years I leaned back and watched the sunrise, caressing my love's head and breathing in the fresh air.
[First]-[Prev]-[Next]

Hello All,
Just wondering if Wegovy is covered yet under Blue Cross Blue Shield insurance or is there some way I can get it covered?
Started off on Wegovy of January 2023 and it was not covered by my insurance at that time so had to pay $800 twice and that was with the Wegovy savings card. This was for a month’s supply.
My doctor then switched me to Ozempic in March 2023 which my insurance did cover and only had to pay a little over $100 out of pocket.
The problem I face now is you cannot get on Ozempic unless you are pre authorized and a diabetic. I did have bloodwork done which shows I am insulin resistant, leptin resistant and my triglycerides are high.
Currently on Zepbound 7.5mg and I am not seeing ANY results. My doctor started me off at 2.5 then 5 and now I just finished my last dose of the 7.5. I’ve been on Zepbound for about 4 months now and I know certain medications take time, but when I was on Ozempic I was able to lose over 30 pounds by then.
It’s really a shame because I really did feel good about myself. The only downside with Ozempic was dealing with the nausea.
If anyone knows if Wegovy is covered fully or even partially through Blue Cross Blue Shield please let me know. Or if there is any way to get Wegovy cheaper than $800 a month!
Maybe there is a way I can have my doctor advocate for me about my test results and possibly get me back on Ozempic?
If not I will probably have to switch doctors since I can tell and see what works best for my body and I should not have to be paying out of pocket for stuff that does not work.
Thanks!

This story was written and emailed to me by an anonymous source. And it’s one of the craziest most bizarre stories I’ve ever read. Ever! 😆 Enjoy the read. It’s long and ridiculously wild. ☘️ Also, in advance, no one can use this story. These stories are written and emailed to me for me to turn into a Video Narrative for my YouTube & TikTok channels. But I would like to share their tales as reading material as well. Thank you for understanding.
I hope you enjoy. 🫶
Story by - “Alex” & “Shane”
Okay so…
I went on vacation to Ireland with my brother last year. And had the most wildest experience of my life there.
Or should I say, we both had the most…wildest experience.
But More so me. And to Tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ll ever go back again after what happened.
As a matter of fact, no, I won’t go back.
So, it’s a Sunday night and it was pretty much our last day of vacationing.
My older brother Shane, wanted to go out… And I’m quoting him - “let’s get fuckin wasted tonight!”
So… We’re on vacation right? Why not? We had rented an Airbnb for the week, we had a rental car - we had a great week so far and we were having…
A proper vacation.
He was already dressed up and ready to go. I wanted to take a quick shower and shave so I told him to head out and I’d call him when I was ready for him to pick me up.
He says cool. He leaves, and I jump in the shower. He’s the one that knows the hot spots in Ireland better than I do. I mean, this was my first time ever coming here. So…
I take a shower, shave, and I get dressed. As I’m about to call my brother, the front door to our Airbnb opens up.
And Its my brother with two bad ass Irish women! They both jump on the couch and they’re laughing their asses off and my brother is just standing there looking at me with a sly grin on his face.
He looks over at the ladies and says - “Give me a minute please” walks over to me, puts his arm over my shoulder and walks me to the bathroom. He then whips out a bag of mushrooms and smiles. Ya know… The psychedelic kind.
I look down at the bag and I shake my head.
He says to me - “come on bro. We got two hotties out there who are trippin and they want to party. Don’t be a flake. This is our last night. Let’s make it special.”
I don’t like disappointing my brother but I was kind of hesitant.
I opened the bathroom door and take a look at these gorgeous women who were both sitting upright now and both looking at me as I opened the door. Both smiling. I smiled back. Closed the door… I looked at my brother and said - “Alright dood fuck it! Let’s do it!”
He gives me a huge hug, kisses me on the forehead, pours me a handful of shrooms and does the same for himself.
We both looked at each other to see who would go first. He counted to three and down the hatch they went. But they were the most unpleasant tasting mushrooms I’ve ever eaten in my life. They were disgusting.
I ran to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of juice because I was having a hard time chewing these nasty things.
But my brother Shane? No, he’s a pro. You give that guy a barrel of hay and he’ll eat it faster than a horse. The guy can eat anything.
40 minutes go by and I’m still straight as a pin. However, my brother on the other hand? He’s already trippin.
I think he had already taken some beforehand.
But in the next 10 minutes… These shrooms hit me like a ton of bricks! It was like this intense wave of cool and hot went completely through my body.
And I’ve taken mushrooms quite a few times but have never felt anything like this before. It was so sudden!
And I feel fantastic!
The next hour went by so fast because we were having so much fun! And these Irish girls? Man… I had the sexiest one! A beautiful Redhead by the name of Katrina.
She was kind of short though. About 5’1” maybe? But good things come in small packages, right? Well, not really. And you’ll know why soon enough.
I don’t recall anything else that happened for the rest of the night after my brother left with the other girl. And before I continue with the rest of the story. My brother’s name is really not Shane. And the redhead girl I was with is not named Katrina.
You see I had to make up these names to protect me and my brother. Because what happened during the rest of the night? I don’t remember. But also, I’ll never forget either.
Okay so, let's get back to the story…
I do remember my brother leaving with… Let's just call her Gloria, Katrina’s friend? And me and Katrina, the redhead, stood behind. I do remember us making out in the bathroom together, but…Everything else after that? There’s nothing there. Nothing. I don’t recall anything from that point forward no matter how badly I try to remember.
This is what my brother told me he witnessed as he arrived back at the Airbnb five hours later with Gloria.
And until this day, I still don’t want to believe this happened. But according to my brother…
It truly did happen.
My brother is going to write this part of the story because he’s the one that has this locked in his memory for life. And for the sake of the story, my name will be Alex.
