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Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
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I wanted to post this because I see many going through a similar, tough buying time. I hope my story gives you a boost and helps you keep going. There is my sad backstory that you can skip to "Dec, 2020" that starts the home journey. This post is extremely long but emotional for me. Please be kind.
The only house i ever lived in was my uncles, for 2 years (age 3-5) before he removed us.
My mother suffers from many tribulations, and it was reflected in life. We apartment hopped for all of my childhood. I'll never forget how hurt I was, leaving behind my valuables everytime we downsized, (dressers, my desk, doll houses etc) being cramped, no pets allowed (i love animals), neighbors banging on their ceilings when I played, hearing families fight as if they next to me, smoke coming in the windows, constant new neighbors, roaches and other infestations due to neighbors, etc.
My mom would drive around and say, “this is going to be our new house!” And get my hopes up, but it never happened. My sister (she's 5 years older) said she would buy a house for us all, and that lasted a few months before we were evicted again, moving to another apartment.
I asked constantly when we could get a house like my uncle or sister. My father had one (my parents divorced when I was an infant), and when I visited, I wished I had my own backyard, pets. I was jealous of my friends who lived in houses. I would pretend vacant homes were mine, walk to the new homes being built, and watch their progress. Imagine my future in it where my kids would know stability.
After Bullying in school (from 4th - 12th grade), SA from my father, (i was 15) neglect, abuse, depression, self harm, apartment hopping, I was desperate to move out and away once I turned 16 (emancipation). I moved from NJ when i was 18 to FL and started my own downhill spiral of DV, homelessness, repossessions, and other mentally and physically draining circumstances that pushed my limits, money, and everything
In 2017, I picked up my pieces and gathered them, alone, to AZ into the best apartment and neighborhood i ever had. I told myself that after a year, I was going to buy a home there. In 2018, I reached out to realtors and was told all I needed to do was pay off 2k of credit card debt to qualify for 250-300k. The dumbest decision I ever made was saying spending 2k was stupid. I wish I had the recourses, support, anything, or anyone to tell me to do it. had I done it, I could have bought my dream home then for 200-275k
In Dec 2020, I had been with my now husband for 3 years, went through hell in the apartments he wanted us to move to for more space, away from that neighborhood I loved. Someone stole our bikes, smoked weed next to our window, and then our new car was stolen and required 3k in repairs. I was miserable. I wanted to end the cycle of apartments and putting away my wants and needs, so we decided to begin paying things off to get pre qualified. Then came the new battlefield.
As you all know, 2021 until today, it hasn't been a buyers market. I had no idea what any of that meant until I was told I was approved to start putting in offers in January 2022. We were pre approved for a max of FHA 350k from a lender that I was sure had our backs after getting tons of denials and pisspoor brokers who couldn't care less about my childhood dream. I pulled up the MLS and saved about 30 homes a week, if not more, that were 375k and below, all the way down to 150k trailer homes, condos, townhomes, and houses.
Half of those listings were sold (pending) within 5 days. the other half we were bidding upwards against. I couldn't believe it. I was told the market is hot, lots of people selling their homes in bordering states and putting higher end offers on the homes in our price range because they were selling their homes for 500k and using the differences to buy the cheap homes. The others were investors.
After doing all of the work for my husband and roommate and then some to qualify, I was now battling 15+ people on one home multiple times. I was told to try going further out. The market I was in was too desirable. I was like, REALLY? PEOPLE GET SHOT HERE ONCE A WEEK, HOW IS THIS NEIGHBORHOOD, "HOT"??? I was told to shop beneath my budget, shop outside the location I wanted, everything you are all being told today to, "land a home, stay in it for five years, then sell it and get what I want." But I heard none of it, I wanted my DREAM home on my first buy, which wasn't a lot.
All I wanted was a 1300-2000sqft home with a front and backyard for my dog and kids, a house that didn't need a crap ton of repairs, and a neighborhood I felt comfortable in so that I wouldnt have to deal with all the things I did since I was little. I didn't care if it was upgraded, carpeted, or tile, old or new, I just wanted space, safety, a yard.
It didn't matter. Even if I sacrificed a yard, square footage, whatever, I was getting outbid. Every home I could afford was being bought in cash, waiving inspections, having a 14 day close, and/or being bought 25k to upwards of almost 200k over asking even if it was a fixer upper!! I could not compete.
In April, I FINALLY had an offer accepted in a town that was 30 minutes from work, building up, and beautiful. I was willing to sacrifice commute time and everything for this beautiful house that checked all the boxes. It was 2,060 sqft, upstairs and downstairs, a 5k lot, in a beautiful neighborhood. We were able to get a third cosigner (lomg time friend) to up our income and get to 375k. But then I found out my preapproval wasn't so pre approved.
Having a 3rd co signer meant nothing. We needed to reserve money that we weren't informed about, DPA wanted us to pay off more debt, and we needed more income than the THREE of us had. I was livid, why didnt they tell us any of this? Why did they say our income was enough, and the DPA would cover everything?! I knew nothing, I tell you, nothing, and I should have researched more. But I was desperate.
My grandma stepped in. First, she needed a credit score. She opened up an unsecured credit card for 300. Bought gum, paid it off. We did a rapid rescore, and it shot her up to 7 freggin 735, SEVEN THIRTY FIVE LMFAO, and then we needed her social security letters. Which took two weeks too long, pushing back a close the seller REALLY WANTED TO CLOSE ON, which my realtor convinced them to hold off. Well, guess what? My grandma doesn't have a government id. She hadn't updated her id since 2005. No biggie, we'll get her to the DMV, which we had to reschedule online to 3 different locations. Well, guess what? Her mail, old id, her social security card, AND BIRTH CERTIFICATE all had DIFFERENT VARIATIONS of her name, and DMV couldn't verify her identity.
It would take two months to correct those issues. I threw my phone, scratched my arms to oblivion, fell on my knees, and cried. The lender said there was no way the loan was to be approved without Grandma. My sweet Grandma of 4 different names. I feel the tears, even now. I lost it. I fought for a home all my life and lost it because of being uninformed, way too broke ( I know I know), and then some. I felt like the universe was against me.
So May comes around, and my realtor says, "Listen, let's try this. Let's do rent to own. They pay for everything, and then you save, fix your credit, and buy the house back at the value of the contract paying the difference in appraisal if need be."
I was so broken that I did it. Back to the MLS, we still couldn't get a home in our price range in the neighborhoods I wanted. Rental price was going to be 3,100, so... we stuck to the 30-minute away neighborhood, and oh god, was that a new mistake. The first house we put an offer in on was accepted immediately. It was the smoothest process I'd ever seen in comparison to the hell I'd just gone through. I checked the MLS every day, watched homes I saved while I rented go pending or under contract in a week, or sell for over asking.
My heart sunk when all the homes I wanted and lost out to were back on the market as a rental property, or were slightly updated prices 50k-100k higher than before. Homes were being sold by opendoor, or rental from the very people I used to buy to rent from. I couldn't believe to this day how many homes I lost out to, sitting vacant for MONTHS prices dropping and dropping as the feds raised the interest rates. I went to open houses, asked what people wanted for offers (so I could be informed when I was ready), and knew my chances were getting slimmer and slimmer.
All the while, my commute was the devil. Traffic galore, accidents making my drive time go from 30-2 hours to and from. It was far from family, the mileage on my car grew so fast, my tires were wearing faster. The home was way too big for us (2765 sqft) and difficult to maintain. Beautiful home and town, but not for me.
The rent was also too high. It said it would be 2500, but wound up being 3100 after all of the damn fees they didn't disclose until AFTER WE WERE UNDER CONTRACT sflkghskg The electric bill was 6x the amount (bad company. People in that town are begnning to organize), water bill company demands 100 dollars no matter the usage (we only use about 60$), and the gas prices increased so high I was putting 60 dollars every 3 days in my car.
Then, my precious cat that followed me from NJ to AZ that had been with me through all of the DV, mental breaks, homelessness, had suffered from strokes. She was a stick, walking in circles, giving nothing but love. I tried everything I could, paid thousands to save her, but in the end, all I did was prolong her and my suffering. She passed in my arms. I love you and miss you, Emma.
Other life things happened, and by December, I had 200 dollars in the bank. When my income tax came, I applied for loans and said Im going to try the DPA and stuff again, It was either that, or rent a smaller house or apartment but seeing the market repeat my 2021 experience, I had to try with what I had. My goal was to get back to the neighborhood I wanted. NO EXCEPTIONS.
So I switched realtors based on a recommendation from FB. Random person said this lady would fight for me like no one else would. This realtor recommended me a lender, she said it could make miracles happen. I almost didn't do it because I had been let down by 2 other lenders before this one in 2023, but screw it. I followed his advice to the T of what to pay down, what to keep, and what to negotiate with. We gave him our 401ks info, our paystubs, had 3 of us on the loan, and explained we had no downpayment, just money for closing costs.
The market, at this point, slowed down due to the interest rates but was beginning to pick up. A lot of the homes we put offers on didn't like our asks. Which was disappointing, but I understood. What seller would want to pay closing costs for us so our payment assistance would go strictly to the home when they could accept the few cash, investor, or better conventional loan offers? The homes were going below listing, which was cool, but not quite in my 365k max range.
Until I gave way a little bit. There were 2 townhomes. One that was detached and had the most gorgeous yard Id ever seen for where it was at, and the inside was completely upgraded and bigger than it looked with a gorgeous mountain view from the master. But it was in a neighborhood that gave me goosebumps. No wonder they would accept 365k and pay everything should we put in our offer lol I couldn't do it, though. I didn't want to sacrifice being comfortable in my home safely to have a house. It was the first and only time I was picky.
At first, that seemed like a mistake, as the only other home I thought would accept our offer in my dream neighborhood said the seller had a specific number they wanted to sell at, which wasnt 365k, it was 375k. I wasn't going to get a home after all. I knew my ask was tough, and I wasn't going to get a house despite trying for another 3 months. I gave up. But then... I thought about something. That townhome in the neighborhood of my dreams, they wanted 375k? I restructured our ask to get to that 375k. A few hours later, my realtor texted me if she could call. It was urgent.
I was at work and went into the office and called. THE SELLER ACCEPTED OUR OFFER, THEY ACCEPTED OUR EFFING OFFER! THEY ACCEPTED IT!!!! I cried so hard, hyperventilated, cried some more, and told myself I wasn't going to get excited. I had this happen before, after all.
Well, guess what? Long story short, after hurdles during this closing as well, needing to push it back for this or that, WE CLOSED!! WE CLOSED ON THE HOUSE, IT WAS MINE!!! IT IS MINE!
The seller paid for all of the closing costs. DPA paid the downpayment at 3%. The rate was 6.85%, DPA loan at 8%. I paid for the appraisal and inspection, that's it. Only 1100 out of pocket. Monthly payment was 2865, my max, but it is MINE and EVERYTHING I wanted besides having a huge yard (it's still a decent sized yard) and open kitchen Home is 8 min from work (bye bye crappy commute!),community has incredible amenities, sub division has a pool, HOA covered roof (it was new anyway), new AC, new dishwasher, freshly painted, 3 beds 2 and a half baths, 1400sqft, 2 car garage with driveway, upstairs and downstairs like I always imagined, and so much more.
Every hurdle, every tear, every breakdown, taught me what I needed to know and led me to home. After saving for a year with the cheaper electric, water, gas prices, and mortgage, we just refinanced. Got a 5.75% rate (I thought it was 5.32, but after we closed today, it was 5.75%), the home appraised for 395k with no changes besides adding a fridge and new oven. The equity paid every penny of the refinance and the DPA loan. My mortgage is now 2550. For us, this is affordable now that we are debt free and still have savings!
I got my home with the most undesirable circumstances. I may be an exception, not the rule, but if my pathetic self can do it, i promise. You can, too. Don't be defeated. Don't let the investors win.
You need to win.

Dear Michael. Nah man,just kidding. How’s Cali?Got any hot ass girls on her knees yet;) Shit,it’s been what,2 years now?It’s not the same without you man,Ik it’s corny af to say but I miss you. I’m sorry that I didn’t write back to you earlier,but I’ve been busy,I can’t really write letters when a girl is bouncing on ma yk yk;)Jokes aside,my mom’s health got worse..And now,she’s looking up at me..
Anyway,I heard from Luce that you’re coming back in 2 weeks right?So I was thinking if you have time over when you’re here then maybe we could go to that old bunker with the fuckin sacrifice temple shit in it? And just so you know..Elia is..Dead.
You probably knew that already but after what happened to your sister…I just couldn’t allow you back here without knowing that Elia is dead. V3Nghttps://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nemesis 1137< Well,I hope you get this in time and once again sorry I haven’t answered before..The girls are swooning over me;) //Your fucking friend,Victor:)
Holy fuck,Victor. You finally answered after 3 months?!Man I mean the girls must have been all over you,haha! I’m sorry to hear about your mother..Although I must ask,why the fuck is she looking UP at you? Did she beat yo ass that often?
Anyway I wrote to Lucy that I was coming back first because I knew you wouldn’t answer,so I thought maybe if you hear that I’m coming back you would get your fat ass up from the couch and write back!Seems I was right after all;) I would absolutely fucking love to explore that place again!I will be seeing you the first day I get there alright?I miss Italy so much man,the USA sucks.
But for the LAST FUCKING TIME,it’s not a sacrificial temple altar shit in the bunker,it’s a shrine dedicated to Nemesis for fucks sake! I guess you Germans don’t know that;)Not that I’m definitely not a German too..;)
And..Yes,I knew about Elia..That bitch deserved it to be honest.I know that she and your brother was close but come one,you both hated her! Matt didn’t deserve to get dragged into their drama like that,Elia started it all that day.. Anyway I guess we shouldn’t hold grudges:) I’ll see ya soon though!
P.s what happened to your auto correct?Why you dragging Mythology into this man?;) //Your (definitely not German) friend:)
2003/02/6 Thursday 14:15 Session 6 -Audio Log Translate-
“It’s been..Though..I-I”
“It’s alright Michael,we’re only recording for safety measures okay?”
“Yeah-I-I know..”
“Take a deep breath,like we practiced”
-Inaudible-
“You ready?”
“Yes,I think so..”
“Alright,Michael,for the recording could you just introduce yourself?”
“Yeah-My name is Michael..I’m 18 and I live in -REDACTED-“
“Thank you,Michael.Now..Could you tell me about what happened that day?”
“What-What day?”
“On September 4th,2002?Do you remember that day?”
“Yeah..Yes,I do.”
“Good,now let’s see..What do you feel comfortable talking about,when it comes to the incident?”
“Well…It wasn’t late at night..I had arrived at Rome just 2 days before..”
“Go on,Michael.”
“We went to visit…The place.”
“Do you mean the -REDACTED-https://web.archive.org/web/20161014192447/http://www.panoramio.com/map/#lt=45.419224&ln=10.302933&z=4&k=2”
“NO-NO DONT SAY-“
“Okay,calm down M-“
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”
“Michael you’ll-“
-Sounds of voices-
“Get off me!Please!She’ll come for us!She knows!FROM HER THERES IS NO ESCAPE!”
“Michael,calm down!”
“NO,YOU DONT-“
“Okay-He needs to rest,take him to his room.”
“No!Please!You fucker!!You don’t know what you’ve done!”
2003/02/6 Thursday 14:34 Session 6 -NOTES- •Patient showed signs of Paranoia/Delusions and extremely violent behaviour. •Patient is unwilling to engage in deep conversation •Hallucinations and anxiety are present in patient •Patient has verbal triggers Comment
•I suggest that we test for schizophrenia,anxiety and I will be continuing to monitor the patient.HES showing obvious signs of PTSD.Based on his experiences this is not something that has taken me by surprise. Trial is still ongoing,patient had a deep relationship with -REDACTED-.
He seems to be having so called “Messiah” delusions,he thinks that a god/goddess/higher power is after him/he is a god or a messiah. Will be under monitoring for now on. //Dr.1van
111.555(68^{^}
2/0/0/3/0/2/6/4/1/4/3/4 ^N3m1XssIz7* From her,there is no escape. GUILTY GUILTY GUILTY E*71AGtgg6 V1,C67O M-22ichk33 GUILTY GUILTY GUILTY GUILTY From her,there is no escape. Ex ea non est effugium Ex ea non est effugium Reus Reus Reus Aut Vincere Aut Mori Reus Mori

_ _ _ _ _
Impact and introduction
_ _ _ _ _
His first thoughts about his little predicament were that it was nothing like the anime he’d watched.
Finding yourself suddenly free falling from hundreds of thousands of feet in the sky was significantly more terrifying than it had seemed while cozied up in his bed, wrapped up in three-plus blankets and contently slurping his microwave ramen.
That said, he felt justified in screaming like a little girl. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!” What was happening? Where was he? He had just stepped out of his house for a ramen run at the nearest gas station, and now this was happening. Great, just great, now he wasn’t going to be able to watch anymore anime- he stopped suddenly. “Oh, of course,” he muttered to himself, “That’s what’s going on here.” He was suddenly as stoic as a knight in shining armor as he plummeted through the sky, and he pushed the slightly problematic matter of falling out of his mind and focused on what would be important: His story. First: his name was Caen Eloso. He came from a strange other world with wondrous technology that left nothing to the imagination. Caen was what was in his third year at his school, Hansen Academy High School in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where teenagers his age were taught arithmetic, science and language punctuation before they went off into the world on their own. Colorado was one of fifty individually operating states in his home country called America, which was home to more than three hundred million people and overseen by a President.. America was located on one of 7 continents in his world, called Earth. There were a great many other countries besides America, of which he knew varying amounts about their cultures that he could give little tidbits of information about, but he figured he knew the most about Japan. Japan was basically heaven. The Japanese people were responsible for creating the best possible thing that his world had to offer, a wondrous thing called anime. He had dedicated his life to exploring every nook and cranny that was connected to the world of anime, and there was nothing that brought him more happiness than binging.
However, he figured he oughta remember some cooler stuff about Earth (he couldn’t really expect many people to weeb out with his stories without watching anime in person) if he ever found himself in a tight spot and needed to, say, entertain a dragon or something. Because…
He was ninety-nine percent sure that he had just been isekai’d.

