Wart under my tongue

Hey all, 4th Wall here. The little storm that blew threw upended my, sort of, schedule. So, I'm just decided to write what came to mind first then alternate from there. Hope you guys enjoy the Episode.
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Benjamin stared at the exhausted looking Farie in shock, “How much time do we have?”. Jukha simply stood, stepped over to the floorboards near the fireplace, and began ripping them up with his bare hands. After several planks yielded to his strength, Jukha pulled out a pair of packs, and handed one to Vilora. “Oh” Ben stated flatly, having been given the answer to his question. He turned to see the sisters already packing up their packs, and Ben began the same.

In moments, the four were ready to go, slipping out the back door and into the forest. Benjamin paused, “Hold on a moment.” He turned to look back at the house, reaching out with one hand before clenching it into a fist. He ripped the heat out of the roaring fire dispelling it into the air before kneeling down and placing both hands on the ground. Vilora gasped quietly at the power Benjamin began wielding a dangerous amount of Majik. He pulled from the depths of the world itself, summoning pure compounds from the ground and from various natural sources. He used the refuse in Jukha’s farmyard to provide him with the last of the required ingredients. It wouldn’t be much, but Benjamin relit the fireplace, forcing the flames to turn a few of the remaining logs into charcoal without burning them.
Extinguishing the flames once more, he combined the components he had acquired, before willing the concoction up into the flue and packing it around the circumference of the inside of the brick chimney. Vilora stepped up to him, touching his shoulder with a trembling hand, “What… what have you done. I felt it, but I don’t understand it.”
Benjamin took a long cleansing, and slightly shakey breath. The exertion left him feeling drained for a moment. He turned to her, expression was grim, but he patted her hand on his forearm, “Giving us some breathing room. They will search the house. I’ve just left them a little surprise.” He stood, looking towards the forest, “how do we get to your sisters.”

Vilora nodded and they followed her into the forest, it was not a long walk. And after about 20 minutes they came to a clearing with a strange tree in the middle. “Please, Ben. Whatever happens next, know that we are not Fay. Promise me.” Benjamin heard the fear in her voice wondering if it was from what he had just done, or something deeper. He nodded once absently, his musket already unslung and in his hands. He had loaded a buck and ball cartridge into it before they left the cabin, knowing that he was only going to get one shot in an ambush. Viola had his original flintlock pistol in her hand, and Valtrya was semi hiding behind her sister with Bens Stiletto dagger clutched tightly in her fingers. “Very well,” the Farie stated, and turned to face the tree. Her wings quickly began glowing a vibrant green, and they fluttered violently as she began to chant something in her native tongue.

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The Hunters arrived, led by the singular Orc from the capital guard. He was the same one that had been spared by Benjamin just over a week earlier. He brought with him a tracker. Ski’murika was one of the arachnid people known as Sil’skira. This one was a flat grey to Mi’ki’s own jet-black carapace, and she skittered lightly into the room. The Sil’Skira had no sense of smell, but their sense of taste bordered on the supernatural. She raised one leg to her mandibles, tasting the ground around them, before dipping it into a bowl and repeating the process, “four of them. An Orc, a Fay, two Aereesin females, and… a strange one. I’ve not sampled this one before, but he carries majik’s sour aftertaste.” The Soldier orc, and the three other Hunters managed to not cringe. The Sil’Skira were known for their wide… pallet… as far as what they considered food. Many a sentient being had been turned to a husk by a hungry Sil, and The Orc did not doubt that this one came by her… flavor recognition… honestly. The other three; a Hellirine named Jazeel, her twin brother named Jeraal, and a Mountain troll who’s name defied pronunciation gave the Sil a wide birth, stepping up to the fireplace. “Well, while we’re here. Lets warm our bones.” Jazeel casually began stacking wood and kindling atop the chared remains of an apparently freshly quenched fire. “How far do you think they could have gone?”

“Not far” the Sil’Skira stated absently, “Their food is but lukewarm. I can still taste the spittle on the strange one’s spoon.” She turned to pad over to the fireplace. The Soldier orc, named Gurrut leaned up against the table, “Should we really be stopping for a fire? If they are so close?” Jeraal only smirked, “It’s a long game boss. They may not have gotten far, but they will be frantic. Look at how they left. Something, or someone warned them. They will be ill prepared. No, better to keep our pace. We will wear them down easily in the mor..”

Jazeel lit a spark into her tinder box while her brother was talking. She placed it into the fireplace and the kindling lit quickly. A single twig flared up, sending an ember into the flu where Benjamin had packed his quickly made gunpowder. It ignited instantly, and the flu provided enough constriction to pressurize the reaction. The fireplace detonated in a weak, but effective improvised bomb. The brickwork shattered into shards of deadly fragmentation, Jareel simply ceased to exist, being turned to a cloud of yellow blood and internal organs trimmed in red skin and white bone fragments. Her brother’s head was caved in by a large brick chunk, sending skull bone spalling deep into his brain, rending it to ribbons. He died before he hit the floor. The Sil’Skira’s abdomen popped like a balloon in the over pressure wave, and she quickly curled into a quivering ball as her blood pressure dropped, no longer fighting against her leg muscles. Their employer, the soldier orc from the capital, lost his arm above the elbow. His armor saved his vital organs however, but one shard threaded the needle, taking his right eye. The Mountain troll was thrown to the far wall, but Her naturally resilient body survived both the shockwave and the fragmentation impacts. She picked herself off the floor, stumbling to the screaming capital guard. She bound his wounds quickly before taking a flaming shard of the sabotaged fire and searing the stump to stop the bleeding. She then left him there. There was no point in anything else. The hunt was over.

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Benjamin tried not to stare, but he was failing miserably. Jukha’s Farie wife’s body was glowing bright green now, and he almost had to shade his eyes if he tried to look directly at her. She was not the only one he was struggling not to stare at. Viola’s explanation and subsequent revelation had taken him by surprise. He realized that he had treated them like children, pupils at best. Benjamin had focused on training them to be free, turning a blind eye to the relationship forming between them and himself. *You are not forcing us to do anything but leave* He ran that statement over in his mind. The “leave you” was implicated heavily, and it ate at him. He did not want to force these girls to do anything. Yet, despite his best efforts, he was forcing something on them anyway. He silently both cursed his situation and cursed his own ignorance. He found that, if he was truthful with himself, he did not want them to leave either; and that more personal revelation brought its own paradox. He could not bear to own them as property, but the thought of leaving them tore at him with similar pain.

“It is almost time!” Benjamin looked back from where he was keeping watch, Vilora was panting heavily, her painfully bright glowing wings drooping slightly, “I won’t be able to keep the connection for long!” She called as the tree in front of them began to creak. Two of its great limbs began to move on their own accord, groaning under forces older than space and time. Benjamin’s eyes widened as the two branches slowly formed a sphere, then his head snapped around at the sound of a dull thud emanating from the direction they had come. He smiled grimly. His little IED must have been triggered, and with any luck, taken their pursuers with it.

“Ready yourselves!” Jukha called, and Ben turned back to a view he had not expected in his wildest dreams. ‘you’ve gatta be shitting me’ He thought as a rippling green mirror filled in the center of the circle created by the branches of the tree. Benjamin felt the sisters at his side. And he nodded to them, “you first. I’ll cover our six.” Vi raised an eyebrow at the odd expression but nodded. Taking her sister’s hand and stepping through the portal. They were closely followed by Jukha, who seemed absurdly calm about the whole thing. Benjamin held his ground, slowly backing toward the portal while he kept his eye on the tree line.

“Benjamin. Hurry, I can’t.. I can’t hold!” Vilora’s frantic tone moved Benjamin into action, He spun on his heels, slipping his musket to his left hand and scooping up Vilora as he passed her at a full sprint. He jumped as the portal sputtered, passing through it and into a familiar tunnel that he remembered from his first meeting with the Celestial, Sol. This one was a minute fraction of the distance, however, a single step in fact. His feet landed on soft moss and an earthy smell alerted him to his change of location. His eyes began to adjust to the much dimmer light as he set Vilora’s exhausted form on the ground gently. His eyes peeled away the darkness after a moment and Benjamin grunted, tucking the butt of the musket under his right arm as he thumbed the hammer and slapped the frizzen in place. He drew his sword/pistol hybrid and settled the sights on a second being, who just so happened to have the misfortune of being ordered to bind the sister’s wrists. The mechanical sounds of his weapons attracted the attention of everyone in attendance, but his voice froze them in place, “unbind them… now” he growled.
His musket, loaded with Buck and ball, was trained on a small group of Farie’s standing in close formation with thin lances rested base to the on the ground. The other Farie was currently holding the rope leash to the sisters. He glanced at the small squad of lancers, “you move, you die.” His tone bore icy promise on its wings, and even Jukha could not bring himself to act. “Benjamin. Peace, please. These are my sisters. They are Vin. Remember your promise” Vilora’s voice cut through the silence first, and Benjamin glanced at her, then back at the scene in front of him. He took a long deep breath, sheathing his sword/revolver, and lowering his Musket. He did not sling it, he returned it so a muzzle up ready position designed to keep his ammunition from falling out of the barrel should he still need it. “Then please explain to them that I have a pathological aversion these women being bound, and that It would be in their best interest to release them...mediately.” Vilora’s eyes widened as she turned to see the state of Vi and Val. She spoke quickly, and the Vin who held the girls looked back at Ben in shock before frantically unbinding both Vi and Val. The girls sprinted to Benjamin, slamming into him with shaking embraces before he gently, but protectively pushed them behind him.

One of the Lancers, a Farie with more ornate armor on than the rest stepped forward and Benjamin turned to face her, not so subtly settling his musket into a position to easily kill her if he needed. The Fairie paused, clearly considering something before Vilora stepped over and laid a hand on her shoulder. She shook her head at the other woman, it was an almost imperceptible thing, but the other farie’s eyes widened as she regarded Benjamin again. “Peace, Beenjaymin.” She said finally, handing off her lance to a subordinate and opening her hands to show them empty. “We do not mean you harm, but we must protect what little we have left. The Matriarch wishes to see you, but we cannot allow you to meet here bearing arms. Please, understand.”

Benjamin hesitated, and Viola leaned around him to look up. He gave her a smiling glance before looking back at the Farie. She nodded in understanding, “I swear to you. Your… girls… will be permitted to stay at your side for the trip. Our sister has explained that they are not mere slaves to you.” Benjamin eyed her skeptically, and if this realms concept of honesty were not already explained to him, he would have not believed her. He slowly reached for the hammer on his musket, lowering it gently to half-cock before handing it slowly to the Farie who originally bound the sisters, “Do not touch anything on it. This is not a weapon you have any concept of, and it can kill 4 people at once.” He held her gaze until she nodded, “lean it against something. This side up, and DON’T touch it.” He then unhooked the scabbard from his belt, handing the revolver sword and its sheath to her as one unit, “Same goes for this. I’ll know if you touch it. It is very loud.” He did the same with Vi’s flintlock pistol, surprised that it didn’t go off when it was dropped on the ground during their capture. The stiletto dagger was the last, a familiar weapon to this realm that needed no explanation.

“Very well.” Benjamin said finally, “I believe that is everything.” The head lancer nodded, waving an arm elegantly toward the biggest live oak that Benjamin had ever seen. Benjamin thought it might be a live oak, at least. It stood twice the height of a California Red Wood but had the proportions of a Live oak. Massive drooping main branches arched overhead before touching the ground and returning skyward. Some of the largest limbs were the lowest and seem to bounce along the ground. Each grounding seemed to sprout smaller trees, and Benjamin felt his mouth fall open as they drew closer. The texture of the limbs sharpened as they closed, and Benjamin began to make out lit windows, carved into the tree limbs themselves.

Carved into the base of the tree was an ornate entrance with lettering that Benjamin didn’t recognize carved into the arches. Benjamin felt Viola take one of his hands, and Valtrya take the other. He ran his thumbs over the soft tops of their hands, trying to comfort them as much as he could. He felt them press up against him as they entered a throne room of some kind. On the far end, atop a series of steps was a throne, carved into the wall itself. “The Matriarch” Vilora whispered from behind him.

Ben halted several paces behind the lancer squad, bowing as he watched Vilora and Jukha do so out of the corner of his eye. “Rise” came the command from the ornately yet unarmored Farie sitting on the throne, “So tell me,” She asked, looking directly at Benjamin, who was keeping the girls directly behind him, “Are you the reason that my orders to bind the Aereesins were not followed?” Benjamin instantly regretted giving up his weapons. “I am,” he stated meeting her gaze unflinchingly. “Oh? You believe yourself above my command?” Her cold tone registered, and Benjamin slowly closed his fist, finding what he was looking for. A single guard, one not present at their arrival began to march toward him, hand on her sword.

Benjamin speared the guard with an icy glare, while talking to the Farie ruler, “I expected Vin to be more hospitable.” He reached out with one hand and the guard froze as he gripped the metal of her armor with his mind, “Especially with women baring Vin names in solidarity.” He slowly began to close his outstretched fist, and the guard inside the armor began screaming as the metal buckled, compressing against her body. Benjamin finally turned his icy gaze to the monarch, “My girls” He hated to use that card, but it was the only one he had that wasn’t lethal, “Have spent over a century being bound, tortured, raped, and degraded. I killed their former master, a Romoregin no less, for it. I killed his puke son’s champion for it. I’ve killed two capital guards for it. I will kill without mercy to keep bindings from touching their skin. So, my lady what are you willing to do to bind them.” He gave the guards armor another small squeeze, using the shrieking metal to punctuate his resolve.

The queen slowly stepped off her Throne, walking stoically over to her guard as she eyed Benjamin contemplatively. “Stand down, Vailin.” She said to the now trembling guard, but her eyes were on Benjamin. Benjamin slowly released his grip on her armor and she fell to the floor, weeping. “You two, get her to a healer.” The monarch ordered before taking to her wings and hovering up to face Benjamin at eye level. “You care so much for your slaves, yet you do not free them. Why is that.”

“Benjamin doesn’t want to keep us slaves!” Viola blurted out before she caught herself meekly adding “Your majesty” as the Monarch leveled a surprised but firm expression at her. “Oh? And yet you are still his, dear.” she said, turning back to Benjamin. Benjamin took a deep breath, “The principality would have resold them anyway. My only choice was to own them, teach them, then smuggle them to a free nation, or murder them by returning them to the system. Had we made it to Maridia, they would be emancipated already.” He met the Monarchs gaze levelly, “Their lives are in my hands… but at least their blood isn’t on them.”

“Hmm, compassion and violence of action. No wonder Cosmos touched you.” The Queen mused. Benjamin chuckled at the expression drawing a raised eyebrow from the Vin Monarch, “Something funny, young one?” and Benjamin gave her an amused smile, “It’s just that I’ve heard something like that before, from Sol. I believe the Orcs call her Suelin.”