Here is my brother Shane’s point of view - his perspective on what he witnessed that crazy night. Wow man… This is so fucking nuts. So buckle up and be prepared. I understand you don’t know who I am, but I swear, I’m not a bad person. Okay.

• “Shane’s” story on what he witnessed.

Yeah so, I guess I’m Shane now. Unreal…
Okay. Here we go. Meat and potatoes.
We arrive back at the Airbnb and I see Alex outside in the front of the house wearing only socks and he’s running around on top of the grass like an animal yanking out handfuls of grass from underneath him.
I look at Gloria and we’re both baffled at what we just saw.
First thing I said was - “Oh yeah! This dood is off his rocker right about now - as I parked the car.
We both hop out of the car and walk up to the front door. I slide the key into the door, it unlocks, but there’s a chair behind the door and it’s tipped over blocking the entry way and only leaving enough space for a crack. We both awkwardly look at one another and as I’m about to call out for my brother, I hear someone sprinting towards the door and bang!
The fuckin idiot shuts the door on us.
I then knock on the door softly because It’s almost 1 in the morning as I don’t want to make too much noise. God only knows what this kid has been doing since me and Gloria left.
After I knock on the door a few times, I hear the chair getting pushed to the side and my brother slightly opens the door. I take a peek inside, and his nose is broken, lips are bubbled up and his left eye is completely shut, black and blue and swollen.
He then drops to his knees, and begins crying but no sound is coming out of him! You know… Like when you get smacked by your parents when you’re a kid and it shocks the soul of you? Yeah, that kind of cry.
I don’t react to what he’s doing to not scare the shit out of Gloria, because she’s right beside me. So I push the door open and tell Gloria to hang on a second and shut the door and lock it.
I pick his busted ass up and sit him on the couch. I look around the house and it’s in complete shambles. Our clothes are everywhere, there’s food all over the fuckin walls. It was chaotic. And my brother is now sitting up breathing frantically.
I ask him - “what in the fuck happened?”
He looks at me. Face looking like he got into a boxing match with Rocky Marciano and whispers to me.
“Dood… There’s a leprechaun in the bathroom.”
“A fuckin what now?” - I said with the most bewildered look on my face. I mean I must have… I wish I would have taken a picture of my face at that very moment. I should have taken pictures of everything so this idiot could see the havoc he wreaked on that night.
My imbecile brother continues - “I’m telling you. There’s a fuckin leprechaun in the fuckin bathroom and this little lucky charms motherfucker won’t tell me where he hid the gold!”
“A leprechaun in the bathroom. What the fuck happened to you?” I said as I felt my blood beginning to boil.
The Imbecile then says - “Don’t worry. Don’t worry! I hogtied that little bitch and stuffed my underwear in its mouth. It’s in the bathtub. But don’t go in there. Don’t go in there. This thing fucked me up!”
And now I can hear someone fumbling in the bathroom moaning very softly. I looked at my brother and said - “What in the fuck did you do Alex?”
He replies - “I’m telling you. It’s a fucking leprechaun.”
“Okay. Okay.” - I said. “Stay right here and just, don’t move. Don’t do anything. Just keep still.
His eyes were so huge and dilated. He was so fuckin high. He had heartbeat pulses pumping from the top of his head.
I rushed back over to the front door and told Gloria that my brother got into a fight with a couple of guys at a pub while me and her were out and that her friend Katrina left because she got scared. She told me that was the first time she met that girl tonight so she really didn’t care and shrugged it off. Which was a huge relief to me. I told her thank you for a wonderful night. She understood. W said our goodbyes. I shut the door. And now… What the fuck is in the bathroom? Or better yet, who, is in the bathroom? Because let’s face it. This motherfucker did not find and fight with a leprechaun tonight. No way. There’s just no fuckin way.
I rush over to the bathroom and my brother leaps at my legs, and he’s holding onto me for dear life, begging me!
He says - “Please don’t untie it! It’s got magical powers! PLEASE!!!
Now, at this very moment? I am sort of hesitant about opening the bathroom door. But I snap out of it and open it. What the fuck. A leprechaun? No, I don’t think so.
I open the door…
“Holy shit.” - I said while covering my hands with my mouth. The floor was smeared in blood as if someone was dragged, leading to the huge cast iron tub. Smeared bloody handprints were all over the tub. And now I hear the faint moan coming from the tub. My legs are shaking and feel like they’re ready to give out on me. I was scared shitless.
“What did my brother do? Who is in that bathtub? I pray to God Katrina isn’t in there right now.” - I said to myself completely freaked out.
I slowly walk up to the bathtub…
And sure enough, there is a hogtied person lying in it with my brother's underwear stuffed in their mouth with a ripped t-shirt tied around their head and mouth, but… It’s not Katrina.
It’s a little person. You know, a dwarf? And… He’s literally dressed up in a leprechaun costume…
And how, on God's green earth did he end up here?
He has no idea I’m standing above him. I reach down to begin untying him but he begins squirming and screaming. I told him to relax and that I was here to help him.
And then My imbecile brother Alex, rushes into the bathroom and tackles me down. Stands up and begins shouting at this poor bastard hogtied in the tub - “Tell me where it is you greedy little fuck! Tell me!!!
I jumped to my feet and slapped my brother back to his childhood. Grabbed him by the throat, tripped him and threw him to the ground and said - “are you fuckin crazy? Do you want to go to prison for kidnapping? What in the fuck is the matter with you? You dumb fuck!!”
He then looks up at me with this pessimistic look on his face and says - “It’s a fucking leprechaun dood. A leprechaun.”
I was absolutely dumbfounded and furious at this point. I have this stranger in my Airbnb rental, hogtied and gagged and squirming and screaming and my brother thinks that he’s a leprechaun…
I can’t make this shit up.
He was so fucking high on those mushrooms. He was absolutely convinced that this man was a leprechaun. So… I had to play the game.