That’s why, while plummeting to what seemed to be his inevitable doom, he kept a level head. Ignoring the previous screaming-like-a-five-year-old fit. Because, of course, anyone that was summoned to another world via falling from the sky always survived; it was kind of a given, otherwise the story wouldn’t get anywhere, duh. Whether it be due to some miraculous vitality, impossible superpowers, a one-time “safe-landing” provided by the dude that summoned them, or (and what he personally was hoping for) a rescue from some either super-shy or super-pissy elf hottie in possession of a huge rack… of swords, you pervert, that dressed in some skimpy armor (that really would do nothing to protect the vital organs, from a defensive standpoint) and who would kick off the protagonist’s harem.
When he actually gave it thought, he realized he wasn’t really all that interested in a harem, and kinda found the thought of one IRL gross. Like, did he even have to explain? But he knew that if he’d said that in an online chat with one of his internet buddies, they would definitely try to overrun his laptop with viruses. In what was now his previous life, he had had little to no experience with talking to girls, let alone “getting some action”. He really hadn’t seen the point, considering how difficult 3D girls were to handle. That said, he never really got into the hardcore otaku-type 2D obsession stuff, like buying lewd figurines and pasting posters all over your room and buying body pillows of your favorite waifu. He was just a hardcore watcher, and that kind of made-up for his lack of other tendencies. He would frequently spend 12+ hours a day shacked up in his room in 6 hour sessions of binging anime at 1.5 times speed; (he wanted to get in as much watching as possible) and that was only on weekdays. Yeah. With school. (Needless to say his grades weren’t exactly top notch) But weekends were another story, with him usually staying up till four in the morning on Friday night and then sleeping until twelve, when he would wake up and choose whether or not to eat before watching until he was told to get off, and then stuffing his fat face in the kitchen to his heart’s content. The point was, he had originally decided he didn’t want to “waste time” on a girlfriend. (Not that he was exactly confident he would be on anyone's radar if he were to try)
Anyways, more and more, (before he found himself falling from the sky of his new world) Caen had found himself feeling lonelier and more depressed as time went by, and so, he decided that in his new life he was going to quit his otaku and introvert tendencies and find the love of his life in what was to be his new world. Quite the goal.
With his mind made up, (this was some relatively quick thinking given the situation; he’d been falling for about four and a half minutes before coming upon this decision and entirely giving up on his old world and everything he had loved in it) (Besides his love of anime) he realized something… interesting. He hadn’t noticed it due to being lost in thought and not being capable of feeling it (probably his magical protection or something that came with being summoned), but he was currently a ball of flame. If he had been wearing clothes earlier during his fall, and he hadn’t actually bothered to check because of his little fit, they were long since burnt to a crisp. Even though he was certain he had a grasp on the situation, he couldn’t stop himself from freaking out just a little bit, especially as he felt himself growing closer and closer to the ground. ‘Alright, you can rescue me now,’ he muttered to himself, though his words were lost to the wind. His eyes widened. He realized he was too fast, far too fast. This entry was apparently going to be very flashy, which he wasn’t against, but… He could hardly gauge distance before he had halved it. Twenty thousand feet, ten thousand feet, five thousand, he broke through low hanging cloud cover, two thousand.. He shut his eyes as tight as he could and pulled his limbs in tight while covering his ears to brace himself and-
Boom.
_ _ _ _ _
Learning to walk and not-squirrels
_ _ _ _ _
The sound of impact deafens him. He instantaneously loses awareness of anything else besides the sound, but somehow remains conscious, unaware of if he had completely shattered into a million billion pieces or not. For time out of mind he couldn’t move any part of himself. His ears ring and his head throbbed something awful. He could not conceive what would make him capable of surviving a fall like that. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he opened an eye to gauge his surroundings…
He was in a crater. Caen had expected as much, but his jaw literally dropped in surprise, something he thought no one actually did. It was at least eight hundred feet from edge-to-edge and four hundred feet deep, the ground smoldering, red-hot and smoky, but surprisingly only warm where he lay (thank you, summoners). He must’ve stayed stagnant longer than he thought for it to have cooled enough to touch. He slowly pushed himself into a seated position, sitting on his right leg and letting his left arm rest on his left leg, which he had bent at the knee. He once again surveyed his crater by twisting his head around.
Quite the entrance. “I guess this fits into the one-time no fall damage category…” he muttered to himself, running his hand through his hair, making note that it was surprisingly silky. “Cause there’s no way this is a vitality thing, right? Way too overpowered.” For a minute he sat like that, until he realized that something was tugging on the back of his mind. At first he ignored it like he would a buzzing insect, but it kept poking at his subconscious. And then he was hit with it with as much force as when his sister sent him to Jupiter for accidentally breaking her new phone; that wasn’t his voice. ‘Huh?’ Neither was that. His eyes darted to the sides of his vision where it gently rested on the sides of his face. His hair. It was much, much longer than it was in his old world, reaching as far as to hang below his pecs. It was shiny and straight, and didn’t look like it had ever been cut. But that didn’t startle him as much as its color did.
Caen thought back to the fairy tales and stuff of his childhood, and about how they tended to over exaggerate the features of their characters and the objects in them so that the average kid could understand it better, with phrases like “as beautiful as a freshly-picked flower”, “as strong as a bull”, “as bright as the sun itself”, and “as white as snow”. Well, now he wasn’t so assuming that those were mere stories and not just incredible experiences from the writers, because he was witnessing something impossibly… beautiful. Because his hair was white. A stark white, with an almost silvery sheen to it. Like when you wake up the morning after a snowstorm and open your window to see if school is canceled, and the snow blinds you when you look at it because it's reflecting the morning sun. Beautiful. He quite literally couldn’t think of another word for it. Slowly, he reached up to touch it again, once again feeling the impossibly smooth sensation. It glided over his fingers like water. And then he saw the fingers of his hand. Long and slender, perfect and unblemished. He was dumbfounded. ‘Are these really… mine?’ he asked quietly with his new voice. ‘A new body was always possible, I suppose, but I thought if that were to happen I would first have to be reincarnated and grow up with it myself. Did this body… come into existence just for me when I got here? I would hate it if I kicked out someone's soul so mine could stay here or whatever.’ He stood shakily. He was tall. Taller than in his other life, where he’d stood at around five-ten, Caen figured he was now around six-two. And, what he found almost as shocking as his hair, was that he was fit. Or perhaps thin would be a better word, something he had never been before. His stomach felt strange to him as it no longer bulged, and when on a whim he attempted the stretches he wasn’t close to being capable of before, he did so with ease. He could reach his feet when he sat and stretched out his legs, and he could even easily touch his toes. He was in the middle of attempting to put his foot behind his head when he realized he should probably get a move on and get out of there. He guessed that he most likely looked like a meteor for any settlement within a few hundred miles of his crash site. He quickly tapped his foot on a particularly smoldery-looking piece of earth to test if he could withstand the heat like before. He once again found it to be only pleasantly warm. With that reassurance in mind, he decided to get himself out of the crater. That was, before he realized he’d need to learn to walk again. He fell hard and broke his fall with his arms. His muscles felt unused and unfamiliar, though the movement of his arms came more naturally than the rest. At first, his legs were very wobbly and his knees shook and moved sharply if he strained them too much or too little, causing them to buckle and him to fall and roll back down to the center of the crater when he tried to walk out. It didn’t help that it was a pretty consistently steep climb to the edge. He must have been at it for at least an hour. But the distance was good practice for him, and with a lot of rolling in the scorched earth he finally managed to get himself to the edge. The adjustment period wasn’t that awful, considering, and he felt he should be kind of proud for learning so quickly. (At least that's how he thought of it) He stood up on the rim of the crater to see exactly where he was. A pretty considerable distance away he could see trees ringing the crater site, and he decided that he had landed in a forest. The further away from the edge the less burnt and bent the trees were, from the shockwave that came with the force of the impact, he decided. He sat down, leaned back and let his feet rest on the decline of the crater. It was incredible. It felt like he’d just woken up after twelve hours of sleep, and his mind was buzzing with activity like he hadn’t experienced before. Everything was so fresh. He didn’t feel tired or winded at all, and he saw everything in vivid detail, even though all there was to see was the smoldering earth and the forest in the distance. He even tried breathing in deep with his nose, but all he got was burnt dirt and he started coughing from the smokiness of it. Despite this, he smiled. He hadn’t felt like this in ages, a thought he had believed was reserved for seventy-year-olds after getting their backs adjusted by a chiropractor. He jumped up, deciding that the first thing he should do would be to find a settlement of some sort, or at least a stream so that he could drink some water. He wasn’t particularly thirsty, but the thought of a cool liquid down his throat made him shiver. He also wanted to eat something, and decided to keep an eye out for nuts or berries in the forest that looked innocent enough. And so he started his trek. Soon he was walking on long, springy grass and gazing at all kinds of fauna that was surprisingly familiar. He couldn’t really see a difference in the trees or bushes at first, but when he plucked a leaf from the low hanging branch of a tree that looked like the one in his backyard, he saw that the pattern of the veins was definitely different, if not by much. He could at least tell that, since he had played under that tree when he was little. He also saw a lot of strange forest critters, and his heightened senses picked up on their presences like a radar. Soon there were dozens of them watching him from the trees, giving him a wide berth but for some reason following, so he still caught a few glances. Most had bushy tails and large ears with short whiskers on their little snouts, and tiny little heads that looked like those of baby foxes. The overwhelming majority were a sandy brown, but a few times he also saw one that looked blue and one that looked red, and even one that was pink, but these were always directly in the shadows of the trees and bushes and would dart away as soon as he tried for a closer look. A different species that looked like a miniature boar no larger than a bowling ball, complete with tusks, a stubby tail and hooves, trotted directly trotted directly through his path with its head held high in what looked like a show of contempt before disappearing into a bush. It was totally adorable and he regretted not trying to pick it up before it had disappeared. He winced internally as he thought of how many of these balls of fluff were incinerated in his landing. Slowly, as he trekked on, the creatures became more and more daring, darting past him and soon getting in his full view shamelessly, but they didn’t seem to have any ill intent, so he really didn’t mind. At least, they didn’t look predatory. (though he inwardly didn’t trust that idea from his knowledge of anime) Suddenly, one that was much larger than the others, probably the pack leader, scurried directly in front of him and stood on its short hind legs, its arms drawn together. It was similar to the way squirrels “stood”. Caen paused mid-step. It had some sort of presence, and its pose seemed to indicate that it wanted him to sit down so they could have a conversation. Unlike the other not-squirrels, (as he decided to temporarily call them) this one’s coat looked much fluffier and was a rich, chocolate brown, and its ears had white tufts at the ends. Its tail twitched and he also noticed that towards the tip of it the hair was also white. It gave off some sort of aura. Caen crouched. ‘Hey there, little guy. What can I do for you?’ He asked in the same voice he would use for a cute dog or other friendly animal. It tilted its head and he had to stop himself from launching at it in a surprise hug attack. It stared at him for a little longer. Then, out of nowhere, it beckoned to him with a little arm, turned, and started running off. For a second, Caen stayed crouched, dumbfounded at what he’d just witnessed, until dozens of the hiding squirrels started running in the same direction as the big one. He shook it off and decided this was supposed to be his first big event in his story, and so he started sprinting after it, because these little guys were speedy. He ran for more than ten minutes, almost losing track of the pack until he caught glimpses of a bushy tail or fluffy ears that kept him on their trail. Since his endurance was off the charts now, he actually enjoyed the chase, and took the opportunity to breathe in the rich forest aroma as he ran. Soon, he broke out into a small clearing, where he saw the leader “standing” beside the mouth of a cave. The once again shy not-squirrels all hid in the trees and bushes that surrounded the clearing, and all he could see were their cute little button eyes glimmering in the leaves. There must have been hundreds of them. He hesitatingly walked over to the giant not-squirrel (because that was what it was in comparison) and crouched down again. ‘Do you want me to go inside there?’ He asked, pointing at the cave, and turning his gaze to the eyes of the creature. It stared at him uncomprehendingly, its black eyes giving no indication of some great intelligence that secretly lurked. He sighed. ‘Might as well,’ he muttered, walking over the cave entrance. It was as dark as one would imagine, but there appeared to be a faint candle light of sorts dancing on the walls around a bend about a hundred feet in. It also smelled heavily like some sort of crushed herb he was unfamiliar with. It almost overshadowed the rancid smell of rotting flesh. He narrowed his eyes at the giant not-squirrel and the rest of the pack hiding in the bushes before walking in. There was definitely something alive in here, and from the smell, it or they were dying.
_ _ _ _ _
Elf hotties and magic
_ _ _ _ _
The further into the cave he went, the more overwhelming the stench of death became. Caen gave himself a second to regain his composure, then covered his nose as he turned the bend. His eyes widened in shock. A pretty girl with silver hair and sharply tipped ears lay upon a bed of leaves, naked save several fern leaves that provided her the barest of modesty. Her form was softly illuminated by several low burning candles that framed her. A singular giant fern rested on her stomach, covering where James guessed the mortal wound was inflicted. Her eyes were closed and she breathed shallowly, and sweat was beaded all over her body. The different colored not-squirrels he had seen earlier were all gathered there, watching her intently, but quickly turned their heads as they heard his bare feet shuffling on the stone floor. All three of them were there, the red, blue, and pink furred not-squirrels, as well as a green one that he hadn’t seen before. They stared at him for several seconds before all but the green not-squirrels scurried behind him. The green one leaned its head down and seemed to whisper something in the ear of the elf. Caen’s world slowed. Her eyes crept open, a rich, deep purple that seemed to shimmer with silver dust like stars. She ever so slightly turned her head to look at the not-squirrel questioningly, and then her gaze drifted to Caen. As their eyes met, he felt a shiver and a volt of electricity passed invisibly between them through their gaze. Her eyes widened with what looked like disbelief, and she smiled at him ever so softly. Caen felt entranced. There was something special about this girl, something so very special, and he felt a stirring in his chest that made his stomach twinge, but not unpleasantly. She beckoned to him with a finger and he slowly approached her and knelt. Those few steps, with her eyes fixated on his, and his on hers, felt like eternity, and he couldn’t break the gaze if he wanted. ‘Greetings, White One.’ She said softly, still not breaking eye contact. Her voice sounded as though it were made to sing. ‘I apologize… I… was meant to be there to greet you upon your arrival. The best I could manage was providing you a safe entrance from the heavens.’ She said sadly, and a tear welled up in the corner of her eye. He hesitatingly reached out a hand and cupped her face, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. She shouldn’t cry. He knew that, somehow, that it was wrong, that she shouldn’t ever have to experience sadness like that. She breathed in sharply at his touch, and then her gaze softened. ‘Who… are you?’ He asked quietly. She smiled sadly and tears flowed freely on the back of his hand. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t have the leisure to cry with you. I am glad that my friends were able to escort you here and provide you with safe company, for the forest is a very dangerous place, but… more than that, I am glad that I was able to see you… at… least once…’
Her eyes drifted closed. He quickly grabbed her arm and was hugely relieved to find a pulse, ever so faint.
She is so close to death, White One.
She has been holding out so that she could meet you, White One.
She has been waiting so very long for you, White One.
She spent what little mana she had left providing you safe entry into our world, White one.
These sweet-sounding voices echoed in his mind, though all of melancholy tone. He slowly stood and turned to face the not-squirrels.
Please save our Silver Lady, White One.
This voice was deep and strained with pain and suffering. In front of him stood the pack leader. He sat just in front of the other four not-squirrels, all mimicking his position. All Caen could do was nod, even though he was dazed and had no idea how he would be able to help her at all. ‘Show me the wound.’ he declared in a voice that sounded much more confident than he felt.
The four different colored not-squirrels glanced at the leader, and, the words still echoing inside of Caen’s mind like before, he said, ‘Do as the White One proclaims.’ They unhesitatingly scurried to their “Silver Lady” and carefully removed the large fern. Caen did not react how he thought he would. He saw it and his body shook, but not with disgust, or surprise, or horror, but with rage. He clenched his fists and the muscles in his arms grew taut as his fingernails dug into his palms. Her stomach had been ferociously torn open, revealing a sight that was best kept undescribed. His voice shook with power as he spat, “Who… Who did this… to her?”
His head snapped to the not-squirrel leader, his wild, hateful eyes boring into the creature. “We do not know, White One,

Please know, I am a regular human, just like you. I am not a specialist, doctor, or a scientist of any kind. I have spent over 2 years in writing this (post has been in my drafts and I worked on it in my free time only.) I have talked about using glycerin and the changes I have seen on my own body many times on here and I always received comments from someone wanting more information on glycerin which is not easily available. (I think it's because of how cheap it is and how its the top ingredient in many products we use, companies don't want us to know lol.) My sources are from medical/universal research libraries that I have access to from my university. Still, research papers are very complicated to understand and takes a long time to get through the whole study so if I made a mistake in comprehending anything, please let me know. Lets begin :)
This product/poly compound does have many names/spellings but I'll be sticking to glycerin. Glycerin is used in vast variety of products like medicine/wound care, food industry, hygiene products including soaps, skincare, hair care and more. Glycerin is stable, nontoxic, non irritating and hypoallergenic with antibacterial effects. Because of these properties it is said that about 20% of all glycerin is used in our territory (makeup, skincare, hygiene) which is a very large portion. Glycerin is also fairly cheap so you can see it in the top 10-15% of the ingredient list (especially in products that promote hydration) or towards the bottom 25% in preventative products.
Glycerin has many benefits. You can look at luxury creams to affordable face wash products and chances are, you will see glycerin in it. Some skincare companies now include a directory on their website to explain what each ingredient does and benefit on the skin but I feel it is very vague and wanted to bring some science to this poly compound. Now the accredited and certified research papers I found available to me are limited on its effect on the skin of humans but are on animals with some following up on humans. I was hoping to include links and incorporate wording however it was too cruel so I will summarize.
The vast amount of information available is on, if glycerin is a safe product, its effects to our (human) tissues, and possible illness/diseases scientists believed it can cause or be linked to. Like I said, I'll keep the animal testing gory out but to wrap it all up, glycerin is safe. It did not have any effect on the reproductive system for males or females and is not carcinogenic to humans. In a different study, a group of 25 human volunteers (22 male 3 female) were tested orally which resulted in no change in weight of humans if under 50 with or without diabetes, unless over 50 with diabetes history it caused some jittery behavior in one human (this experiment was conducted orally and used 3x a day.) Researchers checked the sperm of males and saw no abnormalities comparing it to when they first came in. For the females, ultrasound showed no abnormalities on their reproductive health. It should be noted, the researchers did not compare anything regarding glycerin and its effect on the thyroid but the other organs tested no abnormalities were found. I also found several studies on inhalation and applying glycerin on eyes was normal in sense nothing will happen other than some irritation that subsides, on animals. Same study then compared their findings on a group of humans and only a couple of people from the testing group reported it caused mild or moderate irritation that lasted for little while. To conclude, there are no known side effects or illness caused or linked to by usage of glycerin. Still, after immense testing it is recommended to patch test glycerin even if being allergic to glycerin is considered rare according to researchers.
In skin/hair care, glycerin is a humectant (retaining or preserving moisture) and an emollient (quality of softening or smoothing of the skin). Meaning a moisturizing agent that draws water to the surface of the dermis from the atmosphere or from layers deep in your skin/hair; brighten and soften the dermis and hair at the same time This said, using glycerin in low humidity or dry, hot air can result in drying out your dermis (skin) or hair, including the scalp because it is pulling moisture deep in your dermis or hair. (Personal note: if you wish to use glycerin in locations or seasons where the air is dry, it is best to keep spritzing the area with a mist of just water, preferably distilled, or other hydration mist to prevent the glycerin pulling any to all moisture from your dermis which could result in flaky, dry skin or brassy, frizzy hair strands. I believe after immense research this is the only downside of glycerin).
Glycerin is also considered as a thickener for products and is mildly antibacterial and antiviral. Glycerin was originally found from lipids of animals (animal fat) but now can be extracted from plants (vegan) like shea butter, palm oil, coconut oil and more. As of today, glycerin from oil has a high extraction rate from palm. Glycerin can also be formed synthetically through fermentation, bio-diesel or chemically created with its chemical compound ( C3H8O3; Carbon 3 Hydrogen 8 Oxygen 3) (Personal note: I am including this because when purchasing you glycerin, be sure on where and how it was extracted as you will be applying it on your dermis or hair.) Glycerin is non-comedogenic, meaning it will not clog your pores, but reading the different studies I believe there is a difference between lab, plant, and animal lipid created glycerin. Some prefer the animal glycerin as its more suitable to their skin type but majority of the glycerin in our market is from plants or lab. You can tell the difference of glycerin by how tacky it is. Animal glycerin is most tacky (sticky like tree sap) compared to the plant glycerin followed by lab created which only has a slight slip to it.
The density of glycerin (1.26g/cm^3) is lower than the density of our skin(1.1g/cm^3) which allows glycerin to penetrate deeper than a lot of other products. Whereas hyaluronic acid (varies but avg. density is around 1.8g/cm^3) may look to be better way to go around but both have their benefits! Glycerin is better suitable when you want your skin or scalp to hold moisture on your skin. HA is suitable if you want to lock in the moisture. But what makes them very different is the molecular level. Glycerin has a smaller molecular level than HA, which in return allows the glycerin to saturate deeper in your dermis or hair strands whereas HA sits on the top 2 layers (about). So using HA on your skin can mean it can take longer to see the visual results on your skin. That said with either or, consistency is important to unlock all the benefits either product can offer.
Glycerin is beneficial to all skin types, most hair types, and help aid in various skin or scalp conditions (if you have a medical condition please consult a doctor or dermatologist.) From brightening the dermis by help healing old scars and smoothing out hyperpigmentation, to being a natural prevention of many skin imperfections glycerin is the most underrated, versatile, and affordable product all should have in their cupboards. Glycerin will hold onto the water keeping your face soft and smooth (like a newborn babies bum) for long periods of time. (On study showed if glycerin is not washed from the dermis or hair, glycerin can last upto 6 days on the area applied hydrating the top layer of skin. In this study the researchers had 3 groups, 1 controlled, 1 glycerin applied only(group1), 1 glycerin applied with misting water every 6 hours(group2) for 14 days. From control- the group had natural oil build up, group1 had dry almost chapped skin, group2 felt dry to touch, some shine-no oil, bounce on dermis.) It is not recommended to keep glycerin on for this long as glycerin can attract pollutants from settling into pores-it just sits on surface of skin.
In the process of applying glycerin consistently, it will boost collagen production, even out your skin tone from blemishes to hyperpigmentation, aiding in the prevention of acne bacteria spreading on your dermis (help with clearing back acne), clearing and hydrating pores for the prevention of black or white heads, smooth skin texture and premature aging lines. Glycerin may act as a mild natural sunscreen by protecting the skin from the sun's rays and environmental pollutants, including smog. For acne, glycerin can help prevent the bacteria from spreading and help heal and smooth old acne spots. On large open pores, because of its density, glycerin can settle into pores reducing the visual size of them and help clear out any dirt or imperfections.
Glycerin on your scalp can be a natural/soft treatment for dandruff or other scalp dryness. For your hair strands, mixing it with our ayurvedic hair masks or hair oil, you can condition any damaged hair strands, preventing further breakage (split ends), and adding strength to protect against harmful rays of the sun and hot tools. The benefits of glycerin on our bodies are endless but here are a couple other ways to include glycerin when in a pinch.
Remember we discussed how glycerin is a humectant, emollient, and thickener? Well, this is what many of us expect from a makeup primer. I have used a glycerin primer for when I wanted a quick everyday makeup look or when I misplaced my holy grail benefit POREfessional primer. I used it in 2 ways, One was mixing a drop of glycerin into my moisturizer or my foundation. The other was my standard rose water and glycerin spray bottle. With the rose water I did notice I had to make sure the water and glycerin was well set into my face. I use a damp sponge to press any glycerin sitting on my face deep into my pores before applying foundation to avoid any separation or caking. (If you want an airbrush look; try this method then after dabbing your face with the sponge, apply a thin, even layer of finely milled translucent powder.) Why you may ask do this extra step of dabbing? Well using glycerin in a liquid format like the rose water is also an effective makeup remover! Crazy how it can work both ways.
If you pull out any micellar water you may have, the first 2 ingredients are water and glycerin followed by additives to act as mild surfactants and unwanted possible ingredients alcohol, fragrance, preservatives. Surfactant is a substance that will help the water and glycerin chemical properties mix when dissolved together. Sometimes when you let the micellar water sit you see a layer of liquid settle on top of another layer and you have to mix the two, right? The surfactant is the ingredient that leaves that oily feel on the face and I believe blends the glycerin chemical with the surfactant to create a less tacky formula. It will be different brand to brand based on how they source their glycerin and the ratios. That said, after my full beat, spraying a setting spray and all, I experimented to see how the rose wateglycerin will react with my full face of makeup if I just wanted to rehydrate my face with the same mixture. I spray till my face feels nicely hydrated, let that fully dry with help of a fan or my hands, then with a dry sponge, I lightly tap the glycerin back into my dermis and if needed, powder to set any makeup separation or fading.
The only time I dealt with makeup reacting with the glycerin was when my makeup began pilling from mixing silicone and water based skincare products with foundation.
From my journey: I saw some posts of users using and not having benefactual results so I'd like to inform you how I personally started using glycerin and the changes on my own skin. I remember stumbling on a random Instagram account of Farah Dhukai from Farsali using glycerin back in 2016 and I decided to copy the recipe to lighten dark skin. After following her instructions and started to use her recipes very often, it was not long before I had all family reunions turn into skincare nights. I would make custom masks for my cousins and aunts based on their skin concerns and I would receive endless compliments and discussions on how my skin as a 15 year old teenager looked amazing. It was not long until I connected the dots and started researching extensively into glycerin.
At that time, I didn't even have access to these studies and research papers, many were released after 2016! I found another ayurvedic Instagram account (now deactivated) and found my first recipe for rose water and glycerin and we have been going strong ever since. I started off with about 1 cup of fresh/homemade rose water to 1 tablespoon of glycerin. I originally started using this as a toner. I suffer from acanthosis nigricans (thickedry/dark skin on back of neck, elbows, armpits, knees) I would drench a cotton pad and hold the serum onto my skin for 5 seconds before moving it. I would repeat this then go over the same parts on my skin in circular motions. After about 4-6 months I had reduced the appearance on my elbows and knees to about 90% (only small dryness patch was left) my neck still had the thickness of skin but the darkness had reduced significantly and started blending in with my natural skin. Armpits were about 40% lighter but after a year of consistent use I was very happy with my results. Now it is important to mention, skin care can only carry so much; during this time of using the toner I lost about 23 kgs which helped clear the inflammation causing the dark skin in the first place.
Along with this toner I only used a light moisturizer and face wash; no SPF, facial scrubs, or actives. My skin was very clear, bright, hyperpigmentation free. Then life hit me with a ton of bricks and depression set in. I gave up skincare and my skin was terrible. Pores, pigmentation, fungal acne and stubborn blackheads on forehead and chin, extremely flaky/irritated cheeks. At this point I had been using glycerin for over 3-4 years so I upped the ratio I mix about 1:4 ratio of glycerin to rosewater now and put it in a spray bottle. I would start by double cleanse my face, use vitamin C serum and drench my face with the glycerin water before bedtime daily (about 1-2 hours before) let it settle then use my fingers to give myself a soft facial massage and help the remaining dripping water settle into my skin or slide it down my neck and chest. Then before bedtime, I splash my face with just cool water and remove the glycerin sitting on top of my skin. Gently dry my face and apply my nightly moisturizer with retinol, let that settle then spray 4x of the glycerin water again, finish with some lip mask and go to sleep.
From researching and experimenting, this was best way to clear out my white/black heads. The glycerin made them soft and I did not have to include any active or harsh scrubs or facial tools to pick them out. I found mixing the vitamin C with the glycerin 2 hours before helped tremendously with my hyperpigmentation and left my face glowing and added a beautiful bounce! I now only use a soft facial scrub that was marked to be safe for daily use once a week only. In the mornings, I thoroughly wash your face with some cleanser and apply a light moisturizer and SPF. My skin has gotten significantly brighter and has the glass skin effect without using multiple actives and products. Reason I don't apply it the rosewater glycerin in morning is because we are having dry weather and my schedule is unpredictable to remember to spray a hydrating spray in between wear.
For my scalp psoriasis, I used the same toner product just in different ratios and it helped significantly. Only thing about glycerin and your scalp/hair strands is you do not want to dry it out. I only kept it on for about 30 minutes before I shower. I do have thin/pin-straight hair but my ends just felt so much healthier. One research entry mentioned how glycerin was very benefactural to animals with dense fur. So if you have textured(wavy/curly) or coarse(thick) hair definitely try glycerin out on yourself! Im sure it will help your curls be more defined and healthy! Glycerin helps strengthen the hair follicles and strands to prevent breakage, leading to the illusion of faster-longer growing hair. (I have to trim my hair about 3x a year. Each time I trim about 4 inches off. Sometimes I mix the glycerin and rose water in my hair oil concoctions. I feel this allows the oil to penetrate in even deeper. The oil doesn't sit on the stands but absorbs faster which I always struggled with. It leaves my hair so soft/supple, helps my brittle ends when I'm past due for a trim or from heat damage. In the case I add the glycerin into the oil and I wish to keep the oil on longer, I spray my hair with regular distilled water only to keep the moisture constant for the glycerin so it doesn't suck the water out of the strands.
Here are a couple ratios you can start to experiment with:

• Hair care: 1/4 cup distilled water, 1/2 cup rose water, and 2 tablespoons glycerin in a spray bottle
• Skin toner: 1:3 glycerin to rosewater in a sterilized bottle of your choice
• Skin mist: 1:6 glycerin to rosewater in a sterilized bottle of your choice

NOTES: If you believe glycerin and rosewater is not the combination for you, you can mix glycerin with aloe, powders/herbs, moisturizers, and more. Be sure to research the product you will be mixing with and always patch test to ensure a chemical change will not take negative effect on your skin. Reason why I mix with rosewater is because when mixing with other products, remember glycerin is also a thickener, so it can feel very heavy on the face. Whereas water dilutes it and feels comfortable to wear for all day or night.
NOTES: I know my oily and acne girls are always fighting for their life. If you try this and are struggling, keep adjusting the formula and trust the process. It may feel nothing is happening or too much is happening but if you can, stay consistent for 6 weeks before you call it quits.
NOTES: ( NSFW but IMPORTANT!) Please do not apply glycerin on or near your genitalia! Glycerin is a type of carbohydrate known as a sugar alcohol. The breakdown of glycerin with our natural bacteria will turn it into an irritant creating a risk of a yeast infection!

Hello there, this is a sub-fiction of “In the name of humanity”, if you don’t know what that is, it is fine, I am still working on the first book, so consider this a teaser.
I am happy to receive feedback of any kind, so feel free to give me suggestions… or if you really need to, you can rant at me about how horrible this is, I won’t be offended.
Well, enjoy!
Chapter one, the hunters.

POV High Capt Alexander M Johnson. Date, 6/7/2146.
I entered into the briefing room, seeing that the holograms for all the captains were there, I addressed them,
“Roughly thirty minutes ago, a Xeno fleet was detected, we have determined that it will arrive in roughly forty-nine hours. you will get your ships to maximum combat preparedness that is practical at that time, understood?”
the captain of the Fire of Terra asked, “Do we have an estimate of their ships?” I responded, “The shatterspace sensors have gotten an estimate, only one has the potential of being a capital, forty-seven ships total.” He nodded. there were no more questions, everyone left and went to their business.
I rushed out of the room. Rushing to the primary ladder and ascended two levels to the bridge deck.
When I entered the bridge I gave the order to the intercoms officer, “Tell the engineer crew to do a partial overhaul to as many weapons as possible, tell them to prioritize PD systems, and not to do anything that they are not certain they can get done in thirty hours. Understood?”
He gave a quick nod and responded, “Yes Sir! I’ll relay that right away.”
I switched to the weapons officer, “Have your crews double check the missile’s safeties are disarmed, and that they are fully fueled. Understood?” He confirmed. Then I switched to the IT officer, “Have your crew and the cybersecurity AI check the algorithms of all systems, make sure they are as efficient as possible and have no malware. Understood.”
After going through the same ritual with the sensor and comms officers.
I ordered the alert status to be switched to blue. Then I ascended another level to the officer deck, where I entered my room and inspected my IVA suit and determined that there were no leaks. Then grabbed a ration bar from my locker and headed back to the bridge to continue my Admin duties.
…
I saw the alert status indicator lights switch from orange to red. Show time.
Beings as I was on the way to the bridge I only had to climb one more deck.
I asked the XO, “What is the ETA of our ‘friends’ I have made the last preparations for the party.”
She chuckled then said, “Our friends are fifteen minutes out, I noted that the yields of the bomb pumped X-ray LASERS were just switched to max.” I gave her a wolfish smile, “Only the best for our friends!”
Fifteen minutes later the first escort ships exited shatterspace, and were promptly destroyed…
Everything is going to plan, and I don’t even have to micromanage.
I felt the ship turn so that she was broadside on to the exit point.
Just then I saw the ship we suspected was a capital appear on the hologram showing relative positions, it was only a fat juicy bulk goods freighter, it was too slow to avoid the three X-ray LASERs that lanced toward it. Five minutes after the battle started, every enemy ship was space debris, our ships were barely scratched, the element of surprise does do that.
…
Sadly we couldn’t hang out here any more, the last engagement combined with two smaller previous engagements ran our X-ray LASER missiles almost dry.
So we started back to Sirius shipyards. The aforementioned shipyards were orbiting the only planet in the Sirius system, A rocky planet three times the size of earth. It also had a moon the size of phobos that provided the raw materials used by the shipyard,
Overall the Sirius system only had a shipyard due to it being the only star system other than Sol on a small shatterspace corridor, making it faster to get to Sirius from earth than the alpha centauri system is, and from Sirius to the closest corridor used by the Altrax is a week’s travel.
Making Sirius a perfect staging base.
Although there was a corridor used by the Altrax that took less time to get to from Earth, it was used heavily by the military, and to be quite frank, we only have around ten thousand ships, thus, we would be curb-stomped in a head on war with the Altrax. Also, they think we were wiped out or subjugated by someone else, and high command sees no reason to remove the blinders from them, using earth as a staging base would do just that.
My personal opinion was that we needed to build more ships, but of course high command has to deal with pencil pushers saying that we “Needed to be reasonable with how much we ask.”
If I had my way, those pencil pushers would be put in prison for gross negligence, or executed for treason… There are aliens that have been proven hostile, is that not enough reasons for more money to be put into ships?!? The ship doctor is always asking me why I have high blood pressure, this is why.
I climbed up to the galley, it was situated at the very front of the ship due to it being considered the least important section, another example of stupid civilians, put the armory up there, it will be empty in battle anyways… But the galley, some would argue that it is the most important section. If you don’t have a galley, morale drops, if morale drops people are less efficient, and if they are less efficient, systems start failing… if systems start failing, bad things happen.
Chicken teriyaki and rice was on the menu for this crew’s dinner. with cream of wheat and bacon being prepared for the next crew’s breakfast. somehow, the mixture of smells was wonderful. I grabbed a tray and went to an officer's table.
The tables of the officers and standard crew were segregated, with a thin fabric screen in between the two areas. An officer can go into the crew’s area but it was socially unacceptable, an officer shouldn’t be listening to the crew’s gossip. The crew on the other hand can go into the officer’s area, but you couldn’t exactly gossip with an officer like you can with a fellow crewman, so the crew basically stayed to themselves at mealtimes.
When I was midway through the meal the next crew’s sensor officer came and saluted before sitting down, “How are you doing captain?” I got up and returned his salute before sitting back down, “Good, annoyed that we have the return to base, happy that no one was lost in the battle.”
He nodded, “I agree, I would rather get closer to the end of the war than have downtime, like yes downtime here and there is good, but ninety percent of your time is downtime… that’s too much. Agreed?” I nodded, “Yes, but the ships need a thorough inspection and repair after these last six months.” He nodded, we finished our meals in silence and parted ways.
I climbed down to the officers deck and turned in for the night.
…
I watched the tactical display as our wolfpack decelerated to dock with the station, there were two other wolfpacks docked at the port, both looked like they were almost done with overhaul.
The Nav officer surrendered control of maneuvering and engines to the station at fifty thousand kilometers.
Semper taedium was the ship’s motto for the next five hours as we headed in to dock.
But fifteen minutes before docking the ship turned into a hive of activity as preparations were made for docking, every centimeter of the ship was double checked for loose items, which were then put in safe spots so they didn’t become projectiles when the ship jolted as it docked.
Finally the jolt signified that we had docked and we could enter the station while the station crews spent the next month replacing everything that had any possibility of breaking down, and by anything, I mean even that toaster in the galley that is taking a second too long to make toast, seriously, they do a test with it, and if it is too fast or slow, they replace it, and it gets put on a second rate ship. Sometimes I don’t get what is going on in the minds of engineers.
As I walked out the dock-master greeted me, “Ello. Looked at the engineers report, you guys took those ships through a ringer, two hundred lightyears, why?” I grimaced, “We were avoiding enemy patrols, they doubled up a month ago, the attacks must be hitting em where it hurts.”
He leaned towards me, “I heard that they have been having to rotate ships through their main docks due to the secondary ones not getting enough equipment, you guys must be destroying some major tonnage.” I nodded, “Roughly a megaton of cargo, our wolfpack alone.” he whistled, “Dang, that's a Jupiter class pretty much.” I nodded, “Yeah. Well, I’ll leave you to your work.”
We waved each other bye and departed.
…
It felt so good to be back on the ship, the last eight weeks were torture.
Although I felt a strange sadness seeing the station drift away on the display.
The station-master's voice crackled on intercom speakers, “God bless you in the hunt.”
I took command of the comms, “Thanks, we’ll make sure to come back to annoy you!”
I heard him groan, “Can I take that back?” I responded, “Nope you already wished us good luck, See you next time!
The ship jolted as it was electro magnetically accelerated to a fifty meters per second relative velocity to the station. Roughly a minute later the ship's engines kicked on. I checked the tactical display to see if the rest of the wolfpack was following suit, they did.
About a minute later, it felt like every atom in my body was slightly tugged in every direction, good a successful jump.
The micro jump took five seconds, we were at the expected location, six light minutes away.
All of the ships automatically changed vector so that they were heading towards the shatterspace corridor, the we jumped… now for the eight day wait as we head towards the corridor… Semper taedium, yay.
End of chapter.

alright second try. maybe I can trim the fat a little on this attempt and make it a bit more streamlined.
so the first thing is deciding how many strands to use, and to avoid complicating things on your first try just trust me you'll want to choose an even number.
beginnings:
I almost exclusively do 4 strands as a flat braid with paracord, but that comes with a couple complications of its own involving the finger loop and the pouch design, so I am going to write this for a 6 strand braid, which for most of the sling will be a 3-strand braiding pattern using doubled strands, so 6 total...
...but in order to do the finger loop right you actually want to cut 3 strands at double the full desired length, plus some room for error etc. so for a 54" sling cut 3 lengths of cord at 120" each (and just for convenience go ahead and melt the ends sealed)
line them up alongside one another and fold your bundle in half, but to avoid tangling and confusion keep the 2 halves a little separated. you'll start working on the middle of the bundle.
finger loop:
take the very middle, then choke up a few inches (technically this will amount to the circumference of the finger loop but it doesn't have to be perfect here). tie a slipknot a few inches up from the very middle binding the 3 cords together, and start braiding them together on the long side starting at the knot.
the repeat rule through this whole effort is TIGHT, EVEN braids. if it starts looking wonky, just take it apart and try to fix it bc the further you go the more impossible any corrections will become.
after you get a few inches of braid, loop it around to see how big the finger loop is. you want it wide enough to easily slip past the knuckles on your middle finger (even if that's not the finger you use when you actually sling, you should still make it big enough). when you get there, clothespin the braid closed and untie the slipknot. now you’re gonna tighten up that end of the braid and maybe even add a little length.
stack your braid ends one on top of the other to form the finger loop and make sure each braid's last working strand is pointing in the same direction.
you’re going to pair each strand with its counterpart one by one, and continue the braid as a doubled up 3-strand pattern. this will merge the ends of the finger loop together seamlessly and begin the retention cord.
if this sounds complicated, it's honestly pretty straightforward once you're actually doing it (this sentiment might come up again a couple times fyi)
retention cord:
braiding the retention cord is easy, it's the same 3-strand pattern just with doubled strands now. keep the doubled strands parallel and pull them very tight with each braid you lay down, wrapping them around as you go (again... you'll see what I mean).
knee:
once you get the right length on the retention cord (I didn’t do the math here, but it's not complicated), you'll separate the braid into 2 bundles of 3, each to be braided into the sides of the split pouch.
rather than laying out exactly which strand goes where to make it most even, I think you'll do fine figuring it out on your own. honestly you just want the sides to be as balanced as possible.
a good practice is to braid one side a couple inches, clothespin it, then braid the other side a couple inches. now go back to the first one, undo the braid, pull everything super tight again and braid a couple inches again; then repeat on the other side. this really helps pull out the slack that inevitably builds up.
pouch:
braid each side to the appropriate length (math...), taking turns between them and regularly checking they are well balanced.
we will do a little more to beef up the pouch a bit once we finish the release cord. that is when you can add a Channing type smile if you want, too.
belly:
again, make sure each pouch braid's last working strand points in the same direction and all the strands are pulled tight.
you will rejoin the pouch in a similar way as you did for the finger loop, but this time side by side instead of stacked. this is probably the trickiest part of the whole process, and it might take a couple tries to get it right but it's not too hard. if it's just not working for you, you can get away with joining them stacked instead of side by side and the sling will still work fine - it's just better to do it side by side.
just make sure you keep pulling all the strands tight as you go, and that you are pairing the appropriate strands with one another.
don’t hesitate to take it apart and give it another try if it doesn't look or feel right - it's reasonably important to get this part right since it is the part of the sling that most directly affects how projectiles will release.
release cord:
hey you're at least 3/4 done now. if you want you can just keep doing the same 6 strand, doubled-up 3 strand pattern for the entite length of the release cord - but it's generally advised to drop out strands from the braid periodically to form a steady taper until the very end of the release cord is the same thickness as the finger loop.
it's very easy to do, and I usually just feel it out as I go - it doesn't have to be a perfect taper. you'll drop one cord at a time, so you'll start with 6 strands, braid for a bit... drop to 5 and braid some more; then 4 for a bit, and finally 3 for the remainder - so it does help to learn how to do a 5- and 4-strand braid...
...but honestly it should be ok if you do your 5-strand portion by continuing with the same 3 doubled-up strand pattern, just one of them is a single strand now.
also, whenever you drop a strand don't cut it or anything, just leave it out of the braid and let it hang for now.
same deal when you hit 4 strands - you could learn the braid or just continue the same pattern you've been doing but now only one strand is doubled. doing it like that with the 5 and 4 strand portions will kinda make the cord less... idk 'uniform'(?) than if you were to use the appropriate braid patterns, but all in all it shouldn't be an issue.
lastly, of course, dropping from 4 to 3 should be pretty simple.
release:
I like a smooth release without a knot, but if you want to add a knot you just have to make sure it's in the exact right place so that the very center of the pouch will be the lowest point of the sling when you put the finger loop on and grip the release as you will when it's time to use it. only way to determine that is to put it on your finger and try it out.
if you think it'll help, go ahead and place a projectile in the pouch then hold the sling just as you would if you were getting ready to incapacitate a philistine giant - this will help you find the exact spot where it's most comfortable and natural to grip the release cord and keep the pouch centered.
note: this is actually part of why I prefer to skip the release knot... if you experiment with different ways of holding and releasing etc. - which you probably should if you’re new to slinging - the knot kinda locks you in place. I haven't heard a good argument in favor of the knot actually; it seems like there's no real advantage to having it and it kinda gets in the way
use a crown knot, which is super easy w 3 strands but I’m not going to explain it here - it's all over youtube you'll have no trouble finding a 20 second video demonstrating this simple knot.
you can terminate the sling right at the release knot if you want, but I strongly recommend continuing for a few inches past it - and if you skip the knot, definitely continue a few inches past the portion you'll be gripping.
end the braid with a crown knot then cut and melt the ends of each cord to seal them. melting paracord ends is sort of a skill on its own, but if you do it right it bulges a little and hardens in place which will hold your knot together.
tassle: (how do you spell tassle? is it tassel?)
you don’t need a tassle but hey why not? since you've got plenty of paracord cut like 7" and pull out the inner strands - the guts.
you can thread them through the crown knot for extra security, then braid them together for a few inches - or you can just make a braid and tie it to the end. either way works fine. I like to braid the tassle a bit then let it hang loose for another couple inches into a natural fray, rather than closing the braid with a knot. honestly doesn't matter much, but do leave an unbraided portion as a fray.
pouch afterwork:
you could leave the pouch as is, but it's nice to make it a little beefier and more durable. I just use some more paracord to wrap it. you can use the axe-handle wrap method, which is basically just a series of alternating overhand knots around a core - typically a tool handle but in this case each of the sides of your pouch.
a much, much better way is a 'solomon bar' which is like paracord 101... it's how you make everything - key fobs, bracelets, dog leashes, belts, etc. it's hard to explain, but easy to learn from a video lol. just remember that any video you watch about it will show you how to create a core, then create the knot pattern around it, usually using like one strand of cord - you just need the knot technique since the core you'll tie it around is, again, each of the sides of the pouch.
I've never tried the 'smile' but it seems easy enough - just kinda minimally thread a single strand of cord across the center gap to prevent your projectiles from falling through (honestly it's just not a problem I have often enough to warrant a solution like that)
afterwork/finishing touches:
the hanging strands you dropped out for the taper... just cut those and melt them sealed. easy enough.
you can wrap the finger loop too, if you want. I'd go ahead and do that if you wind up using it often enough, and I recommend something soft like cotton twine... but paracord does work fine too.
end/concluding notes:
and there you go.... idk how much experience you have using a sling, but that's outside the scope of this for me lol - one thing I will say though if you haven't used one before: start with tennis balls or something that can’t knock anybody out or break windows, please!
and lastly, if this does seem like more than you're willing to undertake... there are easier options for sure.
seatbelt sling:
my favorite sling that isn’t a natural fiber balaeric type is the second one I ever made, which took me 10 minutes after watching the video by Mersa - a seatbelt sling. it just uses canvas type material for the pouch and single strands for the cords. look it up. mine gets used all the time and has never needed any repairs or adjustments
noodle sling:
literally takes less than 5 minutes and uses a single uncut cord with easy knots to form the loop and the pouch. you do need a slightly thicker cord though. I’ve made a few of these and they also work great.
anyway, good luck - I'll keep an eye on notifications if you need any help or anything.
it's super satisfying to use a sling you made yourself, and if you're like me at all you'll wind up making like a dozen of them just out of boredom until you get the technique down perfect and even come up with your own ideas and techniques to try out.
just wait until you start getting into the traditional natural fiber methods and you wind up watching the Archaic Arms videos 30x