This time, the Vin Monarch’s face smoothed of all expression as she failed to find any falsehood in Benjamin, “Come with me, please.” She stated it as a question, but her urgency peaked Benjamin's curiosity. The four of them followed the queen up to the throne. She pulled on an armrest and the throne slid into the wall to one side, revealing a simply carved passage into the heart of the tree.
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f you made it this far, I very much appreciate it. I hope you enjoyed the episode! If you believe I have earned it, I have a Patreon that is two episodes ahead of the free releases for this series. I hope you feel taking a look is worth it. Either way, come hang out in the comments. Everyone's welcome! I've discovered Im a bit of a "warts and all" poster, so even critical comments are welcome. Hell, You might even teach me something (it happens more than I'd like to admit).
I have heard people off and on reference Royal road, So I am going to give it another shot. I'll be adding the Royal Road link from now on. If you like reading over there, It is on the same schedule as here. I would greatly appreciate a like/review/comment if you feel so inclined. Thank you again for stopping by.
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Chapter 26 - The Infinite Beckons
Previous Chapter
“Okay, this part’s a little tricky.” Ma’et gestured out the shuttle’s cockpit. “You got lined up easy enough, and our velocity’s at a relative zero to the ship. The bay door’s open. Now you engage the lateral thrusters while monitoring the distance from the shuttle to the bay’s interior wall. Come in too fast and you’ll damage them both..”
Trix looked over at the controls, and the neatly gummed labels that the humans had placed over the English text with her own language. She gingerly pressed the ‘Lateral Thruster’ button, then as the control knob next to it lit up, she twisted it slowly.
An earlier misadventure when lining up the ship and the shuttle where she’d twisted the control knob much more rapidly made her much more cautious about giving it too much power too quickly, yet the shuttle slowly drifted - away from the ship. “Other thruster, feathers.”
Chagrined, she dialed the thruster back to zero, then rotated it the other direction. The ship immediately stopped moving away, and instead drifted into the hangar bay. Trix watched as it drifted past the door, staring at the distance readout until it dropped into the yellow and immediately swung the knob the other way. It took a couple of tries to get the velocity back to zero, but she managed it.
“Beautiful. Now we engage the grav plating which lets the ship’s internal grav pull us down as it ramps up, and close the external door via the console over there.” Ma’et gestured to the remote console, and Trix scanned it, punching the buttons as she found them.
“Nicely done. Go ahead and hit the engine shutdown. In the old days there’d be like, thirty steps to it but nearly all of it is automated. But lucky you, you get to read all about the manual sequence since taking over in the event of computer failure is one of a pilot’s duties.” Ma’et chuckled and squeezed Trix’s shoulder. “For now, that’s good enough. Go ahead and open both the lateral boarding door, and the rear loading door. Also extend the rear loading ramp.”
Trix did, then glanced over at Ma’et. “Anything more?”
“Nope. First day on the job, and you’ve done the first job successfully. Not perfectly, but pretty damn good for your first time piloting off planet. Go ahead and head back to talk with the Captain, and I’ll handle the rest.”
Trix unbuckled the acceleration harness (Though, she felt zero acceleration during the entire trip so she couldn’t fathom just WHY Ma’et had insisted on her buckling in) and moved past the much smaller woman as she left the cockpit.
In the back, Josh was already outside the ship, grabbing a handtruck. She watched as he pushed it up the loading ramp to the stack of boxes that contained the food and equipment she’d need for the next few weeks of existence here in space. “Why aren’t you using one of the gravity belts?” She gestured over to the wall where the belts were hanging.
“Eh, this stuff’s fairly light and those have a limited lifespan. I don’t want to burn out the Keplite cores on stuff we can just move by hand. They’re expensive.”
“Oh. What’s Keplite, anyway? Ji and Min have mentioned it a few times.” Trix glanced over at the large belts with their big circular pads in the middle.
Before Josh could answer, Alex walked in between them. “Ji, Min! We’re going to be converting the room across from yours back into crew quarters for Trix. Gonna need you two to move the Spider. Is there room here in the hangar for it?”
“It’ll fit better if we assemble it and use packing mode.” Ji countered, as he hopped out of the shuttle. “It’ll take a day or so. We’ve got it spread all out in there.”
Alex turned over to Trix and beckoned. “Follow me. Gonna give you the full tour while they’re unloading." He took a few steps back, then lifted his arms wide to gesture to their surroundings. "This is obviously the hangar bay. Shuttle's the big thing you were just flying. Below us is a small cargo hold, empty right now. Not gonna show you unless you happen to like large empty boring-ass boxes.” He raised an eyebrow, and Trix quickly shook her head. "Alright. Most of the shit in here is just maintenance tools and loading gear. Nothing exciting. Ramp to main transit corridor here."
They walked out into the hallway. “Okay, well through that door’s opposite the hangar is the fabber bay. The fabber is a huge machine that manufactures stuff for us, like a 3D printer. Do you guys have anything like that?” Trix shrugged, and Alex continued. “Well either way, it can make virtually anything from a bed to a bomb to a computer. The more complex and difficult items take a hell of a lot longer to make. It’s also a major power hog since the manufacturing process uses extremely powerful fields, both magnetic and force. In other words, if you need something and we didn’t bring it with you we can make it here.”
He walked down the hall a bit, and gestured to the doors on either side. “Launcher bays, 1 and 2. Normally we use ‘em to launch beacons, buoys, sensors, things like that into space. If someone tries to start shit with us we CAN use them to launch missiles but we have very few of those available. We’re not out here to get in fights, but if we have to defend ourselves we pack a big punch.” He opened one of the doors and walked inside. “The big hatch over there is the manual tube loader. The ship can auto-load various things but if we need to put something into space that isn’t already in storage, that’s where we do it. If Ji tells you to climb in yourself, he’s joking and you should hit him because it only exists to launch shit into space.”
Trix laughed at that, but she had learned enough of Ji’s sense of humor while working on the car to understand the sentiment. “Will I even be in here at all though?”
“Maybe. If something needs to be manually loaded, we use these. Back when we were at the derelict ship I had to send a battery over to help out while we planned our rescue. You might be asked to do the same.” Alex shrugged and lead her out into the hall. “Last thing here is the ship’s primary armament.” He reached over to the side of the hallway and pressed a hatch release. The compartment it lead to was incredibly small and tightly cramped.
“We don’t use it much outside of scaring off pirates or relieving stress, but this is our primary weapon out in space. Eight-chamber five meter long rotary railgun. Fires one round every 1.2 seconds that travel roughly a million kilometers per hour when fired stationary, or closer to 280 kilometers per second. It fires either solid armor-piercing unguided slugs or flak munitions that are used to produce clouds of metallic debris. The former will shred a ship’s armor and pulverize anything inside. The latter can overwhelm particle shields and damage exterior components without nearly as much penetration. The reason I’m saying all this to you,” He tapped the top of the cannon where it joined to the ship. “This thing’s got a super limited firing arc. Meaning that we can only shoot what we’re pointed at. If, by some miracle, we get into a fight out there then our ability to shoot back is gonna depend on your ability to fly the ship while facing the enemy.”
Trix swallowed heavily as she tried to imagine just how powerful this massive cannon was. She glanced over at the side of it, to the twin belts that fed in ammo. Each round it would fire was longer than her forearm and thicker than her waist.
“That’s the worst case scenario though. In reality, if we get into any shit out there, fighting is the LAST thing we want to do. Negotiation to avoid hostility first, escape second, fight last.” Alex shooed her out of the compartment. “That said if we encounter any low-yield junk out there then we’ll get some target practice in. If you’re game then we can let you try targeting for a bit and unload some kinetic mayhem while things are dull.” He grinned wickedly, as he manually pulled the hatch back into place, sliding two large locking levers into place.
“Okay, that’s it for this deck. There’s stairs on the far side leading up to the tech deck but the ladder here’s quicker.”
They climbed up the ladder, with Alex leading and Trix following. Her wings banged against the ceiling as she climbed, and it took her a few moments to get them tucked in tight enough to get through the hatch but with Alex’s help they got up there.
“Tech deck. Mostly. In the front of the ship here right under Bridge access is the exception, the pool room.” He opened the door and they walked in together. “Mainly used for observation but the pool there is great for relaxation. You can adjust the temperature with the controls on the wall there, goes from chilly to full on hot tub. Adjustable depth from 3 to 10 feet, and the pool walls are display panels. If you use a breather it’s fun to turn the display to external then go down underwater and relax while staring at the stars. Do you swim much?”
Trix nodded. “Sure, there’s a river a… couple kilometers? I think? I’m not good with converting distances yet. Anyway, it’s near the hab and we’d go there when I was younger and didn’t have as much to do in the fields.”
“Cool. Well, feel free to use it but just a word of warning you might want to check if anyone’s in first. Swimwear is optional and since the crew is a pretty tight family we don’t usually get embarrassed if we’re seen swimming in the buff.” Alex waved over at the control console. “If you’re not sure the big green button on the outside is the comm button, just ask if anyone’s using it.”
“Ji brought me in here when we came up to do the medical scans. He showed me Kiveyt from orbit for the first time. Do all human ships have a room like this?” Trix reached over to dip her hand into the water. It was quite warm to the touch.
“Nah. This ship wasn’t originally designed as a scout ship or survey ship. It was originally a yacht. Big luxury vehicle for rich people to fly around in space and have fun in. Throw parties. Most of the ridiculous amenities it has I got rid of ages ago, but that left a huge amount of space we filled up with all the launchers and sensors and whatnot. I kept the pool though because I love soaking after a long day.” He pressed the door control and they left the pool room.
“Just past the pool room on either side of the ship we have collection dishes for D-space particles. Those are EVA only, so you won’t be dealing with those. They let us collect extremely powerful particles which lead back here.” Alex spoke as he walked, and turned the corner into a much, much larger room.
“This is the ship’s main power supply. Charged particles enter the torus reactor and discharge energy which is converted into electrical power and routed through the ship. Those bottles over there…” He gestured to four massive grey metal canisters on the wall. “Contain the actual particles. They’re made of the strongest materials we have because if one ruptured, the ship would instantly explode from the inside out. Don’t worry,” Alex quickly raised his hands. “The chances of that happening are virtually impossible. This is the single most well-protected location on the ship.”
He gestured to the other side of the large room. “Over there’s the terminals that Min is usually at. She and Ji are in charge of all engineering. That means power, propulsion, all computer systems, and the like. Well, the physical parts of them that is. Ma’et is our computer geek when it comes to integration, programming, and all the fun software shit.”
Alex left the room, and gestured to the other side. “I’m sure you’re familiar with medical over there. Let’s do us both a favor and not have to go there much. Otherwise I’m pretty sure Kyshe will gut me.” He didn’t stop to show her inside, and they reached the main staircase. “The back half of the ship on this deck is all propulsion access and maintenance. I’m more or less our damage control guy, along with Ji and Min. For them it’s because they’re smart as shit and for me it’s because I had to learn how to maintain my own ship. Most common damage out here is stray micro meteors or debris while we’re parked and the particle shields are down. Sometimes worn out components inside. Again, no EVA for you so the only thing you’ll need to worry about for DC is being an assistant to one of us while we fix shit.”
They went up the stairwell to the uppermost of the three floors. “There used to be an observation bubble above us, but I had it removed because it was useless. Even if I covered it with ablative plating it was a massive wart on top of the ship that served zero practical purpose. Anyway, the top floor here is where you’ll spend 90% of your time on the ship. Back here…” Alex started walking to the rear of the ship, and walked through a large open doorway. “Mess hall. We generally have two kinds of meals here - when we’re on long deployment, the food extruder over there can produce rations. They’re not amazing but they’re quick both to make and eat. It’ll also make reasonable meat and dairy substitutes. If you want a real meal though we usually keep the good stuff in deep freeze so it takes a fair amount of time to be ready. Other than that the bev dispenser is over there. Water and various juices on tap all the time, alcohol is restricted only to meals only. We all get together for breakfast and dinner though, since it’s just a good way to socialize. Tonight expect a big meal in celebration.”
He walked out of the mess, and opened a door to a large open area. “Rec room. Not used a whole lot because most of us use haptic suits for exercise and recreation but we don’t have a suit that’ll fit you or your wings, so I want you to be in here twice a week at least. Ma’et is a great partner for any exercise that doesn’t involve fighting, unless you like bruises in which case she’ll happily go a few rounds with gloves on. Pilots don’t get the level of exercise you’re used to on the planet working fields so exercise up here will be pretty damn vital.”
She looked around the room, then hurried to catch up to the captain as he walked out. “On the other side of the hall from the Mess is general storage. Cleaning supplies, a small laundry unit if the one in your room quits working, random odds and ends. Also a few extra bunks just in case we need them. Unfortunately I am going to have to have you spend one night in here while we get your room cleaned up and ready for you.” He walked in, and over to one of the walls. “Bunk folds down from here. Looks, uh…” He glanced at the fold-down bed and back at Trix. “Looks tight. Do me a favor and see if you’re gonna be OK there?”
It was very close, but Trix laid down on the sleeping pad and adjusted until she found a good comfortable spot. “For just one night, this will do…”
“Alright, no worries then. We’ll have your room ready quick as we can.” She got off the pad and Alex gestured for her to follow. “Quarters themselves are here, 4 on either side of the main hallway. Myself, Josh, Ma’et, and Amanda on the right in that order. Ji, Min, Your quarters, and the last was converted into a mechanical room for Par. Speaking of…”
He walked into the last room and knocked on a large hatch. “Par, would it be alright if I introduced our newest shipmate?”
“Of course, Captain.” The hatch slid silently open revealing a large, intricate array. Circuit boards were laid out in rows and wires ran between them in perfectly neat, ordered channels. In the center of it all was a large oblong egg-looking object. “Trix, may I present to you Parathanelias Sigma-822.”
Several rows of lights lit up along the side of the egg, and the pleasant musical voice she’d heard so often came from a small speaker alongside it. “It is a pleasure to meet you in person, Trksehnoarala.”
Trix stared at the open hatch then gestured behind her. “I thought you were in those floating metal balls…?”
“The spheres you mention are my remotes. None of them are large enough to house my primary systems. In a way, they are my eyes, ears, and limbs. My true nature is integration here within the ship itself, and I make up for my limited mobility in person by having the greatest mobility of any other member of the crew.”
“He also has an avatar in VR of an organic human, but most of the time he uses the floating spheres to interact with us and the rest of the world. His core,” Alex gestured to the egg-like central object, “houses his base personality and his most important memories. The rest of this is extra storage for less critical information. I’m a bit jealous because his most important memories will always be preserved forever in perfect clarity. The rest of us get to have our memories fade with time, but his will be eternal.”
Alex stood there mutely for a moment then shook his head. “Anyway. Back to the tour. Thanks Par!”
“My pleasure.” The hatch slid silently shut and Alex and Trix left the room. “This room has been empty for long enough I pretty much gave it over to Ji and Min for a long while.” Alex walked into the room next to Par’s. “It’s kind of a mess but we’re going to get it cleaned up then it’ll be yours.”
There was no bed in the room, and the tables against the walls were covered with electronics and quickboards. In the center of the room, a huge metal contraption was spread out. Eight large jointed legs were wired in to a big central circular turret. Above that, a multitude of ‘limbs’ extended out - one a large grasper with clawed metal fingers, another ending with an odd cone-shaped implement with a blackened tip. A third was a huge metal pipe jutting out, and a fourth looked to be a number of small openings to place something into.
Trix gestured to it, “What is THAT thing?”
“That’s the Spider. It’s a long-time project the Twins have been working on. Pretty much since they joined the crew, really. It was meant to be a mechanical walker for the military but… well, that’s their story to tell.” Alex snorted. “There’s going to be enough time to go into the details later. Point is, before we even start leaving the system we’re gonna move this out, get a full king sized bed in here for you, some more storage, and so on. That door,” He gestured to a door on the other side of the room, “Leads to a hygiene unit. Full on shower, no bath but if you want to soak the Pool’s down a floor. Aside from no tub it has a deluxe toilet, sink, and a small cleaning unit for clothes.”
Trix cautiously stepped around the large disassembled robot, and opened the door to peer inside. The hygiene unit was much larger than she’d expected, and she was grateful to see that most of the facilities was familiar to her.
“Okay, one last stop and it’s the most important.” Alex walked out into the hallway and Trix rushed to catch up, almost tripping as she hopped over a piece of scrap cable along the floor. “I’m sure this will become your second home on the ship real fast. The bridge.”
They walked down the hall through a small access corridor into a large, wide open space. A large chair sat in the center with a number of controls and articulating arms present on the back. In front of it, a number of control panels were arranged in rows. The front of the bridge and both sides were dominated by massive window screens that showed the area the ship was currently facing. She could see one screen to the side with a display showing Kiveyt, first as a small dot with a zoomed-in and blown up image next to it.
“The door back there in the corner leads to a briefing room, nothing special there but a table and chairs. The big chair in the middle is mine, but if you ask super nicely I’ll let you sit in it.” Alex grinned, and pointed at the console in the very center of the bridge, in front of the Captain’s chair. “But that station over there is primary navigation. Josh is there quite a lot of the time, though just as often I navigate from the Captain’s Chair or Ma’et controls the ship from her neural interface. As of now, though, I bequeath ownership of it unto you - for the next few weeks, at least.”
Trix walked around the bridge staring at everything. The control consoles were smooth, rounded and sleek in their presentation. Each one had a large keyboard in front covered with the strange runes of the Humans’ language. Various other instruments and implements were present at each station, but at hers she smiled gratefully to see that the keys had already changed and had more familiar and recognizable letters in place of the Humans odd script. The layout was definitely weird, and she knew it was going to take time and effort to grow accustomed but at the very least she would be able to understand what she was doing as she learned. Even better, the seat lacked the same high back that the other seats had, which would have been pressed tightly and uncomfortably against her wings.
She glanced back at Alex, who just nodded at her. Encouraged, she took a seat and glanced around. “This is mine.” She whispered it and then let her wings spread out with pleasure as she realized that from here, from this station, she would be the one personally controlling the entire massive vehicle behind her. It lacked the flight stick of the shuttle or the handle controls of her aircar, and in a way she felt disappointed she wouldn’t be able to manually control the ship the same way she could the smaller vehicles. But as she looked around her and rested her hands on the cool surface of the console, she felt something else. A thrill of anticipation at the thought of being the one in control of this massive ship and everyone inside of it.
Alex climbed several steps up to the captain’s chair on its elevated dais, and took a seat directly behind her. The sight of a winged alien in front of him at the nav console with the stars stretching out above and beyond her was a strange one, but a pleasant one. He tried to think of a witty quip to finish the tour with, but failing that he settled for a much simpler one instead.
“Welcome aboard, Pilot.”
—--
“Okay, before we get started, I believe that this is a special occasion warranting a toast.” Alex sat at the head of the large table at the mess, with the other six organic members of the crew assembled further down. “To our new pilot trainee!”
“Here Here!” “To Trix!” “To our Trainee!”
Alex took a sip of his whisky, and sighed in pleasure. “God that hits the spot. Okay everyone, dig in.”
The dinner was an odd affair, mostly because every single member was wearing their visor. Trix could not speak English, and the crew couldn’t speak her native tongue. Masks which would automatically translate couldn’t be worn during a meal so the solution was to have real-time speech to text appearing on everyone’s visor. Trix, who never had worn a visor before, had a difficult time getting the display to appear just right in front of her eyes but she and Par had gotten it dialed in.
Trix glanced at the array of food in front of her. Some items looked familiar, others completely foreign, and none of it smelled quite right. She gestured to the food. “None of this is from Kiveyt. Is it safe for me to eat it?”
“I went through our entire comestible database while we were on the planet. Surprisingly there’s almost no Terran food you can’t eat.” Josh had a massive burrito nearly as long as Ma’et’s arm on the plate in front of him, and he spoke while dabbing hot sauce over it. “All of our Macronutrients are completely interchangeable. Most Micronutrients are as well. There’s a few exotic vitamins and amino acids that you need that we can’t provide, but we have supplements from the planet that’ll handle those.”
“Oh.” Trix glanced around at the table, trying to decide what to eat. The spread was, per Alex’s suggestion, extremely large and quite diverse. “I’m not sure where to start then.”
Min picked up a large platter with a circular dish on it. “Far as I’m concerned the best place to start is with Pizza. It’s one of the most widely loved foods throughout Terran space.” She dumped a slice onto the plate in front of Trix, while Ji slid a very tall glass of water over to her, alongside an odd reddish looking beverage.
“Give the fruit punch a try too. It’s much more sweet than the juice you were serving down on the planet. A lot more mild too.” He suggested, and gestured to another plate. “Also? Tacos are never a bad choice.”
Trix reached out and picked up one of the odd, semi-circular items. Ji grabbed one as well, and bit into it with gusto. Trix mimicked the motion, crunching into the hard shell. It was quite interesting, tasteless at first as she bit into the shell and the lettuce, but then the spiced meat hit her tongue. It was quite mild but not unpleasant. She chewed on it and gulped down a mouthful. “Not bad.” She took another bite.
The taco vanished quickly, and she glanced down at the slice of Pizza next. “Like this, Trix.” Min gestured to pick it up by the crust, putting her fingers in front of it to prevent it from flopping down. Trix followed Min’s example, and took a huge bite. This one was even milder, almost disappointingly so. “Not much flavor to this one. Is all your food really light like this?”
The humans glanced around at that. “Y’know, Sophie mentioned our rations were tasteless. They have a pretty strong cinnamon taste to ‘em.” Alex sat back thoughtfully as he nursed the glass of whisky in his hand. “The food we had down on the planet was all pretty strong flavors…”
Josh handed the bottle of hot sauce in his hand over to Trix. “Try a dab of this. It adds a kick to some foods.”
Trix took the bottle, and put a few drops of it on the slice of pizza in front of her. She took another bite, and her eyes lit up. The next few bites all had more hot sauce each, and the crust itself ended up practically drenched in it. “Thanks, Josh. That was delicious.”
The rest of the crew was staring at her and she shrunk back slightly at their intense scrutiny. Had she done something wrong? She hadn’t ever offended them during any meals back on the planet, so the sudden shift in attention was jarring and quite uncomfortable.
Ji whistled at the sight of the alien hungrily wofling down the slice of pizza covered in bright spicy sauce. “Here, try some of that on a taco next!” He picked up another shell and offered it to her.
Trix reached out and took the taco, this time pouring a hefty amount of sauce on it. Eating this one was much messier, and she could feel the hot sauce dribbling down the side of her mouth as she took a huge bite. Min handed her a paper towel, and she embarrassedly wiped away the errant food. “Thanks, Min. That was great too, Ji.”
“Hold up.” Alex stood up and walked over to one of the cupboards, pulling out another bottle of sauce. “I’m curious now. This is a lot hotter than the sauce you’ve been trying thus far. See if it’s to your liking. Just, start with a very small amount. A little goes a LONG way.” He walked back to the table, placing the bottle next to Trix. She studied it briefly, mostly the logo - a caricature of a human whose head appeared to be on fire.
“Um, Okay. Should I try it with the Pizza or the Taco?” She glanced between the two dishes she’d already tried. “Either one. Whichever you prefer.” was Alex’s reply.
Trix reached out and grabbed a third Taco, opening up the bottle. Immediately she could smell the fragrant sauce within, and she carefully poured a small amount into the shell. She cautiously took a bite and chewed thoughtfully.
“Too hot?” Alex suggested, but she shook her head. “No. Just…” She poured more sauce on the taco, and ate the rest in only a few bites. “Whew. Sorry, Captain Alexander. That was incredible! I’ve never tasted anything like it before.”
“Captain Alexander just sounds weird. Call me Alex or Al. Or ‘Captain’ if you really, really need to use my rank for whatever reason.” Alex sat down, and chuckled. “But that’s interesting. Very, very interesting. That sauce there?” He gestured towards the bottle. “It’s made with a chemical called ‘Capsaicin’. To humans it’s a powerful spice. Too much of it causes a painful burning sensation that lingers. We normally dilute it to make it more palatable and less painful.”
Trix glanced at the bottle. “I guess that explains the fire on the little picture here.” She grabbed another slice of the pizza, and drizzled the sauce on top.
“Three tacos and two slices of pizza?” Ma’et was impressed as she saw how much food the Avian was packing away.
“The disadvantage of those muscular bodies.” Josh waved his hand towards Trix. “They require all the calories that a Human does and more. Back on the planet I learned their species used to be a lot smaller, but after developing animal husbandry and reliable sources of higher calorie foods they bulked up pretty quick.”
Trix, for her part, slicked off the second slice of pizza with gusto. She grabbed a fourth taco, and liberally poured the spicy sauce all over, before wolfing that down as well. She grabbed the fruit juice that Ji had offered her… the ‘punch’? And downed it almost as quickly.
“I hope after all this is over, we can buy some more of that sauce. I definitely want the others back at home to try it.” She licked her lips, and sighed with contentment. “This juice too. I like how sweet it is.”
“Birds are immune to Capsaicin.” Josh murmured softly, but it was picked up by the visor and translated perfectly. “I wonder what the chances are that space-birds would be too?”
—--
“Slide the jack under that joint there.” Trix did as instructed, wheeling the small hydraulic device under the ‘spider’s’ massive leg. “Great. Just gotta line up the leg with where the servos join in…” Ji and Min lifted the leg and immediately began connecting up cables and lines. After all the connections were made, Ji braced himself against the wall and shoved - hard - against the leg, firmly connecting the mechanical rotary joint into place.
“Okay, testing.” Min walked over to the console and began punching in codes. Like the other six limbs before it, this one shook slightly then began to flex, twist, and move around. “Range of motion is nominal. Motors are all showing peak. Locking joints and anchor bolt systems are green.”
Ji wiped off some sweat from his forehead, and leaned back against the wall. “I knew it was a mistake to work on it up here. At least if we put it in the hangar we could have lowered the gravity.”
“It would have been in the way during the rescue op, and we had enough shit going on then we didn’t need to add ‘reassemble a multi-ton walking modular platform’ to the list.” Min gestured with her head, not even glancing over at her brother. “Man up. Trix hasn’t even broken a sweat.”
“I don’t sweat.” Trix mumbled, as she stared at the massive machine. “This thing is crazy. Puts my car to shame.”
“Yeah, our pride and joy. Together we’ve spent decades refining it.” Min glanced over at Trix with a broad smile. “The modular bay on top has been my focus, while Ji’s been adjusting and perfecting the leg and motion systems.”
“What’s it for?”
“Well, right now it’s kind of in between intended uses.” Ji walked over to a large shelf and gestured to the assorted objects there. “With our original plans it was going to have a bunch of swappable options. Right now, it has short and long range assault armaments and a plasma cutter for breaching sealed doors. A basic military drone capable of adapting to all kinds of situations.”
Trix stared at the array of weapons in front of her. “So this is what the human military uses to fight with?”
“Nah.” Min set down the quickboard and walked over to the huge machine. “We envisioned it as a multi-purpose response unit. Capable of dropping in from outside the atmosphere an landing anywhere, going anywhere. Dealing with any situation that could possibly arise. It’s an all-terrain support mech and its modular nature would have made it able to respond to nearly any situation. And it was rejected by the military.”
“What? Why?”
Ji held up a hand and ticked off his fingers. “One, it’s more expensive to drop one of these than a squad of soldiers. Nevermind the fact that it can do 10 people’s worth of work without putting even a single person in danger. Two, it’s too big to be fired out of normal launchers. Adding new launchers to ships would have been a significant amount of work and cost that the navy wasn’t willing to foot the bill. Three, we didn’t have any money after developing it. Meaning we couldn’t bribe anyone in the government into pressuring the military to work with us.”
“Four, they already have hover tanks and artillery and we couldn’t convince them that our system was superior to those.” Min sighed, and threw herself into a chair.
“Hovering is cheating though.” Ji glared at his sister.
“Cheating? What?” Trix just looked bewildered at this.
“Hovering isn’t all-terrain. Hovering is NO terrain.”
“Oh.” Trix took a seat in a nearby chair herself. “So did the captain buy this then?”
“Nope. See, we were finishing up Uni and started developing the Spider, but we didn’t really have the money to actually MAKE one. We had all the plans and all the research on our side but not the raw materials or the money to get those raw materials.” Ji pulled out a stick of gum and popped it in his mouth. “At first we tried going straight to the military which was a huge mistake, they just made a million excuses and told us to get lost. Then we tried approaching some weapon dev companies for funding. They basically told us they’d fund it in exchange for all the rights to production and we’d get whatever they felt was fair. Which when we pressed on a figure, wasn’t much.”
Trix glanced over at the massive mech. “But it got made, obviously.”
“Yup. When we weren’t sure what to do, a buddy of ours mentioned that Al was looking for an engineering team. We can do starship engineering.” Min grabbed the quickboard and extended one of the spider’s legs towards her, so she could kick her feet up on it. “Matter of fact, this ship’s a thing of beauty. Al is a complete doofus but he takes fantastic care of the ship. When we came on we gave him a list of everything that should change. He sat down with us, went over it point by point, and even though it ended up costing over half a million credits he gave us full authorization to make every single change we suggested.”
“So after we did a stint working as engineers we joined up as crew.” Ji had an odd smile on his face. “Since then, we’ve put the money we made from working here towards building this thing. We actually had it completed but then I had this idea of using an array of microservo actuators instead of a larger servo to give us a lot more fine control over the joints. That didn’t work, like, at all but when we used a combination of them we managed to find just the right ratio that gives us twice the amount of precision in each joint, which lets us use the-”
“ANYWAY.” Min interrupted her Brother before he could get too deep into the weeds. “We had it built, with the original armaments we envisioned, but Al suggested making a module for mining and sampling. We brought it in here in order to disassemble it to make the servo adjustments and while we were at it we were going to be replacing the actual weapons with a mining beam, core sample collector, and an array of sensors. Now though we’re going to put it in storage for a while. We got much more important things to take care of now.”
“Oh.” Trix had begun to tune Ji out when he launched into his diatribe. “But what do you mean joined up as crew? You were already crew, weren’t you?”
Min swung her foot down, and gestured to the ship. “It’s different. There’s employees… and then there’s crew. Right now you’re an employee. You’re working with us, you’re out here, but your home’s back with your Teff. Right?”
Trix nodded.
“Well, when you’re crew… this is your home. We’re all family out here. I don’t know as much about the whole Teff thing but I think it’s sort of similar. This ship’s our home, the crew is our family. Alex may be a childish idiot but he’s loyal to his crew like nothing else.” Min stood up and walked over to put her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “When we worked here and started to see how well he treats his people, we felt like we could really belong here. He asked if we’d like to join up, so we did. Best decision we ever made.”
“Yup. He treats the crew as well as he treats the ship.” Ji gestured around him. “Working for him paid well. Working as crew, we don’t get paid regularly but we get a cut out of every mission and that cut is HUGE. That’s how we could afford to actually build the spider in the first place.”
“Ah. So if he invited me along, does that mean he wants me to join the crew too?” Trix wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Joining another family was commonplace for males who left their Teff to join others, but incredibly rare for females.
“Dunno. He’s hired on specialists in the past who’ve come and gone. And he’s invited people to join up who said no and that was that.” Ji shrugged and pressed the release on the hydraulic press, letting it collapse down. “C’mon, we should get the last leg attached. Then we can pack it up and use a grav collar to move it down to the hangar. Don’t want to make you stay in that cramped storage room again tonight.”
“Yeah, I tried to stretch my wings in the morning and I banged up against one of the shelves. Really not looking forward to that again.” Trix grumbled at the memory, and stood up. “Okay, what more do we need done to get this over with?”
—--