It was the only way to help this poor son of a bitch that my brother had kidnapped and hogtied in our Airbnb rental.
I calmly whispered and told him to please leave the bathroom so I could interrogate the leprechaun and find out where he was hiding the pot of gold.
My brother slowly stood up to his feet, face busted up, his cock and balls all shriveled and tight, looked at the man dressed up as a leprechaun, smiled at him with an evil grin and just, walked away…
And as he walked away, I told him to go and please put some clothes on, lay down in bed, and that I would handle the leprechaun. That I, would find out where the gold was hidden…
And that’s all I’m saying. I’m giving the computer back to my dumbass of a brother to finish off whatever else he wants to write.

• Back to “Alex”

Pretty outlandish right? I know. I know. You must think that I’m bat shit crazy huh? Okay so, to make the rest of this long story short, my brother Shane never told me what he did with the poor guy I hogtied and, well… i don’t remember how this guy came to be in my possession. I really don’t.
The only thing my brother Shane told me was that he ungagged him, untied him, and that he was extremely pissed off. And that he had compensated him for his troubles.
Man, I felt so horrible. I felt so horrible…
What I do remember though is waking up that following afternoon with my face all fucked up. Dehydrated with a tremendous splitting headache. I had no clue as to why I looked and felt the way I did. It was terrifying.
All of our luggage was packed and my brother was just sitting there, legs crossed and his arms folded.
Hey man… Take it from me. Don’t do fuckin drugs.
Regards, “Alex” & “Shane”
Disclaimer- This story may not be used for anything other than reading, sharing your thoughts and enjoying it. It is now protected by the United States Library of Congress/Copyright Office. Thank you. ☘️

Hello everyone. I had a question about Medi-Cal. I did not meet the income requirement to keep my silver 94 PPO Blueshield. I recently got Medi-Cal Anthem.
I have an endocrinologist I have been seeing for about 10 years. I see him two times a year and pay out of pocket for the visit. He does not take any insurance. He is not part of any networks.

1. My medications from my out of network endocrinologist... When he sends medications to the pharmacy they are fully covered by Medi-Cal Anthem. This is such a big help to me It's life-changing.

Q: I was wondering why are the meds being covered since I have an HMO and he's not in network? (I'm not complaining, just curious).

1. On my medical card is a number I can call to locate labs to draw blood.

Q: Since the insurance is covering my meds from him, will they also cover bloodwork too? Can I go to one of these labs and hand them a lab slip for my endocrinologist and draw blood?
This has been stressing me out a lot. With my last insurance Blue shield PPO I could go straight to the lab and hand them the lab order and they would draw it. Or I could go to my primary care and she would punch in the labs from my endocrinologist and run the labs for me.
Q: How can I get lab work done in my case? I'm still looking for a primary care doctor. Will my primary care Dr be able to do this for me? I only need it done once a year...maximum 2 times a year.
Thank you for your help. Please let me know if I need to clarify anything or provide more information.

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

First Previous Wiki
Ezeonwha was walking down a long hallway. The dry and plain painted walls and the pure white lighting of the lower levels of the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office helped to frame the dingy realities of those who could only afford these floors. Not even capable of having windows, these were for those who were the cheapest of the cheap or those who mingled with them. He'd passed several Guides on the way in, their claws echoing in the halls as a sign of authority in this lawless land.
Here, mediocrity was king, and he was a loyal servant. He drew his cloak closer about his neck, unwilling to reveal himself to those who weren't already equipped to see through it all. He was famous enough to be an abduction target if he let his guard down. This place was no exception, though Justicar tried to make them such. Too much security on the higher levels and too little on the lower levels. That was the way of things.
Another hallway, this one marked with bullet holes. Two contractors and a Guide were discussing the pricing of the fix project when he turned the corner. Their voices quieted to nothing, the stillness pressing down upon them with the same intensity as the false lighting. Ezeonwha clacked his jaws, giving them a low bow before continuing on his way. He saw the Guide's eyes light up with the sign of his implants getting a reading. It was another impromptu way of tracking via facial recognition, but it was an ancient practice.
Nothing was new about what the Guides did; only how many of them seemed to be on general patrol. Had Justicar hired more of them or actually done full conversions for all of them? Those arm cannons surely weren't cheap or ethical to insert into unwilling participants. And giving a victim a gun they couldn't be disarmed of was a very bad idea, even for Elders. And Justicar was better than most Elders when it came to abject stupidity. He'd likely only been dropped a few hundred times as a child versus the more likely Elder average of a few thousand.
Ezeonwha chuckled at his internal joke, heading deeper underground into the complex. He was going to a certain meeting, and it would be best not to be late. Even if the Guides tracked him, it wouldn't be negative. The group he had been approached by a few days ago wasn't a terror group. He'd looked them up. They dealt in 'freedom and liberation from all chains.'
The Eyes Of Liberty had focused upon Penny as their latest propaganda target and perhaps as a valuable ally in their fight against all tyranny. Though such a flowery message was likely steeped in idealism for the lower ranks, with more pragmatic and likely richer inner circle elites and leaders ensuring the pot would always simmer but never boil or grow cold. That was the way movements such as these managed to skirt the line between inaction and terrorism.
It was a dangerous thing to do. But these were dangerous times. If Penny left, he'd die. Someone with a grudge would kill him. It was a given, and he'd made peace with it now. He needed to get to work, to help others like him and those worse off, with just a small piece of the meager time he had left.
He was in the system as a friend of Penny, so little scrutiny would fall on him as he came and went. He had a new friend, one who was very interested in connecting to Penny.
The offer had come through his communicator, and he'd answered it given its interesting title. After a lengthy discussion about their goals for him and Penny, he'd agreed to at least have a meeting. He didn't tell them that he had a tracker from Phoebe, which would 'be impossible to miss' if things went badly. He knew the value he had, which was why one of the androids was also accompanying him under the guise of being a Sprilnav.