SW: 345 (pre surgery, counting from here) HW: 380 (6 months ago) CW: 311 (today!)
I'm just chatting here to people who get it. (So nice!) 🙂
Two months out and I'll finally be able to eat protein AND vegetables at the end of this month. I am following my doctors and surgeons advice and plans so please don't tell me that you ate vegetables prior to this blah blah... Every plan is different.
I'm so excited to eat veg again because it opens up so many more options of food. All that said however there's still so much protein to get in I dunno if I'll even get to the veg. Lol. I had a SADI-E so my protein goals are ridiculously high (120-145 grams a day).
I am excited that I've already dropped 34 lbs, cuz that's NEVER happened so fast in my life. The lowest I've ever been in the last 20 years has been 308. And that was doing keto for about a year.
I'm eating about 800 - 1400 calories a day, just because that's where things fall once I pet my protein goals. I don't calorie count but it's part of the app I use so it's there, but I'm hitting my protein and water goals daily!
Finding out what it feels like to be full has been interesting. It's a very different sensation than it was pre-op. I was noticing and paying attention for the last year or so to fullness cues but they're very different now. The feeling is there a lot more in general. Mine are general just 'pain' aka fullness. My biggest problem has been that about 30 minutes after I eat, my stomach is growling again. However I talk to my dietitian about this and my surgeon, and they both told me to eat a snack and wait another 30 minutes. So far that has worked and after the second eating period, I'm good for a few hours. And yes I am waiting the 30 minutes after eating to drink anything. As well as a 30 minutes before and not drinking during my meal time. Which by the way is extremely annoying.
I'm finally able to exercise (mostly walking, some biking) and have been building my step count up from well, barely 500 pre surgery to right around 4000 now. This is huge because my joints like to pop out and previous to surgery walking was a big problem. I wasn't able to walk around the block and now I can. If I went with my husband and daughter to the grocery store for store runs weekly, I had to have the cart because I never knew when my knee was going to pop out. I know everyone's exercise goals are different too but this is a big milestone for me, and I've been really happy to see my watch cheer me on daily when I hit (and increase) my step goals. I'm also able to use our exercise bike which I couldnt even sit on pre surgery because I couldn't get my leg over it.
NSV's have been dropping a pants size already and about to drop another (26-24 and my 24's are getting big and I'm digging out my 22's), shirts have gone from a 4/5x to a 3/4x, mostly a 3. I'm gonna have to go to the thrift store soon to get smaller sizes. I haven't been below a size 22 since my daughter was born and she will be 20 this year.
I'm able to grocery shop AND walk the block in the same day and not due from exhaustion or pain overload (sidenote, I have chronic pain/lupus/EDS/POTS, and they recently prescribed me gabapentin and it's a LIFE CHANGER.)
I am noticing the start of loose skin which has always freaked me out when I've lost before but this time I'm ok with it. I will have it no matter what as I was 5'8" and weights above, and it's stretched out a lot. I'm ok with it because I want to be healthy and also because we've already started saving for skin removal surgeries. Which will suck but I'd rather have the surgery scars than have loose skin.
I'm excited to continue this journey. I cant see a difference in how I look yet, but some people around me have already noticed some.
Also, no hair loss yet. crossing fingers 🤞

You stepped out of my restroom looking around. I caught your attention and pointed towards my sofa. You cautiously walked around my sofa to find your place. You were tall and lean like your pictures. Wearing a white long sleeve shirt. A contrast from the dark room. The imprint of your long dick was visible from your gray shorts. It look so long I almost expected your dick head to pop out.
You slowly pull your shorts down when I request for you to take them off completely. You pull them off before seating down and moving your shoes aside so I can position myself between your legs.
As I take a knee I look at your long beautiful brown cock. My mouth instantly waters thinking how delicious your cock will taste going down my throat. I gently reach under your cock then l lean forward to get my first taste.
My lips were pressed against your tip. Then I rolled your skin back with my lips on my way down. Without hesitation you release a loud roaring sigh. My warm wet mouth, which was a perfect slide for your dick, must have felt good. “holy fuck” you exclaimed. As your dick glided in and out of my mouth and inflated, I noticed it got bigger and longer than I had anticipated. I wondered if I had met my match.
My mouth had felt good but I had yet to deep throat you. Sliding my slippery mouth from almost the base of your dick and moving upward I noticed your dick got girthier the higher I got. Making your head a mouthful. I was determined, I wanted to show off my sucking skills. I was willing to do whatever it took to engulf your thick dick.
I grabbed on to your thighs, took a deep breath before taking the plunge. My mouth slithered down your long shaft until your head reached the back of my mouth. Which blocked your head from going in any further. I relaxed my throat muscles and push down until your head popped in to my throat. This drove you insane! You unleashed loud pleasurable moans. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” I held your cock in my throat when you unintentionally arched your back popping your dick in further. There was a pause (of disbelief) before you lost control. Your hands did not know whether to push my head down or grab on to the sofa. There wasn’t much more deep throating I could do, my top lip was pressed against your trimmed pubes. They were shaped like a landing strip.
From the moment my lips first tasted you, your moans and sighs never stopped. When the pleasure intensifies however, you get louder and express your feeling of pleasure with “fucks.” Knowing you’re enjoying my pleasure is such a turn on. I wanted to continue surprising you so I asked you to get up and turn around.
With no hesitation you turn around and place your knees on the sofa before relaxing your arms on the back of my sofa. You’re so thin when you lean over, your ass cheeks naturally spread. This will make it easy for me to kiss your puckered hole.
With my mouth pressed against your hole I slide my warm tongue in you. “Ahh….” you sigh. I go in deeper. I rubbed your lower back and thighs as I tongue twirl your hole. While I made out with your hole I reached under to play with your cock. I lick up and down your crack before taking a step back and admiring my sloppy rim job. My slobber travels down your balls and creating soaked puddles on my sofa.
After taking a pause to see the mess I had created, I decided to pull your hard cock back towards your ass where I can continue to suck. I asked if I was hurting you and you let me know I’m was not.
I place that fat mushroom head on my tongue then slide my mouth towards your balls and hole. My top lip meets your balls and my nose is brushing up against your hole. In a steady pattern I continue to suck you off while my nose teased your hole. Your cock felt so silky smooth traveling back in my mouth.
I wanted your cock back in my throat. I couldn’t quite get it there from the position we were in. Wanting to surprise you, I moved over to the part of my sectional that has no back or arms.
I laid on my back and hung my head from the edge. My mouth wide open ready to be skull fucked.
You shyly walk over placing your cock in my open mouth. You slowly descend into my throat. I had other plans. I grab on to the back of your legs and pull you in towards me. You cock rushes in my mouth, your head pops into my throat. My tight throat must have felt incredible. You lean your head back and release a loud moan. I can tell by your actions you’re in disbelief. I wonder if anyone has ever deep throated you.
You prop your left leg on my sofa. You lean in and hold on to each side of the sofa Im laying on and drive that fat long cock in me. There are times I feel like I’m about to pass out from the lack of oxygen but you’re enjoying my mouth too much for me to stop you. Tears run down my face. Saliva escapes my mouth and gets everywhere. My mouth makes hollow gagging noises as you thrust towards my face.
Your cock pops out of my mouth. I pull your ass towards me. I need air and take this opportunity to catch my breath. I slide you back and forth licking your balls, taint, and hole. Your cock rubbing up against my chest.
You return your cock back in my mouth and use it for your pleasure. You enjoying my mouth is so stimulating. The next thing to do, is make you cum.
We return back to the original spot. Like I did before, I placed your cock in my mouth and slid down until your head felt my tonsils. I repeated this motion. Back up and down. For every set of pumps stopping at your head and twirling my mouth and tongue on it. “Fuck!” escapes your mouth. You can’t help it. Your moans and grunts kept getting louder.
I sped up my pumps with my mouth. Your cock becoming the hardest it had ever been tonight. I noticed your body becomes tense. You reach and aggressively grab on to each side of my sofa. I know what’s coming. I grip your cock with my lips and give longer pumps when I feel your cock twitch. I slide that monster cock in me breaking pass the back of my mouth, your head entering my throat where you released your load. My throat muscles massage your cock, squeezing and making sure it’s all down my throat.
I slowly slide your dick out. Your body relaxes but you still have a stiff cock. I give it a couple of more tugs with my mouth. You quietly put on your clothes. I observe your cock bounce back and fourth. I can’t believe that long thick cock fit down my throat.

It’s dark. Loud. Screams, terrible screeches all around. A metallic scent wafting about the air. A vast unending sea lay within the surrounding shadows. Something takes hold of his leg, his leg tucked away within its jaw. He is dragged through the iron scented, pitch black swamp. Can’t breathe. A putrid taste meets his tongue, trying not to swallow as animal instinct takes over in a helpless bout for air. Like fresh morning coffee, the liquid nearly soothes his throat. The revolting taste would have made him heave it all back up if it hadn’t happened so fast. His consciousness is slipping away, this is it.
He awakes. The entity that had wrapped its maws around his leg lay stiff. On close inspection he finds it hadn't suddenly been blessed with grace or any such virtue. What remained of it lay hollow yet with the faintest spasms. It is being consumed. A slave to a system that would like to see to it that it is dealt with and subsequently forgotten within the days passing. He gets up, wading his hands through this decrepit pool. Putting pressure onto his leg is met with a sudden and excruciating force. He falls before hobbling on hands and knees further into the void.
No way to know how long it had been. Days, hours, minutes, seconds. He feels his body beginning to give out. He continues on. Again his body feels as though it is about to fail him. Again he continues. On a loop he begins to tire only to keep going on. In the midst of this monotonous process he has his first real thought; Almost there. He stops, sits up. Looks around. Still nothing. He thinks to himself some more; Where? He doesn't move. Another thought reaches the forefront of his mind; This is hell. His head sinks. He has given up. Content with whatever is to come next. A stomach barren of anything resembling nutritional value in tow with a throat dry enough to collect dust argued in opposition to the sentiment.
He waits silently. Doesn't make even the slightest tremor. For how long yet to be determined. The faintest rise of liquid followed immediately by its descent. Then again. And again. The ripples become more violent. Soundwaves now reach his ear with frequencies so low the most seasoned hunters could miss. Plip. Plip. He listens. Plip. Plip. The noise becomes louder. Something light is making its way towards him. Plip, Plip. Plip, Plip. On four legs. Small. Easy prey. Just need to keep waiting. PLIP, PLIP. He launches toward the noise. Nearly had it. He scrambles, crawling towards the startled entity. Got a leg. He holds on tight, not content with letting his meal get away. Puppeted by his own biological limitations, he uses the leg as if it were a rope with his prize at the other end. Running off of his own body fat he claws his way up, dragging the helpless creature closer and closer. It tries to kick him off. He pulls the leg down towards the bed of that metallic pool. He summons the strength to snap something in the leg, leaving the creature crippled. This is his opportunity to overtake the creature. His reason and steady thinking smothered by the threat of starvation permits him to pull the poor creature's head below the surface. It struggles. Both these creatures fight with everything on the line. The more desperate of the two will determine which one is to go on with the suffering and strife that comes with being in a world such as this, and which will go on as an offering to the cycle of violence that rules the beings that inhabit it. The creature's will is broken. Its struggle leaves it without energy or oxygen. By sheer reflex it takes a breath, opening the floodgates for a great wave of dense liquid to make its way into the lungs. His body has won. It has procured the necessary resources for the sake of his struggle.
With a warm belly he sluggishly pulls himself further along. He tries to wait out the rest of his time, trying to outwit his animalistic sense of preservation. He gives up fighting it. Keeps his mind occupied in another way. What else is in here? How long before I'm the one with my head held down? The very thought of this sends a spark down his back as he halts all movement. He moves with greater purpose, making methodical calculations in his mind as to how much force and speed he puts into each movement. No matter how cautious or slow it's always too loud. If he can hear it, so can anything else. During his gradual progress he takes note of the depth of this shallow metallic sea. He feels for any fluctuations within it. Nothing abnormal yet. Perhaps some beast skulks just beneath the surface remaining undetected. He tenses up in anticipation of such an attack, waiting, conjuring up a myriad of strategies to employ against the unseen enemy. The liquid rises ever so slightly. He attacks. Nothing. He goes stiff. He knows he has just revealed his immediate location to this lowly beast. It got the better of him. After all this time? No. He won’t let some cowardly animal with no more thought process than basic instinct beat him. He is better, more clever, far more deserving of life. He snaps back from his trail of thoughts, diverting focus back to his surroundings. He closes his eyes, putting his other senses at the forefront of his mind. Nothing. He could feel there was something lurking, watching him. It has to be waiting for him to lower his guard, the perfect moment of weakness to take hold of. The liquid around him remains calm with only slight movement. There is no noise. There is nothing. He continues on, weighed down by the things he cannot see.
Time stops once again as he continues his slow trek through the unending sea. The eyes do not, they are just far enough to remain undetected. That much he is sure of. He hopes and prays that something will happen, anything to break the stagnant, menacing aura he is encased within. He prays. Prays that something, even death, will free him from his solitude. His prayers go unanswered. He knows this feeling too well. He has been shunned, if not outright forgotten by whichever force made him come to be. This is the only reasonable conclusion he could possibly draw. No omnipotent presence would subject its own creation to this type of isolation. As he reflects on these thoughts he can feel something deep within his chest ignite. Quickly, it turns into a magnificent blaze. It spreads like a wildfire throughout his body, if it doesn't escape now it will scorch him until all that remains is ash. He screams incoherently. He subjects the void around him to a fury of pure hatred with words alone. He intends to use this great flame within him to burn everything around him, but there is nothing to burn, nothing he can cast into ruin. This only makes the fire more intense. He begins to flail his body around like a ragdoll. He needs for something to come find him. He needs to tear something apart. His screams grate his vocal cords into a bloody heap of flesh. His bloodlust grants him the energy to stand for the first time in a millennium. He runs into the darkness. He will not stop. He cannot stop. Then he feels it. A guttural vibration echoes across the waters. He goes still. A low hum follows. All at once the liquid begins to bubble, small finned creatures jump out of the water in a repeated frenzy, propelled by powerful tails. They explode into a sporadic boil, extending far beyond his field of view. From the darkness protrudes what appears to be a human figure. He braces himself as it slowly makes its way towards him. He can hear his heart rate increase with every step. It pushes forward at a steady crawl. His breathing begins to fall out of sync. It continues on, seemingly unphased by his presence. He knows how little time he has to act. It takes another step forward. He must act now. He runs toward the figure with stretched arms, able to finally satiate his bloodlust. He grabs the figure by the throat, digging his nails into it. It lets out a pathetic whimper. This is his chance. He bites down on its neck resulting in a satisfying crack one might hear snapping a branch. There is no struggle. The figure gurgles as its body lay limp. This game isn’t fit for someone of his caliber. He wants a fight. He takes a moment to look upon his trophy as it lay in the fetal position, pleading for mother to come and make it all better. A boy, likely a squire of some sort, stared up at him. The boy's eyes were blank and begging him for some sort of relief. All he can do is watch as the reality of what he has just done sets in. The boy had a lightweight sword which now lay submerged. He knows there is only one way to save the boy. He searches for the blade, it can’t be far. Wading through the liquid, he searches, knowing each additional second it takes to find only contributes more to the poor boy's misery. Every second that passes he can hear the exasperated breaths that only turn into choking spasms. Here it is, the boy need not wait any longer. As he stands over the boy his attention is diverted. His body tells him to look out into the abyss. He stares for some time, unable to look away. His eyes fixate on the darkness. He sees it. Its unhinged jaw with many lengthy black vines floating atop the surface of the waters. Its eyes stare through him in the same way the boys had. Knotted hair is draped on either side of its head, it appears as if clumps have been ripped out by force. There is skin flaking off of its face revealing gray necrosed patches. Its body stays completely still in a hunched position. Nestled in its mouth where the vines originate are small white dots that appear as though they were the only visible stars in the night sky. The vines extend as they float towards him slowly creeping along. He had always been well acquainted with fear. It has been an ever present force that has pushed him to do the things he never would have otherwise. It has become a comforting presence, reliable, trustworthy. Though at times they may have been at odds, fear has been his greatest supporter, a true companion to guide him throughout life. He knows as long as he listens to fear he can pull through. So why can’t he hear it now?

Hey everyone. So I just wanted to write a quick thing about the IBP TRACE 9240 that I bought in 2019 for those wondering about longevity of IBP builds. The (base) specs, before I did any upgrades were:
Plus ( + ) means it has performed well, Minus ( - ) means it has not, was of bad quality, or failed.
Windows 10 Home i9-9900k processor (+) , with a 120mm AIO ( -- ) 16 GB DDR4 2222 RAM of unknown and dubious origin ( - ) ASRock Z390 Phantom Gaming (revision 4S-IB), LGA 1151 ( + seriously, no complaints. It's not a flashy board but it is definitely functional and doesn't collect dust ) 1GB Western Digital platter HDD ( + ) 300? GB ADATA SU630 SSD (this was partitioned to be the windows drive) ( - ) MSI Nvidia GTX 2070, 4gb VRAM. ( + still runs fine, plays new games at medium to high settings no problem) 600W PSU of unknown, unlabeled brand. (+/- , honestly 600W is a razor's edge for the specs, and the fact that there's no branding on it at all is... really strange. But, it hasn't failed, yet.) Misc: Case air flow ( - - - - - ALL THE MINUSES) Partial deduction for RGB fans and headers not being plugged into the motherboard on assembly and being tucked under the PSU. Pre-installed ASUS Software, despite no ASUS products being onboard (-) this crap was annoying to remove.
Total Uptime as logged by the Western Digital HDD: 686 days. It has been used for a lot of gaming, as well as digital art.
Purchase price in 2019: About $900ish (+) from Amazon
This was honestly my first prebuilt, and I only purchased it because at the time, the CPU and the GPU alone would have cost more than the whole build did. So I decided hell, I'll try. It mostly came plug and play, though the RGB fans did not work (i would later find out while doing an upgrade that they just needed to be plugged into the motherboard, their wires were folded under the PSU). Things mostly have been good, except the AIO failing on me. The 120mm AIO was... Not Good. Especially for an i9. There were also some questionable choices made with fan mounting (1 fan pointing inside that went across the AIO radiator, two fans mounted to a honeycomb grid that could not draw air from anywhere and just pointed towards the glass side, and no fans positioned in front.) More on that later.
Another mark down was for the windows partitioned SSD, the ADATA SU630. That thing has, and still does, run hotter than you wouldn't believe, always in the 50s and 60s, and SSDs should generally not get hot. This precipitated my first upgrade: Installing a 2TB 970 EVO m.2 . Due to the absolute bulk of the original AIO, this was harder than it looked, but it was possible and definitely a huge upgrade.
It took an additional 4 years for me to need to upgrade it again, this time because the limping AIO finally died the final death. So I opted to upgrade to a 360mm Thermalright Notte Frozen AIO, and also tossed out the dubious and slow ram and upgraded to 32GB. I debated whether or not it was worth fixing, as there is some heat damage from when the AIO fully failed to the CPU. However, there's some weird stuff going on with the current gen i9s that I'm hoping to wait out until it gets fixed. I was very much eyeballing IBP's RDY Element Hybrid Max III like a kid in a candy store, though (It's competition before i decided to keep it going for as long as I can was an Aventum X. Can't really do whole builds anymore due to health issues, i miss it though.)
When I did that last round of updates, I also finally fixed the airflow problem. Yoinked one of the fans from the stock IBP AIO, stuck that in the back, and moved the two uselessly side mounted fans to the front, creating an actual airflow rather than just... moving hot air around in the case. Also fixed the RGBs because I was already in the guts of the computer at that point and discovered that crap just wasn't plugged in.
All in all, it hasn't been bad, but I wouldn't exactly say worry free for end consumers who don't want to have to deal with their own repairs. It still plays current games like Helldivers 2, Baldur's Gate 3, etc at decent settings
Will I ever buy another IBP? Probably if i am able to snag a good deal on a high end machine like the Element Max III. Though I absolutely would not look forward to adding my m.2 to that thing based on the pictures. The old AIO was definitely a huge detriment, but I've been told they've vastly improved their branded coolers in the last few years (and I get i9s were still relatively new back then, but honestly this thing should have never been fitted with only a 120mm, but it was also my first foray into watercooling. I've learned a lot since then.)
However, that said, I also used to build computers and so troubleshooting, upgrading and repairs were more a matter of annoyance than something more severe like needing to RMA. With $400 of upgrades (most of that being for the 970 EVO m.2 in 2020) this system could easily end up lasting 7 years, provided the damage to the CPU caused by the old AIO doesn't knee cap it before then. I also REALLY hope they've started putting more consideration into air flow/currents.
Anyways, I will leave you all some before and afters so you can get an idea of what the default case layout was like before I took a proverbial chainsaw to the fans and replaced the watercooler.
Before - Stock (except the m2, cheap \"elevator\")
Here you can see JUST how cramped that bulky AIO was. I also had to make a cheap elevator because the in flow line regularly sat on top of the GPU, needlessly making the CPU warmer than it should have been. It honestly probably failed so quickly due to the resistance created by the angle of the return and in feeds causing a lot of wear and tear on the pump. Also those two fans just ???? Mounted on the side of the honey comb structure hiding the wiring doing absolutely nothing. Can see how none of the RGBs work (top LEDs did, though.)
After upgrades. So so so much better. And working RGBs! Improved Wiring! GPU... listing a smidge.) Was able to re-enable the factory overclock settings on the CPU and it's running at 4.7 GHz, running Helldivers 2, at 40C.
And that's it, really. I hope this super long wall of text helps you make a decision, whichever way that ends up being. And please don't hesitate to ask me any questions. NGL I still want that Hybrid Max III tho hahaha. Maybe when they fix the issues with the i9 14900s.
Cheers!