Does anyone know what this is? Also recently saw a wart under my tongue i dont know if it is connected (21F) it is vey itchy https://ibb.co/H7Lc84f

I also have itching on my vagina but nothing showed up there.. i have this itching every time before my period and white discharge.. last time my gynaecologist told med my i had bv but not i got these under my tongue… help please ASAP #warts??
https://ibb.co/NntGzQx

Boyfriend and Girlfriend are brought back to life and become two more of Horror Mario's creatures.
The mod starts with Boyfriend and Girlfriend singing with the Unbeatable gang, meanwhile Horror Mario watches from afar. He ponders what to do while waiting for his true target to finally enter his world.
He decides to play with Boyfriend and Girlfriend some more to kill time. Once Boyfriend and Girlfriend are finished with Unbeatable, a pipe appears in front of them both and they hear Horror Mario's voice tell them to jump inside of it. They do just that and are taken to another part of the world with more opponents awaiting them.
Some songs I'd add to this sequel. Also in the majority of these songs, Boyfriend and Girlfriend will have black splotches on their chests and backs.
"Elegant Violence" Big Boo - The Haunt
At first Boyfriend and Girlfriend are running from a swarm of floating skulls and you play as both of them. Halfway through the song, they jump on a platform away from the skulls and enter huge double doors. They end up in the room with the Big Boo and battle him to escape the mansion (if you lose, it shows Super Mario World-style sprites of Boyfriend and Girlfriend being backed into a spike pit by the Big Boo, Boos, and floating skulls, like the bad ending of The Haunt)
"Speed Demon" Speedrun Mario - Terminal Montage
Peach is sitting behind Boyfriend atop Bowser's castle while he sings off against Speedrun Mario. All of Mario's poses are just his sprite quickly stretching in different directions. The arrows gradually increase in speed as the song progresses. Luigi walks in at the end of the song and tries to exorcize the speedrun demon inside of Mario, but instead he accidentally does it on Girlfriend. She starts glowing and shaking and says "HOLY FU-" then explodes in the stock explosion Terminal Montage often uses (if you lose, it'll show the usual blue balls animation in Terminal Montage's artstyle and the mic explodes when it hits the ground. When you press retry, it pauses for a moment then Boyfriend explodes before you're suddenly taken back to the song)
"The Great Wort" Wort - Rise of the Mushroom Kingdom
Boyfriend and Mario are singing off with Wort atop his castle. Halfway through the song, Wort traps them inside of a bubble and his minions try to send them falling to their deaths, but Luigi and Girlfriend fly in and brings them back up to face Wort together. Now that it's a 4v1, your health increases 4x as much. At the end of the song, Wart is knocked into his vegetable machine. Mario then shoots a fireball into his butt and he explodes (if you lose, Wort will stick out his tongue and vore- I mean swallow Boyfriend and Mario whole)
"I'll Crush You" Super Mecha Sonic - Super Mario Bros Z
Boyfriend, Girlfriend, Yoshi, Mario, and Luigi are staring at the sky at something descending. Then the camera pans to the right to show the opponent, Super Mecha Sonic, floating down and laughing. Then the camera goes left to show that Sonic and Shadow are also present. Boyfriend and Girlfriend ride on Yoshi's back and Mario is behind them, riding on the shell Luigi is wearing. You play as both of them as you give chase to Super Mecha Sonic. Occasionally fireballs will appear on your chart. When you press them, Mario will shoot a fireball at Mecha Sonic, causing your health to increase quite a lot. If you miss a fireball, Mario will still shoot it, but Mecha Sonic will dodge it. At some point the player will have a long solo while Sonic and Shadow fight Mecha Sonic in the background (if you lose, Mecha Sonic will teleport in front of Yoshi and do a charged punch, sending all them flying)
"My Dad's Mom" Inbred Yoshi - Dorkly
Boyfriend and Girlfriend are babies riding on regular Yoshi's back. One of regular Yoshi's poses is him sticking his tongue out. When inbred Yoshi sticks his tongue out, it takes a few seconds for it to go back in his mouth, even as he's doing other poses. Inbred Yoshi suddenly drops dead halfway through the song and the music stops. Then he gets back up and just continues singing, much to regular Yoshi's shock. At the end of the song, inbred Yoshi dies more dramatically and regular Yoshi walks past him. Inbred gets up again and shouts "Give me the f*ing babies!" which prompts Regular to just run away with Boyfriend and Girlfriend still on his back (if you lose it shows Toadys taking away Boyfriend and Girlfriend while inbred Yoshi is on the ground, having randomly died again)
"Lovecraft" Cult Leader and Cthulhu - Super Mario World Call of Cthulhu
The first opponent is the Cult Leader. Boyfriend sings off with him while both Girlfriend and the Blessed Girl are on the wall with their eyes closed. Occasionally you'll see a prompt to press space and Boyfriend will jump on a Galoomba or Koopa that's approaching him and throw them at the Cult Leader. If you don't press space, the Galoomba or Koopa will instead hit Boyfriend and you'll lose 50% health. There will 35 be cat statues that will sometimes appear on your chart. If you miss a cat statue, nothing happens(yet). If you press 25 of these cat statues, any statues that haven't yet appeared will be replaced with normal arrows. Halfway through the song, the Cult Leader bursts into flames and in his place appears Cthulhu. Your health slowly lowers during this phase and the health you gain from pressing arrows is lessened. Girlfriend opens her eyes and you also play as her now. The Blessed Girl's feathers will sometimes appear on your chart and pressing them will cause your health to turn white and not go down at all for a few seconds, even if you miss an arrow (if you lose by your health running out, it'll show the usual blue balls animation. If you fail to press 25 cat statues in phase 1, when Cthulhu appears you're shown a close up of Boyfriend's horrified face with the text "Boyfriend could not grasp Cthulhu's form" and have to retry the song)
After the end of Lovecraft, Horror Mario laughs and remarks that playing with Boyfriend and Girlfriend never gets old. Boyfriend and Girlfriend ask him what they did to deserve this torment. Horror Mario stares at them as his smile slowly fades. Eventually he scoffs and just says it won't be much longer. It's almost time for revenge. But before that Horror Mario has them do one more song.
"Persevere" Super Mario World Purgatory
You play as Boyfriend and Girlfriend as they ride on a golden winged Piranha Plant that carries them through a heavenly cloud level. This song is pretty short and the chart is easy. At the end of the song, the Piranha Plant carries them over the clouds to see the starry sky. Girlfriend leans her head on Boyfriend's shoulder and he puts his arm around her (if you lose, it shows their skeletons, but instead of breaking they just glance at each other and sigh)
Horror Mario looks at the two in the sky and says "Enjoy your calm before the storm, my creatures".
Final Song:
"Your Fault"
Daddy Dearest walks in the living room and is pulled into the game. He wakes up in a black void and sees Boyfriend just standing there facing away from him next to the speakers with Girlfriend no where to be seen. Boyfriend turns around and the splotch on his chest and back disappeares, showing the gaping hole it once covered. Boyfriend holds up his mic and plainly says "Just so you know... this is all your fault." Then the song starts with the opponent being Dearest.
Act 1 You play as Boyfriend. His face is devoid of emotion and his voice is less energetic. Dearest has an unnerved expression during this phase.
Act 2 A pipe rises under Boyfriend and he lowers into it. Afterwards, Horror Yoshi jumps out and stands on the speakers. Horror Peach then floats out of the pipe and you play as both of them. Soon, they both suddenly disappear and Turmoil crawls out of the pipe. At the same time, Dearest is turned into a Koopa. You play as Turmoil and Dearest will occasionally avoid your tongue. Soon Turmoil will disappear and Dearest turns back to normal. MX will jump out, breaking the pipe. You play as MX and after a short while, MX will begin chasing Dearest. If you miss arrows on this part, Dearest's icon will move further away from MX's. Eventually, MX will laugh and say "I'VE GOT-" and then suddenly disappear like the rest. Dearest stops and puts his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. When he looks up again...
Act 3 Dearest sees his daughter, Girlfriend. She's not holding a mic and is looking downward, her eyes are shadowed out. This act's music is the same as Act 3 of All-Stars, but slower. Once it reaches the lyrical portion, the health bar fades out from the screen and the music speeds up. Girlfriend then looks up at Dearest and her eyes are glowing red as she sings the lyrics. She sings of how she hates Dearest, that it's all his fault that this happened, and that he did this to her. As she sings, her body twists and contorts until it's the way she looked in Act 3 of All-Stars. Once the lyrics repeat, Ultra M fades into the background and starts singing those lyrics with her. The lyrics then repeat a 3rd time, this time Boyfriend appears in a grotesque twisted form and starts singing with Ultra M and Girlfriend. The lyrics this time change slightly to instead say "we" or "us" instead of "I" or "me". Dearest's arrows move slower and slower as he's being emotionally hurt. When the lyrics end, a gunshot rings out and Ultra M is hit in the side of the face, but it quickly heals. Pico appears at Dearest's side and throws two Green Mushrooms at Boyfriend and Girlfriend's, turning them back to normal. At first Ultra M is unphased, until Pico starts leading Boyfriend, Girlfriend, and Dearest to a warp star that leads back to the real world. Ultra M tries to close it, but can't for some reason. He charges after the four to prevent their escape.
Act 4 You now play as Boyfriend, Girlfriend, Pico, and Dearest as they all make a mad dash for the warp star while Ultra M chases you. Your icon gets closer to Ultra M's when you lose health. Also you lose health when Ultra M presses arrows, but your health now increases 4x as much. On the chart there will occasionally be bullets for Pico to fire like in Overdue. Eventually the four all reach the warp star. When the player presses the final arrow, Pico flips off Ultra M as the screen turns white.
A cutscene plays of them all falling in the living room. M's hand lunges out of the TV and grabs the closest person, Girlfriend, by the leg. Boyfriend grabs onto her hand and keeps M from taking her back. With her other hand, Girlfriend rips the game cartridge out the console, instantly causing M's hand to disappear. Now that it's safe, the four look to see their savior: Mommy Mearest.
She used her demon powers to open a warp back to the real world. And because she wasn't inside of Horror Mario's world, he couldn't stop Mearest from using her powers. And because Horror Mario was too busy getting revenge on Dearest, he didn't realize she was in front of the TV. Thus, he didn't quickly grab Mearest before she could react like he did to Girlfriend.
Dearest expresses joy that Girlfriend is free from Horror Mario's control and tries to hug her. However, Girlfriend immediately pushes him away and reveals that she chose say that she hated and blamed him. Dearest is hurt, but understands and walks away ashamed. As he walks out the room, Mearest sighs and hugs Girlfriend. Girlfriend hugs her back and thanks her for saving them all. Mearest then walks up to Boyfriend and Pico. She sincerely thanks them for saving her daughter and husband. Pico just gives a thumbs up. Boyfriend is about to say something in response, but Mearest ruffles his hair.
The credits roll. Horror Mario is singing in the credits again. This time he talks about how he regrets taking his anger out on Boyfriend and Girlfriend. Images of Boyfriend and his friends in the aftermath are in full color, while images of Horror Mario in his world are in black and red. The final image shows the Mario game cartridge collecting dust under Girlfriend's bed.
Afterwards, you'll unlock a bonus song:
"Weaving Colors" Galeem and Dharkon - Super Smash Bros Ultimate

Well truthfully confused as usual certain confidence change drastically. sudden shift of drug-induced medication a change of personhood a change of confidence. Beliefs malleable, said to be stuck in stone; obviously not. An anxious feeling that what i dared happen might occur and then what, plan A instead of the detour I guess. Plan A still works. A nice feel fleeting but a nice feeling regardless, while it lasts and while it lasted until the last second up to the moment of eternity, that feeling. Nice feeling. This feeling, strangely uncomfortable a pleasing but-fleeting feeling, a moment before the ending. when the credits roll and I'm sitting back swallowing my tongue. Choke on it. Give everything and get so little back, I guess that's that. Maybe I stop giving so much to begin with, but then what? Can't have anything without giving anything but give everything and you still get nothing, what kind of irrelevant to logic logic is this bullshit - I guess not, maybe the answer is selfish. More mental masturbation, less mental masturbation, the game theoretic answer equals me losing - who wouldn't cheat when losing is life or death?
Damn huh. Damned if you do... Honestly better if you don't. I can handle less but I can hardly handle more, it's the silence here that kills me it's not the excess - a paradoxical contradiction, that sums up my existence. It's cold now because it was hot enough to take my shirt off. I feel empty now because I was full before. Feeling like a restless ghost ready to wander the earth, waiting for a little warmth and a little noise in my pocket. Feeling strange, a strange feeling, a fleeting present moment, a fleeting eternity, fleeting entirely. I always forget how fleeting everything is, until it's gone and then I reminisce - feeling like I've lost it, only to find it again, like a pair of glasses I forgot was already on my face. Plump tarts and butter pumpkins, soup, a strange cuisine of things I never believed. A circumstance gravely erotic, frighteningly tingling and scarcely romantic; ideals and ideas and concepts and epiphanies, elephant knees elephantiasis. Space, question mark.
New paragraph entry space coma period, comma exclamation famous person. Dead atheists. Dead ents dead saints dead sinners and brothels, another comma and another coma and sleep, please, I'd like to sleep, if not for this caffeine and cranberry juice a little sour flower I want to bite it. Bite it because I love it. Bite it because I'm frustrated by it. Bite it because I don't have any better reaction than that. Than that yesterday yellow mustard stains tainted by Hollywood ideals and propaganda web 2.3. The PC police sing praise of 1984 another year and another dollar a doubloon pants and short-jackets a gay moustache, pencil thin and vaguely French.
That makes sense 3 days unit one and a car, another semester a unit one two words and new world, a double doobie and a doobie loogie, wondering where the wart wars went and where the went wars went, hm mm yeah uh huh okay, why am I still awake every time I hear that I melt a little I mean I mean I meant what I mean I meant, said, went and left and where I went again, wondering why you were so quiet but you just had to deal with reality for a moment while I'm here living in irreality living in some unreal reality a digital landscape consciousness untangle, unwound, wound and bound and bleeding from the seams of scars and poor surgeries. Good, good. Okay. Get your study prep ready, a good pattern, a good energy, a good system and routine of behavioral changes. keep the keeping on keeping on and heads up up up forward and onwards, so the pattern goes and repeats the rhythm moves on and onwards forwards annnnnd
crash, burn, badumdish, fiery car crash and blood EVERYWHERE except inside, where it should have remained. Remains. Oops, teehee. A weird mix mash of this and that and extremes and subtleties. Where high meets low and higher meets the lowest, far and wide clash with near and short - where red and blue annihilate with colours unseeable by the human eye, the first wave of the first sound meet the last echo of the faintest dying star at the end of time, where grapes meet oranges in a dance of flavours only a vampires mother could appreciate properly. A love so sweet it'd make you puke, so salty it'd bring a moistness to your salivary glands, so silent you could die from hearing it - the sound of nirvana. The tranquil sounds of nothing at all, nothing art, the soundless echo of a heart that stopped beating, of lungs that no longer draw breathe, a silence profoundly fecund, fertile, fruitful, like fungus manure compost forest flowers flowing floating and fleeting, always fleeting, the sound of soundless seedless berries, watermelon, mango, pumpkin. King.
​
Fairy found lost grove tree ent youngster yesterday Gary far found yellow mustard custard customs and lot of a low of a lot of a low lost long longing yesterday longing for yesterday oh, man, I am not getting any younger. That's karma, under charging, insufficient, dad's the word and dads kind of dead - mercy to the wise and prosperity for the ignorant, who don't even know how little they have. Rich are the fortunate enough to not know. Fortunes riches wealth and rubies, games and entertainment and private clowns circuses animals and elephants, elephantiasis. Hey can I call you right back? Misspelling google mistake correct auto correct auto cenobites auto monocytes abs immune system doctors orders regarded neglected mistaken forgotten asked for and self-diagnosed because the system doctors orders regarded wrongly neglected oops, teehee. Lazy mistake lazy negligence oops you're dead, doctors orders doctors tired and hungry oops, hungry judge hungry mistake mishap mistake. Double check and correct even the professionals make mistakes oops mistake regret malice regret great snaps tik and tat tit for that, tit for that tat for forgive and gone home ET alien mishap. A native to the region of where nowhere in particular.
Empty it all out tired and bored and sick of sick of sick of this and that and that and this, sleep and sleep study and sleep study and sleep eat and shit and piss and sleep and eat and sleep and sleep and eat, oops. Productive lifestyles save up and spend 9-5 save and spend save to spend spend to make it all worth it. Suffer to live suffer to save. Save, suffer later, suffer now and spend later for pleasure, pleasure now suffer later.
Suffer now pleasure later, a long form hedonism. Pleasure now and suffer later, bad form hedonism. Can you do the calculus? A mathematically designed trap for the mind, society intwined forgetting and remembering and forging your name; sign on the dotted line. A name a name a brand name, printed signature a sin a sign a sin number, sign your sin number on the dotted line, sign your sins and tell us why you did them. Reasons why and why not and what you could have done better, literally perfect, a reality in which nothing else could have been.