The android was 'walking' on all fours, its mechanical motion entirely silent. It was obscured by a wave of holograms and hard light holograms that would ensure that it wouldn't be considered suspicious beside him. His only guard was a capable one, and Phoebe had all the confidence of an AI who knew that the destruction of her android would only be an inconvenience for her.
Ezeonwha came to an unmarked door with a well-worn door frame. One knock. One pause. Two knocks. Another pause. Four knocks. He waited, and the door swung open. Eight Sprilnav greeted him warily but warmly, their eyes shifting to Phoebe.
The inside of the room was a dull red, coming from a pair of lights in the center of the ceiling that cast dark shadows near the edges. The whole room felt dark and dangerous, and the walls were lined with guns, computers, and several drones. Shelves and drawers were neatly stacked against the wall, as well as five couches and four double beds with ladder access to the top portions.
Bags of food rested atop a trash compactor unit, and the room service button on the inner side of the wall that Ezeonwha could see in the mirror was worn down to the raw metal. No paint jobs here, only grit and business. The room faintly smelled of body odor and assorted foods. Not entirely unpleasant, but also not what he'd expected from a group with sich a flamboyant name. Perhaps they worked in cell-based units. And that was another thing.
Minds were visible in the distance of the mindscape, but the people here were huddled together mentally. They appeared to be haphazard, but Ezeonwha recognized an old army-type defensive formation a mere step from each of their positions. They were more than they appeared. Though based on how their room looked, they probably weren't veterans, just decently trained.
As they walked through the doorway, a scanner activated. One of the Sprilnav, wearing a headset with numbers and letters swirling on the inner side of the visor, called out: "Phoebe android. Commando variant. Risk assessment: Certain Death. Ezeonwha. Carrying two pistols, one hidden in the pack on his left, and the other tucked inside a strap near the lower bottom of his chest."
That made them all pause, sizing each other up. Ezeonwha smiled nervously, failing terribly to break the building tension once again. His nerves started to get to him, but finally, Phoebe spoke. "Well, friends. I, for one, am happy to talk of the business of liberty. Tell us, what do you have in mind for my friend Ezeonwha?"
"It is not about him, AI. It is about the freedom all sentient beings deserve, and which we shall bring to the galaxy no matter if we are alive or dead."
"An honorable goal to strive toward," Phoebe said.
"Thank you. Your words are quite kind for your type."
"I didn't know I had one," Phoebe replied. "But thank you."
Ezeonwha turned his head toward the Sprilnav with all the fancy equipment.
"What is the best way for me and Penny to help in the fight?"
"The best way would be for you to start killing the gang leaders you come across. Barring that, have Penny ignore the graveyards, and continue freeing the slaves as she ought to. The dead have their freedom; the living need her work more."
"I agree with my companion," another of them said. "So far, Penny has done more for the fight for justice than any other on Justicar in generations, so it is a terrible thing to ask more, but we must ask. Even knowing the terrible toll it would have if she loses the Judgment, Sprilnav are at stake."
"People are at stake, you mean," Ezeonwha said. "There is no need to bring species into this."
"There would not be, but it is still a clear factor," another of them said, a female who looked more shifty in her gaze and demeanor. The Eyes of Liberty seemed like one of those groups with too much division.
"Do you disagree with each other often?" Ezeonwha asked innocently.
"Here and there," the tech guy said. "Not often enough to be a problem, and not when what matters is at stake."
"But that is the thing. How can you agree on when something that matters is a stake?"
"Is this a test?"
"Why would it be? Think of it as a genuine concern," Ezeonwha said. "To associate with your group, I have to be certain it will be resilient to change and risks escalating in the future. If the gangs cannot strike at Penny, they will pick the next best targets. Currently, that is me. If I associate with you in a way they can find out, and I assure you they will find out eventually, you all may be at risk as well. And your group's seemingly cell-based design also means large scale mobilization is difficult, ineffective, and risks severe coordination issues which cannot be quickly or safely remedied without changing core security features of it."
"You deduced all of that from context? You are smart, Ezeonwha. And have a good brain in your head. Everlasting knows we need one of those between all of us."
They all shared a laugh.
"I am not as young as I may look," Ezeonwha said. "Penny is not properly learned of the danger that faces us here. I am. The Underground will kill me when this is over. Do you want to die alongside me, all for your beliefs?"
Silence descended again. Ezeonwha kept the pressure on them when one of them stepped forward. "For freedom and liberty? Yes. I would die for that."
"As would I."
"And I."
They all declared the rest in orders that followed the patterns Ezeonwha was noticing. There were variances in their levels of belief and faith in their purpose. Each person had a different level of value difference, which meant that their lives would be worth more or less comparatively.
Cohesion was weaker, too. Not a full defector team, but likely pieces of several. Was that by design from a higher up leader, or was that just circumstance? Another thing to figure out later, that wasn't critical yet, but he would know before he truly went on any missions with them, if he did at all.
He suspected running messages to Penny would be the majority of their tasks. The quality of intelligence the Eyes of Liberty had offered was substantial. Perhaps enough for Penny to turn herself from a major annoyance to the gangs into an actual existential threat. With Justicar's swarming protection of the Fort Court and the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office, there was a limited amount of things that even the gangs could do. And if the rumors were correct, a Progenitor would be partaking in the trial.
"To be clear, if I join up with you, Phoebe would come too."
"Why would we let an AI join us?"
Phoebe smiled. "Without me, you'll die in this fight. You have trained for around 2000 days. You're acceptable combatants, as is Ezeonwha. But you are fighting in a city, and underneath it. You need to know how to keep a low profile. You need to know how to move through a crowd, get in and out. And you need to keep collateral damage to a zero, or the gangs will use you like they have others who had your purpose and were less careful to justify their 'protection' continuing. If you march in there and kill 50 slavers, if you kill a few slaves or a single bystander in the process, your credibility will be smeared. And frankly, with me on your team, you won't get blown up by an IED when you try clearing your first room in a fortress."