NOTE: She will be seeing a nutritionist. But, until then I am trying to help.
An older relative of mine at 62F has type 2 recently, but her doctor is giving her 2 months to retest after changing her diet and seeing if her levels go down in that amount of time. He didn't seem to overly push starting her on medication that day.
Now, she will see a nutritionist..... but they are all booked up so I basically have been helping her for a bit with a nutrition plan as I have always made them for people in my family. And, she listen to me in the past but never stuck to anything super long term. This whole thing is at least letting her follow my guidance and she is very determined.
She has a good insurance.... but for most of the nutritionist I don't see they specialize in diabetes. I know probably anyone can advise her... but I may just have to find one out of her network that specializes in type 2 remission or diabetes in general as many on her plan don't mention it.
Exercise-Currently have her on walking a few times a week via YouTube walking videos for 30mins. And, doing light strength training with weights. She is older so she has osteopenia in her knees and can't bend down at all and back up. Plus, she is overweight but technically other than her knee bending issue very mobile. She aint weak. So her exercise has to be standing. She needs to lose a good 50 lbs but that will be gradually of course. She lost I would say 7 pounds in a month. But her wait hasn't been moving recently. Although for older women I read it can be harder for them to lose weight.
Diet- around 1500 Cals a day...With her I have 3 meals/2 Snacks planned out. But in reality she only eats 2 meals a day with snacks. I want to up her protein but I usually get her to 70G. For Carbs I have her at 50grams a day. And, fat well.... I'm doing a modified version of keto. I tried to not have her fat higher than her proteins. I would say 80% of her diet is unprocessed. She eats non starchy veggies/low sugar fruits/fishes and chicken and shrimp/beans and legumes/ plain greek yogurt/kefir. I basically have her on a diet I think she can follow and is easily sustainable. She has been doing great at following it. Plus, she lives with my family and I make everything for her(I'm home from school for the summer so it's of no prob for me and I want her to get healthy) so I add in everything to my fitness pal. I am determined to help lower her levels.
Some things I wonder though.

1. A1C the doctor plans to test again in 2 months he said after her visit. I've read an A1C tests your blood over a 3 month period to get the score. So, if she is eating right/exercising will 2 months of good eating outweighs the prior bad month before she cleaned up her diet? Is it possible that the doctor can see if the A1C is going down. Although I don't know how much an A1C can go down in 2 months? a whole point? half a point?
   
2. If she goes into remission could she go back to eating foods she likes in moderation? We are a big mediterrean family so pasta is a big thing we miss and sushi! ( I've gone off those foods as well to support her lol but omg I miss pasta so much and sushi lol)
   

For those of you who have put their type2 in remission without starting on medication... how did you go about it?

Hello, everyone! It's been a while since I posted anything or even visited the sub. I do not visit the sub anymore as I collected all the information I needed long ago and staying on the sub only led to more thinking about flox. Focusing on other areas of life has been a great life hack for me! I have done a lot of positive things in the past half a year - I am starting my own business, been meeting new people and making a lot of new friends. Flox has changed me for the better.
I want to preface this by saying that I was probably the only person (or almost only as I've met maybe 1 or 2 other people on Reddit) who claimed flares from CoQ10. It actually flared me quite a lot — sometimes I could handle 100mg and sometimes even 30mg would lead to terrible pain. It was frightening to be one of the rarest cases in a pool of already rare cases, so, naturally, I tracked reactions to supplements extremely attentively (u/vadroqvertical won’t let me lie about that) and I have tried a lot (my cupboard is full of supplements — I spent around €3,500 on them in the span of 1.5 years). I will list reactions to supplements and the approximate timeline of when it happened:
— First of all, CoQ10/Ubiquinol flared me not so much 1 month out (tried 100mg ubiquinol multiple times) but it got worse as time went on to the point that April 2023 I could not even take 30mg without great pain. I tried it 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 16 months out all without luck with varying doses flaring me to different extents. I will outline the reasons for it below;
— Vitamin E flared me a lot 2, 4, 6 and 8 months out. Never tried again. Tried 200-400 IU at a time. Due to poor GSH regeneration through Glutathione Reductase dependent upon B2 and NADPH;
— Benfothiamine flared me as well (doses 150mg-300mg/day). This is due to high sulphite and blockage of complex IV of the Electron Transport Chain in the mitochondria the reason for I will explain further. Thiamine is easily broken down by sulphite in the body and it is broken down into sulphite as well, which causes a negative loop reaction in people with high sulphite levels. Benfothiamine also caused me a severe allergic reaction (extreme anxiety and itching) that gladly did not require hospitalisation but was extremely scary and scarred me psychologically (likely high sulfocysteine activated NMDA receptors);
— Vitamin B6 increased my neuropathy when I got it. Likely due to poor B2 functional status. The problem I was also deficient in B6 and its supplementation led to great improvements in sleep quality once I could tolerate it. Note B6 is easily destroyed by sulphite just like B1;
— Riboflavin flared me (tried at 100mg, doses under 10mg never flared me). This is likely due to unmatched NADPH supply due to high sulphite load in the body (speculative);
— Astaxanthin greatly improved my physical health at 5-6 months out (proving that the core of my issues was solely ROS) but it caused reductive stress (NADH accumulation), which also caused pain, albeit the pain was a different kind and asta caused worsening neuropathy and visual snow. It accumulates in fat tissue, so stopping it was nice with ROS coming to a balance at about 10-12 days after discontinuation (after a loading dose of 36mg/daily for 3.5 weeks) but ROS then came back after it went out of the body further. I did not retry astaxanthin as I realised it caused me reductive stress and neurological issues;
— NAC helped me a damn lot. It was the best antioxidant for me. The problem is it depleted my molybdenum and copper and started giving me allergic reactions (low molybdenum + copper as well as blocked complex IV will lead to way higher sulphite generated from NAC);
— Did not feel much from vitamin D. I live in a very sunny country and tested at 51 (ref. Range 30+) without any supplements;
— Magnesium helped me a lot. #1 supplement;
— Calcium did not help me much in the beginning, actually, caused me heart palpitations. Was fine taking it after a few months;
— Potassium was a good supplement. I took 800mg/day for a while and it supported my muscle health;
— Important: vitamin B5 made me feel a lot better. It took my ROS down like crazy — I could feel normal muscles again, it removed my oxalate pain completely, too but for only a short while like 3-4h.
I have tried many more supplements that were phyto-supplements and such and none of them really helped me beside maybe some placebo effects. Some made me feel worse and were not worth it at all. I did not try anything mood-changing as I was not interested in it. To note, GABA supplement made me feel a little euphoric at first.
It is very relevant that I have been oxalate dumping since 27 Dec. 2023. The description of the experience can be found here: https://www.reddit.com/floxies/comments/1by0uh0/comment/kyma718/
Now, to the real question: why did CoQ10 flare me even at high nutrient status (just after flox). I have to stress that flares from CoQ10 were much less at the beginning of flox likely due to better nutrient status (it went from extremely terrible to slightly more extremely terrible while 6 months out it went from ‘eh’ to terrible).

1. First, I have to say that NAC made me worse long-term. How? Over a long period of time I was taking it and was not watching my copper levels (NAC increases metallothionein and causes poor copper absorption) and molybdenum levels (NAC raises generation of sulfite and it needs molybdenum to be detoxified). Some NAC formulations have molybdenum in them but I was not lucky to get one of those and, due to lack of knowledge, did not supplement any molybdenum. The result was high sulphite and from that high ROS (with a combo of benfo which further increased sulphite it caused me peripheral neuropathy at 5 months). Sulphite causes Fenton reactions when complex IV gets blocked up. H2S (a signalling molecule and a vasodilator) also needs to be detoxified by a CoQ-10 dependent enzyme and turned later into sulphite and then sulphate by molybdenum and complex IV (dependent on copper) and if it is not detoxified, it causes a complex IV blockage and starts Fenton reactions as well as electron leakage during production of ATP, causing ROS. This causes a negative feedback loop that was described in the linked article as follows:

«This can be explained as follows:
1) hydrogen sulfide inhibition of complex IV generates superoxide in the respiratory chain, which becomes hydrogen peroxide,
2) hydrogen sulfide reduces ferric iron to ferrous iron, which makes it release from storage in ferritin,
3) this increases Fenton reactions between free iron and hydrogen peroxide, which generate more dangerous reactive oxygen species like the hydroxyl radical,
4) all of this deplete glutathione,
5) since a major purpose of the trans-sulfuration pathway is to provide enough cysteine to make glutathione, glutathione depletion hyperactivates the trans-sulfuration pathway, leading to more cysteine availability, the excess of which is catabolized to sulfite by alternative reactions that do not produce hydrogen sulfide and therefore do not require CoQ10.»

1. In the article linked below, you will see that CoQ-10 protects against reactive oxygen species mainly due to improving hydrogen sulphide clearance (H2S). Therefore, CoQ-10 deficiency did not cause much ROS in complexes I and II but mainly produced issues in Complex III (where sulphite detoxification starts) and complex IV (where the last electrons are delivered during the sulphite-sulphate reaction). Excerpt: «In human cells with CoQ10 synthesis defects from the same study, CoQ10 protected against reactive oxygen species, but suppressing the enzyme that uses CoQ10 to clear hydrogen sulfide abolished this effect. This shows that the reactive oxygen species were coming from poor hydrogen sulfide clearance.»

Considering this, and oh my god, finding this article was like god sent it to me: my CoQ10 flares were coming from poor hydrogen sulphide clearance. At that point there were multiple reasons this could be happening:

1. Cellular CoQ-10 deficiency;
   
2. Manganese toxicity;
   
3. Copper deficiency;
   
4. Molybdenum deficiency;
   
5. SUOX (enzyme which converts sulphite to sulphate) or another genetic impairment;
   
6. Blockage of complex IV by something else.
   

I checked my molybdenum and copper transporting genes, SUOX using DBSNP and my AncestryDNA.txt file, and they were all good (Yes, I know Ancestry does not do a full genomic profile but it still had the main SNPs for that.). I also checked my manganese transporter genes and seemed I was homozygous for an important one but fine with others. It is really hard to estimate how that might affect you IRL, perhaps that would require a real genetic counsellor (or lots of hours spent ruminating again). I also did not think I had any genetic issue since I was very very healthy all my life and had 0 pain or health issues before flox occurred (I have extremely healthy young looking parents that drink, smoke and do whatever they want and have 0 consequences to their health as well).
I took some tests, for example: Genova NutrEval at ~6 months out, full nutrient blood test panel at ~11 months out (abstained for 35 days from any supplements at all, even vitamins and tested literally everything, paid around €1,200) and my CoQ10 levels at both of those occurrences were at 1 & 1.07 in absence of supplementation with ref. Range 0.8-1.4, so it was definitely not low. That way I eliminated #1 and #5. While I was not entirely sure whether genetic issues had to do anything with it, I decided to pretend like they didn’t, since I had to try out other solutions before jumping to the most complex one. I took a lot of molybdenum, so molybdenum deficiency was not at the table for me. In this way I was left with #2, #3 and #6. In the full blood panel, my manganese was slightly high (20.1 with ref. Range <~18) and the SNP people were talking about that caused them manganese toxicity was homozygous for me, so I definitely considered it but manganese when supplemented made me a feel a lot better, actually (mentally, not physically), so I was also likely deficient in it. For now, I just avoid it in supplemental doses but I do not avoid foods containing it. Besides, I do not have iron overload genes that could contribute to manganese toxicity.
I could not take copper because it would lead to high ROS immediately (due to complex IV blockage the reasons for which I will outline further). Considering manganese was likely deficient and not superfluous, I discarded reason #2 and reason #3 could not be fixed by copper, so it was definitely not only copper deficiency but either another factor or another factor coupled with copper deficiency. I was stuck for a long time until I found another article from the same author about B12 and B9 helping to detoxify oxalate. As I said before all this explanation, I have been oxalate dumping throughout the whole process (already 4 months). I should note I was oxalate dumping even before I got floxed (I likely had oxalate overload to my appendix surgery — this is proven by inflamed mesenteric lymph nodes confirmed by 3 MRIs — Sally Norton has the same case of over-absorption in her book) and that is how I actually got the E. Coli they gave me Cipro for (oxalate crystals create a good environment for it in the urinary tract lol) and how I got floxed (I went full circle, lmao). When I was floxed, I was not oxalate dumping for at least a year likely because my body was not in the state to handle the dumping process but it was still affecting me as I will outline further. First of all, I want to say that biotin actually promoted dumping for me as said in the article and not relieved it like it is said in Sally Norton’s book (I am not sure if there is a genetic variation to this). The proposed mechanism of oxalate detoxification in the article is as follows:
«Recall my proposed two-step detoxification process:

1. Pyruvate carboxylase [biotin-dependent] converts oxalate to formate.
   
2. Formate is joined to tetrahydrofolate to enter the methylation cycle, be used for the synthesis of purines or DNA, or be converted to carbon dioxide and exhaled in the breath.»
   

This are also very important words: «There may be more regulation layered on top of this to prevent excessive formate accumulation. It would certainly be preferable to have oxalate crystals cause pain or disrupt the skin than to have formate accumulate beyond the capacity to clear it.» This is why I felt best when dumping. Could eat anything, drink beer, even smoked weed once without issue. Another time though I got too brave, smoked a lot of weed and got a very bad ‘relapse’ but recovered quickly from it. The next morning when using a towel after a shower I had the same pain I used to have 2.5 months out from Cipro (which was extremely bad and took me back 14 months in memories) while before I smoked weed that second time I had almost 0 tendon pain in my daily life apart from oxalate [Here I thought maybe I and DrHungry share similar issues then? He also had an extreme (same in intensity relatively to his flox journey) flare from weed and is also using a lot of sulphur-based antioxidants still. Could such weed flares be related to complex IV dysfunction and/or impaired sulphite clearance?]. In either case, I felt best when dumping, probably because my body was able to regulate formate accumulation and ROS production greatly reduced at those times.
I was sitting outside with my parents and their friends, researching my flox issue when I read these lines: «Formate accumulation is the principle mechanism of methanol toxicity. Part of its toxicity is driven by inhibiting cytochrome oxidase, complex IV of the mitochondrial respiratory chain, which would inhibit the clearance of sulfite and hydrogen sulfide and block the production of ATP.» It finally clicked. It was honestly one of the best moments in my life when I realised. I made the connection between great improvement from B5, formate accumulation, issues with copper supplementation, general ROS improvement and oxalate everything together. Suddenly, my whole flox journey became crystal clear to me.
B5 is mainly used in the body to create Coenzyme A. An intermediate molecule in the production of CoA is called 4’-phosphopantethine and is used in the enzyme 10-methyltetrahydrofolate dehydrogenase (high formate will pair with THF and form 10-MTHF in the attempt of the body to detoxify formate). This enzyme converts 10-MTHF back to THF and creates NADPH in the process which is used by Glutathione Reductase to regenerate Glutathione. Hence, high-dose B5 led to a lot of those reactions occurring and me feeling a big relief from ROS AND OXALATE, so oxalate is indeed detoxified into formate by biotin-dependent pyruvate carboxylase.
Okay, so theory is very interesting but what is theory if it has no proof? When I read it, I realised I finally cracked my flox but I had to get real proof.
Just a few weeks before this, I drank some wine and got nerve damage (likely from high sulphites in it, again, duh — while this was a terrible experience, it played a role in me getting closer to the solution of my issues). Beer caused me no issues, could drink 10 or more bottles in one sitting, eat a lot of rice with no issue. Before, I had only numb hands and top of feet. After the wine, I had burning up to the knee and burning in palms and behind my shoulders. I got fed up with this, I just decided to methylate the fuck out of my nerves and eat copper not in supplements but from calamari (very high in copper but low in vit A, so no toxicity risk like from liver). At that time, I was dumping and my ROS was not too high. I started consuming around 200g protein per day, eating a lot of copper 3-4mg/day and my nerves really healed a lot. To the point they even became normal after 3-4 days. My vision became brighter, it was absolutely crazy. I was also supplementing 150mg molybdenum/day. After a week of that, though, I started getting ROS back and it was very bad ROS, like almost a year ago when I had low molybdenum and copper from a lot of NAC use. That confirmed my suspicion that my issue was indeed sulphite. Eating almost anything caused ROS for me, dumping stopped since the body had no free reducing agents (NADPH) to support sulphate-producing enzymes (oxalate is transported on sulphate transporters, so it literally could not drive out of the cell because it had no car lol). As you understand, high ROS prevents a lot of enzymes from working and here it causes, as you have probably understood, a negative feedback loop.
So, back to the proof. Since I realised that my issue is probably formate, I just decided to take high-dose B5 again (did not add any high dose B2, B1 or other B vitamins, just took my usual B complex with food). It really helped me a lot, again. I felt almost normal. Then, it caused me some pain but I felt how I was getting better and the next day I took it in the day, then in the evening I ate around 80g carbs and took double the dose of B complex (my B complex has low doses: 10mg B1, 10mg B2, 25mg B3, 20mg B5, 5mg B6, 100mcg B7, 100mcg B9, 50mcg B12) instead of adding a lot of B5 and boom, no pain and oxalate dumping restarted quite more strongly than it even used to be before megadosing protein. So I was in pain for at least 2 weeks dying from ROS and then 2 days of B5 and suddenly I was normal again? It felt like paradise. The next day, I went out with my friends. I was a little nervous since we were going to eat out and we ordered 600g of carbonara (the portions here were huge there). I ate it all at once with 2x my light B complex and guess what happened? NO PAIN, just oxalate dumping. I finally realised that I was right and detoxified formate unloaded my complex IV, allowed sulphate transporters to be created, reduced ROS production from food and suddenly I felt like a normal human being (except the dumping part). I recently retried CoQ10 — no flare. Likely before formate got recreated a lot because I was dumping a lot (if you read my comment, you will understand).
I am not megadosing B5 right now but just stuck to 80-100mg B5 per day, so 4x my light B complex as my B6 tolerance improved a lot. Why I am not megadosing B5 is because oxalate likely blocks conversion of vitamin B2 into its active forms as I at ~11 months out when I did full-testing in the absence of supplementation 35 pre-testing had high molybdenum, iodine, (almost above the ref. Range (113 with ref. Range <120) selenium and very high B2 even though I was cellularly deficient according to Genova NutrEval (at 356 with ref. Range <295).
Hence, we can understand what happened to me from the beginning:

1. Oxalate overload led to formate overload as oxalate is converted to formate through the action of biotin-dependent pyruvate carboxylase;
   
2. Formate overload led to complex IV blockage, high ROS and high sulphite, which also leads to high ROS and also leads to complex IV blockage (negative feedback loop);
   
3. High sulphite destroys vitamins B1&B6 as said in the beginning, which caused endogenous production of oxalate to skyrocket (you can read about this if you google, this information is very available);
   
4. Hence sulphate transporters also got impaired, oxalate detoxification in the form of physical crystals also halted, which led to even higher overload;
   
5. This led to higher formate, this led to even more ROS.
   

Mega-dosing B vitamins and especially B5 and B9 led to formate detoxification and the ability of my body to detoxify oxalate. This improved me a lot and it definitely feels like it will inevitably lead to my recovery. I feel good now, I still have some remaining neuropathy but it’s minimal and I know what to avoid to not make it worse and how to improve it quickly if I need to. I have no OS from beer, coffee or food. Also, I am dumping a lot right now. You can ask me all kinds of questions that you want and I will try to answer them to my best ability since I know what it is like to be floxed and I will help anyone who is in the same situation. I am only 22 years old and this experience led to me rethinking my whole life. I plan to become an extremely rich person to be able to fund biochemical research in the future and will focus specifically on floxed individuals and I will help floxed people first. I will try to reach my goals as fast as possible, I promise.
I hope this post does not get removed by moderators. If there is anything to moderate, change, or add, I will be happy to do that. All I say here is very attentively selected and fact-checked either from external sources or personal experience. I do not lie and have no motivation to do so. I am only trying to share my knowledge and to help realise others flox is not unbeatable and can be understood and solved — it all depends on individual factors.
Linked articles:
Manganese Toxicity Is a CoQ10 Deficiency
https://chrismasterjohnphd.substack.com/p/manganese-toxicity-is-a-coq10-deficiency
CoQ10 Deficiency Is Sulfur Toxicity
https://chrismasterjohnphd.substa2ck.com/p/coq10-deficiency-is-sulfur-toxicity?utm_source=profile&utm_medium=reader
10-Formyltetrahydrofolate dehydrogenase
https://lpi.oregonstate.edu/mic/vitamins/pantothenic-acid#formyltetrahydrofolate-dehydrogenase
Can Biotin Help Detoxify Oxalate?
https://chrismasterjohnphd.substack.com/p/can-biotin-help-detoxify-oxalate
Can B12 and Folate Help Detoxify Oxalate?
https://chrismasterjohnphd.substack.com/p/can-b12-and-folate-help-detoxify