Dear Wise One,
I am not a magic user, so I write to you in the hope that you can help me.
I used to be human. And I’ve been told I was a good looking woman. I had a way with words.
But a few weeks ago, I faced off a demon in the streets of my city. It burst out of a dead orc (I might have caused the orc to exhale) and the nasty thing took residence in my body after having broken down my will.
After that, I felt nothing. If anything I felt real good, physically.
But I didn’t want a demon inside my body - I want to be the sole inhabitant of my body, so I took contact to my friend, a young druid, with whom I have traveled quite a lot.
A first the demon resisted being banished from inside my body, but when the druid succeeded, it burst out - exploding me in the process. My friend, who does not have a way with words, later told me that I even hit the ceiling.
(That type of demon can explode people, we’ve seen it before - under other circumstances).
Now, the druid collected my dead parts into a bucket and tree-jumped to his special grove, where he exhausted the strong primal energies there, to resurrect me.
When I came back into this world, I found myself in the body of a toad. I was me, but - you know - tiny and with an urge to eat flying insects out of the air.
Over the next days, my body grew until it reached a normal size, my hands became capable of wielding my weapon. I seem to be myself for the most part. Except I am a toad humanoid. Toadnoid. My face isn’t human. I got warts and a long, sticky tongue and a broad mouth and a snout. I got webbed fingers and toes (though I do fit my gloves and boots, perhaps because they are magical).
This is outrageous.
I want my old body back. But how?
Do you know of any magic which could get me my old body back permanently?
Preferably without me dying again. I’m not sure Pharasma is going to let me slip back again.
I hope to hear from you soon, Yours sincerely, MV

I am a 30 y/o gay man and over the past months I've had several different symptoms that have caused me to spiral into a state of hypochondria to the point where I obsessively check my body every day for any new spots or signs. I don't know if these are due to an STD or something else. I have already tested negative for syphilis and hepatitis C and plan to get tested for other STDs soon. I can only feel a bit of solace that I don't see any sort of warts or blisters on my genitals so far, along with no discharge of any sort. Post is a bit long so bear with me for a bit.
My last sexual encounter was 3 months ago, I gave him oral only (unprotected, though). There may have been a tiny bit of hotdogging, but no actual anal penetration. The guy did not seem to have any sort of spots or warts of sorts on his dick as far as I remember. I had an HIV test some time before and was negative, but I want to get one again after this encounter just in case.
A month after that encounter a pinkish white spot appeared in my rear, it didnt itch or burn or feel painful or anything but it was mildly concerning. It disappeared without a trace in about a week and nothing similar has appeared since.
Over the course of last month, I have felt a lot of things in my mouth and throat including rashes and tingling in my tongue along with throat irritation. It almost feels like I swallowed a small bone and it occasionally pokes me from the inside. I do not seem to be showing any signs of oral thrush, however. No white (or other color) patches anywhere. Also my tongue does seem scalloped and I also seem to be biting it unconsciously. I do get the occasional ulcer in my lips, but I get those since I was a kid. I have one in the floor of my mouth right now and that is unusual to me. No blisters outside my lip that would indicate herpes as of yet.
Some other things of note I've felt lately:
- Burning bladder after peeing, this happened twice in december in two different days, haven't felt it since. No pain in urethra so far.
- Anal itching, still feel this today. No sign of any rash or blisters from what I can tell. No blood in TP either.
- Random bits of pain in random parts of my body. Arms, chest, legs, feet. Just pain that goes away quick.
- Lower back pain sometimes.
- Have felt bloating, abdominal pain and sometimes diarrhea since october. I went to get treatment for this, doctor couldn't really tell me what exactly it was other than "an infection", my tests did show that I had slightly higher than normal bilirubin levels and gut bacteria issues. I think it was IBS, I have been dealing with this since then and have felt better recently.
- Have woken up choking/gasping for air in middle of the night in two different occasions.
- Feel like my vision has gotten slightly worse.
- Feel like I pee more frequently lately (These last three I know might be linked to diabetes, fwiw I tested 69 mg/dL fasting blood glucose back in june. Haven't gotten a blood glucose test since. Wasn't sure what to make of that but doctor did tell me it isn't concerning until you hit 50 mg/dL or under)
I have started to go to a psychologist to deal with health anxiety and as I mentioned before, I do plan on going to a clinic to check for other STDs soon too. I appreciate any thoughts on the matter, as they would help understand and quell my feelings of uncertainty.

**Closca**
*Domain Where Thoughts Crawl*
**Darklord** Señora Consuela Iglesias-Miranda
**Genres** Gothic Horror, Body Horror
**Hallmarks** Deep repression. Tropical storms. Swarming insects.
**Mist Talismans** Molt of a large insect. Fan with one side spotted with blood. A splintered switch.
*A closeted young man greets the total stranger his mother has chosen for him as a fitting bride without word of complaint; later in the privacy of the bathroom he vomits out a long, yellow slug. A pregnant woman swoons in the market; as others rush to revive her, the swell of her belly is discovered to be a feasting Leech. A faithful worker is dismissed to cut costs; a few days later the factory owner is found dead in his office, biting flies having devoured his eyes and tongue.*
*In Closca society struggles and labours under the iron rigidity of what is deemed proper, a dogmatic and byzantine list of behaviours and belief instilled from childhood that constrain all true feelings. Against this struggle desires and deep feelings must break free any way they can, warped by the self-loathing of their owners into insectile shapes: Whether winged, many legged, or coated in slime, each represents and acts on their thought of origin in some grimly ironic manner.*
*From the bound and gagged grandeur of San Sibilio's Finishing School Señora Consuela shapes the next generation of correct ladies and gentlemen; the improper behaviours she shames and beats out of them adds new segments to the great Worm that has been borne out of her own denials as it gnaws and hollows out the world created for her.*
**Noteworthy Features**
Those familiar with Closca know these facts:
* The primarily Human, Halfling and Dwarf residents are descendants of a far-off land beyond the sea, contact with the old country is sporadic and rare. With them they bought fashions and routines that, to outsiders, seem at odds with their surroundings.
* Closca lies in the tropics, it boasts stifling humidity, frequent and violent storms, verdant plant life and an abundance of all manner of creepy-crawlies.
* Closca is a thick green blanket of fields producing coffee, sugar, cocoa, and other produce. Whitewashed towns and grandiose plantations decorate it, while densely forested mountains to the east and mangroves to the west fringe it.
* There is a right, proper, and decorous manner of doing, saying, and feeling things, these rituals and recitations are what separate us from the beasts.
* The deep rich soil upon which Closca was founded has a habit of being washed away by underwater river tunnels that cause occasional sinkholes that can swallow entire streets whole.
**Closcan Characters**
Closcans eschew displays of passion for airs and graces, leading them to come across as cordial but cold to those unfamiliar with their ways. Closca is made up of a fairly even mix of Humans, Halflings, and Dwarves, all of whom share skin tones that range from medium to deep browns, and dark hair colours that vary from thick and wavy to tightly curled. Spanish sounding names suit characters from Closca.
When building a Closcan character, consider the following:
* Are you an alumnus of San Sibilio's Finishing School?- Through peerage and hard work, parents can guarantee their children a place in this illustrious institute, graduates of which find their lives paved with networks and confidantes. Those who fail, tend to have unfortunate lives at the periphery of Closcan society.
* Have you found yourself plagued by insects?- Did cockroaches suddenly carpet your floor? Did a millipede once shimmer it's way down your spine? Did you wake to thick webs covering your doors and windows?
* What have you given up to not raise eyebrows?- Did you have a taste for music that you gave up for a more respectable career? Did the hand of the one you fancied get betrothed to another? Have you let a slight go unanswered?
**Settlements & Sites**
* Plaza of the Smiling Sun- in the heart of San Sibilio: popular for promenading in the cool of evening, beautiful fountain with a dozen spouts, daytime brings covered market stalls, while night sees forbidden meetings and dishonourable duels.
* Roaring Bay- Almost daily thunderstorms, sometimes waterspouts, deep mangroves shelter Closca from the worst, but shipwrecks litter it. A lull in the background chittering of insects is all the warning given before the heavens open.
* San Sibilio- Most prominent and prosperous of Closca's townships, it has risen above being a place of toil and trade to a city that celebrates refined culture, with chaste operas and tastefully reserved galleries. Artful houses coated in clean white look over neatly managed gardens.
* The Warts- A catch-all term for clusters of unincorporated housing that lie scattered along the bogs and waterways. The residents of these ramshackle abodes are seen as coarse and uncultured by townsfolk or even the labouring farmhands, while they regard themselves as honest and liberated.
**Consuela Iglesias-Miranda**
As a child Consuela never showed love to her family, only dutiful obedience, her coldness drove her father to suicide after the loss of her mother left them trapped with each other.
Being orphaned saw her boarded in an private school that introduced her to the behaviours and norms she accepted as scripture, embracing the superficial semblance of civility and losing all understanding of the emotion beneath. When she reached adulthood she was unleashed on the world as a governess to the youth of a well-to-do household.
One child broke under the expectations and scoldings and took his own life in early adolescence. The daughter later went on to smother her husband and infant child when they failed to be what Señora had insisted she should want of them, all by which time Consuela had long since moved to her next employer, and finally discovered the churning of growing desire for the master of the house.
Sickened by this impropriety she condemned the man for his debauched influence and the lady of the house for allowing such things to carry on. Her attention to her ward's tutelage became laser focused as she dripped verbal poison in the child's ear about the improper behaviours of their parents, until no longer able to tolerate the shame being placed upon their name the child took an axe to their sleeping parents as Consuela slumbered contentedly.
When she awoke it was to a misty morning that cleared to the vista from her lodging overlooking San Sibilio in the land of Closca, where she had always resided, the school ma'am to a whole society moulded as she saw proper.
**Consuela's Torment**
Señora Consuela Iglesias-Miranda experiences these feelings that upset her absolute self-control:
* On significant evenings within Closca (often bought on by adventurers) dreams of the Worm league her rest. To her it is vulgarity given shape, these dreams bring days of even harsher tutelage afterward to banish the thought.
* Slime trails, spider webs, dead flies and buzzing are all signs of dirtiness, and dirty surroundings signify filthy behaviour.
* A certain family also seems to have the most challenging children to "correct", though she won't acknowledge it, the family name is the same as the one she ruined to earn her imprisonment in Ravenloft.
**Roleplaying Consuela**
Poised, quiet, and arch. Señora will not raise her voice or resort to violence no matter how strong the desire. When she finds someone disturbing the peace a penned letter to one of her many alumni expecting them to know what is best to be done is typically enough for those with power to be moved into action against the problem.
Her repressed state does not mean she does not feel, and if pressed to extremes her emotional turmoil is enough to summon the great Worm; a colossal representation of hate, love and all that lies in between with a voracious appetite and a fearsome presence. The Worm will do Its best not to harm the Señora, for its own part aware it is being nourished by her.
* Personality Trait- "As a proper Madame, I know how to handle any and all situations in a genteel manner"
* Ideal- "I wish to see the young people of Closca raised correctly"
* Bond- "This School is my opus, a sanctum from which I can do my work writ large"
* Flaw- "I am revolted by my occasional lapses in decorum"
**Closing the Borders** Whenever the sensibility of Closca is disturbed enough to raise Consuela's ire she unconsciously closes the borders, during this time the Mists take the form of a severe tropical depression, with high winds, lashing rain, and ceaseless crashes of thunder.
**Adventures In Closca**

1. An attractive young person catches the eye of a PC, Butterflies fluttering about them. A few mornings later the same person is found in a square, this time beaten to death.
2. A cattle farm out in the countryside is ravaged, its herd stripped to the bone. In the grass the Cicadas grow louder. And louder. And louder.
3. An arsonist has begun targeting music halls and galleries for their "lewdness". The Opera House refuses to close despite the clear threat, can it be protected?
4. Jealousy has seen a member of San Sibilio's upper crust transformed into a Strigoi, turning them into a recluse inviting the unsuspecting for a private dinner.
5. A Bodytaker Plant has infested a small town, its Podlings finding the insincerity of Closcan society easy to imitate. The one Human survivor can only mumble "It's in the Patch...
6. The food at a new bistro is so delectable that those sampling its offerings leave consumed from within by their own raptures, stumbling home as hollow Spawn of Kyuss.

Scuttle, scuttle, scuttle.
A cold sweat collected at my armpits. I shot out of bed, slid down the stairs, locating the source of the noise. Marks as deep as icepick blades dug into the rafters. Before I could react, an ovoid form thrashed across the ceiling. Every movement had a visceral crunch. Popcorn ceiling and plaster rained from above.
“This can’t be happening,” I whimpered, scurrying to my parent’s bedroom and shaking my mom awake. The usual routine.
“There’s an intruder!” I said, pointing to the open door.
“Honey, you just had a bad dream. Take some melatonin and go back to sleep. You’ll be alright.”
Would I? I never believed my parents words. Whenever I saw one of those specters, they just passed by, ignoring me. Being born with the fear of ghosts was a pain to say the least. The horrors from my imagination flooded into reality. It’s all in your head, this and that; I’d heard it all. My heart wanted to listen, but my mind didn’t. I wanted the nightmares to end.
But something was off. Ghosts couldn’t make noise, right?
​
I went back outside. My eyes widened. The holes had repaired themselves. Didn’t even leave traces. Did I have a hallucination? No. That couldn’t be it. I saw AND heard that thing burst through the ceiling like the Kool-aid man. Hallucinations couldn’t do that.
Or could they?
BANG! The colossus slammed right into a wall. Its frantic legs dug into the floorboards, rushing across the kitchen, flying across the counter. Utensils shot off like Fourth of July fireworks. No doubt my parents heard the commotion. Double blinking, I saw that the silverware had returned to its original position. I rubbed my eyes. How could that be possible? I knew that some ghosts could induce hallucinations. Maybe that was the case? Even if it was, how my parents couldn’t hear it was beyond me.
I stepped back, clutching the sides of my pajamas and retreating back into the hallway into my parents’ room. My mom jumped out of bed, draping her hands over my shoulders. She knew I would continue with this reassurance ritual.
“You have one of the most powerful imaginations I’ve ever known. You need not fear it. It’s playing tricks on you.”
“I want this to stop!” I pleaded.
“Listen. You need to get over this fear. Alone. We don’t want to be harsh, but the only person that can truly get rid of this fear is you. You have to decide how you will conquer it.”
“No, you don’t under-“
The beast rushed at me from the heights, stopping at my feet and making me trip. A herculean form surged forward; its exoskeleton cracked in concert with its joints. Two hippo heads stuck out like warts on both ends. Its outline faded, clouding with a thick veil of smoke.
Its canines scraped against each other with the force of tectonic collisions. The specter wrenched one head back. Vertebrae crunched against its shell like some demented xylophone as the other snapped against the ground. Both heads converged on the spot of darkness right by my legs, completely ignoring my terrified form.
Why was it going after my shadow? I kicked back. My foot just passed through. The beast snarled, walloping me in the stomach. I skidded across the hardwood floor like a hockey puck.
There’s no way they didn’t hear THAT.
My dad rushed out, hands out at his sides. His head darted around, wondering what the commotion was.
“It’s right there,” I declared, sobbing in fear.
“Son, what is it? I don’t see anything.”
The cantankerous crustacean was directly in their sights. How could they not perceive it? With the ghosts, they only lasted a few seconds. Not this thing. It stood out in the open like an oblivious chicken in the middle of a field.
What was it?
I shuddered at the bizarre form. It’s fangs gnashed together, clicking and drooling. It pounced to the left, extending its legs, overtaking me and rearing up on its back legs. I kicked it in the head, hoping it would yield. It didn’t. Again, my body just passed through it. I collapsed like a worn-down skyscraper. My extremities thrashed around like noodles in boiling water.
“Call an ambulance, now!”
My mom took out her phone and punched in the numbers. She shouted into the phone, keeping me in her line of sight. My mom reached over me, trying to calm me down.
The beast sunk its teeth into my shadow. Thorns of agony climbed up my leg, channeling towards my hips. I punched the beast in the nose. My hand collided with the floor, drumbeats of agony surging up my knuckles.
It wouldn’t let go. Mist conjured around the dark shape like fog across a forest. Unseen forms dragged my whole body in with my silhouette.
​
My eyes fluttered in swirls of technicolor hysterics. Everything cut to black.
---
​
Creeping fluids and nauseating dripping woke me up. When I looked down, my legs and torso had bleached. Furrowed, throbbing folds snared my limbs and head, pinning them to the floor. Moisture seeped into my eye sockets. Darkness and a thick, imperceptible wall surrounded my every being. Was I in the beast’s stomach? Somehow, I could still see the tops of the ceiling. I felt acid eat away at my skin and rip apart the muscle in between. Screaming in agony, I saw my parents huddle over me and try to calm me down.
So this was it. Me, a ten year old boy, dying to a creature that belonged in a book.
“Wait a minute,” I thought. “The fading marks. The fact that only I can see and perceive the monster. Its abstract, undefined form. The fact that my attacks passed through its body.”
“Your imagination is playing tricks on you,” my mom’s voice rattled in my skull.
“Hallucinations can induce sounds, too…This isn’t a ghost,” I said. “It’s a tulpa!”
I heard my parent’s words continue. “The only person that can truly get rid of this fear is you.”
My brow creased and my lips upturned.
“You have to decide how you will conquer it.”
At that moment, I saw nothing but red. Chyme rose from stomach and stung my tongue. From the folds of the guts were puddles of bubbling acid, soaking up my body, dissolving and digesting. I screamed in rage.
I needed to find a way out. But how? I was defenseless inside the leviathan’s gullet. There had to be a solution.
How could I defeat a monster that I couldn’t even interact with?
If the beast only existed in my imagination and could interact with reality, I had to find a way to get rid of it. But how?
Wait a minute. Tulpas lurk in one’s imagination, somehow able to manipulate reality via the mind’s eye. Physical weapons had no effect. What if I visualized and conjured my own weapon?
My parents stood in shock, trying to wrench me out of my trance to no avail.
I closed my eyes. Ignoring slippery folds reeling in my back and legs, I pictured a handgun in my palm. I extended my pointer around an imaginary trigger. Cold steel resonated through my veins. It only showed up looking something like a shoe, but I had to make do. I pantomimed loading and cocking it, aiming directly at the upper wall.
The moment I pulled the trigger, shards of translucent shell flew everywhere.
Shrieking, the outline of the monster faded away, exposing the walls and floor below. I was free!
My mother rushed in to give me a hug. Flashes of red and blue illuminated the windows outside. Limbs practically glued to the floor, a group of first responders rushed up the stairs, investigating my limp form. Hands hoisted me by my back and legs, carrying me outside. The paramedics loaded me onto the ambulance, adjusting my legs against the gurneys. Sirens trailed off and faded as I blacked out once again.
---
I woke up to my mother sobbing. Blinking, I analyzed my surroundings. A hospital gown surrounded me and my skin was pale as clouds. The nurse smiled, seeing that I had made a successful recovery.
It didn’t take long for the doctors to diagnose my condition as a seizure. I raised an arm, seeing that they had wrapped it in bandages still seeping with bile yellow fluids.
My mom handed me my phone, and that brings me to where I am now, hoping my story can be heard.
As doctors chatted in the background, I overheard them trying to understand how I developed acid burns.
I knew what truly happened, but that didn’t matter to me anyway. My parents were right, the only person that could cure my anxiety was myself. The pills and therapy DID help, but I still needed to rely on myself.
And that is exactly what I did.