"IED?" One of them asked, while the rest digested her statement, going through various levels of offended looks.
"Your translator is too cheap. Improvised explosive device. Here, that can be old engines, reused oil, cracked plastic, frictional fuel bombs, circuit extruders, sodium splash grenades, as well as the more military style attacks they can pack, from small micro rockets all the way up to lower level fission or fusion bombs. Though if you're in a fight with those things involved, you're already dead."
"Why?"
"Because unless you're Elders, or holograms, a nuke will kill you whether you're right next to it or just inside the same shield. They concentrate the thermal pulse, so your bones would be ash before the pain hit your eyes."
"And what protection could you bring against that?"
"Telling you it's there before you start the attack. That is, if you listen to me. I value your lives over that of this android, but also I value Ezeonwha over all of you combined. I will not prevent him from doing this, but I will have you all know the risks involved."
"We are prepared, Phoebe. We have done much of the training you say, though we do not believe the gangs would plant explosive devices in their own fortresses. There is too much risk around that, with betrayals so common. However, the minefields we have scouted are easy to defeat with the right tactics. Perhaps you can give us a briefing on those, too?"
A challenge.
"I can, depending on how long you wish to do this for. But I have the stamina for either hours or weeks, depending on which you choose."
"What of your batteries?"
"They are of sufficient quality," Phoebe assured.
"I hope so."
Their tech guy nodded, more numbers flashing on his visor. Ezeonwha hoped he had a different way of display, like through an implant or something, for the missions in darker areas. The Underground was, by its name, not a place where much natural light was to be found. And the gangs controlled all the power systems in their territory. It was another part of the racket.
"Why aren't you guarding Penny?"
Phoebe's back straightened, a subconscious posture change to make her seem more confident. Ezeonwha caught the tactic for what it was, though without extensive knowledge of bipedal forms, it was less likely the surrounding Sprilnav knew it.
"Penny proved before a trillion eyes she's capable of fighting Elders, Progenitors, and a Dreadnaught Captain. Not to mention her immense power. I can shoot bullets, but she can literally snatch them out of the air and eat them. She has her own way of doing things, and it is a good way."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Penny landed in the rubble and headed for the Vaquah with a trail of survivors behind her. Many of them, she could recognize the marks of slavery on, with numbers or brands on their skin or just the trauma crouching in their eyes dulled by the pain of a long life in a work camp. Penny went through the wreckage to the shield surrounding the rubble and the defining line between the rest of the city and the destruction. Several news drones flew above her.
More were arriving from various directions. The soft footsteps grew into a constant drumming sound, like a beating heart of doom. Penny marched with them, heading to the spaceport. A large medical operation there quickly rerouted many of its various branches to the most injured freed slaves.
Penny pressed her considerable psychic energy on the entire group, accelerating their healing, slowing bleeding, and generally repairing their bodies and cells from the trauma they'd suffered. But the cloud over their heads did not brighten. The atmosphere remained tense and mournful. Many of them had lost friends, family, and more. She had no right to ask them to feel any different.
She had freed them, that was all. They were not her servants. She was not their ruler.
Several of them came up to her, offering thanks in the small ways they could. Kind words. Attempts at hugs. Even offers of devout prayer and worship, which Penny respectfully declined. She knew, as did most of them, that veneration for her deeds was inevitable. She didn't want to be seen encouraging it at all, since this was a public place where many eyes were upon her.
She knew that it would be misconstrued as a threat if she did. Religions were some of the most major threats entrenched powers could face if not properly co-opted by the state to suit their needs. And here, the 'state' was a military dictatorship billions of years old, ripened with corruption, money, and the immortality of Elders sporting technology beyond any other in the galaxy.
The sky was blue with shields overhead. The Vaquah hung in the distance, its thrusters gently burning to keep it aloft. A trail of shuttles linked the massive ship with several spaceports, including this one. Penny watched the freed Sprilnav get on it one by one, promising themselves to a new life aboard her ship. Technically, they were citizens of the Autonomous Peoples' Stars.
That protection, Penny knew, was why the Vaquah and its innocent inhabitants were still intact. Elders already had hired mercenaries to attack it. They'd failed, thanks to Rimiaha and Penny, but also the defenses of Kashaunta's Grand Fleet when it was in higher orbit. Kashaunta, despite her willingness to use Penny as she would, also had a certain intelligence and empathy. It was highly selective, and only money and power seemed to flip that switch.
But Penny needed the Elder, and Kashaunta only had use for her as an asset. She palmed the new communicator Kashaunta had issued her after the last one's destruction. Kashaunta's hologram appeared. It looked around, noticing the news drones in the air.
"Not here."
"Where?"
"You will know."
In the mindscape, a Sprilnav appeared on Penny's layer. They felt odd to her, almost like the minds of certain humans high up in the hivemind's network. Penny greeted the Sprilnav warmly.
"Hello."
"Queen and Elder Kashaunta requests your presence on her flagship."
"Very well."
In reality, Penny looked around at the crowd. She waited until it dwindled to nothing, and then spoke.
"Displace."
Conceptual energy twisted, and she stood on Kashaunta's flagship, though nearer to the edge than she'd expected. The Elder was waiting for her in an outfit that looked much like pajamas, though they were under a few armor pieces that appeared anything but decorative. Now that Penny noticed it, it was the same sort of armor that Yasihaut had worn to their last encounter, which interfered with conceptual energy. The Sprilnav were highly advanced. She wondered just how far their technology could go. She'd heard mentions of some ships having artificial gravity, and of nanites and programmable matter. But nothing certain.
"Hmm," Kashaunta said, giving Penny a once over. "You have come back. Shall I assume you are still my ally?"
"Nervous, are we?"