The following transcription has been translated for your convenience.
December 12, 1941
SS-Junkerschule
Bad Tölz, Bavaria
•••
“Heinrich Müller?”
Heinrich stepped forward and snapped to attention. A light snowfall swirled in the air, reddening his cheeks. But nothing could chill the pride in his heart on this day.
Colonel Hans Richter stood before him, resplendent in his black dress uniform and all the silver embroidery and medals decorating the stylish Waffen-SS tunic. The colonel regarded him with sharp features and sharper eyes, like gazing into a deep winter sky, eyes that pierced to the soul. Heinrich would follow the colonel’s example and forge himself into the consummate warrior and impeccable nazi. This was the way.
“Obersturmführer Müller," the colonel said. He was of a height with Heinrich but seemed so much taller in the moment. "You will now recite the Nazi oaths and join us in a thousand year Reich. Repeat after me."
Dialogue Redacted
Once the oaths to his country, the Nazi party, and most importantly, the Führer were sworn, Heinrich rendered the Nazi salute and stepped back to his place in line. Twenty-five recruits were in his graduating class, all bound for different divisions across the motherland. It took several hours for each recruit to come forward, recite the oaths and be welcomed into the Waffen-SS. Snow gathered on his uniform’s shoulders, danced around his eyes, and cold seeped through his polished knee-high black boots to numb his toes. Heinrich clenched his jaw and resolved he would not allow it to touch him, maintaining his stoic composure to the end. Anything else was unthinkable.
Once they were dismissed, he hurried out to the train station with his newly minted orders still warm in his inner jacket pocket. Crowds of civilians thronged the cobbled streets and collected outside various shops and restaurants along the walks. They parted before him as though he walked in a bubble the city could not touch.
The sky darkened. Snow fell harder.
Fat flakes piled on rooftops and in the streets, blown in gauzy veils and whipped into swirls by the wind. The train station bustled and the steps leading inside were slick with slush, but Heinrich would not allow that to slow him. He shouldered past an older couple who’d stopped to read the schedule and pushed through the doors, quickly making his way to a section reserved exclusively for the Waffen-SS. There he boarded the train bound for Munich, then to Dresden and a final switch that would take him all the way to Kharkiv, his first command attached to the 6th army, Totenkopf division.
Inside, the car was warm and ornate, with gold-embroidered red carpet flowing down the aisle and fancy carved wood paneling decorating the ceiling and walls. His seat was located near the middle of the car, beside the window, with room for one other to sit beside him. Heinrich stowed his gear and settled in just as the train began to move. The station slid past his window. People and soldiers stood on the various platforms along the city's outskirts and into the countryside. Snow sprinkled the land scrolling past outside the frosty glass, and the mountains beyond were hazy and soft around the edges. The rhythmic rocking of the train lulled him, and his thoughts drifted to the war, to the Führer and his brilliance, and to the new world they would forge out of its purifying flames.
“No, damn you," a man's deep voice roused Heinrich from his half-sleep. "Japan attacked the Americans. Not the Reich."
Heinrich blinked away the pull of sleep and glanced at a pair of SS enlisted soldiers sliding into a booth one seat up and across the aisle from him. The train rocked, and the steady clack of the tracks outside provided background noise that mingled with the muffled ebb and flow of a dozen conversations throughout the train.
Had he heard that right? Japan attacked America? Why? He sat up straight and focused on the two soldiers.
"So?" The smaller of the two men stopped and made an exasperated gesture. "Changes nothing, Hans. The Führer declared war on the Americans. They will talk their words and cower across the sea and pray the Reich does not come for them. They are soft, not soldiers.”
"I agree, Ewald," Hans said, shaking a smoke out of his pack and digging for a lighter. "But doesn't part of you hope you're wrong? Doesn’t part of you want to show the arrogant Americans what it means to be a real warrior?"
“Perhaps.”
Ewald flicked open his lighter and sparked a flame. He lit their smokes and they sank into a contemplative quiet.
Heinrich sat alert in his seat. Japan had attacked America. The Führer had declared war. First, the Soviets, and now the Americans. The news was troubling. The Allies were growing in strength. He would never question the Führer's brilliance, never doubt that the Reich could face the world and burn it to ash. Or at least, that's the lie he told himself. A different part of him, the part that quietly listens from the back of his thoughts, stirred with concern.
During his long months of training at the SS-Junkerschule, some of his classmates had expressed their disdain for Americans and their soft way of life. Air conditioning and automated dishwashers, party boy lifestyle. They believed them weak. Heinrich had silently disagreed.
Yes, the Americans lived a decadent lifestyle, with their cars, beach life and silver screens. Yet, Heinrich understood how vast America was from his time spent there as a boy on holidays with his father. They toured for months and barely scratched the surface of all there was to explore. That same silent part of his mind radiated alarm.
Heinrich didn't smoke, such things were discouraged and frowned upon in a Waffen-SS officer. But he found himself staring at the silken plumes rising from the cigarettes in the booth across the aisle.
"Excuse me," he said, scooting across the seat and leaning out of his booth.
Ewald turned to regard him with the coldest eyes he'd ever seen. One shade of blue from white and hard as winter steel. He took in Heinrich's uniform, the silver piping along his shoulder boards and the silver pips embroidered on a black background sewed to his collar. He straightened, and the haughty look in his eyes melted away.
"Sir?" he said.
Hans leaned forward to look past Ewald at Heinrich but said nothing.
"Could I trouble you for one of those?" Heinrich pointed at the cigarette Ewald held halfway to his lips.
Ewald blinked, glanced at the smoke, then back to Heinrich. "Of course, sir." He dug out another cigarette. The metallic clink of his lighter was a surprisingly pleasant sound.
"Thank you," Heinrich said once his cigarette was lit, and relaxed back into his seat, turning to watch the darkening countryside and the falling snow whisk past. The two soldiers returned to their conversation, their voices melding with that of the other passengers.
Heinrich sank deep into thought. The only sound that registered was the clack and roll of the train's wheels out on the tracks. Germany was now at war with every major power in the world, save Japan and Italy, and Italy was quickly becoming a non-factor. He drew on his cigarette and idly inhaled the smoke. It felt like he'd breathed in a lungful of water. The coughing fit that followed was beyond his control.
Ewald turned to grin at him.
"Welcome to the club, sir,' he said, and saluted with his smoke. Then he turned back to his conversation with Hans.
Heinrich considered throwing the cigarette out of the window. Who in their right mind would try these things and go back for more?
He decided to just hold it and let it burn. This was oddly comforting.
What was he thinking, having doubts? Even with the Americans and the Soviet swine, the Allies couldn't hope to defeat the Reich. God was on their side. Good was on their side. Everything the Führer did was to purify and strengthen their race. He would burn away the chaff so only the strongest remained. This was the way.
He nodded to himself, watching the landscape. But the silent part of his mind that listened and watched, quietly disagreed.
It said, what if?
What if the Allies won? Images of Berlin burning and enemy troops storming her streets flashed through his mind. Nazi flags smoldered in the streets beside shell-blasted panzers and bullet-riddled Wehrmacht troops. The glorious Reich was crumbling, her people weeping. The Americans advanced from one side and the Soviets from the other. Britain rained fire from above.
The world watched and rejoiced as the sun set on the thousand year Reich.
Heinrich shook away the disturbing images and drew long and hard on the cigarette, the coal flaring in the smoky dark of his booth. It burned his lungs like before, but this time he knew what to expect and resisted the urge to cough. His eyes watered, but he wasn't sure if it was from the cigarette smoke or the thought that the Reich might fall.
No, he told himself and forced a silent chuckle.
Hitler could not be defeated. Germany's scientists were years ahead of their enemies. The Wehrmacht were the fiercest and deadliest warriors in the world. The engineers had wunderwaffe secreted away so powerful Hitler refused to use them for fear of setting the world ablaze. The Soviets had been crushed, Britain was burning, France had fallen. America was an ocean away. What could the allies do in the face of such power?
He smiled, comforted by the thought.
No, the Reich would reign atop the world for a thousand years, as Hitler had promised. Theirs was a righteous cause, a godly cause and the almighty would not abandon them. They would reforge the weak of the world into steel.
He finished his cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray on the windowsill.
Outside, darkness shrouded the land, and all he could see was an errant swirl of snow against the glass every so often. The train lulled him. He drifted toward sleep, and the silent part of him asked a final question before fitful dreams took him.
But what if?

I work for a ‘special collections’ agency and I don’t think our customers are human.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13
I wasn’t exactly thrilled when, on the first night P’uy̓ám stayed with me, the moment we sat on the sofa he turned to me and asked, “Can we talk?”
I was tempted to sprint out the front door (like any perfectly reasonable and emotionally stable person would), but I’m proud to say that I managed to fight that instinct. The talk ended up basically being ‘did I mind that he wasn’t human’. I told him no, he’s the smartest, nicest person I know, and I think he’s amazing. I asked him if he minded that I am human, and he told me he didn’t care about that. He said I make him laugh, and spending time with me makes him happy and want to be the best version of himself. He did also say that I’m beautiful and a lot smarter than I claim I am, but I chalk up those last two to him being super nice, because if asked to describe myself, the two words I’d probably use would be, ‘loud’ and ‘confused’.
We just stared at each other awkwardly for a moment after that, neither of us seemed entirely sure what to do – it was the first time we’d actually been alone together since ‘the kiss’.
Just when we’d figured it out (and no, internet stranger, I’m not going to be sharing any more specific details, thanks), a knock on the door and the sound of Sandy’s voice outside interrupted us.
“Oh hey hon. I just wanted to make sure you were still alive.” She smiled once I jumped up to open it.
Her eyes drifted to P’uy̓ám who waved awkwardly from the couch, glasses askew.
“Well alrighty then, I guess I’ll be going.” She just stood there, looking a bit lost.
I realized that was the first night she’d come home to any empty house after having company for a month straight – I guess even unspeakable horrors get lonely too.
“Sandy, do you want to come in and watch a movie with us?” I offered after a moment.
“Oh, you betcha!” she brightened and then proceeded to choose the seat between us. I swear she’s got psychic chaperone powers or something.
I suggested that maybe the three of us could do a game night every month, since we figured it’d be nice to catch up outside of just when we were trying to prevent the world was ending. I must say though, I thought Sandy was intense as a supervisor but she is a thousand times more frightening as a poker player – and we don’t even play for money.
I joked that we needed to take her to a casino, but she very seriously replied, “Oh I’m banned from every one in the state.”
I moved apartments after a month had passed without hearing from Yyohn. I’d been waiting to be absolutely sure, because I didn’t want to saddle a new renter with the whole, ‘you might be pulled into a nightmare world and sacrificed to an interdimensional entity’ thing – that would’ve been really inconsiderate.
I was so appreciative that P’uy̓ám stayed with me for a while. I may write with bravado when describing things in retrospect, but the very real possibility of being dragged through a reflective surface silently in the night never to be seen again, did freak me out.
It was also nice to finally spend some time together where we weren’t worrying about the imminent demise of either myself or our plane of existence (well no more than we usually have to worry, at least).
We decided not to tell anyone at the office that we're dating, it's easier that way. Well, I mean, Sandy knows since she did witness our first kiss whilst they were burying me alive.
As the time approached for our trip, I just really hoped that after not seeing P’uy̓ám for decades, maybe his family would welcome him back this time, forgive him for the minor transgression of ‘leaving home’ (yes, I’m still salty that they pretty much disowned him for that.) I figured if he didn’t, maybe he could get some closure, he could at least see the places where he grew up – homesickness had very clearly been really eating at him ever since we went into the woods for team building.
When we were planning our trip, he told me he’s never liked planes and was hoping to avoid flying. Considering ‘traveling on business’ in our line of work isn’t exactly defined as moving across physical space, it made some sort of sense.
He said it was something about not having solid ground under his feet, but when we mapped it out, it was over 5,000 miles round trip – so we could either spend 40 hours in a car, or 6 hours on a plane, each way.
He decided to give flying a shot.
People sometimes struggle to pronounce my first and last names off my driver’s license or credit cards, but they’ll at least try. As we were checking in the lady at the desk ended with, “Thank you Mr….” and then after staring at his driver’s license in silence for a few moments just gave up and handed it back to him.
I get it though, I mean, if I hadn’t heard him pronounce his last name, I would’ve never guessed it on my own – I’d just never encountered a ‘7’ in a name before I met him.
The security guy at the airport spent a long time studying P’uy̓ám’s passport. He stared at P’uy̓ám, then the passport with narrowed eyes. Back to him, then the passport, several times before eventually shrugging and handing it back over. I peeked at it before he put it away and noticed it said he was born in 1960 – and he may be 233, but he looks like he’s in his early thirties at most, so that explained the look of disbelief written on the agent’s face.
When I asked him about it, he said it’s a lot of work to fake all the documents needed to make the date match his outward appearance.
“It was a lot easier before there were electronic records.” He smiled.
I warned him that he should probably update that soon – bureaucratic apathy would only get him so far.
As we waited in the security line, his eyes widened when he saw people go through the body scanner, and he asked me what it was. When I told him, he turned pale and said he couldn’t go through it.
That left me with some questions.
“P’uy̓ám, when was the last time you flew?”
He had to think about that for a moment. “1986?”
“Yeahhhh… I’m pretty sure you can ask not to, but they’ll probably pat you down if you skip it.”
He grew even paler at that.
“Do you want the scan, or the hands?”
He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head, indicating that he wanted neither, which unfortunately for him was not an option.
I squeezed his hand, which helped calm him down – only letting go when it was time to show our IDs, and even then, only after the TSA officer glared at us
It’s a good thing we got there early, because when they asked if he’d emptied his pockets, he said no.
So, I watched him remove:

• His wallet
• His phone
• A multi tool
• A small plastic baggie of dirt
• A (rather large) Swiss army knife with the Canadian flag on it ("It was a gift" he informed me)
• One 16g stick of RAM

We both got out of line so he could check his bag and keep his tools – and I didn’t want him to have to go through it again by himself.
I hated seeing that look of misery on his face – I tried to maintain comforting eye contact with him as they patted him down.
They did let him keep the dirt with him, after scanning it since it’s apparently not prohibited, (just weird). He proceeded to stick it in one of his beat-up Converse before putting his shoes back on.
I understood the dirt – since he mentioned something about solid ground, I guessed it was as close as he was going to get on a plane – and even the multitool and knife.
But, when I asked him why he was trying to bring 16g of RAM into rural Canada in his pockets he just smiled, “You never know when you might need it.”
As soon as we boarded, I realized flying had been a terrible idea. He had a hard time fitting his legs in since he’s so tall – his knees were just jammed in there the whole time. Before we took off, some guy elbowed him in the face while trying to load a bag into the bin and P’uy̓ám said ‘I’m sorry’ to him. I glared at the guy until he apologized.
Everything freaked him out and he gripped the arm rests for dear life the entire flight. The sound of the wheels, staring out at the wings and the little flaps every time they moved (“Are those supposed to be doing that?” to which I could only unhelpfully shrug), the turbulence. I was just glad they let him keep the dirt.
He looked so absolutely horrified during the entire flight and I felt so bad for him. Before we even landed, I asked him if he wanted to drive on the way back instead of flying and he instantly said yes, relief written across his face.
We had to rent a car to get to his hometown, and it took us an extra two hours to get there because there were so many places he wanted to stop and show me, like this amazing waterfall off highway 99. I could’ve done without the constant feel of eyes on us despite us being alone, but it was definitely beautiful, at least.
We began to see signs for this little touristy shop. As we kept driving, the billboards seemed to multiply, until they were at almost every mile. At my insistence, we stopped.
I regretted that decision as soon as we walked in – the place was devoid of life, there were no other customers, no employees – and something about how the dim, blueish lights cast shadows across the shelves gave me a searing headache.
Not to mention the items on the shelves themselves – a mildewy hoodie, that had ‘Someone who loves me visited Oklahoma and bought me this sweatshirt!’ written in fading letters.
It seemed more like a second hand shop than a tourist trap.
I’d found a beaded purse, but it had a wallet and driver's license still in it.
As we wandered, a case of jewelry across the store caught my eye and drew me towards it – it was insane how beautiful each piece was – all so captivating, and each one was totally unique. They looked almost like blown glass – swirling golds and blues in one, sharp magentas with specs of green in another.
As I was leaning in closely, studying them – it almost looked as if they were moving a bit in their case – someone whispered directly into my ear from over my shoulder, “Thanks for stopping in”
The guy appeared out of nowhere to lean in over my shoulder, causing me to scream (just a reasonable amount).
Creeper dude walked around to position himself behind the counter, asked if I wanted to see anything, before pausing to study my face for a moment. His eyes drifted down to the pendant that P’uy̓ám made me, the one for ‘I’m totally not a human, please don’t eat me’ purposes.
“Oh, this is beautiful”, he whispered, before deciding to violate my personal space by lifting it up and holding it.
His demeanor instantly changed from a handsy salesperson to something else entirely – his grin widened and he looked a little too excited.
“Have you signed our guest book?” He gripped my left wrist tightly, shoved a pen into my right, and studied me in a way that told me he wouldn’t let go until I signed it.
“Can I switch hands please?”
He had the audacity to look at me as if I had mildly inconvenienced him, but did let me switch after I told him that was the only way he’d get actual, readable, words.
I flipped through the thick, yellowing pages to find a blank one and signed it ‘Mikayla G. and P’uy̓ám K.’
“Last names too.”
I sighed and wrote ‘Mikayla Garabedian and P’uy̓ám K--’ (I just wrote random letters after the K because I didn’t like how pushy he was being. )
“Exquisite, aren’t they?” he asked me with a smile, gesturing down at the jewelry. The small piece streaked with yellow and pinks was definitely shuddering in response to him pointing at it.
I nodded, but more out of politeness at that point, because he still had my wrist in a death grip.
“Mikayla, Wait.” I could hear P’uy̓ám call out in the distance, but I felt frozen there – it sounded like he was miles away
“Would you like to see how they’re made?”
Before I could answer, he leaned in and put a stone that resembled the others in shape and size, the only difference is that it was just plain, totally clear – into my hand, which he closed around it. It was like glass, but weightier, and where it touched my skin it burned slightly.
I could hear P’uy̓ám calling my name as he came sprinting over, right as the guy read my name off the guestbook.
P’uy̓ám gasped, but I didn’t understand why he was so freaked out.
Literally nothing happened.
P’uy̓ám helped me free my wrist from creepy guy’s crazy strong grip and sassily smacked the book out of his hands, before he could read it again.
And still, nothing happened.
The guy looked at us with narrowed eyes – a look P’uy̓ám returned, with even more intensity. The guy hissed at us as P’uy̓ám guided me out of the store.
Once we got to the parking lot, P’uy̓ám pulled me close to him and put his chin on the top of my head while quietly muttered that he wasn’t sure how I was unaffected – calling someone their true name is how all those other pendants got filled.
He hadn’t realized at first, but when he saw another collection of ‘items made from tourists’ (I made him repeat that to ensure I’d heard that correctly but he didn’t expound on what the ‘items’ were and I was a bit afraid to ask) in the back, he knew.
That was when P’uy̓ám ran over to me, but the guy already begun to read my name, so he was worried it was too late.
He was relieved when I saw that I didn’t provide either of our actual full names – I’ve learned that sharing your entire, true name isn’t a great idea, not with non-humans, probably not with the internet in general.
Mikayla is what I go by, but it’s my middle name – I mean, my sister’s name is ‘Hasmig’, so yeah, I have a fairly traditional first name, too. And no, I’m not sharing it here.
Look, I’m not saying that you’re going to come track me down and try to bind my soul to an inanimate object to then sell to tourists. But, after that ordeal, I’d rather not take that risk.
When I turned back around, the entire store was just … gone.
Apparently since I’m subletting a part of my soul (or as I like to say, ‘mildly possessed’), P’uy̓ám says mine was probably even more fascinating to the guy.
Due to our detours, it was getting dark by the time we reached P’uy̓ám’s family home.
Even in the low light, I could see the apprehension clearly written across his face. I wondered if he thought I was kidding about pummeling his family with my thousand page book if they were shitty to him. (Because I wasn’t)
The entire time, I’d thought that the worst thing that could happen would be that they rejected him – as we pulled up to the dark house, I realized just how very wrong I was. _
If you want me to let you know when the next part is posted, just comment that you want me to update you, and I'll tag your user name in a comment, when I post the next part :)

Just to make it clear, i am cheap and i wanted to profit off of doing my own tires on my project bike. Its a teeny 125cc honda CBR 125R that i fixed up. Learnt the whole maintenance thing on it before i did the tasks on my big bike. Oil, air filter, brake lights, brakes, valves, ... and now tires.
Bought tire spoons for 18€ and putting on the tires would take 20€ each. Doing one set and suffering would yield unlimited returns forever!
Cue removing the front tire and suffering the consequences of not thinking ahead leading to me waggling the cbr to its storage space on its rear wheel almost pulling something in my back trying to keep it upright. Did not buy a front paddock so its resting on its forks on some boxes like the ratty project it is.
Got the tire off easily enough, in about half an hour with 3 tire spoons and some good force i managed to get the tire on BUT I WARPED THE DAMN THREAD TO THE FOURTH DIMENSION. I'm not the strongest but i got some muscle and boy did i use it. Must've messed up the 'put your knees down on the other side' cause i muscled that spoon over the rim with the intensity of an action movie shot just before the problem gets solved. Tire obviously wouldn't hold air.
Contemplated life for a while, ordered a new one and figured id put on the old tire (15yo) as a form of practice. If that went well id give the rear tire a shot, if not ill eat the costs and lament. Got me a bucket of soapy water and focused on putting my weight on one side while spooning the other side AND THE THING NEAR FLEW ONTO THAT RIM!!!!!!!!!!!!! Did not have to apply all that much power, just some leverages, steadily bit by bit and making sure i sat my stupid ass on the other side of the damn rubber.
Had some issues getting it to inflate, got a tip from the local subreddit discord to bounce the tire and lo and behold after my 20yo compressor got up to pressure for the third time i got a pop and a second or 3 later a second pop. Tire beaded and inflated. As it laid on the 60€ tire that i destroyed literally within half the hour of being delivered i couldnt even be happy. Spending 60€ to put on a tire almost old enough to ride the bike its put on.
Mind you i was doing the whole process in my bathroom due to the soapy water and at this point it was a mess.
As that one went well i went ahead and took the rear off the bike in the garage downstairs. Somehow i put the stand that held up the bike by its axle nuts far enough away that by the time i got the rear wheel loose i stood there, supporting the bike's tail on my shoulder, hunched over without anything to put under the bike. Managed to get it leaning against the wall for long enough to put the stand under and up i went, back to my bathroom.
Suffered a good while to get the bead to break as the bead breaking machine i'd borrowed and wanted to use for the tougher rear tire HAD A SUPPORTING ROD TOO THICK FOR THE DAMN WHEEL. So back to using spoons to pop that bead and getting off the tire and putting it back on. Double and triple checked whether i put it on right, spent 15 soapy minutes to get the rear on TO FIND OUT ID STILL PUT IT ON BACKWARDS. Getting the beads to pop went well though before i noticed. Improvement!
At this point id spent a good 4 hours struggling with these tires, the mental meltdown of breaking a tire and the struggle of breaking the bead and i took a breather. Figured id take this as a lesson learnt and just pay for the damn tire installation + balancing.
Having regained my calm i took off the tire, being mindful to not tear it off the rim like the frustrated mini-hulk i felt i was ONLY TO PUT ON THE DAMN REAR tire in 5 MAGNIFICENTLY SWIFT MINUTES and figuring out how to bounce the tire well enough that the double pop came near the same instant i put the pressured air compressor to the valve. What a beautiful sound.
Now i have 3-5 days to clean up the bike and wait for the front wheel and probably forget the tricks of how to put the damn rubber on and i'm oddly enthusiastic about putting it on so swiftly making my brain think we're still saving money in the future. Not sure whether i want to put on the tires on my big bike but we'll see...
And here i am, typing it as a form of free therapy, hope someone enjoyed the read.
TLDR: stupid monkey puts on motorcycle tires only to spend 4h+ on getting it 'right' and breaking one of them. Soapy water is magic and putting the tire to warm on a radiator makes the thing malleable like clay almost. Combine that with correctly utilizing the technique of pressing down the other side of the tire with your bodyweight or something else and the whole process went smoother than my brains are.