Scuttle, scuttle, scuttle.
A cold sweat collected at my armpits. I shot out of bed, slid down the stairs, locating the source of the noise. Marks as deep as icepick blades dug into the rafters. Before I could react, an ovoid form thrashed across the ceiling. Every movement had a visceral crunch. Popcorn ceiling and plaster rained from above.
“This can’t be happening,” I whimpered, scurrying to my parent’s bedroom and shaking my mom awake. The usual routine.
“There’s an intruder!” I said, pointing to the open door.
“Honey, you just had a bad dream. Take some melatonin and go back to sleep. You’ll be alright.”
Would I? I never believed my parents words. Whenever I saw one of those specters, they just passed by, ignoring me. Being born with the fear of ghosts was a pain to say the least. The horrors from my imagination flooded into reality. It’s all in your head, this and that; I’d heard it all. My heart wanted to listen, but my mind didn’t. I wanted the nightmares to end.
But something was off. Ghosts couldn’t make noise, right?
I went back outside. My eyes widened. The holes had repaired themselves. Didn’t even leave traces. Did I have a hallucination? No. That couldn’t be it. I saw AND heard that thing burst through the ceiling like the Kool-aid man. Hallucinations couldn’t do that.
Or could they?
BANG! The colossus slammed right into a wall. Its frantic legs dug into the floorboards, rushing across the kitchen, flying across the counter. Utensils shot off like Fourth of July fireworks. No doubt my parents heard the commotion. Double blinking, I saw that the silverware had returned to its original position. I rubbed my eyes. How could that be possible? I knew that some ghosts could induce hallucinations. Maybe that was the case? Even if it was, how my parents couldn’t hear it was beyond me.
I stepped back, clutching the sides of my pajamas and retreating back into the hallway into my parents’ room. My mom jumped out of bed, draping her hands over my shoulders. She knew I would continue with this reassurance ritual.
“You have one of the most powerful imaginations I’ve ever known. You need not fear it. It’s playing tricks on you.”
“I want this to stop!” I pleaded.
“Listen. You need to get over this fear. Alone. We don’t want to be harsh, but the only person that can truly get rid of this fear is you. You have to decide how you will conquer it.”
“No, you don’t under-“
The beast rushed at me from the heights, stopping at my feet and making me trip. A herculean form surged forward; its exoskeleton cracked in concert with its joints. Two hippo heads stuck out like warts on both ends. Its outline faded, clouding with a thick veil of smoke.
Its canines scraped against each other with the force of tectonic collisions. The specter wrenched one head back. Vertebrae crunched against its shell like some demented xylophone as the other snapped against the ground. Both heads converged on the spot of darkness right by my legs, completely ignoring my terrified form.
Why was it going after my shadow? I kicked back. My foot just passed through. The beast snarled, walloping me in the stomach. I skidded across the hardwood floor like a hockey puck.
There’s no way they didn’t hear THAT.
My dad rushed out, hands out at his sides. His head darted around, wondering what the commotion was.
“It’s right there,” I declared, sobbing in fear.
“Son, what is it? I don’t see anything.”
The cantankerous crustacean was directly in their sights. How could they not perceive it? With the ghosts, they only lasted a few seconds. Not this thing. It stood out in the open like an oblivious chicken in the middle of a field.
What was it?
I shuddered at the bizarre form. It’s fangs gnashed together, clicking and drooling. It pounced to the left, extending its legs, overtaking me and rearing up on its back legs. I kicked it in the head, hoping it would yield. It didn’t. Again, my body just passed through it. I collapsed like a worn-down skyscraper. My extremities thrashed around like noodles in boiling water.
“Call an ambulance, now!”
My mom took out her phone and punched in the numbers. She shouted into the phone, keeping me in her line of sight. My mom reached over me, trying to calm me down.
The beast sunk its teeth into my shadow. Thorns of agony climbed up my leg, channeling towards my hips. I punched the beast in the nose. My hand collided with the floor, drumbeats of agony surging up my knuckles.
It wouldn’t let go. Mist conjured around the dark shape like fog across a forest. Unseen forms dragged my whole body in with my silhouette.
My eyes fluttered in swirls of technicolor hysterics. Everything cut to black.
---
Creeping fluids and nauseating dripping woke me up. When I looked down, my legs and torso had bleached. Furrowed, throbbing folds snared my limbs and head, pinning them to the floor. Moisture seeped into my eye sockets. Darkness and a thick, imperceptible wall surrounded my every being. Was I in the beast’s stomach? Somehow, I could still see the tops of the ceiling. I felt acid eat away at my skin and rip apart the muscle in between. Screaming in agony, I saw my parents huddle over me and try to calm me down.
So this was it. Me, a ten year old boy, dying to a creature that belonged in a book.
“Wait a minute,” I thought. “The fading marks. The fact that only I can see and perceive the monster. Its abstract, undefined form. The fact that my attacks passed through its body.”
“Your imagination is playing tricks on you,” my mom’s voice rattled in my skull.
“Hallucinations can induce sounds, too…This isn’t a ghost,” I said. “It’s a tulpa!”
I heard my parent’s words continue. “The only person that can truly get rid of this fear is you.”
My brow creased and my lips upturned.
“You have to decide how you will conquer it.”
At that moment, I saw nothing but red. Chyme rose from stomach and stung my tongue. From the folds of the guts were puddles of bubbling acid, soaking up my body, dissolving and digesting. I screamed in rage.
I needed to find a way out. But how? I was defenseless inside the leviathan’s gullet. There had to be a solution.
How could I defeat a monster that I couldn’t even interact with?
If the beast only existed in my imagination and could interact with reality, I had to find a way to get rid of it. But how?
Wait a minute. Tulpas lurk in one’s imagination, somehow able to manipulate reality via the mind’s eye. Physical weapons had no effect. What if I visualized and conjured my own weapon?
My parents stood in shock, trying to wrench me out of my trance to no avail.
I closed my eyes. Ignoring slippery folds reeling in my back and legs, I pictured a handgun in my palm. I extended my pointer around an imaginary trigger. Cold steel resonated through my veins. It only showed up looking something like a shoe, but I had to make do. I pantomimed loading and cocking it, aiming directly at the upper wall.
The moment I pulled the trigger, shards of translucent shell flew everywhere.
Shrieking, the outline of the monster faded away, exposing the walls and floor below. I was free!
My mother rushed in to give me a hug. Flashes of red and blue illuminated the windows outside. Limbs practically glued to the floor, a group of first responders rushed up the stairs, investigating my limp form. Hands hoisted me by my back and legs, carrying me outside. The paramedics loaded me onto the ambulance, adjusting my legs against the gurneys. Sirens trailed off and faded as I blacked out once again.
---
I woke up to my mother sobbing. Blinking, I analyzed my surroundings. A hospital gown surrounded me and my skin was pale as clouds. The nurse smiled, seeing that I had made a successful recovery.
It didn’t take long for the doctors to diagnose my condition as a seizure. I raised an arm, seeing that they had wrapped it in bandages still seeping with bile yellow fluids.
My mom handed me my phone, and that brings me to where I am now, hoping my story can be heard.
As doctors chatted in the background, I overheard them trying to understand how I developed acid burns.
I knew what truly happened, but that didn’t matter to me anyway. My parents were right, the only person that could cure my anxiety was myself. The pills and therapy DID help, but I still needed to rely on myself.
And that is exactly what I did.

Scuttle, scuttle, scuttle.
A cold sweat collected at my armpits. I shot out of bed, slid down the stairs, locating the source of the noise. Marks as deep as icepick blades dug into the rafters. Before I could react, an ovoid form thrashed across the ceiling. Every movement had a visceral crunch. Popcorn ceiling and plaster rained from above.
“This can’t be happening,” I whimpered, scurrying to my parent’s bedroom and shaking my mom awake. The usual routine.
“There’s an intruder!” I said, pointing to the open door.
“Honey, you just had a bad dream. Take some melatonin and go back to sleep. You’ll be alright.”
Would I? I never believed my parents words. Whenever I saw one of those specters, they just passed by, ignoring me. Being born with the fear of ghosts was a pain to say the least. The horrors from my imagination flooded into reality. It’s all in your head, this and that; I’d heard it all. My heart wanted to listen, but my mind didn’t. I wanted the nightmares to end.
But something was off. Ghosts couldn’t make noise, right?
I went back outside. My eyes widened. The holes had repaired themselves. Didn’t even leave traces. Did I have a hallucination? No. That couldn’t be it. I saw AND heard that thing burst through the ceiling like the Kool-aid man. Hallucinations couldn’t do that.
Or could they?
BANG! The colossus slammed right into a wall. Its frantic legs dug into the floorboards, rushing across the kitchen, flying across the counter. Utensils shot off like Fourth of July fireworks. No doubt my parents heard the commotion. Double blinking, I saw that the silverware had returned to its original position. I rubbed my eyes. How could that be possible? I knew that some ghosts could induce hallucinations. Maybe that was the case? Even if it was, how my parents couldn’t hear it was beyond me.
I stepped back, clutching the sides of my pajamas and retreating back into the hallway into my parents’ room. My mom jumped out of bed, draping her hands over my shoulders. She knew I would continue with this reassurance ritual.
“You have one of the most powerful imaginations I’ve ever known. You need not fear it. It’s playing tricks on you.”
“I want this to stop!” I pleaded.
“Listen. You need to get over this fear. Alone. We don’t want to be harsh, but the only person that can truly get rid of this fear is you. You have to decide how you will conquer it.”
“No, you don’t under-“
The beast rushed at me from the heights, stopping at my feet and making me trip. A herculean form surged forward; its exoskeleton cracked in concert with its joints. Two hippo heads stuck out like warts on both ends. Its outline faded, clouding with a thick veil of smoke.
Its canines scraped against each other with the force of tectonic collisions. The specter wrenched one head back. Vertebrae crunched against its shell like some demented xylophone as the other snapped against the ground. Both heads converged on the spot of darkness right by my legs, completely ignoring my terrified form.
Why was it going after my shadow? I kicked back. My foot just passed through. The beast snarled, walloping me in the stomach. I skidded across the hardwood floor like a hockey puck.
There’s no way they didn’t hear THAT.
My dad rushed out, hands out at his sides. His head darted around, wondering what the commotion was.
“It’s right there,” I declared, sobbing in fear.
“Son, what is it? I don’t see anything.”
The cantankerous crustacean was directly in their sights. How could they not perceive it? With the ghosts, they only lasted a few seconds. Not this thing. It stood out in the open like an oblivious chicken in the middle of a field.
What was it?
I shuddered at the bizarre form. It’s fangs gnashed together, clicking and drooling. It pounced to the left, extending its legs, overtaking me and rearing up on its back legs. I kicked it in the head, hoping it would yield. It didn’t. Again, my body just passed through it. I collapsed like a worn-down skyscraper. My extremities thrashed around like noodles in boiling water.
“Call an ambulance, now!”
My mom took out her phone and punched in the numbers. She shouted into the phone, keeping me in her line of sight. My mom reached over me, trying to calm me down.
The beast sunk its teeth into my shadow. Thorns of agony climbed up my leg, channeling towards my hips. I punched the beast in the nose. My hand collided with the floor, drumbeats of agony surging up my knuckles.
It wouldn’t let go. Mist conjured around the dark shape like fog across a forest. Unseen forms dragged my whole body in with my silhouette.
My eyes fluttered in swirls of technicolor hysterics. Everything cut to black.
---
Creeping fluids and nauseating dripping woke me up. When I looked down, my legs and torso had bleached. Furrowed, throbbing folds snared my limbs and head, pinning them to the floor. Moisture seeped into my eye sockets. Darkness and a thick, imperceptible wall surrounded my every being. Was I in the beast’s stomach? Somehow, I could still see the tops of the ceiling. I felt acid eat away at my skin and rip apart the muscle in between. Screaming in agony, I saw my parents huddle over me and try to calm me down.
So this was it. Me, a ten year old boy, dying to a creature that belonged in a book.
“Wait a minute,” I thought. “The fading marks. The fact that only I can see and perceive the monster. Its abstract, undefined form. The fact that my attacks passed through its body.”
“Your imagination is playing tricks on you,” my mom’s voice rattled in my skull.
“Hallucinations can induce sounds, too…This isn’t a ghost,” I said. “It’s a tulpa!”
I heard my parent’s words continue. “The only person that can truly get rid of this fear is you.”
My brow creased and my lips upturned.
“You have to decide how you will conquer it.”
At that moment, I saw nothing but red. Chyme rose from stomach and stung my tongue. From the folds of the guts were puddles of bubbling acid, soaking up my body, dissolving and digesting. I screamed in rage.
I needed to find a way out. But how? I was defenseless inside the leviathan’s gullet. There had to be a solution.
How could I defeat a monster that I couldn’t even interact with?
If the beast only existed in my imagination and could interact with reality, I had to find a way to get rid of it. But how?
Wait a minute. Tulpas lurk in one’s imagination, somehow able to manipulate reality via the mind’s eye. Physical weapons had no effect. What if I visualized and conjured my own weapon?
My parents stood in shock, trying to wrench me out of my trance to no avail.
I closed my eyes. Ignoring slippery folds reeling in my back and legs, I pictured a handgun in my palm. I extended my pointer around an imaginary trigger. Cold steel resonated through my veins. It only showed up looking something like a shoe, but I had to make do. I pantomimed loading and cocking it, aiming directly at the upper wall.
The moment I pulled the trigger, shards of translucent shell flew everywhere.
Shrieking, the outline of the monster faded away, exposing the walls and floor below. I was free!
My mother rushed in to give me a hug. Flashes of red and blue illuminated the windows outside. Limbs practically glued to the floor, a group of first responders rushed up the stairs, investigating my limp form. Hands hoisted me by my back and legs, carrying me outside. The paramedics loaded me onto the ambulance, adjusting my legs against the gurneys. Sirens trailed off and faded as I blacked out once again.
---
I woke up to my mother sobbing. Blinking, I analyzed my surroundings. A hospital gown surrounded me and my skin was pale as clouds. The nurse smiled, seeing that I had made a successful recovery.
It didn’t take long for the doctors to diagnose my condition as a seizure. I raised an arm, seeing that they had wrapped it in bandages still seeping with bile yellow fluids.
My mom handed me my phone, and that brings me to where I am now, hoping my story can be heard.
As doctors chatted in the background, I overheard them trying to understand how I developed acid burns.
I knew what truly happened, but that didn’t matter to me anyway. My parents were right, the only person that could cure my anxiety was myself. The pills and therapy DID help, but I still needed to rely on myself.
And that is exactly what I did.

Scuttle, scuttle, scuttle.
A cold sweat collected at my armpits. I shot out of bed, slid down the stairs, locating the source of the noise. Marks as deep as icepick blades dug into the rafters. Before I could react, an ovoid form thrashed across the ceiling. Every movement had a visceral crunch. Popcorn ceiling and plaster rained from above.
“This can’t be happening,” I whimpered, scurrying to my parent’s bedroom and shaking my mom awake. The usual routine.
“There’s an intruder!” I said, pointing to the open door.
“Honey, you just had a bad dream. Take some melatonin and go back to sleep. You’ll be alright.”
Would I? I never believed my parents words. Whenever I saw one of those specters, they just passed by, ignoring me. Being born with the fear of ghosts was a pain to say the least. The horrors from my imagination flooded into reality. It’s all in your head, this and that; I’d heard it all. My heart wanted to listen, but my mind didn’t. I wanted the nightmares to end.
But something was off. Ghosts couldn’t make noise, right? I went back outside. My eyes widened. The holes had repaired themselves. Didn’t even leave traces. Did I have a hallucination? No. That couldn’t be it. I saw AND heard that thing burst through the ceiling like the Kool-aid man. Hallucinations couldn’t do that.
Or could they?
BANG! The colossus slammed right into a wall. Its frantic legs dug into the floorboards, rushing across the kitchen, flying across the counter. Utensils shot off like Fourth of July fireworks. No doubt my parents heard the commotion. Double blinking, I saw that the silverware had returned to its original position. I rubbed my eyes. How could that be possible? I knew that some ghosts could induce hallucinations. Maybe that was the case? Even if it was, how my parents couldn’t hear it was beyond me.
I stepped back, clutching the sides of my pajamas and retreating back into the hallway into my parents’ room. My mom jumped out of bed, draping her hands over my shoulders. She knew I would continue with this reassurance ritual.
“You have one of the most powerful imaginations I’ve ever known. You need not fear it. It’s playing tricks on you.”
“I want this to stop!” I pleaded.
“Listen. You need to get over this fear. Alone. We don’t want to be harsh, but the only person that can truly get rid of this fear is you. You have to decide how you will conquer it.”
“No, you don’t under-“
The beast rushed at me from the heights, stopping at my feet and making me trip. A herculean form surged forward; its exoskeleton cracked in concert with its joints. Two hippo heads stuck out like warts on both ends. Its outline faded, clouding with a thick veil of smoke.
Its canines scraped against each other with the force of tectonic collisions. The specter wrenched one head back. Vertebrae crunched against its shell like some demented xylophone as the other snapped against the ground. Both heads converged on the spot of darkness right by my legs, completely ignoring my terrified form.
Why was it going after my shadow? I kicked back. My foot just passed through. The beast snarled, walloping me in the stomach. I skidded across the hardwood floor like a hockey puck.
There’s no way they didn’t hear THAT.
My dad rushed out, hands out at his sides. His head darted around, wondering what the commotion was.
“It’s right there,” I declared, sobbing in fear.
“Son, what is it? I don’t see anything.”
The cantankerous crustacean was directly in their sights. How could they not perceive it? With the ghosts, they only lasted a few seconds. Not this thing. It stood out in the open like an oblivious chicken in the middle of a field.
What was it?
I shuddered at the bizarre form. It’s fangs gnashed together, clicking and drooling. It pounced to the left, extending its legs, overtaking me and rearing up on its back legs. I kicked it in the head, hoping it would yield. It didn’t. Again, my body just passed through it. I collapsed like a worn-down skyscraper. My extremities thrashed around like noodles in boiling water.
“Call an ambulance, now!”
My mom took out her phone and punched in the numbers. She shouted into the phone, keeping me in her line of sight. My mom reached over me, trying to calm me down.
The beast sunk its teeth into my shadow. Thorns of agony climbed up my leg, channeling towards my hips. I punched the beast in the nose. My hand collided with the floor, drumbeats of agony surging up my knuckles.
It wouldn’t let go. Mist conjured around the dark shape like fog across a forest. Unseen forms dragged my whole body in with my silhouette.
My eyes fluttered in swirls of technicolor hysterics. Everything cut to black.
---
Creeping fluids and nauseating dripping woke me up. When I looked down, my legs and torso had bleached. Furrowed, throbbing folds snared my limbs and head, pinning them to the floor. Moisture seeped into my eye sockets. Darkness and a thick, imperceptible wall surrounded my every being. Was I in the beast’s stomach? Somehow, I could still see the tops of the ceiling. I felt acid eat away at my skin and rip apart the muscle in between. Screaming in agony, I saw my parents huddle over me and try to calm me down.
So this was it. Me, a ten year old boy, dying to a creature that belonged in a book.
“Wait a minute,” I thought. “The fading marks. The fact that only I can see and perceive the monster. Its abstract, undefined form. The fact that my attacks passed through its body.”
“Your imagination is playing tricks on you,” my mom’s voice rattled in my skull.
“Hallucinations can induce sounds, too…This isn’t a ghost,” I said. “It’s a tulpa!”
I heard my parent’s words continue. “The only person that can truly get rid of this fear is you.”
My brow creased and my lips upturned.
“You have to decide how you will conquer it.”
At that moment, I saw nothing but red. Chyme rose from stomach and stung my tongue. From the folds of the guts were puddles of bubbling acid, soaking up my body, dissolving and digesting. I screamed in rage.
I needed to find a way out. But how? I was defenseless inside the leviathan’s gullet. There had to be a solution.
How could I defeat a monster that I couldn’t even interact with?
If the beast only existed in my imagination and could interact with reality, I had to find a way to get rid of it. But how?
Wait a minute. Tulpas lurk in one’s imagination, somehow able to manipulate reality via the mind’s eye. Physical weapons had no effect. What if I visualized and conjured my own weapon?
My parents stood in shock, trying to wrench me out of my trance to no avail.
I closed my eyes. Ignoring slippery folds reeling in my back and legs, I pictured a handgun in my palm. I extended my pointer around an imaginary trigger. Cold steel resonated through my veins. It only showed up looking something like a shoe, but I had to make do. I pantomimed loading and cocking it, aiming directly at the upper wall.
The moment I pulled the trigger, shards of translucent shell flew everywhere.
Shrieking, the outline of the monster faded away, exposing the walls and floor below. I was free!
My mother rushed in to give me a hug. Flashes of red and blue illuminated the windows outside. Limbs practically glued to the floor, a group of first responders rushed up the stairs, investigating my limp form. Hands hoisted me by my back and legs, carrying me outside. The paramedics loaded me onto the ambulance, adjusting my legs against the gurneys. Sirens trailed off and faded as I blacked out once again.
---
I woke up to my mother sobbing. Blinking, I analyzed my surroundings. A hospital gown surrounded me and my skin was pale as clouds. The nurse smiled, seeing that I had made a successful recovery.
It didn’t take long for the doctors to diagnose my condition as a seizure. I raised an arm, seeing that they had wrapped it in bandages still seeping with bile yellow fluids.
My mom handed me my phone, and that brings me to where I am now, hoping my story can be heard.
As doctors chatted in the background, I overheard them trying to understand how I developed acid burns.
I knew what truly happened, but that didn’t matter to me anyway. My parents were right, the only person that could cure my anxiety was myself. The pills and therapy DID help, but I still needed to rely on myself.
And that is exactly what I did.