"Nervous is what you should be, Penny. The Judgment is coming. Ten days. Indrafabar and Justicar will both be on the court as High Judges. That is not good for us at all. So I figured a bit of prudence was in order. I have thought long and hard about this, and with the great battles of our time so fast approaching, I figure it is time to mend our relationship before the chasm grows any wider."
Kashaunta motioned to a special looking sword sheath on her back. Slowly, she drew a sword. A Soul Blade. Penny began to draw up her armor.
"Oh, I am not wishing for a fight, Penny. I know the damage you could do, even in my sanctum in the sky. Tell me, do you know how Soul Blades are forged?"
"No."
"Good. And tell me, do you know why they draw so much power to swing, even for Elders and beings as capable as us?"
"I have a few theories."
"I am sure you do," Kashaunta said. "But here is the thing. Soul Blades are typically weapons assigned to highly promising Elders, or even Progenitors. Filnatra, undisputed sword master that she is, can wield them as easily as breathing. If I were to swing this blade, there would be no drawback. Why?"
"Because you own that Soul Blade."
"Because this Soul Blade is mine. It is not just something I own. I own around seven or so more Soul Blades, with some weapons nearing their quality lying in my various vaults even now. You did not detect them, because I willed that not to be. I need you to understand this, Penny. You have power. You have might. But you are not invincible. My Soul Blade, if it struck you, would not cutely separate Nilnacrawla or Cardinality from you. Nor would your speeding space entity be able to block this blade with his flesh. If this cut you, it would release unending agony upon you before you exploded in a burst of burnt gore."
Penny sighed. "There is no need to threaten me. Allies do not threaten each other."
"But you do not see me as an ally. You see me as your means to get through the Judgment. You believe I see you as nothing more but a linear singularity maker, and perhaps a passing curiosity I'm backing on a whim. You neglect to imagine that there might be firmer reasons why I back you, and why more Elders are getting drawn into this conflict. You believe I am comfortable with showing you my more pragmatic and ruthless sides because I am comfortable with the fact that you cannot harm me. That you would not dare to do so, when you need my assistance so badly. That I might even be aiming to normalize my 'new' self with you."
"That is hardly my belief alone."
"Is it now."
Kashaunta grinned. There was no warmth in her gaze.
"Nilnacrawla," Kashaunta said. "Cardinality. Exile. Come out and show yourselves. You are being rude as guests."
Exile detached from Penny's head. He grew into the shifting array of fractals and shapes she was more familiar with. What had once grated on her eyes did so no longer. Kashaunta stared at the speeding space entity for ten seconds, then looked back up at Penny.
"He will not work on us. I will cover his form with holograms if he walks through my ship out of courtesy for my workers and crew, if he cannot."
"I am capable, Queen Kashaunta."
"You are quite knowledgable, aren't you?" Kashaunta mused, looking at him hungrily. "Oh, how I wonder what secrets you have in your head. How many of ours do you know?"
"I will not be taken as a hostage," Exile said.
"You will not because I decide not to," Kashaunta said. "Formally, our species are still at war. There is no treaty."
"The Sp'rkial'nova no longer exist."
"Yes, they do," Kashaunta said. "The name was discontinued for use regarding the lesser specimens we created. But I can assure you, Exile, if you wish to go by that name here, that we still do exist. I am a Sp'rkial'nova in the flesh. In the blood. In the mind. In the soul."
"Say what you will, Sprilnav. It changes nothing."
"On that I agree. Though our views on how things are may differ, and yours is wrong, your opinion is not valuable enough to matter."
She turned to Penny. She would have defended Exile, but he gave her a simple shake of his head area.
Nilnacrawla formed out of psychic energy in front of Penny. Cardi did the same beside her. Kashaunta tapped a claw on the ground. Tables and chairs appeared. A chef brought in food that looked passable and a few decent attempts at human cuisine.
"We do not have to eat, though I would expect that all of you at least sit at the table. We will discuss our grievances, and how to solve them before we proceed with the future. We shall first go to the matter of the Alliance. Penny, many in their number wish to establish contact with you. Do you agree to this? If so, I will add their communicator numbers to the translation program I have reserved for your personal use, in case your own device needs another sudden replacement."
"I agree."
"Good. A first step of diplomacy, I would say. Agreement. Now, Nilnacrawla, you look like you have something to say to me. What is it?"
"Free Meridia."
"Meridia was detonated by planet cracker during the 139th Sector 9 Border War. I am sorry more could not be done."
A cold draft of air rushed out of Nilnacrawla's nose. He glared at her. "You let them die."
"I did not. A Grand Fleet was defending that star system, and three came to lay siege. I am many things. A tactician, a queen, an Elder. But I am not a god. I cannot perform miracles. I evacuated 30 billion people from that world and its surrounding stations before the planet crackers hit it. 4 trillion more souls died in that blast. The best I can do is to offer an apology."
"That will never be enough for what you did. If you had never established your nation, they would still be alive."
"They would be slaves. Chattel slaves, not that cute little 'wage slavery' concept privileged people throw around. Perhaps I should remind you just how much darker that reality would have been for your female descendents, specifically. I am a brutal warlord, a dictator with an iron fist. But my claws do not squeeze nearly as tightly as I could. Metrics say that I could extract at least 370% more profit from my people if I simply enslaved them. But despite the shock this may bring to you all, I do have principles. The Autonomous Peoples' Stars are my people. My nation. My empire, if you think I'm imperialist. But I protect them as best I can."
Nilnacrawla's cold anger didn't lessen. Penny placed a calming hand on his front left thigh. He blinked. He let out a long, pained sigh. And he bowed his head to her. Not to Kashaunta, but to Penny.
"There is no need to be cruel."
"My language was accurate, Penny. He is a strong Elder. Everlasting knows he's stronger than most of these fools. Nilnacrawla was and is a hero of the Source war. I respect him enough not to mince words, or to give platitudes. Coddling is for babies. Nilnacrawla is far more mature."