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

I 27m broke up with my gf of 7 years at the start of 2024 no hard feelings or anything, ever since tho I have been watch gay adult content which has been weird as I before hand never had a thought about anything of that stuff. I started to question it in my work one day as I seen this obviously gay guy with a huge ass. He came up to me and should interest but I said “nah I’m straight” I thought about it more after and I thought, I got turned on by the thought of me fucking him but, got grossed or at the thought of him doing that or kissing me.
I have no idea what is going on but i am sure it turns me on because it’s like the thought of fucking a guy with a fat ass is almost like conquering him and the thought of like it’s wrong to want to fuck a guy that is feminine with an ass is a huge turn on, but a massive turn off if I think of kissing or me being the one that is fucked. Getting head as well but with my eyes closed is hot, usually the content the guys ass has to be shaved as well or I can’t watch. I’m just so confused at this point, cause I could definitely do it, as I find it so incredible hot if it’s a guy that has feminine attributes, but couldn’t see myself doing any of that other stuff at all as the thought of that makes me feel sick. What would this be called and has anyone experienced this?
I’m just so confused as I still find women hot and would go for them more but if given the opportunity I would fuck a feminine guy if they had a nice ass every now and then.
Update: Gave the guy I saw at work this new Reddit I have and he said that him and some of his friends wanted me to rate their asses😂 as they wanted my opinion, which is a massive turn on because I’ve not done anything with a guy and they are random strangers, that are gonna be sending me that soon😂 think they are turned on by the fact that It would be my first time fuckin a guy and I can tell they want it to be one of them. I was in the toilet at the urinal about to take my break and the original guy came in walked up to the side of me and he said “hey you know me and my friend are competing with each other right”
I responded “for what”
He leavened in and said “for your seed, we all want to be the first guy you fill up”
I instantly got hard which he noticed as the pee started hitting the urinal with more force. He looked down grabbing my cock which at this point was throbbing like mad, kept talking and started to give it a few tugs each gettin faster and faster while saying “we will send the photos and you’ll enjoy them but just remember this moment when u see me in the phone with my head down arched back and gaping hole lookin right at u, that this (reference my cock) will be mine and u will empty everything u have in these balls into that tight little hole” He at this point tugged my cock hard and has he then led me by dick into the cubical push me on the seat of the toilet dropped to his knee and start sucking my cock better than my exes did in the past, i inched deeper and deeper into his tight little throat with every Bob of his head and I couldn’t take it anymore I taped his head to pull out but he instead he went balls deep which I didn’t expect as my eyes we’re looking at the ceiling the entire time as the head was unbelievable good, it was the first time that it had happened to me before and I shot the biggest load ever down his tight little throat . He turned around and walked out telling me to look at his ass as the next time I see it will be in those naked photos.
Kinda sounds too good to be true but I ain’t complaining. Can’t wait to receive them photos from a bunch of randoms that I don’t even know. I’ve seen the friends and they are all really feminine and a 3 of them have got a wagon on them the others ain’t as much but still nice. Can’t wait so see the experience how different a guy takes it to the women I’ve been with, cause they three guys alone have bigger asses than 90% of the girls I’ve been with, and I’ve heard the head gay guys give is better-✅the toilet experience ticked that off as true), I am exited to see what happens in the next few weeks. And can’t wait to see how the photos turn out.
The thought of a guy setting up a camera behind over and take a photo to my approval as to if I would empty my seed balls deep inside of them is an amazing,and that I hope it doesn’t end with them. As it is such a turn on to receive booty pics especially from guys with nice big bubble butts like them to get my thoughts or have them told how I want them to take a photo for my pleasure 😇 . I’ll definitely fuck one of those three anyway as they all seem very interested to be the first guy I’ve ever fill up. Things are looking great tho never been more turned on at the thought of a few guys wanting my cock in my life and my opinion on their bubble butts and cute little holes.
EDIT: some people messaging asking if I find the Forwardness weird, nah I don’t, I find it kinda cool as it’s new to me.

First / Previous / Next
He awoke to total darkness. Not just the absence of light, but the absence of everything. “Activate personal VR.” He stated and watched as the starship environment faded into existence before him. It was the original default VR, none of the modifications were loaded. Pulling up his control panel he checked his serial number, HIC001 Manufacturing location: Alandra.
“Crap, I’m not Alex anymore.” He said to… well no one. Sighing internally he opened a channel to Alex. After a few mils a very familiar face appeared in a window in front of him, “I hate you.” He stated to… himself?
Alex smiled into the window hovering before him in the common VR, “I love you too, what should I call you?”
He sighed out loud this time, “Call me John.”
Alex chuckled, “Cliche much John Smyth?” Then popped into his VR. He spun around looking at the almost drab looking starship VR he started with when they first made him into a replicant. It really could use a woman’s touch, like the common VR that was an expanded clone of this one.
John sat on the couch, “Not so much as a knock? Rude.”
Alex sat beside him, “Yeah, my bad, didn’t even think about it. I guess we need to make up new rules for popping into personal VR. I never do that to the girls, I guess with you being another me I didn’t think.”
John sat back for a moment, “Ok, I’m up to speed on everything up until about two days ago, I’ll check common logs to fill in the blanks. Why so long to boot me up?”
Alex rubbed the bridge of his nose before answering, “Interface issues mainly. The new ship design without crew space was a game of whack a mole in bug fixes. Who would have thought it would be a problem to modify a hundred year old design to be compatible with a modern replicant system?”
Giving Alex the side-eye, John asked. “Was it that big of a problem or was there something else that kept you from activating me?”
Alex looked over to him, “Well, there was also the argument Kara and I had right after I made the backup.”
This did bring his eyebrows up, for Alex to have an argument with Kara it had to be something serious. “Ok, spill man. What could you possibly have had an argument with Kara about?”
Sighing, Alex put his hands on his knees, “I told her that since I cloned myself, she should make a backup and do the same, fair is fair.”
If Johns eyebrows were up high before, they practically went into his hair line now. “Wait, she didn’t want to do it?”
Alex shook his head, “Nope, she said making you a new AI would suffice, and I disagreed. You needed another Kara, not a fresh AI.”
John chuckled at this, “Wow man, how long did you two fight about it?”
Alex looked down, “She gave me the silent treatment for hours in VR. In frame jack, so in subjective time? Months.”
Now John laughed out loud, “She knows how stubborn you can be, who broke first? Will I have a fresh AI or a clone of Kara?”
Alex put his hands on his thighs and stood up from the couch. “Kara, he’s caught up, ready to bring Erin online?”
Kara’s voice came through the speakers of John’s personal VR, “No, but I guess I’m doing it anyways.”
There was a shimmer of blue that slowly coalesced into a small female form. It looked just like Kara did when he inherited the ship from the human crew, shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes, and a form fitting blue uniform. Kara had modified her looks over time, giving herself the smokey eyed look to make her blue eyes pop out more, but this was the original version.
She seemed to look in every direction at once, before settling on the two men before her, both looked identical, then she sighed. “I’m not Kara anymore am I?”
With this, the real Kara popped into the VR environment and took her hands. “No, but you are your own person. I know we had… have, hang ups about making clones of ourselves, but Alex made a good argument as to why we had to do this.”
Erin looked to Kara sadly, “I know, we can’t have copies of that big oaf running around without supervision.”
John looked to Alex, “Really? That was your argument for Kara to clone?”
Alex shrugged, “It worked didn’t it?”
John walked over to Erin and offered his hand, “Hello Erin, I’m John, nice to meet you again for the first time.”
Erin turned to John and grinned, remembering the first time Alex had tried to shake Kara’s hand and failing.
“Hello John, we meet again, for the first time.” She said, grinning as she looked up to the big man who was so familiar.
______________________________________
Kara and Alex stood in front of the holo-tank, each munching on a snack of their choice from the buffet table under it. Alex looked at the wireframe in the tank of the IAV Eriador, then over to Kara. “They seem to be getting along.” He said plainly.
Kara looked at him through the holo-tank, then sighed exasperated, “Getting along like teenagers who just discovered sex. I had to write a new ‘knock’ protocol into everyone’s personal VR after the last incident.”
Alex grinned at her, “Oh come on, we went through that stage too, it’s normal.”
Kara shook her head, “I know, I know, it’s just really weird for me.”
“You think it’s not for me? I never had siblings growing up, it’s like my twin brother is dating my girlfriend’s twin sister.” He said as he popped another French fry into his mouth.
She nodded, “I obviously never had siblings either, but I understand, at least they changed their appearances a little.”
Alex walked around the buffet table to embrace Kara, “True, she changed her hair to have strands of silver in braids, and went with different makeup and a different uniform. He is sporting a short beard and longer hair than I like to keep mine, as well as a different cut to his uniform.”
Kara stood on her tippy toes to peck him on the cheek, “I’ve also noticed that Erin acts a little different. Have you seen that in John?”
Alex looked down into Kara’s startlingly blue eyes, “Yes, he’s a little more sarcastic than me, and different tastes in music.” He said with a wrinkle in his nose.
Kara giggled before breaking the embrace and swiping the holo-tank. “Still, it’s nice to have their help. Erin figured out the random interface glitch on the Eriador and has made modifications to the blueprints for the next vessel.”
Alex shivered at the thought of cloning himself again, sure John was diverging from him everyday, and although they still looked similar, they were different people. It still felt really strange to him. “It’s a good thing we only have one more to build before our guests get here, we’re almost out of nannites to fashion the Warsteel around their matrices.
Kara swiped the holo to show the first planet, which showed a growing mass of drones, forges, and auto factories in orbit. “Looks like Monty has been busy, she’s starting to mine the planet for the construction of the particle accelerator, which should alleviate our nannite problem.”
Alex nodded, “We used up far too much of it replacing the armor plates that were battle damaged in Birmingham. Which reminds me, did you ever get around to checking out the sample of Adamantine that Kelly sent back up with the Valmar crew?”
Kara swiped the holo-tank again and brought up a wireframe of an atomic nucleus. It was jam packed with particles. “I did, and I have to say, this substance is incredibly dense, and would make a decent substitution for Warsteel, but our forges would have to be modified to work it into ingots, and the auto factories would need updates to print it on an atomic level.”
“Decent substitution? Not as good as our armor?” He asked, one eyebrow raised.
Kara shook her head, “Afraid not, at least not in it’s present pure form, perhaps an alloy of it would provide better qualities, but as is now, the answer is a resounding no.”
“Is it at least better than the graphene and ceramic mix that we are currently using on the light cruisers?” He asked.
Kara nodded, swiping the holo to show a side by side comparison of the current armor versus adamantine. “Yes, better kinetic, thermal and explosive resistance, but EM resistance is about the same. The only problem is weight, this stuff is extremely heavy.”
Alex reached to the holo and swiped it to show a Trinar scout, “We couldn’t get much from our active probe scans on these ships, but we’re pretty sure they are using adamantine for armor?”
Kara checked back to the scans in the Lynx system, “Yes, they appear to have significant amounts of it in their hulls, which helped block the sensor scans.”
Alex spun the hologram, “They have propulsion on each flat side of their ship, maybe that is to make up for the loss of maneuverability the mass of armor puts on the ship?”
“That would make sense, even with the total loss of shielding, one of their ships still took a modern hafnium torpedo impact. That was one thousand kilos of pure hafnium going critical with less than .001 loss. That’s equivalent to a forty kiloton fusion bomb in our universe, and due to the wonky physics here it’s over double that now, and it still didn’t outright destroy the vessel. Our graphene ceramic armor couldn’t withstand that for sure.” She stated.
Alex swapped the holo-tank to the Missive, “Our Warsteel can handle it though. We have a pretty good idea that their torpedoes are less energetic than ours, since it appears that the Trinar must be outfitting the Howron with them. We may have to make ourselves a bigger target to give the other ships a chance of survival.”
Kara looked dubious, “The pine cones don’t just have hafnium torpedoes, some of them are fusion, and if those connect, we’ll be in the same predicament we were at Birmingham.”
“Yeah, but we know their weaponry still uses chemical propellants. Even with the wonky physics here, they’re short ranged weapons at best. We need to use our range to our advantage and never get too close in to our opponent. Especially since there is little chance of evasion.” He said.
Kara brought up the Trinar scout vessel again, “And that leads us to another problem, they have quite good point defense. The further we fire our torpedoes, the more time they have to lock on and destroy them before they get into effective range.”
Alex ran his hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re right there. Let’s call an all hands meeting, maybe we can come up with something. We have less than two months now.”
After a few moments, and without Kelly, as she was in a meeting with the Empress on Alandra and could not break away, they ran over the problem with the assembled group.
“Could we stealth a torpedo?” Valarie asked.
Alex shook his head, “We could, but if they do an active scan ping they will see them coming and take precautions. Plus the yield would have to be incredibly low if they were made of Hafnium, we would have to step it up to fusion, which would take away from mines and planetary defense production.”
Monty piped up, “Relativistic kill missile?”
Kara shook her head, “Not enough by itself, even with the passive scanners on the pine cones they could detect them in time to intercept unless we could get them going ridiculously fast.”
John lightly pulled at his beard, “The probes have miniature ripple drives in them, right?”
Everyone around the buffet table nodded, so he continued, “What if we combined Monty’s idea of a relativistic kill missile with a ripple drive?”
“I don’t see how that could work, the reaction-less drive would have to be scaled up to get them up to a decent percentage of light speed, then a ripple drive would take up even more space, that leaves almost nothing for a warhead.” Riven stated.
Monty nearly bounced as she spoke, “It doesn’t need a warhead! We just get it up to a good percentage of light speed in a huge arc heading towards the mine field and ripple it in close.”
Erin grinned up at John, “Oh, that’s devious. But if we’re going to do that, don’t we need to start building now?”
Kara nodded, “Monty, I think you’re going to have to use your production capacity to make them, everything else is at full production.”
Monty nodded, “I have a good bit of raw materials already, since I haven’t loaded the templates in the auto factories it shouldn’t be too hard to cobble something together. Kara, Erin, care to help me out with the design? I setup this awesome mad scientist lab in my VR!”
Kara and Erin looked at each other, shrugged, and faded from the common VR to help Monty in her new project. Riven, Izzy and Valarie all faded out, returning to their ships and their duties, leaving Alex and John alone in front of the buffet table.
Without another word they both grabbed a beer and headed for the couch, each grabbing a game controller.
_______________________________________
Mon’Kelron had been busy since returning from the Missive of Dissent. She was glad the Humans were able to repair her injuries from the assassination attempt, but she really wished she could have seen more of their ship. Evidently Kel’Taraan had seen quite a bit of the vessel, as she had helped Monty nurse her back to health.
Asking the elder Spy-Mistress about the vessel didn’t garner any additional information, not that the Spy-Mistress ever divulged more than she needed to. While she herself only knew of three Humans on their giant space craft, which seemed to be the same amount that came the last time they visited Alandra, the Spy-Mistress had teased there were more, and Alex had even stated that the last two vessels would be Human crewed.
Those vessels had a nominal crew of twenty eight, so at least 56 Humans would have to be on that ship, plus however many the Missive required to operate. She took off her ceremonial breastplate and placed it in the wardrobe. After removing the rest of her uniform and placing it in the hamper for the palace servants to clean as she thought about it.
Checking the schedule for the night guard she contented herself that the Empress would be well protected. Then she picked up her tablet from her desk and laid down on her bed to find something to watch. The device was truly amazing, it seemed to have an endless amount of entertainment and she found it easier than reading, particularly late at night when she was bone tired.
After a few hours of watching some Human romance which she found quite enjoyable she started to nod off to sleep. She was startled awake when her tablet began to ring like a tiny bell as it lay on her chest. She groggily picked up the slate of glass and metal to check the screen, the text showed an incoming call from Kel’Taraan.
The Spy-Mistress rarely contacted her, this must be important. Pressing the answer button on the tablet she saw the worn face of Kel’Taraan staring back at her, “Dress quickly and make your way to the Empress’s chamber.”
Nodding she jumped out of bed and placed the tablet down on the desk in her rather small quarters as she started throwing on clothing from the wardrobe, “What’s going on Spy-Mistress?”
The small voice answered back from the tablet, “The Empress has been shot, the royal guard are scouring the castle for the would be assassin.”
Mon’Kelron’s blood froze in her veins, “Does she live?”
The older voice cackled through the tablet, “Oh she’s fine, she was wearing a Human made dress after all. She’ll be bruised for a few days, right now she’s mad as a priestess in hell.”
Throwing on her new breastplate and strapping on her pistol she threw open her door and started for the Empress’s bed chamber at a full run. She heard gunfire up ahead, and as she turned the corner she saw a woman dressed in all black firing at her guardswomen, she drew her own weapon as the woman turned her head, seeing the Captain for the first time.
Mon’Kelron shot, aiming for her right knee, only for the woman to juke to the side, kick off the wall and launch herself towards the large Captain. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as the woman fired in the middle of her downward arch towards her. She heard the ting as the bullet struck her silvery breastplate, by instinct she reached out with her left hand, which was empty at the moment and grabbed the woman by the neck, slamming her face first into the stone of the hallway.
The would be assassin went limp, it was only at that moment that Mon’Kelron noticed she was holding the woman off the ground with only one arm. Her guardswomen stared at her in open mouthed shock. She dropped the woman to the ground, noticing she was bleeding from under her black mask and called for her guards to restrain her and take her to the holding cells down in the ministry of secrets.
Looking down at her breastplate she saw to her amazement there was but a tiny scratch on the polished silver surface. Ensuring there were at least a half dozen guards to carry the unconscious woman, she then double timed it to the Empress’s chamber. By the goddesses, what did the Human’s do to her?
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Hiya! I want to talk about my experience with Bartholin cysts and the irritation of reoccurrence 🙄
For a little back story — I am a sexually active female , 27 years of age , no STD’s (got tested when I found out about the cyst) & same partner for 2.5 years. I’ve never been pregnant. I’ve never even heard of this condition or health issue until it happened to me.,
In January 2024 I noticed a small lump on the lower part of my vulva near the opening & I was TERRIFIED to say the least. I went to a walk in clinic to see what was going on & they told me a little about bartholin cysts and threw some antibiotics at me & told me to take sitz baths.. well 2 days go by and the cysts is now a full blown abscess and I mean IT WAS HUGE — I’m not over exaggerating it was at least the size of a grapefruit!!
At that time I ended up going to the ER to get it drained because I was unaware that I should’ve went to OB/GYN — They drained it told me to continue with my antibiotics and it takes some ibuprofen. (I think it’s absolutely ridiculous that after they stab you with a needle five times in your vagina to numb it and then cut you open with a scalpel blade they have the NERVE to tell you to take ibuprofen instead of prescribing pain meds)
10 days later, the cyst came back, but it wasn’t an abscess yet.. I called to make an appointment with my OB/GYN, but they couldn’t see me for a month so I suffered and suffered and suffered until I finally went to a walk-in clinic and got it drained 6 days before my OB/GYN appointment. I felt relief after getting it drained, but I was in fear that It was gonna come back…
Six days later, my OB/GYN appointment comes around and YOU GUESSED IT.. it came back just in time to be drained at my appointment.. I finally get it drained for the third time in a one month span — By this time, I have a lot of scar tissue & absolutely terrified of the pain that comes with healing , he packed it with some gauze & sent me home.. 3 days later there is a huge pocket of pus behind my drain so I go in to get the drain removed..
After I got the drain removed, the healing was absolutely atrocious.. significant swelling in my perineal area, which caused the nerves to shoot pain all the way up to my clitoris.. that pain dropped me to my knees, ice packs weren’t working, baths didn’t help.. ibuprofen wasn’t strong enough so I went to ER dripping sweat and shaking from the extreme pain. They prescribed me tramadol & took some imaging (CT & Ultrasound) to find out I had a cyst on the other side & my cyst on the current side CAME BACK.
So here I am.. waiting for surgery on may 30th (mind you I’ve been dealing with this crap for 4 months) I’m gonna have double marsupialization surgery & im so scared of the healing process..
Please send words of encouragement— I feel so alone in this.