I see their faces when I go to bed at night. Old, young, desperate. I see the queue of them standing outside my place of work, the Grantham Women’s Health Centre, a brutalist building on the wrong side of Glasgow. In my memory they almost look like figures in a Munch painting; tall, drawn in, grey. I see their eyes when I close mine. I hear their voices, their desperates pleas. This can’t be happening, they’d say, and I’d laugh it off in the staff room with the nurses and the receptionists. That’s what they all say. I knew better than them. I had letters after my name and they had needle marks up their arms.
The first girl was young. Eighteen or so. I can’t tell you her real name, so let’s call her Kourtney. She stunk of tobacco and her clothes looked unwashed. There were bags under her eyes and scars from a bad bout of acne. She lay in the bed staring up at the ceiling light. There were no tears as I gave her my conclusion, just quiet determination.
“I can’t be.” She said, resolute. “You don’t understand… I can’t be pregnant.”
I rolled my eyes as I swivelled around to type my report. I could see the track marks on her arms, small half-healed dots and dark yellowing bruises.
“The tests are quite clear. You have options and I can provide you support regardless of what you choose. You are quite early. Termination is an option and at this stage would simply be a few pills. There is also the option to keep the pregnancy and from there you have other choices too, becoming a mother or seeking adoption.” I told her. “Whatever is best for you-”
“You don’t understand. I’m a virgin.” She stood to her feet. “The tests are wrong.”
“I can only tell you what I know to be true. All tests show that you are pregnant. The HCG, the ultrasound, I can see the embryo.” I said as gently as I could muster. She looked as if I were the class clown. “Is it possible that anything happened when you were unaware? Perhaps… intoxicated?”
Her face went red and she stormed out of my room. I did not ponder then, the indignity I had done to her. She came in next week for her termination. Drug addicts were humans too. It’s easy to forget when you sit on a little perch high above them. I found it all too easy to feel superior. If I had looked at them… truly looked at them, I might have seen my own reflection in their faces. We all have our addictions.
The second girl was older. Let’s call her Kim. She was a regular at the clinic. I had treated her for herpes, gonorrhoea and a rather severe case of genital warts. I had a suspicion that she was a skin peddler. When her hcg test came up positive I was not at all surprised, yet Kim was. Her face scrunched up, as if she were a slug and I’d poured salt all over her.
“I ain’t. You’ve got my test mixed up with someone else's. I can’t have babies.” She said with a casual tone. Her dyed black hair was tied up into a perfect little bun and it struck me, in the cold blue medical light, that she was rather pretty. “Been trying with my man for ten years. He shoots duds. I can’t be pregnant.”
“Perhaps it may have been someone doing the…. Uh… shooting then.” I said and her face went red and she stormed out of my office too.
Kim decided to keep hers. She came back every other month to see the midwives, her belly a little fuller each visit. She didn’t come with her man. I wondered if he’d done a runner because of her apparent infidelity.
The third woman was when I started to think something was amiss. Let’s call her Kris. She was fifty-two and a primigravida. She was already showing when she came into my office and was rather insistent that she had a tumour, not a baby. Her skin was marred with wrinkles and lines and she was determined that she was going through her menopause.
“I can do an ultrasound, just to settle this if it would reassure you?” I said to her, I had one of the ultrasound girls come in.
The room was silent as she scanned. She found the baby with no effort. It was approximately thirty-three weeks in gestation. Kris gazed at it with narrowed, bewildered eyes.
“I’m a widower.” She said, taking a long drink of uncomfortable air. She ran a hand up her arm. She didn’t look like a drug addict, yet I could see them, small little track marks, all that unified these poor, desperate women.
Then it happened. The image on the screen shifted, the swirling mass of black and grey, contorted and for the smallest of moments that baby did not look like a baby at all, but something else. It’s arms were long and coiled, like tentacles on an octopus. The eyes… black hollow pits two times as large as they ought to have been. The ultrasound tech jerked and I recoiled. The woman looked terrified.
An illusion, an odd assemblage of shadow and light. It was easy to dismiss when it was a picture on a screen.
Kylie was next. She was somewhat of a well-known face around the clinic. She would come in twice a year for an abortion. She’d fill her bag with condoms, yet they never seemed to work. Perhaps her husband didn’t like wearing them, so many men claim the same. She wasn’t at all surprised to be pregnant. She was three months along and asked for an abortion. She was too far along for the pills so she lay back on the bed as I prepared to begin her termination.
It went swimmingly. The foetus looked a little strange, larger than it ought to have been and mottled grey in colour. At this point they aren’t really babies, that it looked so inhuman, was not at all surprising. The octopus-like suckers on it’s frail, silvery flesh, was utterly unnerving however. I felt the hairs on my arm stand alert. I did not let Kylie sense my unease. I slipped it into the medical waste bin and shivered when I heard it writhe around against the clear plastic bin-liner.
Something was wrong.
I sent her home and kept it to myself. I had nightmares. Every woman that came through my door, every termination I conducted, I was terrified of finding the same, slippery mass of inhuman flesh. More girls came. One as young as fourteen. I’m not pregnant they’d insist, with their track-marks and their pupils that filled their irises. I’m a virgin, my husband’s infertile, I use condoms, I have the coil… their excuses were endless, and utterly unbelievable.
“There’s something wrong with Kim’s ultrasound Doctor.” The new radiographer said to me in the hallway. She was green and looked utterly terrified. No doubt she was scanning an ovary or a bladder and not the poor woman’s womb.
Kim was laid back on the bed, looking rather uncomfortable. She did not look at all happy to see me, yet she kept her tongue from wagging. I headed over to the ultrasound machine and slowly began to scan her. My heart stopped. It wasn’t right.
Tentacles. Wriggling snakes all coiling around eachother. A giant mass of blubbering flesh. I squinted my eyes and tried to find a baby in the shadows but could not see it. This wasn’t… this couldn’t be. I thought of Kylie and the odd assemblage of particles that had come from her womb… that twisted rotted thing, grey and covered with suckers.
“We… need…. We… need.” I spluttered out, considering for the first time in my professional career admitting defeat. “A second opinion.”
Kim looked terrified and I put a comforting hand on her arms as she rubbed at her bulbuous belly. I found Dr Wright in the staff room and pulled him in. His eyes widened like saucers. A third opinion, he said, and so we found Dr Auld, who did not condemn us to a cycle of shocked and confused doctors.
“We need to call the centre for disease control.” He said. Dr Auld was older than the building and he looked grey with fright. We called them and they agreed to come, we kept Kim in until they arrived. There were men in hazmat suits and men in black suits and bright red tape was pulled across the entryway. They whisked her away on a trolley and into a black van with blue lights.
One of the men in black hijacked a computer from the receptionist, whilst another gathered all the doctors including myself into a room. We were awe-struck, confused, and when a sharp-looking man in a grey tweed suit came in with a stethoscope around his neck we were reassured to see another doctor.
“I’m Professor Sharpe. How many women have presented like this?” He asked, his hand outstretched to meet us.
“Like what?” Dr Wright said, his jaw scraping the floor.
“Pregnant despite proclaiming it impossible, ultrasounds similar to Kim’s, ill-shaped foetus’ and embryos?” He said with his notebook and pen.
“A great many women around here proclaim it impossible for them to be pregnant.” I said with my arms crossed, still refusing to believe what I had seen. I cleaved to the possibility that it could all be reasoned away with science and hard-fought hypotheses' “We have a lot of… drug-users in our practice.”
“Yes. Track marks up their arms. You assumed it was drugs, you did not care to ask them if they partook, you doubted them, judged their clothes, their class, made your assumptions.” Dr Sharpe said. “They came here for compassion, but found none. They found judgement, doubt, they were not believed. We ran a toxicology test on Kim, it might interest you. Clear. She’s not a drug user. There is something far worse haunting these women, It’s happening in small pockets all over the country. Grantham is only the most recent. You will see more like her and you will send them to me. Their irises will be large, there will be track-marks on their arms and they will be pregnant, often beyond reason. I’ve had eighty-year olds.”
“That’s impossible.” Dr Auld let out a breath.
“What exists beyond the limits of our understanding is not impossible, just unknown.” Dr Sharpe said. “The building blocks of life are innumerable and unknowable, there is more to this universe than we, more to life than what is taught in your books and crowded lecture theatres. There is life, bubbling under the surface of reason, glinting out from beneath the stars.”
Shaking their heads, Dr Sharpe and Dr Wright left. Professor Sharpe walked toward me before I could leave and his hand wrapped around my wrist. My eyes flitted shut and open and for the briefest of moments the hardened flesh of his hand was slimy and grey, and little suckers stuck fast to my sweaty skin leaving little dots on my flesh as something sharp pierced me. Track marks. He smiled at me, his irises black and his teeth, parted to smile, yellowed grey. Terror set in my heart and I felt goose pimples spread across me like a rash.
“It’ll be alright. We are everywhere all at once, we wear your faces and sing your songs.” He said. “It’s only nature.”

https://picallow.com/assorted-photos/?usp\_success=2&post\_id=176968&form\_id=27

This is Part 3 of one big writing about Sharna the Innkeeper — a writing exploring the notion that Sharna might have something to say about Ashara Dayne, perhaps because she is Ashara's mother. You can read Part 1 HERE and Part 2 HERE. This simply picks up where Part 2 left off, continuing to look at the things ASOS Arya II tells us about Sharna and relating them to Dorne, Ashara, etc.

Sharna Snatches The Duck

When witchy Sharna takes the duck from Lem, she…

…snatched it from his hand.

I have a lot to say about Sharna specifically "snatch[ing]" the duck.
First, I suspect it augurs that when Ned delivered Dawn (and Arthur?) to Starfall, his arrival and peace offering was accepted (likely by Ashara, but perhaps by her stepmother) only with some measure of suspicion/contempt/etc.
Second, it reinforces my sense that Sharna has a whiff of the "witch queen" Nymeria (and hence a whiff of Dorne) about her, since "Nymeria" (the wolf named after Queen Nymeria, that is) likewise "snatches" things:

Nymeria was helping. Arya would only have to point, and the wolf would bound across the room, snatch up some wisp of silk in her jaws, and fetch it back. (AGOT Jon II)

That's just the beginning.

Sharna Snatching The Duck From Lem's Hand & The Cat That Snatched The Quail From Tywin's Fingers

Sharna "snatching" a game bird out of Lem's hand (shortly before she talks about eating "roast rabbit") also invites us to draw a comparison between (a) Sharna and (b) the one-eared black cat from the Red Keep that "snatched a roast quail right out of Lord Tywin's fingers":

One time, the king was feasting the queen's father, and that black bastard hopped up on the table and snatched a roast quail right out of Lord Tywin's fingers. (AGOT Arya III)

The symmetry doesn't end there. Both Sharna and the cat are old and ugly and notably foul-tempered. Where the roast quail-snatching cat "spit[s]", Sharna offers to cook "rabbit on a spit". Where the "one-eared" cat is a "ragged… tom with a chewed-off ear", (ACOK Sansa II) "ragged" Tom O'Sevens ("A more ragged band Arya had never seen") describes Sharna as if she has one eye and a mouth made to chew off an ear:

"She has a sharp tongue and a fierce eye…." *(ASOS Arya II)

And where the "devil cat" is called "the real king of the castle", witchy Sharna proves to be the real ruler of the inn. (AGOT Arya III)
I submit that this prima facie 'rhyming' suggests that game-bird-snatching Sharna takes after the game-bird-snatching cat in another respect as well. We're clearly invited to suspect that the now old and ragged cat was once Princess Rhaenys Targaryen's presumably pampered pet kitten Balerion, right? ADWD's discussion of "second lives" invites us to further suspect that the cat could be the vessel in which Princess Rhaenys is leading a "second life". It's my suspicion that Sharna's life has followed a 'rhyming' path to the cat's life: Once a highborn noblewoman wed to a great lord, Sharna is now leading a kind of second life of her own in the guise of a common, cantankerous, innkeeper.

Sharna Snatching The Duck & "Duck" The Meat-Snatching Knight

"Sharp-tongue[d]" Sharna "snatch[ing]" the duck the "lads" want her to cook for them finds another 'rhyme' in ADWD Tyrion IV, when Rhoynish Ysilla is cooking for Tyrion, "Duck", and "the lad", and "sharp of tongue" Tyrion "snatched" a biscuit before Duck tried to snatch ("made a grab for") more bacon. If you recall Husband's implication that Sharna has a penchant for whacking people with her spoon ("I'll have the old woman take a spoon to you"), it's hard to read the scene as anything but a deliberately kaleidoscopically rearranged reiteration of spoon-wielding Sharna snatching the duck from Lem before cooking rabbit for all:

When Ysilla turned her back, Tyrion snatched a biscuit off the brazier, darting away just in time to avoid a smack from her fearsome wooden spoon. … The smell of the bacon cooking soon fetched Duck up from the hold. He sniffed over the brazier, received a swack from Ysilla's spoon, and went back to have his morning piss off the stern.
[Ysilla] fed them on the afterdeck, pressing honeyed biscuits on Young Griff and hitting Duck's hand with her spoon whenever he made a grab for more bacon.

This is just a sliver of a wider 'rhyme' I'll detail shortly. Here, I'm narrowly focused on the quoted scene as a funhouse mirror-image of Sharna snatching the duck Lem brings her, and thus the thing that jumps out is that "Duck" is a man and (soon) a Kingsguard.
If "all things come round again" in ASOIAF, as I believe they do, the 'rhyme' between (a) Tyrion "snatching" at Ysilla's biscuits and a Kingsguard named "Duck" snatching at Ysilla's bacon and (b) Sharna snatching the dead duck Lem had carried hanging from his belt like a sword surely does nothing to dissuade us from noticing that Lem bringing the dead duck to Sharna could represent Ned returning not just Dawn, but Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, to Starfall.

Sharna Snatching The Duck & Lysa Snatching Sweetrobin the Falcon

There's another bird-snatching (of sorts) that likewise encourages us to consider that Lem's dead duck could represent Arthur. Where Sharna "snatched" the duck out of Lem's "hand" (and where Lem moments later "roared" like a lion), Lysa "snatch[ed]" SweetROBIN (who is 'also' an Arryn falcon) "out of the lion's mouth". Notably, we read this when Catelyn is bringing Tyrion (and her "quarrels") to Lysa, which, as mentioned above, is itself a 'reenactment' of Ned bringing Dawn to Ashara at Starfall (which in turn prefigures Lem bringing Sharna the duck she snatches from him, etc.):

"[Lysa] ran to the Vale, stealing away from the Red Keep like a thief in the night, and all to snatch her son out of the lion's mouth . . . and now you have brought the lion to her door." (AGOT Catelyn VI)

The recursive swirl of 'rhyming' motifs and language here seems consistent with authorial intention, and not only is a "robin" who is a boy snatched (suggesting the duck could represent a person), but the "robin" is someone who I have elsewhere shown in some detail to be a 'rhyming' figure to none other than Arthur Dayne's nephew, his fellow boy lord, Edric Dayne, which is at least consistent with our reading Lem's dead duck as a hint that Ned returned to Starfall with Arthur.

Sharna Snatching The Duck & Will Snatching Waymar Royce's Broken Sword

There's a certain 'rhyme' between the Royces and Daynes. They're symmetrical names: "Royce" ↔ "Dayne". Both are ancient First Men Houses, former kings, characterized by their mysterious and possibly magical ancient armaments (viz. the Royce's runic bronze armor and Dawn). So it's interesting to me that Waymar Royce's "broken sword" gets verbatim "snatched" in the Prologue of AGOT to serve as Will's "proof" of what happened to Waymar.
If Sharna "snatch[ing]" the dead duck from Lem is indeed a kind of ironic reenactment of Ned bring Dawn to Starfall, surely the fact that perhaps the seminal moment of the entire story (the appearance of the White Walkers and the resurrection of Waymar Royce) involves the "snatch[ing]" of the broken sword of a younger son of House Royce to serve as proof of what happened could augur that when Ned returned the sword of a younger son of House Dayne (i.e. Arthur's Dawn) to Starfall (as proof of Arthur's death . . . or so the Daynes could use it as proof of Arthur's ostensible "death"), it was broken.
(Or could it instead augur that it was Arthur who was "broken"? Physically, perhaps, but perhaps psychologically, as well.)

Sharna Snatching The Duck For Cooking & Tyrion Snatching A Cooked Duck That's "Ripped In Two"

A final duck-snatching incident dovetails with Waymar's snatched, broken sword to suggest that Dawn (and/or Arthur) was broken (in two?) when Ned brought it (and/or Arthur) back to Ashara (as Lem brought the duck to Sharna):

[Tyrion's] captor returned shortly, carrying two tankards and a roasted duck. He kicked the door shut, ripped the duck in two[!], and tossed half of it to Tyrion. He would have snatched[!] it from the air, but his chains brought him up short when he tried to lift his arms. Instead the bird struck his temple and slid hot and greasy down his face [like hot tears, a la grieving Ashara?], and he had to hunker down and stretch for it with fetters clanking. He got it on the third try and tore into it happily with his teeth. "Some ale to wash this down [like the ale Sharna serves Arya et al.]?" (ADWD Tyrion IV)

As alluded to above when he was biscuit-snatching, Tyrion snatching a cooked duck 'rhymes' especially tightly with Sharna snatching a duck for cooking because Tyrion is "sharp of tongue", while Sharna has a "sharp tongue". Moreover, both are described as having singular eyes: Sharna, a "fierce eye", Tyrion an "evil eye". (ASOS Tyrion V)
Notice that Tyrion is a well-treated captive here, as Arya is a well-treated captive when she witnesses Shanra's duck-snatching. That repetition deepens my suspicion that when Ned brought Dawn to Starfall, Ashara may have been a de facto captive there.

"Anguy Shot A Duck, Is What You're Meaning"

After she snatched the duck, Sharna responds to Lem saying "we shot a duck" like this:

"Anguy shot a duck, is what you're meaning."

Recall that Lem is dressed like a Northern soldier. I suspect Sharna calling bullshit on his tacitly taking credit for killing the duck winks at the fact that Ned did not in fact slay Arthur "in single combat" as is widely believed (and that Ashara surely realized this, if she was told otherwise).
Does Anguy killing the duck suggest that Howland Reed shot Arthur with a poison arrow, as many believe? Or could it be that someone who wasn't a guy shot Arthur? Maybe accidentally? Lyanna? Or even Ashara?
If Arthur was shot with a poisoned arrow, his 'rhyme' with his fellow paradigmatic knight Aemon the Dragonknight seems to suggest he wasn't killed, as believed. (Note the Dornish context.)

The king quickly consolidated his control of Dorne, dealing with these rebels when he found them...though not without difficulty. In one infamous episode, a poisoned arrow meant for the king was taken instead by his cousin Prince Aemon (the younger son of Prince Viserys), who had to be sent home by ship to recover. (TWOIAF)

Was Arthur, too, "sent home… to recover"? Perhaps via the raging, supposedly unnavigable waters of the Torrentine? And/or did he (then) take a "ship", like Aemon? To Planky Town, to see the orphans, who "know much and more of healing"? And/or perhaps to the same place the waif's father took her when she was poisoned: to Braavos?

Yelling At Lem

Sharna yells some more at Lem:

"Get your boots off, are you deaf or just stupid?"

She doesn't actually dislike Lem, despite her tone. (She's protective of him moments later.) She just finds him a bit thick and obtuse. Is this how Ashara felt towards Ned?
That said, could Sharna asking Ned-ish Lem "are you deaf" be a 'rhyming' echo of the iconic line, "Ashara Dayne's name was never heard in Winterfell again"? (AGOT Catelyn II)
"Get your boots off" certainly smells like secret identities: In The Dunk & Egg Tales, Egg is disguised, but carries proof that he is Aegon Targaryen in his boot, as mentioned when Dunk is verbatim taking his "boots off":

[Egg:] "Then we shouldn't have named them, ser. It will only make the grief harder for us when they die." [Recall Ashara's foregrounded "grief"!] He screwed up his face. "If we used my boot—"
"No." Dunk stood on one leg to pull his own boot off. (The Sworn Shield)

Sharna telling Lem to take off his boots thus feels like her telling him to come clean about his identity, which is fun, since Lem is Balon's heir, Rodrik Greyjoy. It's also ironic, if Sharna used to be somebody too.
We see Theon (who I believe is "Lem's" brother) take his "boots off" while thinking about "knobby" (like Sharna) "Asha" (⅔ of "Ashara") turning into a beautiful woman, and about how he made an "appalling fool of himself":

Theon kicked his boots off, …remembering a gawky girl with knob knees and pimples. She unlaced my breeches, he thought, outraged, and she said . . . oh, gods, and I said . . . He groaned. He could not possibly have made a more appalling fool of himself. (ACOK Theon II)

Did Ned make an "appalling fool of himself" with Ashara? Did this play into his banning her name at Winterfell, such that no one dares say it — a situation that notably parallels Wex being unable to tell anyone what Theon did with Asha (because he's mute a.k.a. "dumb", which recalls Sharna's "are you deaf or just stupid?" line).

Sharna Turns Away From Lem & Yells For Husband

Sharna then "turn[s] away" from Lem to yell for her husband, Husband:

She turned away [from Lem]. "Husband!" she called loudly. "Get up here, the lads are back. Husband!"
Up the cellar steps came a man in a stained apron, grumbling.

Where Sharna "turned away" from Lem to call for Husband, Ashara "looked to… Stark". (ADWD The Kingbreaker) Reading Lem as Ned, the seeming 'contradiction' — and the fact that she then yells for her husband — actually supports my belief that Ashara "looked to" Brandon, not Ned, at Harrenhal, and that she subsequently wed Brandon before a heart tree.

A Husband Named Husband

Sharna has a husband called Husband and a boy called Boy, and she likewise calls Hot Pie "Boy":

"I'm not Hot Pie here. Sharna just calls me Boy. The same as she calls the other boy. It's going to be confusing." (ASOS Arya III)

An equally "confusing" preference for nameless familial relationships attends the recent members of House Dayne, per Ned Dayne:

"My father was Ser Arthur's elder brother. Lady Ashara was my aunt." (ASOS Arya VIII)

Is it impossible to imagine that a woman named "Sharna" who calls her husband "Husband" and two different boys "Boy" might name a daughter something as uncreatively similar to "Sharna" as "Ashara"?

"Quit Your Bellowing" & "Hang This"

Sharna tells Husband to hang the duck:

He was a head shorter than the woman, with a lumpy face and loose yellowish skin that still showed the marks of some pox. "I'm here, woman, quit your bellowing. What is it now?"
"Hang this," she said, handing him the duck. (ASOS Arya II)

This is consistent with reading the duck as a stand-in for Dawn, an heirloom sword that no longer had anyone to wield it:

"Some men are like swords, made for fighting. Hang them up and they go to rust." (ACOK Jon I)

Could it also be consistent with reading the duck as Arthur? If he survived, did some (at Starfall?) want to see him hanged?

Sharna Bellows About A Duck vs. "Duck" Bellowing

What about Sharna's "bellowing" there? I submit that like her duck-snatching, her bellowing gets kaleidoscopically reworked in ADWD Tyrion IV (i.e. the chapter in which Tyrion and Duck "snatch" the Rhoynish woman Ysilla's food) when Duck verbatim "bellow[s]" while he's splashing around in a river like Sharna bellows after she snatches the duck that Lem splashed around in a river to retrieve. Let's look at the Sharna-evoking bits of ADWD Tyrion IV in more detail now.
In ADWD Tyrion IV, Ser Rolly Duckfield gets knocked in the water by "Young Griff" when they're sparring, recalling Anguy's duck falling into the water after he shot it:

Young Griff landed more blows, though Duck's were harder. After a while, the bigger man began to tire. His cuts came a little slower, a little lower. Young Griff turned them all and launched a furious attack that forced Ser Rolly back. When they reached the stern, the lad tied up their blades and slammed a shoulder into Duck, and the big man went into the river.