Kashaunta turned to Cardi. "You have been remarkably silent in this, concept."
"I have."
"A wonderfully succinct statement. Perhaps you can shorten it further. But nevertheless, you and I will be working together with Penny much more in the near future. Rest assured, if you refuse to become more independent, you will be nothing more than a crutch for her to rely on before leaving her to fall when you are ripped away."
"When, Elder? I would like to think your protection is sufficient."
"I am sure the truth is quite the opposite, dear. I will now get to the point. Penny needs to move faster, and needs to break out of her shell. She needs to be pushed to do more. She has signed a binding treaty, which shows she is capable of more than barbarian aliens, as some Elders would call her. You, Cardinality, will help her be a high achiever. To do this, you need to learn more about your own history.
That is the theme of the year, after all. History. My history, Penny's history, Sprilnav history, and even Gaia's history, it would seem."
"Gaia? What do they have to do with all of this?" Penny asked.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that."
"Excuse me? You don't get to decide that, Kashaunta. You will tell me. I refuse to be coddled, like you say. I demand the respect I am owed."
"You forget yourself, Penny."
"I remember myself, actually. I am all I need to be. I can become all I need if I must. You can hold your backing against me all you want, but you won't withdraw it. As you said, more binds you and I than mere money and ideology."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then I've doomed my species and my nation to war, and this planet to the full power of my wrath."
"Wrath, Penny. Wrath. The Sprilnav have many words for anger, rage, hatred. There is the desire for vengeance, in varying degrees. There is that for justice, which does differ. And that for belonging. I know you believe you are standing up to me as a way to assert your own authority in this relationship of ours. You believe I see you as inferior, and will pull back my help when it is profitable for me. I will not offer you the consequences of what your words could mean.
You already know them, and that argument is as stale as your view on us Elders. I will say this once, Penny. You are the Champion of Humanity. The apex predator of your planet, the only one mostly in charge of an Alliance that does more than merely dream of overthrowing us. It is easy for me to say you are not a threat, though I do not ignore the threat you and your nation are trying to become. Gaia will be a part of your movement, but even my information is not entirely complete. I will not mislead you by claiming I know Gaia's link to this, just that there likely is one.
And I am not unreasonably petty. I am willing to put all our animosity behind us and start anew. Even if you are not willing to do the same, I am willing to make this work for us. You have more people to care for than just the Alliance, now. Do not forget them."
"A lot of words that mean nothing."
"Because you heard, but did not listen. Perhaps it will be easier this way, Penny. I want you to win."
"Explain."
"You wish to overthrow the current Sprilnav led order of the galaxy. Your path to that will likely be through mass slave revolt. A viable strategy that I could spread far beyond just this planet. And I actually agree with you. This Judgment, this utter insanity around the Alliance and your species has shown me the truth. The Elders as a class and a species cannot be trusted to rule any longer. We need new leaders. Better leaders."
"And yourself?"
"As the hypocrite that I am, and the power-hungry ruler of the Sprilnav, I would obviously exclude myself from that number. Let's be realistic. The Sprilnav will never accept a non-Elder ruler. If you wish to see what our insurgencies would be like, imagine the 2090s Struggles of Asia. Expand that to billions of planets, large and small. Countless ships and space stations. We have more collective ships than you have people. And as your military planners know, there is no such thing as an unarmed ship. Without us, without me, your plans are stillborn. Your galactic Alliance or whatever you make will fall to pieces without proper counseling. In essence, my offer to you, and you alone, is this. The galaxy, for the Sprilnav."
"Who backs your offer, with the power to give it?"
Progenitors Lecalicus and Nova appeared in the room.
"I back Kashaunta," Lecalicus wheezed.
"I observe her offer, and wish it a proper outcome," Nova said.
"Thank you, esteemed Progenitors," Kashaunta said, standing just to bow to them. Penny stared at Nova, balling her fists.
"There will be time for battle later," he said. "But not now. Hear out her request. She does not make it lightly."
The Progenitors disappeared.
"If I accept your offer, it will be on a written record."
"No. It will not be, because if that record is written, my nation will be facing war on all sides. A better idea would be for us to keep this under wraps."
"Perfect for betrayal," Nilnacrawla muttered.
"It would be, yes. But consider the second part of this situation, Nilncrawla. If word of this galactic offer, not just the Pact, were to get out, which is why two Progenitors who know the price of interference were called here, it would mean the deaths of Penny and all her kind. Or do you forget what rapidly approaches us?"
Nilnacrawla frowned. "I did. I apologize, Penny."
Kashaunta spoke up again.
"Penny. You believe I will betray you. So I make an offer of collateral. An offer so unbelievably sacred for us Elders that many would recoil at the mere thought of it. Now that you have signed a backed treaty, you are fully qualified."
Kashaunta grabbed her Soul Blade and presented it to Penny.
"What does this mean?"
"Nilnacrawla, tell her," Kashaunta said. "She will trust your mouth more than mine."
"Bonded Soul Blades are priceless artifacts," Nilnacrawla said. "To offer one to another is the ultimate gesture of trust and respect among many martial Sprilnav cultures. It can also allow for a mind bridge, a soul pact, or a proposal for marriage between two great houses, martial families, or Elders of great wealth and power. To offer this to a human... to anyone... is an ultimate sign of backing, and one of trust.
It is a sacrosanct honor, the absolute agreement of speaking truth and respect. The words I can use in any human language are insufficient to describe the weight of this honor. This gesture is one of absolute truth. Family lines with hatred going back millions of years would never dare to violate this honor."
"Only one Elder in history did so, one who once led a group known as the Stannic Resistance. He does so no longer. Penny Balica, Champion of Humanity... if there is nothing else I can give you to prove that I do really back you, there is this."