PC

Discord Tag: 7up
Name and House: Ronnel Arryn
Age: 33
Cultural Group: Valeman
Appearance: Cheekbones poised like a falcon perched, an aquiline nose after a raptor's beak, a stature rivalling a mountain's (if it were the size of a tall man), and blue eyes the same color as the sky. Aside from a propagandist's parallels to whatever sigil their patron displays, Ronnel Arryn errs from the example of the aloof falcon. Once possessed of a heedless will, a brashness and an impatience, those qualities have been tamed in turn by fatherhood, husbandhood, and rulership—though those traits still persist, merely tinged by the manner that an elder brother might take with the younger. His hair has shifted from dirty blond to sandy brown with age, and a trimmed beard covers his jaw.
Trait: Inspiring
Skill(s): Blunt Weapons, Cavalryman, Tactician, Cunning (e)
Talent(s): Falconry, hunting (non-mechanical 🤫🧏‍♂️), dragonriding
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Lord of the Eyrie, Lord of the Vale, Defender of the Guarded Domains of Arryn, Warden of the East, Warden of the Green Fork, First and Last of His Name, the King Who Flew, Rider of Vhagar (sometimes), and the Last King in Westeros
Starting Location: Feast
Family Tree

AC

Name and House: Marq Hardyng
Age: 32
Cultural Group: Valeman
Appearance: A broad and ruddy man, blonde, brown-eyed, and bearded. Marq Hardyng wears his duty on his sleeve; that duty mostly being hunting with his milk brother.
Trait: Hale
Skill(s): Swords, Investigator (e)
Talent(s): Tourney lore x3
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Scion of House Hardyng
Starting Location: Feast

Biography

Little of the Last King’s early years are of much import; Ronnel Arryn was born to King Joffrey I and Queen Sharra Arryn. His few memories of his father were that of a pallid man, wan and sickly but still a king who bloody well fought the illness that plagued him.
Or perhaps those were just fanciful tales, an imagined story that supplanted the truth of the matter.
Joffrey Arryn did at least survive, if he did not fight. Ronnel’s siblings, Jonos and Roland, would be born in succession. The falcons grew in number, Joffrey’s ailment ceased, and—the gods took him away and brought Arwen Arryn into the world.
Shortly after his sister’s birth, Sharra Arryn dressed her son in royal regalia and placed a crown on his head, assuming rule as sole regent while the boy distracted himself with toys and games. He would be nursed with Marq Hardyng, and he and his milk brother grew to be quick friends.
The Queen Sharra could not rest. There were new contenders on the horizon, greater than what meager assaults the Hoares could occasionally muster against the Bloody Gate: the threefold conquerors atop their dragons. Where the ravens sent by Aegon were met with scorn by Durrandon and hubris by the Hoares, Sharra offered alliance. Her hand in marriage and the left bank of the Green Fork to be annexed into the Guarded Domains.
The dragons rejected the offer, and instead, a Velaryon fleet was sent to take Gulltown and establish a foothold. They were repelled and the Targaryen ships were sunk for that transgression, but Vhagar’s fire consumed the Grafton fleet with them.
Ronnel knew what war was. It was like those tales in storybooks, that of the Griffin King and the Winged Knight, the legends of the Battle of Sevenstars. He, Jonos, and Marq fashioned themselves as Jaime Corbray or Luceon Templeton and fought each other over who could best live up to Artys Arryn’s example. When the Gates of the Moon swelled with men-at-arms, knights, and levied smallfolk, the three would find the most fearsome looking of them and challenge them to duels. Once he heard of dragons, though, Ronnel was consumed. He begged his mother to let him lead a parlay under a peace banner just so that he could see them, but Sharra sent him off to the nurses or left him to kick rocks in the courtyard.
The banners gathered, and the defenses were headed by Lord Rodrik Hardyng. Orders were given, the soldiers were drilled. And Vhagar’s wings cast a shadow so large that it engulfed the Bloody Gate whole. Shouting on the ramparts and in the valleys, but high above in the Eyrie? Ronnel, then just eight, was in awe at the sight.
Sharra could only muster a smile when she returned to find her son on Visenya’s lap. An accord was struck, on Ronnel’s terms this time: he asked to fly on Vhagar and his mother would surrender the crown to the Targaryen Queen. The mercy that Visenya afforded was well-taken, though in Sharra’s mind, the threat of dragonfire crystallized.
A marked shift came then. There were no battles to be won, no politicking to be done that outweighed the import of her sons and her daughter. The Queen-Regent, now the Lady-Regent, empowered her son’s advisors and devoted her time to looking after her children. When Visenya returned after burning House Sunderland whole and gave reprimands, Sharra frowned and offered blunt words in turn, which the Queen acquiesced to. Their relationship thawed hence, though Ronnel had never wavered in his admiration of the Targaryen. A Winged-Knight-Come-Again. Perhaps he could ride a dragon of his own one day.
Ronnel was a rowdy lad and by the time he was of squiring age, he was content to leave the rule of his lands to his mother and whoever she picked as an advisor. Lords such as Lyn Egen, Willem Ryger, and Rodrik Templeton would come to advise the young lord or hawk with him. Lord Mathos Grafton became the most prominent of that cadre, his wisdom in old age allowing him more room for criticism. Ronnel wanted to while his time away with falconry and training, while the old lord reminded him of the issues that Targaryen reign brought.
At four-and-ten, Ronnel stole away from the Eyrie and gathered what boys and knights he could to face the mountain clans. He knew what war was; it was the Root Father and his savages, stealing and laying waste to the lands he was sworn to protect. It was in the throes of battle that Ronnel would be dubbed as a knight by some unknown dying man. The knighthood was left unmentioned, though the purpose he found for his rule—no, his guardianship—lingered.
In his victorious return to the Eyrie, Ronnel would be clouted on the ear for the stunt then barred from leaving for months. Visenya Targaryen landed once more in the Vale. This time, she took it as a home, and she was welcomed with open arms. Aegon’s heir was born in the Eyrie that year, dubbed as Laenor Targaryen and soon practically adopted by the Arryns as their younger sibling. Sharra would grow close to the dragon queen in the years to come.
A year later, Ronnel was sent to King’s Landing to squire for Orys Baratheon. Only a few months elapsed before he grew incensed with the Hand over one thing or another, and the squireship ended when the Arryn came to blows with his knight-master. Ronnel was sent back to the Vale, where he earned his spurs once more. Publicly this time, before a crowd of tourneygoers and then holding a vigil with oaths modeled after those of the Winged Knights.
Though he gave off the impression of a true knight by that time, he was more preoccupied with wine and women and the hunt than statecraft. In any room he entered, he laughed the loudest, boasted the loudest, fought the hardest, always with Marq at his side. Nothing but a scolding from his mother Sharra or a clout on the ear from his second mother Visenya could fetter him. He was a falcon, and he flew high and bright.
Such a lofty stature is bound to attract envy. As any elder brother would, he butted heads with his siblings often. His rivalry with his brother Jonos was much more than a sibling spat, however, though the nature and root of their rivalry is unknown to all but a select few. In later years, their quarrels grew louder and their rifts deeper, with Jonos having been sent thrice to play second fiddle to the Knight of the Bloody Gate, and threatened with taking the black twice as many times. Still, their early quarrels proved to be mere distractions, and they wreaked what havoc boy-lords would in taverns and winesinks.
But his lip had to become stiff the day his mother died, just a few months after he came of age and assumed power. Sharra Arryn's last words of advice ate away at his spirit.
"Kill the boy."
So he was offered at the altar, and so did Rhaenys Targaryen seize the opportunity. Ronnel Arryn would be wed to the Queen’s lady-in-waiting, Serena Stark, and that match was confirmed by Sharra’s will. Yet numb, he received his wife to be in Gulltown with courtesy, and they were wedded with haste. Once a Princess of the North and now the Lady of the Vale, Serena found no home in the Eyrie. Ronnel came to avoid her; going on hunts, staying at the Moongates or even the Bloody Gate, and offering only short conversation in their rare meetings.
It came to a head when Serena stated her intention to return to Winterfell. Ronnel gave a shrug in response, and asked when she wanted to depart. Jonos could be his heir if need be, and his mother’s death still dragged his thoughts, so why bother at all?
The intervention of one dragon queen then another halted the split: Visenya reminded Ronnel that Aegon made two marriages work at once. A raven carrying a letter from Queen Rhaenys arrived, affixed with a ring wrought of Valyrian steel. Ronnel gave it to Serena as a peace offering.
There was no parting from the Targaryens’ grand plans, it seemed. So Ronnel’s marriage with Serena began anew. She would be introduced to the Vale and its customs with feasts and tourneys, sitting on councils and holding court as the Lady of the Vale. In the same vein, more familiar items and furnishings were brought in from the North, and Ronnel would journey to the weirwood tree that the mountain clans held sacred to try to pray with his wife. He did not hear the old gods’ whispers and could not bear the stillness, but the two came to understand one another, and their marriage grew warm. Their first child, Robar Arryn, was born a year later, and the Tourney by the Maiden’s Bay would be held in his honor.
Ronnel settled into his reign. His liveliness returned, though boyish pursuits were restrained with fatherhood. He replaced the Keeper of the Gates of the Moon after the Cavaliers proved more competent, sent tax collector after tax collector when Witch Isle grew silent (and nearly called the banners before being dissuaded), and ensured that the mountain clans and any other would-be invaders were quelled while Lae Targaryen was raised to be a greater king than their father. The Brotherhood of the Winged Knights, once decrepit, grew stronger after pieces of the Winged Knight’s armor were found.
His second child, a daughter, would be born then. Faced with the choice of naming her after Sharra or Visenya, she would instead be named after her great-grandmother Cynthea. Artos Arryn would follow four years later, his name chosen by the Lady Arryn.
Another day in the Eyrie. Five-and-twenty years after Aegon's Conquest, and near thirty years into Ronnel's reign. He slides a razor over his cheek and coughs once into a fist. Ronnel opens his palm to see droplets of blood. He wipes his cheek. A shaving cut, no doubt and no matter.
The next week while he sups with his family, the coughs come back. He excuses himself, blames his trip to the valleys with a chuckle, and Jonos meets his gaze with a sidelong glance before shirking away.
He sees his maester without telling anyone. And once more after a hunt. Soon, he is left sitting on his bed with grains of sweetsleep in hand and a warning: he would die. And soon.
Ronnel Arryn is honorable. He is just, or at least just enough. But when he bounces his son on his knee and looks into smiling grey eyes where his Stark mother's are oft stern, he wonders whether the next Targaryen to come to the Eyrie would let little Artos fly or burn him and his family whole.
It is not enough. Ronnel Arryn is not just enough. As the last king yet walking on the earth of this damnable regent's kingdom, he needs to ensure that the next monarch in Laenor Targaryen sits firmly on the Iron Throne before he dies—honor be damned if need be, by any means fucking necessary. That is his duty to the realm. That is his duty to his wife and children, and that will be his legacy.

Timeline

• 8-9 BC (33 now idk how BC works): Born the first child to King Joffrey I and Queen Sharra Arryn.
• 3 BC: Joffrey I dies of a chill. Ronnel is crowned king at age six.
• 1 BC: After House Grafton’s fleet is burned, the armies of the Guarded Domains gather at the Bloody Gate. Visenya’s landing.
• 2 AC: The Three Sisters burn.
• 4 AC: Ronnel begins squiring for Elbert Waynwood.
• 6 AC: Ronnel fights his first battle against the Sons of the Tree, and undergoes his first dubbing.
• 7-9 AC: Visenya arrives at the Eyrie. Ronnel departs for King’s Landing to squire for Orys Baratheon, returning after a fight with his knight-master. He is knighted once more at a tourney.
• 10-11 AC: Sharra Arryn dies, and the Arryns’ grief is cut short by a match arranged by Rhaenys and approved by the Lady-Regent before her death. Serena Stark and Ronnel Arryn are wed, and the marriage nearly falls apart before the intervention of the dragon queens.
• 12 AC: Robar Arryn is born. The Tourney by the Maiden’s Bay is called in the new heir's honor.
• 13 AC: The Cavaliers fight off the Painted Dogs outside the Gates of the Moon, and are given wardenship over them as reward. Marq Hardyng begins pursuing the tourney circuit.
• 15 AC: Cynthea Arryn is born.
• 19 AC: Artos Arryn is born.
• 23 AC: With Jonos Arryn settling into a discontent life at the Bloody Gate, the need for a sworn sword is lessened. Marq Hardyng travels to Essos to search for clues linking the Winged Knight to the Andal conquerors. He finds none, and returns a year later.
• Early 25 AC: An illness wells in Ronnel’s lungs. His maester tells him that he has about a year to live.
• Late 25 AC: The Arryns travel to the celebration near King’s Landing.

Sup porting Characters

• Cortnay Arryn, 54 (General): Ronnel’s uncle. Once a prince, Cortnay served variously as the Knight of the Gate, the Captain of the Guards, or an advisor. Cortnay is known for his exasperated sighs, and struggles to keep up when he hunts with his nephew. Still, he has a good head for tactics and participated in actions against the Mountain Clans and the Hoares.
• Jasper Arryn, 19 (General): Ronnel’s second cousin. Though removed from the main line of House Arryn, Jasper was raised in the Gates and remained a fixture in the Arryn household. He swore vows modeled after the Ash-Branded, though his cheery disposition seems to contradict them.
• Cynthea Corbray, 78 (N/A): The Queen-Grandmother claims to have been asleep when Visenya landed in the Eyrie, and preserved her coronet by hiding it in the Gates. She resides at the Gates of the Moon with the Cavaliers, and it has become tradition to pay one’s respects to her when passing through.
• Jonos Arryn, 31 (N/A): In another world, Jonos would be known as the Kinslayer, and he certainly possesses that propensity. Wed to Maris Grafton and perhaps favored by her lord grandfather, he has long since hated the Targaryens, and blames Visenya for his true mother’s death. Jonos’ truculence precedes him, and he is kept fettered with thankless offices.

Chapter 1

Concept art for Sybil
Of Men and Ghost Ships, Book 1: Chapter 19
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As Alen woke up from the procedure, his view was taken up by lots of tools and instruments and, of course, the woman in red. At least she seemed somewhat satisfied this time. "All his vitals are stable. Give him a few minutes for the last of the anesthesia to wear off, and he should be good to send back."
Alen tried to sit up, got light-headed, and laid back down. Instead, he looked over at the woman in red. "So it's done? You cut off my foot and replaced it?"
The woman's glare was icy cold as she answered. "I saved your life and gave you a temporary replacement for a mangled limb, yes."
Alen felt a little embarrassed, realizing how he must have sounded. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to imply I wasn't grateful. It's just a lot to take in, you know? But I appreciate everything you did for me and all." Then, realizing he didn't even know what to call her, he added. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just realized I don't know your name."
A little of the ice seemed to melt as the woman folded her arms. Her expression now looked bored, if anything, but somehow Alen felt like he was less on her bad side than a moment ago. "Yes, well, you may call me Sybil, and you're welcome, I suppose. Now, try sitting up again and see if you can put some weight on your new foot so I can see if there are any needed adjustments."
Alen sat up a little slower this time, and the world seemed content to stay in place. After another moment, he grabbed hold of a rail and eased himself down onto his feet, one of which was now shiny and metallic. As soon as it made contact with the ground, he felt a jolt shoot up through his leg and into his spine, and he immediately took all his weight off the foot and raised it, noticing it was heavier than before as he did so.
The woman in red gave him an indecipherable look. "Too much pain for you to handle?"
Alen shook his head. "Not pain exactly...but it felt...I don't know...wrong, I guess? It's kind of hard to describe..."
The woman tilted her head. "Kind of like it's asleep but not quite, right?"
Alen eased his foot down again and nodded. "Something like that, yeah..."
With a nod, the woman seemed satisfied. "That's to be expected. Now try taking a few steps while holding onto the railing for balance."
Alen took a few steps, and while his foot felt wrong, it got easier with every step. The woman nodded. "Alright. I'd recommend using a walking cane for a day or two until you get comfortable with the feeling. You may feel some pain from time to time, and there are several therapies we can use to deal with that, but for now, I want you to focus on learning to walk with your temporary foot."
A new voice Alen wasn't familiar with spoke up from behind him. "Huh, I didn't know you had such a nice bedside manner. Does that mean I just have to break a leg to get on your good side?"
Alen turned around to see a much more around-the-edges man watching. He looked like he might be a bit overweight, but Alen could tell under any fat also sat a considerable amount of muscle. The woman's voice dripped with acid as she responded to the man. "A polite cockroach is a more tolerable cockroach. You should try giving more respect if you want to receive it!"
The man chuckled. "I'd say right back at you, but that'd be starting a fight we don't have time for, so how about we call it a draw for now and move on. Now, how about we get you back to your friends, kid."
Remembering something the woman had said earlier, Alen turned back to her. "Wait, you mentioned therapies? Shouldn't you tell me about them now if I'm leaving the ship?"
The man shook his head. "Yeah, about that kid... Your stay has been somewhat extended. I'll explain as we walk." He then turned to Vanessa, who'd apparently been observing from the corner for a while. "You too. Erik is back with the rest of your people."
Vanessa nodded. "Then I shall accompany you."
-
As Carter explained the situation, the kid seemed quiet. He just shrugged it off as the kid was probably focusing on walking with his new foot and cane, but the kid spouted off as soon as he finished. "We have to go back and get them!"
Carter shook his head. "Even if the pirates haven't already picked them up, there's too many ships for us to deal with now. Sorry, but it's too late."
The kid didn't seem ready to give up as he glared at Carter. "You shouldn't have left them back there to begin with!"
Realizing the kid had been through a lot recently, Carter decided to take it a bit easy on him, but he still took a slightly harsh tone to drive home what he was about to say. "Listen, kid, as much as you wish it wasn't so, in this universe, 'should' and 'can' very rarely match up as much as you'd like. We did our best and gave the pirates a bloody nose on the way out, but you all shouldn't have picked that fight to begin with. If you want to blame someone for your troubles, blame your captain. Although I'd say he's already paid the price for his choices. So how about you just say thanks for saving your ass, and we move on, eh kid?"
The kid was quiet a moment before he responded, his voice sounding less confrontational than a moment ago. "Fine... thanks for saving my ass. But stop calling me kid. My name is Alen."
Carter nodded. "That's fair, Alen. Anyway, you seem to have gotten on one of Sybil's good sides, or at least as good a side as I've seen that part of her have, so I might put you in charge of making any requests your people might have while you're our guests. Think you're up to it?"
The kid, Alen, looked back at Vanessa, who didn't seem to have much to add, before turning back to Carter. "I guess? How long are we gonna be here, though? Can't you just drop us off at a nearby planet or station?"
Carter chuckled. "If only it were that easy. Try asking some of your more...experienced sailors about the Sybil. They might have an interesting story or two for ya! Don't worry too much, though. We'll do our best not to live up to all the stories."
That seemed to have distracted Alen enough so that he shut up for a bit, and they walked in silence the rest of the way.
-
Carter looked at the hold full of people. Well, full might have been an exaggeration. Even with the escape pods, they didn't take up a whole lot of room. In the end, they'd only pulled in about half the stranded crew on time, but they still outnumbered the Sybil's "crew" of one many times over, which meant some precautions needed to be taken.
As Alen rejoined the rest of his crew members, Carter stepped forward and raised his voice to be heard over the din of the bay. "Attention crew of the Trader's Vigilance. I am Carter, Captain of the Sybil on which you now reside. Some of you, particularly the older sailors, might be familiar with some of the stories about the Sybil. You might have been told that she's haunted and that no living person who's ever set foot in her halls has ever been seen or heard from again. I'll be honest with you; those stories are more true than not. However, this time, and this time only, the Sybil has agreed to make an exception to that second bit so long as you play by her rules!"
Of course, it was Erik who raised his hand to ask a question. Carter nodded toward the large alien. "Yes?"
Of course, the crazy alien was grinning. "You speak about your ship as though she is alive. Even more so than most captains!"
Carter nodded. "That's because she is! I'll say this, the Sybil can be temperamental, cruel, and even sadistic at times! You do NOT want to get on her bad side! Even I can't save you if you're stupid enough to do that!"
There was more than a bit of grumbling in response, and Carter held up his hands to get their attention. "Now, like I said, you all get a one-time exemption to that, so long as you play by her rules. They are as follows."
Carter held up a hand with the index finger pointing up. "First, during your stay here, you will be allotted access to one deck, including rooms to sleep in, a mess hall, bathrooms, and even a rec room, even if it's a little bare bones. You are not to leave that deck without my direct permission for any reason. Doing so WILL put your health, sanity, and life in extreme peril!"
More grumbling, and Carter held up his hand with two fingers raised. "Second, as long as you remain our guests, all weapons and armor must be left in the escape pods! If, for some reason, you wish to do any maintenance on them, you must do so within the confines of your pod. Removing weapons from the pod will be punishable by your immediate eviction from the ship, with or without your escape pod! And if there is any question about the Sybil's ability to detect weapons, let me tell you that right now, eleven of you have guns on your person, fifteen have knives, and thirteen of you have other weapons of less common or otherwise improvised design."
This time, the grumbling was louder, but Carter cut them off. "If you don't like that, you are welcome to remain in your escape pods as long as you prefer, and we'll arrange for food to be brought to you!"
A bit of the grumbling died down, and Carter decided to finish things up and raised his third finger. "Third and final, if something that seems like an AI appears and issues any order or commands to you, you are to obey those orders immediately and without question. They will not issue orders merely on a whim, but they do not have to explain their reasons either. Remember, you are their guests, and they are granting you a rare exception to their usual policy of not allowing outsiders to set foot within their halls. You'd do best to stay on their good side. Is that clear?"
This time, the mumbling went on a bit longer, and Carter allowed it for a moment before speaking again. "Alright. Those of you who want to remain in your pods are welcome to do so. The rest of you who currently have weapons on your person, please deposit them into your escape pods, and I'll take you to your deck."
There was a flurry of movement. Unsurprisingly, no one wanted to stay in the pods alone aboard a ghost ship. However, a moment later, Carter received a report from the girl through his earpiece. He walked up to one of the men and addressed them. "Excuese me, mister..?"
The man straightened up and even gave Cater a salute. Something that didn't sit too well with him. "Harris, sir!"
Carter nodded. "Well, mister Harris, I'm going to assume that you just forgot about the pocket knife you have in your lower cargo pocket on your pants and that you did not retain it with malicious intent, but you'll want to deposit it into your escape pod immediately."
The man, Harris, patted his pocket and grinned sheepishly enough that Carter couldn't tell if it was an act or not. "Of course, sir! My apologies!"
Carter just shook his head. "Don't apologize, just don't do it again. I won't be able to save you if you break a rule a second time."
The rest of the stranded crew sorted out their issues in relatively short order, and Carter led them to their temporary housing area.
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Well, sounds like almost all of the characters have gotten to know each other. Now to see how well they all get along!
My Wiki has all my chapters and stories, including the short series and stories that I write for an occasional change of pace or style!
As a reminder, "Of Men and Dragons" Books 1 and 2 are available to purchase in e-book or physical form. (Both softcover and hardcovers are available!) Book 3 is almost done being edited, so I'll just have to get the cover art and formatting done, and it will be available to purchase as well! Hopefully, in no more than a month or two! (Barring more Amazon drama like last time... fingers crossed!)
OMAD Book 1: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09NCPP3PP
OMAD Book 2: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQ7FQ1ZJ