Given that Griff is wolf-coded—

Griff's cloak was made from the hide and head of a red wolf of the Rhoyne. (ADWD Tyrion III)

—I wonder whether Young Griff's victory over the Kingsguard "Duck" in a fake fight might augur that young Ned's victory over Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard was faked.
Anyway, where we see Sharna "bellowing" for Husband to "hang the duck" (implicitly) to dry it out, we see Duck "bellowing for someone to fish him out" of the river (like Lem fished Anguy's duck out of the brook):

He came up sputtering and cursing, bellowing for someone to fish him out before a 'snapper ate his privates.

The reference to a "snapper" eating his privates first of all shores up the 'rhyme' between Duck and the duck, which the guy named Anguy hopes to eat but which is saved for later. It also evokes Sharna answering Lem's boast ("We shot a duck") by snapping at him in an emasculating way ("Anguy shot a duck, is what you're meaning") and then snatching (snapping?) the duck out of his hand. Make no mistake: Sharna is a snapper, too, having verbatim "snapped" at Arya and Lem—

"Dont just stand there, boy," she snapped. "Or are you a girl? Get in or get out. Lem, what did I tell you about my floor? You're all mud."

—immediately prior to Lem proudly declaring "We shot a deck".
(Could Duck's castration anxiety also wink at someone being literally castrated at Starfall or the Tower of Joy in order to use their junk for life-saving bloodmagic? Recall Varys's castration story.)
The bellowing Duck scene continues:

Tyrion tossed a line to him. "Ducks should swim better than that," he said as he and Yandry were hauling the knight back aboard the Shy Maid.

Duck, a Targaryen king's Kingsguard like Arthur Dayne, is helped back aboard the Rhoynish riverboat by (a) Tyrion, who is playing the jovial clown (a la Garin) in this scene, and (b) a Rhoynish man. Was Arthur restored from the brink of death by the orphans of the Greenblood, who "know much and more of healing"? Was Ned?
Note that the name of the boat is the Shy Maid. Asha — without which you can't spell "Ashara" (the "maid with the laughing purple eyes" for whom the "shy maid" Ned had eyes) — is anything but shy, yet she calls herself, verbatim, "a shy maid" when Theon is in the midst of making an "appalling fool of himself" by coming on to her, as I suspect Ned may have vis-a-vis Ashara.
Continuing:

Ser Rolly grabbed Tyrion by the collar. "Let us see how dwarfs swim," he said, chucking him headlong into the Rhoyne.
The dwarf laughed last; he could paddle passably well, and did . . . until his legs began to cramp. Young Griff extended him a pole.

When Tyrion is tossed in the river, he "laughed", a la laughing Ashara with the laughing eyes, who supposedly perished after throwing herself in to the Summer Sea.
He is helped onto the boat by Young Griff. Was the "young wolf" waiting in a boat to help Ashara, whom I suspect swam extremely well, given that she grew up next to the "roaring, tumultuous" Torrentine, paying off Septon Chayle's line:

"I grew up on the banks of the White Knife, you know. I'm quite the strong swimmer." (ACOK Bran V)

After helping Ashara aboard, did the "young wolf" extend her a "pole", so to speak, as "Young Griff" did Tyrion? He certainly wouldn't have been the first to try, judging by her dance card at Harrenhal, which makes the beginning of the next line of ADWD Tyrion IV oddly apt:

"You are not the first to try and drown me," he told Duck, as he was pouring river water from his boot. "My father threw me down a well the day I was born, but I was so ugly that the water witch who lived down there spat me back." He pulled off the other boot, then did a cartwheel along the deck, spraying all of them.

Was Ashara thrown into the Summer Sea as Tyrion was thrown into the Rhoyne and as he claims his father threw him down a well? Perhaps because her father or stepmother not want her, a woman, to inherit Starfall?
Could Tyrion's joke about a "water witch" spitting him back augur that Ashara's Rhoynish-ish, water-witchy mother (Sharna?) helped her to survive and/or escape Starfall?
Finally, Tyrion pulling off his water-logged boots and spraying water everywhere reworks Sharna yelling at Lem to take off his muddy boots, 'confirming' that we're reading a kaleidoscopic reiteration of Sharna's duck-snatching scene (even as it nods to the obvious Aegon VI ↔ Egg 'rhyme', per the boot motif).

Rhoynish Bellowing

Later in ADWD Tyrion IV, the "horned turtle" known as "the old man of the river" "bellowed" like "the old woman" Sharna, who lives on the river in the Riverlands:

[Tyrion] spied a rippling ahead not six yards from the boat. He was about to point it out to Lemore when it came to the surface [as Ashara once surfaced after plunging into the Summer Sea?] with a wash of water that rocked the Shy Maid sideways.
It was another turtle, a horned turtle of enormous size, its dark green shell mottled with brown and overgrown with water moss and crusty black river molluscs.
It raised its head and bellowed, a deep-throated thrumming roar louder than any warhorn that Tyrion had ever heard.
"We are blessed," Ysilla was crying loudly, as tears streamed down her face. "We are blessed, we are blessed."

The "horned [as if cuckolded] turtle" is a "lesser god" than "Mother River". (AFFC The Queenmaker) Consequently its "bellow[ing]" reads like a kaleidoscopic reworking of Sharna-the-snapper — a seemingly frightening but actually friendly, "toad"-like, Rhoynish-ish, riverland mother — "bellowing" at her beleaguered, second-fiddle, quite possibly Rhoynish Husband to "hang" the duck.
Especially because we see another "giant turtle" in ADWD The Merchant's Man, and it's hanging, i.e. doing the very thing Sharna told Husband to do to the duck when she was "bellowing" at him:

Another [stall] displayed a gigantic turtle, strung up by its legs on iron chains, heavy as a horse.

At the same time, Dornish Ysilla "crying loudly" recalls (a) the first description of Sharna "bellowing"—

"Husband!" she called loudly.

—and, given her "tears", (b) Ashara, the "grieving sister", "mad with grief".
I'll come back to Yandry and Ysilla in a bit. First, back to Sharna World.

"With Lemons. If You Had Some"

Quailing before Sharna, Anguy broaches his notion of eating the duck with lemons (as if he has some reason to think Sharna might have some) and he, too, gets an earful of faux-abuse:

Anguy shuffled his feet. "We were thinking we might eat it, Sharna. With lemons. If you had some."
"Lemons. And where would we get lemons? Does this look like Dorne to you, you freckled fool? Why don't you hop out back to the lemon trees and pick us a bushel, and some nice olives and pomegranates too."

Sharna seems to know an awful lot about exotic fruits of Dorne for a commoner from the northern Riverlands. Almost like she's been there.
While she continues to mock Anguy, she makes clear that Tom's promises of food were genuine:

She shook a finger at him. "Now, I suppose I could cook it with Lem's cloak, if you like, but not till it's hung for a few days. You'll eat rabbit, or you won't eat. Roast rabbit on a spit would be quickest, if you've got a hunger. Or might be you'd like it stewed, with ale and onions."
Arya could almost taste the rabbit. "We have no coin, but we brought some carrots and cabbages we could trade you."
"Did you now? And where would they be?"
"Hot Pie, give her the cabbages," Arya said, and he did, though he approached the old woman as gingerly as if she were Rorge or Biter or Vargo Hoat.
The woman gave the vegetables a close inspection, and the boy a closer one. "Where is this hot pie?"
"Here. Me. It's my name. And she's . . . ah . . . Squab."
"Not under my roof. I give my diners and my dishes different names, so as to tell them apart. Husband!" (ASOS Arya II)

Sharna continues to rule like a Rhoynish queen, and to display a Rhoynish-ish concern for the children:

Husband had stepped outside, but at her shout he hurried back. "The duck's hung. What is it now, woman?"
"Wash these vegetables," she commanded. "The rest of you, sit down while I start the rabbits. The boy will bring you drink." She looked down her long nose at Arya and Hot Pie. (ASOS Arya II)

Her "long nose", too, seems Rhoynish-ish/Dornish-ish, in that the most Rhoynish of the Dornish are the orphans of the Greenbloods, and Garin of the orphans is a "long-nosed fellow":

Garin was next, a loose-limbed, swarthy, long-nosed fellow with a jade stud in one ear. (AFFC The Queenmaker)

(More on Sharna and Garin and the orphans shortly.)
Sharna expresses a concern for both the children and the river itself that is Rhoynish-ish as well:

"I am not in the habit of serving ale to children, but the cider's run out, there's no cows for milk, and the river water tastes of war, with all the dead men drifting downstream. If I served you a cup of soup full of dead flies, would you drink it?"
"Arry would," said Hot Pie. "I mean, Squab."
"So would Lem," offered Anguy with a sly smile.

Sharna has no time for Anguy's gossipy allusions (to Lem drinking too much? to Lem's numbness?):

"Never you mind about Lem," Sharna said. "It's ale for all." She swept off toward the kitchen.

Husband The Orphan?

If Sharna is averse to gossip, as her shushing Anguy suggests, perhaps it's because Husband — with whom she seems constantly annoyed — is an inveterate gossip. We see Husband speculate about Fern's pregnancy in gossipy fashion—

"I told you twice, the old woman was up to Lambswold helping that Fern birth her babe. And like as not it was one o' you planted the bastard in the poor girl's belly." He gave Tom a sour look. "You, I'd wager, with that harp o' yours, singing all them sad songs just to get poor Fern out of her smallclothes." (ASOS Arya II)

—after dishing rumors aplenty to Jaime and Brienne when Sharna isn't around:

"Last I heard, King Stannis was outside the city walls. They say he has a hundred thousand men and a magic sword."
"I'd stay well clear of that kingsroad, if I were you," the man went on. "It's worse than bad, I hear. Wolves and lions both, and bands of broken men preying on anyone they can catch." (ASOS Jaime II)
[Jaime:] "Does Thoros of Myr still ride with him?"
[Husband:] "Aye. The red wizard. I've heard tell he has strange powers. … Even if you get past Red Deer Island and don't meet up with Lord Beric and the red wizard, there's still the ruby ford before you. Last I heard, it was the Leech Lord's wolves held the ford, but that was some time past. By now it could be lions again, or Lord Beric, or anyone." (ASOS Jaime II)

When Husband 'innocently' comments on the new horses in the stable after Sharna's "lads" bring Arya, Hot Pie, and Gendry to the inn—

Husband came bustling in through the front door, with an apron full of washed vegetables. "There's strange horses in the stable," he announced, as if they hadn't known. (ASOS Arya II)

—he seems like an incorrigible gossip fishing for information. (Note, too, that he's doing 'women's work', in the Rhoynish fasion.)
When Husband tells Anguy to "be quiet when your elders are talking", Anguy's retort is consistent with Husband being a known gossip:

"My elders talk too much…." (ASOS Arya II)

Could it be that Husband is a Rhoynish "orphan of the river" who naturally gossips "as only the orphans can"?

"Garin gossips as only the orphans can…" - Doran (AFFC The Princess in the Tower)

Here, recall that Husband is small and watchful, like the salty (i.e. Rhoynish) Dornishmen of Sunspear, and that his "loose yellowish skin" makes him "a sallow man", which recalls the very Rhoynish "Yellow Toad of Dorne" and her "sallow and sagging", presumably yellow skin. (More whimsicially, where Garin the orphan is "loose-limbed", Husband has "loose… skin".)
Sallow usually refers to an unhealthy pallor. Much is made of the poor health of both Doran and Elia Martell. The Mystery Knight conflates "sallow" with "saturnine" (by describing Uthor Underleaf as "a sallow man, saturnine"). When Tyrion says that Oberyn is "a salty Dornishman for certain" — i.e. that he looks Rhoynish — he describes him as "saturnine". (ASOS Tyrion V)
Sallow can also mean a "muddy" complexion. Semly calls Quentyn "mud". (ADWD The Discarded Knight)
While he's sallow, Husband's scars indicate he survived a pox, whereas the orphans are great healers.
Would an orphan of the river leave Dorne to live in the Riverlands? Perhaps:

"The orphans are free spirits, they live to wander." (AFFC The Princess in the Tower)

If Husband is a Dornish "orphan", his origin would certainly be consistent with the idea that Sharna once lived in Dorne, too — perhaps as Lady Dayne. And if Sharna was the first Lady Dayne we can imagine her souring on her first, stony Dornish husband if he held the sort of anti-Rhoynish attitudes Arianne attributes to Lord Yronwood — attitudes Sharna surely wouldn't tolerate — and falling instead for a free-spirited (if gossipy) orphan of the river instead.

Sharna and her Orphans of the Riverlands & Garin and the Orphans of the River

With the idea on the table that Husband may be an "orphan of the river", and thus that Sharna may be an orphan of the river by (her second, post-Dayne?) marriage (if she wasn't already an "orphan" by birth) — and with Sharna already seeming ever so Rhoynish-ish, regardless — let's compare what we're told about the "orphans" with what we're told about Sharna (et al.), keeping an eye out for language that might be contrived to connote that the orphans have a connection to Sharna (and/or that Sharna has a connection to Dorne).

Homes For Orphans Of & On The River

When we're introduced to Garin and "the orphans of the river" in AFFC The Queenmaker, we're immediately told that the orphans descend from those Rhoynar who made themselves new riverboat homes out of Nymeria's abandoned ships, which recalls Sharna and Husband taking an abandoned riverside inn and making it their new home, and an orphanage of sorts.

Nourishing River Mothers & Dawn

We're also told that "Mother Rhoyne" had "nourished them [i.e. "the orphans of the Greenblood"] from the dawn of days", an apt choice of words if Sharna — a Rhoynish-ish mother who lives on the "Red Fork" river, who feeds "Greenbeard", and who literally nourishes orphans — birthed Arthur Dayne, wielder of Dawn.

Loving Insults

When Arianne's party reaches the orphans' poleboats, "long-nosed" Garin yells an over-the-top, faux-abusive greeting, then asks for sweetwine:

"Wake up, you fish-eyed lagabeds," [Garin] called as he leapt down from the saddle. "Your queen is here, and wants her royal welcome. Come up, come out, we'll have some songs and sweetwine. My mouth is set for—" (AFFC The Queenmaker)

This recalls "long nose[d]" Sharna's over-the-top, faux-abusive greeting of her "lads" — "are you deaf or just stupid", "You freckled fool" — who then ask her to make duck with lemon.

Wet Nurses, Midwives, & Warts

Garin's "mother was a wet nurse" — a woman who breastfeeds hungry children whose mothers do not/cannot feed them — while Sharna is a proxy mother who shelters and feeds two hungry orphan boys (and for a brief time Arya too) and who explicitly frets about what the children will drink since "there's no… milk".
Garin declares:

"My mother is the best midwife in Westeros, and my father can cure warts." (AFFC The Queenmaker)

His mother sounds like Sharna:

"I told you twice, the old woman [Sharna] was up to Lambswold helping that Fern birth her babe. (ASOS Ayra II)

Where Garin's father "can cure warts", Sharna looks like both a witch and a toad, both of which stereotypically have warts, yet there's no mention that she has warts. It's almost as if Garin's father cured Sharna's warts (and whatever "pocked" Husband's face).

"Up and Down" the River, Haggling, & Robbery

Arianne says…

The orphans live on boats, and pole them up and down the Greenblood and its vassals." (AFFC The Queenmaker)

and that…

The orphans are free spirits, they live to wander. (AFFC The Princess In The Tower)

When Brienne is haggling with Husband to acquire some horses, she offers him her river boat and dangles the prospect of "sail[ing] up the river or down, as you like", which sounds exactly like the life of the orphans:

"You can have our skiff as well," she said. "Sail up the river or down, as you like."

Jaime's response to the deal Husband extracts from her—

"Let me have a taste o' that gold." The man took one of the coins from her palm and bit it. "Hm. Real enough, I'd say. Three dragons and the skiff?"
"He's robbing you blind, wench," Jaime said amiably. (ASOS Jaime II)

—suggests that Husband haggles like "a Dornish fishmonger"—

"The High Septon haggles worse than a Dornish fishmonger." (AGOT Eddard IV)

—while evoking the way Quentyn is burgled (i.e. without his ever knowing) by the orphans:

Arianne had friends amongst the orphans of the Planky Town, and some had grown curious as to why a prince and a lord's son might be traveling under false names and seeking passage across the narrow sea. One of them had crept through a window of a night, tickled the lock on Quentyn's little strongbox, and found the scrolls within. (AFFC The Queenmaker)

Speaking of "Planky Town"…

Planky Town vs. Stony Sept & Tree Town

Where the orphans congregate and trade in "Planky Town", which famously burned during the First Dornish War—

Queen Rhaenys led the first assault on Dorne, …burning the Planky Town… (TWOIAF)

—Sharna's lads visit "Stoney Sept", which has had its "planks" burned during the current war:

The town gates [of Stoney Sept] were made of raw new wood; outside the walls a pile of charred planks remained to tell what had happened to the old ones. (ASOS Arya V)

Stoney ↔ Planky.
Where Planky Town is…

…a city with planks instead of streets, where the houses and halls and shops are made from poleboats, barges, and merchant ships, lashed together with hempen rope and floating on the tide… (TWOIAF)

…where the orphans of the Greenblood hear "the latest tales" from the sailors making port there, Sharna's lads exchange the latest news with the Lady of the Leaves at her village in the trees, built in a "yellow wood", accessed by "rope ladders", and connected by "rope walkways" instead of streets. (Note not just that both are unconventionally built towns bound together by rope, but the structural parallel of "Greenblood" ↔ "yellow wood".) (ASOS Arya IV)

Singing and Playing and Fishing and Picking Fruits & Vegetables & Dancing On Water

Consider these lines about the orphans of the Greenblood:

"They live on boats, and pole them up and down the Greenblood and its vassals, fishing and picking fruit and doing whatever work needs doing."
"Aye," Garin called out cheerfully, "and we sing and play and dance on water, and know much and more of healing." (AFFC The Queenmaker)

Where the "orphans… pole… up and down the Greenblood… fishing and picking fruit", Sharna's lads are strolling up and down the river road when they pick up three orphans who are picking vegetables:

She was grubbing for vegetables in a dead man's garden when she heard the singing. (ASOS Ayra II)

Then a guy named after a Dornish fruit (Lem Lemoncloak) fishes a duck out of the river, which Anguy asks Sharna to cook with Dornish fruit, for which Sharna mocks him, telling him to go "pick us a bushel" of fruit out back:

Anguy shuffled his feet. "We were thinking we might eat it, Sharna. With lemons. If you had some."
"Lemons. And where would we get lemons? Does this look like Dorne to you, you freckled fool? Why don't you hop out back to the lemon trees and pick us a bushel, and some nice olives and pomegranates too." (ASOS Arya II)

Where the orphans "sing and play and dance on water" and "know much and more of healing" (as a doctor might) and "do… whatever work needs doing", Tom of Sevenstreams sings and plays a song whose lyrics (a) entail a pointed blade, like a water dancer's and (b) evoke Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho, it's off to work we go from Snow White & The Seven Dwarfs, a story about an orphan who cooks and keeps house for her dwarves (including "Doc"), a la Sharna cooking and keeping her inn for her "lads" and their Brotherhood:

Off to Gulltown to see the fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho /
I'll steal a sweet kiss with the point[!] of my blade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho

Notice that Anguy's name is almost "Angry", which fits right in with the dwarf names from Snow White like Grumpy and Happy.
Needless to say, the implied parallel between Snow White and Sharna is consistent with there being more to Sharna than appears.
Sharna's lads continue to evoke Garin's orphans picking fruit and playing and singing and fishing as the pole up and down the river when they circulate throughout the riverlands: At one stop, Lemoncloak and Gendry "played tiles" while Tom "sang a silly song" and talked of singing another about "about a fish". (ASOS Arya IV) Later, they visit "the Peach" and Arya literally "pick[s] a… crab apple" in ASOS Ayra VIII.

Great Healers, Gay & Queer.