"...Just how low are my chances in the Judgment for you to resort to this?" Penny asked.
"They are not zero, but your battle with be incredibly difficult even with this boon of mine. The future of the galaxy, I now realize, hinges on the outcome of this. If we do not have enough trust, they will sniff it out, and we will fail."
So she had no choice. But as Nilncrawla continued to explain in her mind, Kashaunta was getting the worse side of the deal. Which meant she was throwing her backing behind Penny for real, beyond all reproach and retraction. Kashaunta, the most powerful Elder in the galaxy.
"And if I reject this gift, or your reasons for it?"
"Circumstances would demand that I kill you and then myself using this blade as a way to cut apart the dishonor, before my remains are dumped into a black hole to be forgotten forever. I would not do this."
"A dark and archaic custom," Penny said. She would have said more, but she looked at Nilnacrawla's face. He was clearly deeply uncomfortable. Her five words had shaken him more than anything she'd ever said to him before.
"You do not understand," Nilnacrawla said. "This is not something to joke or lie about. With a Soul Blade Pact in play, all else must cease. Right now, there is you, and there is her. Accept or decline. The choice, your only choice, is yours."
"How will this look to the Elders in the court? To the Sprilnav, and the people who back me?"
She could see how it would be a boon and a curse.
"You, and I," Kashaunta said. "The whole of the universe between us right now is you and I. No others exist until this one act is done. There will be trust or there will be death. No in between. No middle ground. The nature of this bond will be a Pact of Blades."
Conceptual energy swirled between them. Penny's natural translation, as part of the hivemind, failed for the first time ever. Her communicator likewise did not translate the words Kashaunta spoke.
"Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Sun. Homo Sapiens."
The air grew thick with tension. It was not just emotional, either. Psychic and conceptual energy gathered. The mindscape started to distort as more and more eyes began to view Kashaunta and Penny. But all of them were Sprilnav eyes. All of them were Progenitors. Nova's appeared brightest and largest, nearly six times the size of the next largest pair. They stared at her, sending psychic and conceptual energy down upon her in waves that forced her and Kashaunta to kneel to the ground.
"I apologize for my earlier words," Penny said. "I should not have denigrated this."
Penny stood for an hour, deeply contemplating the Pact. If it was as Nilnacrawla was describing to her, it was a promise that Kashaunta would not break. If she was offering it at all, especially to Penny, it meant she had a level of trust in Penny's capability far above what Penny had previously thought. Apparently, there were even higher agreements than this that were possible, with this Pact being the lowest level of bond and considered unbreakable with the enforcement of consequences coming from the Progenitors themselves.
She thought of her place in Justicar and the wider universe. Hours passed like water. And then, by the end of it, after nearly 19 hours, Penny finally had decided. She gave a short nod to Kashaunta, who had been kneeling to Nova all this time.
Kashaunta gestured at the sword. "Tol, nopa shikai."
Nilnacrawla fed her a few suggestions on what she would need to say.
"I come to this Pact seeking peace, justice, and hope," Penny said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery."
Nilnacrawla translated Kashaunta's next words to her.
"I come to this seeking trust, understanding, respect, and peace," Kashaunta said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery. I make this Pact before the gods, those who equal them, and those who surpass them. I bind them to an oath of silence regarding this event, until I directly instruct them otherwise, in a state of a sound mind, body, and soul. Here, we shall step into a future that needs both of us, casting aside that which is unimportant to focus on the ultimate goals we have. I offer my Blade to Penny Balica, of species Homo Sapiens. In this way, we forge a new future, and walk a new path. I accept the Pact."
"I accept the Pact."
Nova and a hundred Progenitors descended. Nova grew larger, and Kashaunta knelt to him. Penny remained standing. His sharp teeth glittered in the light. He pressed his claws to Penny's chest, and to Kashaunta's chest.
"The Pact of Blades is made before the Progenitors. We agree to your vow of silence. The penalty of breaking it will be dismemberment and disposal into a black hole. Penny Balica, Engineer Kashaunta. To break this Pact without mutual agreement is to call down our collective wrath upon yourselves. You both have agreed, and are of sound mind, body, and soul. The Pact is forged. By sword, by word, by action. I, Nova, Everlasting, Lord of the Progenitors, King of all Sp'rkial'nova, Heir to the Mantle of Power, Heir to Narvravarana, Progenitor, Elder, and Sprilnav, declare the deed done, etched in time, space, and Reality."
They winked out of existence one by one, leaving Penny and Kashaunta alone, to ponder the future. Penny's thoughts turned to the Judgment, and her confidence she could win it began to waver. How much worse was this Judgment going to be than before?
Penny stared at Kashaunta's Soul Blade. With careful fingers, she took it. Kashaunta sat up, satisfied.
"Now we can begin. I shall compile all the news about you I can find, and we shall see how to address the questions the High Judges will ask. Now that you trust me, I cannot betray you."

I'm trying to help my girlfriend figure out her options here. Basically, her primary care physician referred her to an in-network allergist within the same healthcare system (Rush in Chicago). They told her she should be tested to see if her childhood penicillin allergy was still a factor.
So she goes to the referred doctor in the same hospital system. Beforehand, had checked her coverage terms. She has Blue Cross IL - Blue Choice Select PPOSM , which specifically says it covers allergy testing and says allergy testing and allergy shots (She didn't get any shots, just the normal skin scratch test).
Soon after, she gets an alert from Blue Cross saying she owes more than $2,000 for the allergy tests. Assuming it was some kind of coding error, she submitted an internal appeal to Blue Cross two weeks ago.
Today, she received a call from someone at the hospital saying that the $2,000 bill is a facilities fee and would never be covered by insurance. But on the EoB letter she got in the mail weeks ago says the charge is for allergy testing services.
Is this uniquely confusing or is it just me? And does anyone know if the No Surprises Act or anything similar would help to resolve it?