Where "gay Garin" with the single earring—

Garin was… a loose-limbed, swarthy, long-nosed fellow with a jade stud in one ear. "Here is gay Garin of the orphans…" said Arianne. (AFFC The Queenmaker)

—(children of the 80s, raise your hands if you laughed when you read this the first time) and his orphans "pick fruit" and "know much and more of healing", Sharna's lad Lemoncloak believes "there's never been no better healer" than Thoros, for which Beric gives him "a queer look:

"A wound," said Lem Lemoncloak. "A grievous wound, aye, but Thoros healed it. There's never been no better healer."
Lord Beric gazed at Lem with a queer look in his good eye and no look at all in the other, only scars and dried blood. "No better healer," he agreed wearily. (ASOS Arya VII)

Garin's Green Jade Stud Earring & Sharna's Studs

Speaking of Arianne's friend Garin having a "jade stud in one ear", i.e. a green earring…
Sharna's ring includes a stud — he's "swaggering" and "bigger than Lem" with "a great thick beard" (ASOS Arya II) — named Greenbeard (GREEN-b-EAR-d), and Arya's friend Gendry worries that they'll all get green ears:

"The way it's raining, we'll have moss growing from our ears before long," Gendry complained. (ASOS Arya III)

Anguy & Garin

In ASOS Ayra II, Sharna's "lad" Anguy "called out cheerfully".
In AFFC The Queenmaker, Arianne's friend Garin identically "called out cheerfully".
This seems to be part of a certain 'rhyme' between "gay Garin" and "Anguy", who is quite gay himself, laughing and grinning and smiling a notable, trademark smile:

Anguy smiled one of his stupid freckly smiles…. (ASOS Arya IV)

Like Anguy, Garin has a trademark smile of his own—

Garin flashed the golden tooth Arianne had bought him to replace the one she'd broken. (AFFC The Queenmaker)

—one which oddly echoes Anguy's talk of breaking his teeth:

"No, it isn't," said Anguy, "but you're less like to break your teeth." (ASOS Arya II)

CONTINUED IN OLDEST REPLY, BELOW & HERE

Obviously this sub has a bit of selection bias as those who things end up well with probably don’t come here that often. I just wanted to share my story so those who are looking for something positive can hear it.
I had external warts about 25 years ago. I had them removed via them being burned off (can’t remember what that is called) and they never returned.
Fast forward 25 years and I get them again. Different location and right after covid. Not sure if it was a recurrence or another infection. One wart on the bottom of my shaft. Cryotherapy took care of that. Shortly there after, another on the top - cryotherapy took care of that. A few months later, a wart under my tongue. Oral surgeon cuts that one out.
Since then, no other symptoms or issues.
My partner just returned from her second annual visit since all of this started and both her pap and HR HPV tests are negative.
I guess all I am saying is that sometimes it all works out. So if you are stressed about things, there are some positive outcomes.

The wind whipped through the trees, sending a cascade of leaves rustling and swirling. The sound of wood on wood cracked as the small gusts of wind hit the green canopy above. I held my breath, hoping that my Go-Pro would capture the sound. It would make the intro to my vlog series feel even more authentic.
I had been planning this vlog for weeks. I wanted to capture the beauty of the forest in all its seasons, and I knew that the sound of the wind in the trees would be a key element. I had even chosen a spot with a particularly large canopy as my opening shot when I scouted the location weeks ago.
"Hey everyone, this is Alex. This is the first in a series of videos on primitive living."
I paused, feeling that my opening was too forced and too enthusiastic, "That sounded a little too try-hard," I said to myself. "I need to be more natural."
I took a deep breath and started again. "Hi, I'm Alex, and I'm excited to share my passion for primitive living with you. In this series, I'll be showing you how to build shelters, make tools, and find food--”
An older woman with sandy blonde hair and a dark blouse with khaki shorts approached me. "Excuse me," she said. I turned to her, slightly annoyed. I thought I had nailed the first intro to my vlog series, but now I would have to start over.
A woman with a stack of papers in her hand approached me. She looked tired and stressed, with bags under her eyes that suggested she had not been sleeping well. Her face carried a look of both concern and sadness, as if she had an emotional weight, she was dragging along with her.
I could see that she was struggling to keep her composure. Her shoulders were slumped, and her eyes were darting around as if looking for something.
“Excuse me," she said. "Can you help me?"
I turned off my microphone and GoPro, knowing that my introduction would have to wait. I nodded for the woman to approach me. The stack of papers in her hand fluttered in the wind.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said, "but I was wondering if you had by chance seen this man?" She turned one of the papers over to hand it to me.
I took the paper and looked at it. The young man in the photo was about my age, with shaggy brown hair and a warm smile. He was hiking in the woods with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The photo looked like it had been taken recently, and the man looked happy and carefree. But below the photo, in bold letters, were the words: MISSING.
"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen him," I replied.
"My Jacob went hiking in these woods a few weeks ago. He had a camera just like that one."
"How long has he been missing?" I asked curiously. "Nineteen days now," she said sadly.
“Has anyone found any sort of direction he might have headed?”
“The first two weeks they lots of volunteers combing the woods. But no one found a sign of him, and most of have given up.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied as I took one more look at the man on the paper flyer before tucking it into my pocket. “If I see anything I will make sure to tell the police.”
She smiled gratefully and said, "Thank you. Be safe out there." The missing man’s mother turned and walked over to a few others who looked like they were going for a hike in the woods. I waited for a few moments, then turned my microphone and turned the camera facing me. I had the perfect idea for the intro now.
“Alright, guys, my name is Alex, and this is the first of what I hope to be many in my series about surviving in the wilderness using only primitive technology! And this isn’t for the faint of heart, I just talked to a woman, who told me her son recently went missing in these very woods. So, what I am saying is what I am doing is not for the faint of heart and don’t try this at home!”
After I had finished, I noticed a man in looking at me from the distance. He wore a light camo pants and white shirt, leaned against an older blue truck. His features covered my dirty trucker style hat. We looked at each other for some time before I noticed him walking over to me.
"I saw you talkin’ to that boy's mama," he said loudly. His features became clearer as he spoke. I could see the intensity of his brown eyes, the little specks of dirt under them sprinkled across his cheeks. His crooked nose looked as if it had been broken years ago and never set correctly.
“Been missing for almost three weeks, yea?” “Been about that time, I reckon.”
“Do you have any ideas of what might have happened to him?”
"I think he learned a hard truth in those woods," he replied, spitting up and then placing some more chewing tobacco into his bottom lip. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes lingering on my camera. A small gust of wind blew through us, as if we were in a standoff.
“Hard truth?”
“That he ain’t ever leaving the woods.”
“So, he is still alive you think?” I asked with a puzzled tone. “Why haven’t they found him or any clues then?”
“Because he don’t want to be found,” the man responded curtly.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
"It would make sense if you were him," he responded, wiping his bottom lip after spitting on the ground once more. His statement only left me more confused, as I tried to think of a follow-up question that wouldn't get a cryptic answer.
“So, is he trying to just get attention or something?”
“If anything, I think the boy is happy that the attention is finally dying down.” Goddammit. He was cryptic again.
“Well okay then,” I replied. “Sun will set in a couple of hours, and I need to get a fire going before then.”
“Keep a close eye of your surroundings out there,” the man said before turning around to walk back over to his truck. As I watched him hop into it, I turned my camera back on and began to venture into the woods. – I listened to the cackle of burning wood as the flames danced below the cast-iron pot, I had brought with me. I kept my hands steady and waited patiently. A little bit of steam was rising from the pot, and I knew it was a great shot for my series. I turned the camera to my face and said,
“Hey everyone, so I am settled in for the night and just making some water potable for my journey tomorrow. It has been a wild first day out here, but I am excited to see what day two brings. So, with that I am going to hit the hay soon and I will see you all in the morning!”
I turned my camera towards the moon, its silvery light casting a soft glow on the forest around me. I settled onto my bed for the night, a simple pallet of boughs and sticks that I had gathered earlier that day. I had layered the boughs thickly, so that they were soft and comfortable, and I had added a few sticks underneath for extra support.
I filmed the bright stars and half-moon for a few seconds, capturing their beauty in the camera's lens. Then, I powered off the camera and set it aside. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the moment. I thought about all the footage I had filmed that day, and I knew it would be perfect for my first video. I have to admit, for my first time trying something like this, I was surprisingly good at it.
I closed my eyes and tried to settle myself on my makeshift bed for the night. The sound of crickets chirping, and owls hooting surrounded me, almost lulling me to sleep. Then, I heard it. A twig snapping.
I froze. I didn't think much of it at first, but then I heard another one. This one was closer. My eyes snapped open, and I sat up in bed, my heart pounding. I looked around my camp site, but nothing was there.
The fire was dwindling down, and the light was becoming dimmer. Another crack came from behind one of the trees.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice with a slight tremble.
There was no answer.
I sat there for a moment, listening. The only sound was the crickets and owls. My nerves began to settle, and I started to lay back down when I heard the sound of something snorting, as if it was struggling to breathe. I stood up and got myself out the sticks and boughs.
The sound was coming behind the trees to the left of me. The sound of crunching leaves as if something was coming towards me. “Hello?” I said it again, but nothing replied.
I pulled my flashlight out of my pack and shone it over to whatever was hiding behind the trees. The light reflected off a single dark eye. I stepped closer and saw jagged horns and brownish-looking fur. The side of its head peeked out from behind the tree, and I realized what had been lurking around me.
A large deer.
I took a breath of relief, but I was slightly confused. The deer are usually afraid of humans, especially in areas where hunting is common. I figured that a deer would want to stay as far away from a potential predator as possible.
"Well, hello there," I said, wishing I had my camera handy. It was quite the sight at first. It snorted again, as if it was sneezing. I decided to take another step towards it, but I stopped as it turned its head. Something was not quite right. The other side of its face was covered in what looked like a mixture of pus-covered warts and bleeding open sores. The other eye was bulging almost out of its socket. It snorted again, and a green-colored mucus came out of a snout that was crusted over with a similar color.
Me and the beast stared at each other as I paused. It reared its head down pointing its antlers at me.
“Fuck.”
I screamed and dodged out of the way just in time. The creature crashed into a tree, and I took the opportunity to run. I didn't look back as I sprinted through the woods, my legs started to ache, but that feeling quickly went away as I heard the sound of the deer screaming from my campsite. It’s hooves crushing the leaves and sticks on the ground below.
It was coming for me
I looked back behind me, but there was nothing but darkness. I could hear the faint sound of the animal somewhere, but I couldn't see it. I just kept running, my lungs struggling in my chest.
Suddenly, I heard a loud boom echo through the woods. I stopped running and listened. There it was again, another boom. It was the sound of a gunshot. I didn't know who was shooting, nor did I know where the shots were coming from. I could no longer hear the sound of the deer behind me, but I knew that wasn't the only thing I had to worry about. I realized that I also had no idea how to get back to my campsite.
I tried to focus my eyes and see if they could see any glimpse of the fire I had built. The only idea was trying to retrace my steps and hope that those gunshots had taken down my pursuer, and that they would not turn that same gun on me.
I walked slowly looking on directions hoping I would get lucky to see something that resembled the fire. I took each step as quickly and as quietly as possible. I noticed something strange though. The critters and bugs were quiet. I didn’t hear the sound of crickets, nor the sound of owls anymore. It was almost haunting.
I continued to walk through the dark woods, my footsteps echoing off the trees. The only sound was the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Suddenly, I heard something break the silence. It sounded like humming, but it was coming from nowhere
I could see.
I stopped and listened. A melody filled my ears, one I couldn't place. But I knew one thing: it wasn't an animal. It was a human. I started moving towards the sound, hoping to find another camper, or at least the person who had the gun.
I followed the sound of the humming, hoping to see another campfire, but instead I was greeted by a figure hiding in the shadows. I pointed my flashlight in the direction and saw a shirtless man kneeling with his hands playing in the dirt.
The man was tall and thin, with long, scraggly hair that went down to his shoulders. The hair on the top of his head was thin and balding, almost exposing the crown. His skin was pale and dirty, and his eyes were wide and unfocused. He was still humming a low, monotonous tune.
"Hello?" I asked nervously. The man didn't respond. He just kept humming and playing in the dirt.
"Hey, are you okay?" I asked again. The man finally looked up at me, but his eyes were vacant. He didn't seem to recognize me.
I asked the man his name, but he didn't answer. He just stared at me with those empty eyes. I moved my flashlight to his bare chest and saw something familiar: the warts I had seen earlier, now with open sores oozing from below his neck down to his stomach. I moved the light up to his face and saw that the warts were spreading, now from his neck to the bottom of his chin. But that wasn't what chilled me to the bone.
It was his eyes. They were no longer vacant. They were filled with a dark and intensity.
He struggled to stand upright, almost wobbling. He coughed up the same green mucus as the deer before him. In a flash, he took one step and then sprinted towards me, lunging at me. We crashed to the ground with a thud. He screamed in agony.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Get off me!" He didn't listen, but instead began ripping at my shirt with his nails, clawing like a wild animal. My eyes widened when I saw the tattoo of the tree on his arm. It was the same tattoo that the missing man had, whose mother had given me a flyer about earlier that day.
"Help!" I cried out as I struggled to try to get the wild man off of me. He continued to try to scratch and claw. I tried to roll, push, and even threw a punch, but it didn't matter. I was going to die by a diseased hippie who had gotten lost.
A loud gunshot rang out, briefly piercing through the sound of my screams. My ears began to ring, and I felt something warm and wet pour onto my shirt. I looked down and saw that it was blood, coming from a hole in my attacker's chest. Another shot rang out, and the sound echoed off the trees around me, making my ears ring even more intensely.
"Get up," a voice said from the darkness. I was still disoriented, but I could make out a dirty and calloused hand reaching out to me. I took it and allowed myself to be pulled to my feet. I looked up and saw that my savior was the man from earlier that day, the one who had given me cryptic answers.
I stood up and brushed myself off to see the man holding a rifle at the body. He spit some more tobacco onto the ground. He lowered the gun after a minute and turned around before he started to walk away from the scene.
“Where the hell are you going?”
“I’ll be right back. You just wait here.”
“Wait here with this corpse with warts and puss? No Thank you.”
“I said I will be right back,” he responded curtly.
“No, fuck that. I am coming with you.”
“It will be just a few minutes. One of has to stay with the body.”
“No, I am calling the police,” I responded frustrated.
“It would take them forever to get out here,” he responded as he packed more tobacco into his lower lip. I stood there shaking from adrenaline and feeling that he could turn the gun at me at any moment. “If you just wait a few minutes, I will take you back to my RV and then we can call the cops.”
I watched him disappear into the tree line, speechless. I glanced at the body lying motionless on the bed of leaves, sticks, and dirt. It had not moved yet, so that was something. I looked down at my bloodstained shirt and saw some scratch marks on my arms.
I spat on the body and muttered, "What the hell is happening here." I heard a noise approaching, the sound of wheels crunching and struggling through the underbrush. A small light shone on me, and I saw the man on an ATV.
He hopped off and said, “Help me with the body.”
I don’t know why I listened to him. The body was heavy and awkward to move, but I managed to get it onto the ATV. The man took a few minutes to secure the body in place, using ropes to tie it to the back of the vehicle. When he was finished, he climbed back onto the ATV and said, "Ain’t enough room for both of us."
“So, you are just leaving me here?”
“I ain’t leavin ya, but you are gonna have to hoof it,” he answered pointing into a direction. “If ya keep goin’ straight you will find an open field.”
“Okay?”
“In that open field is my RV and I will be waitin’ there. Cops should show up not too long after that.”

He revved the engine for and pulled off cutting through a pair of trees. I waited a moment and took a breather, before following the sound of the ATV.

The walk was much longer than the man had made it sound. I could feel the sweat pooling on my forehead and my bloodstained shirt sticking to my back. My mouth was dry, and my tongue felt like sandpaper. I continued to walk forward in the darkness, mindful of each step and hoping for no more surprises.
The trees creaked and swayed in the wind, their branches groaning as they bent and flexed. The wind was cool, but it did little to relieve my sweat-soaked skin. I was exhausted and sweating profusely from hiking late at night. My legs ached and my lungs burned, but I kept going, hoping that the end was near.
Finally, the trees began to thin out. I could see a field in the distance, and my heart leapt. I took a deep breath and pushed on, my pace quickening. Soon, I emerged from the woods and into the field. The cool night air felt refreshing, and I could see the stars twinkling overhead. I had made it and it was a shame I didn’t have my camera.
I saw some dim lights in the distance, and what looked like the shape of a small trailer. I kept pushing forward, but my body was starting to feel limp. My pace slowed, and my vision began to blur. The stars in the distance seemed to glow even brighter.
"Almost there," I muttered to myself, mustering up more strength. I could see the RV getting closer, and the ATV sitting next to the man's beat-up truck. The door opened and the man stepped placing a shovel outside the door. He watched as I struggled to make it over to him.
“Took you long enough!” he shouted.
“Well, you didn’t tell me I had to walk 5 damn miles.”
“It’s more like maybe a mile and half,” he replied, looking me over for a moment.
“You alright?”
“My legs are tried.”
“Thought you were an outdoorsman?”
I ignored his comment and he motioned for me to come inside. The RV was filthy, with dirty dishes and clothes piled up everywhere. The smell of stale food and sweat hung in the air. Empty plastic bottles full of the man's spit were scattered on the floor and countertops. The only light came from a single bare lightbulb in the center of the ceiling. The walls were covered in peeling paint, and the furniture was old and stained. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me as I stepped inside.
The man gestured to a table and said, "Take a seat over there." He grabbed a can of air freshener from the table and sprayed it around the RV, trying to cover up the awful smell. It didn't work.
"Sorry, I don't have much company as you can see," he said.
"I can't imagine someone as charming as you lacking friends," I replied.
The man chuckled. "You thirsty?" he asked.
I nodded. The man made his way over to the cabinets and shuffled around, looking for a glass. I glanced around the RV and noticed the rifle leaning against the door.
"Thanks," I said. "That hike worked up a thirst."
The man opened the fridge and pulled out a small jug of water that was covered in dirt. But the water looked clean, and at this point, I didn't care. I just wanted something to drink.
He twisted off the top of the jug and handed it to me. "I see you found the missing boy," he said.
I took a sip of the water and looked at him. "What happened to him" I asked.
“He got the sickness that lurks in these woods.”
“Sickness?”
“Yea, first time I’ve ever seen it hit a person.”
“I am confused?”
“Ain’t nothin to be confused about,” he said as he handed me the glass of water and said, "Here you go." I took a sip and watched him go back to the fridge. He grabbed a can of cheap beer and popped it open. He took a long sip, then gazed at me.
“Actually, a lot to confused about. Where did he get this sickness?”
“He got it from one the animals, I am guessin’ myself”
“The animals?”
“Yep, they come out at night, get covered in them bumps and wounds. Makes them turn aggressive, too.”
"I saw a deer earlier tonight that looked like that," I replied, taking another sip of water. I had hoped that would moisten my dry mouth, but it did not. The man took a step over to me and sat right across from me. His eyes bore into me, making me feel uneasy.
“Probably the same that I put some lead in,” he replied, while taking another long sip of beer. “Been taking them out for years and before me it was my daddy.”
“So, you some sort of guardian angel of the woods?”
“I reckon somethin’ like that.”
I became more unnerved by everything he was telling me and asked, “So when should the police be here?”
"I haven't called them yet," he said as he stood up and walked back over to the cabinets. I could hear him shuffling around, as if he was looking for something. I felt a tension in the RV, and I took another sip of water.
"I can call them," I said as I reached into my phone. The man stopped shuffling and turned to look at me.
"No," he said. "I'll call them." He turned back to the cabinets and continued to look for something.
I felt a knot of apprehension in my stomach. Something wasn't right. I didn't know why, but I had a bad feeling. The man slammed the cabinet door and I looked to see him holding a small pistol in his hand. He walked back over to me and sat back down.
“Gonna need you to put down that phone.”
“Listen, if it’s about shooting the guy,” I said with my voice trembling. “I didn’t see anything, and we can both go our merry way.”
“Ain’t about that.”
“I don’t have any money either.”
“Ain’t about that neither.”
I shouted in a panic, "Then what is this about?!"
The man took a deep breath and took another swig from his beer before tossing the empty can aside onto another pile of trash in his room. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at me with a cold, calculating expression.
"This is about you," he said. "You’re sweatin buckets over there.”
I stared at him, my stomach feeling even more sick. "What do you mean?" I asked. “You got it from him,” he replied and placed his tightened grip on his gun. He motioned his eyes to my arms, I looked down in shock to see tiny little bumps forming around the scratch mark.
“I had been lookin’ for that boy, hoping to him before he spread that shit to anyone else.”
“That’s why no one could find his stuff?” I gulped.
The man nodded and said, “I disposed of it, and I’ve been hunting him until tonight.”
“Why didn’t he just leave?”
“I think he was too afraid to die to kill himself but atleast selfless enough to stay away from other people.”
He then pointed the gun at me and said, “I don’t think you have the same stomach as him.”
“To live in the woods and turn into whatever the fuck I saw? I just want to go the hospital.”
"I can't allow that," the man responded. He pointed the gun at me and rested his finger on the trigger. I started to shake, and suddenly I began to cough. I felt something begin to creep up my throat. It was thick and green, and it left my mouth, hitting the table below. It was the same green mucus I had seen both the deer and the man expelled earlier. The man jumped up quickly from the table as I he was scared of it.
“It ain’t personal, but I can’t let the sickness leave the woods!”
“I take being shot personally,” I replied as I tried to think of anything. The man lifted his gun and I looked over to air freshener quickly grabbing it and spraying it on his face. He was taken back, and he tried to steady his aim, but I quickly ran out the door.
"You little piece of shit!" he screamed as I stumbled out of the RV and fell to the ground. I heard the sound of crashing and falling coming from inside. I knew I wouldn't be able to run back to the woods. He would grab his rifle and he seemed like a good shot. I was cooked if I went that route.
I did the only thing I could do with what little I could see. My body felt weak and was working on adrenaline. I lifted myself and quickly grabbed the shovel. I could hear the man also making his way to the door. The sound of his foot hitting the door meant he could see again.
I used the last bit of strength I could muster and swung the shovel at him. My hands tingled as the man's facial bones collided with the metal of the shovel. It sounded like a crunch as I could see the man's bloody face look stunned. He still held on to the rifle, but his grip was starting to weaken. I lifted the shovel again and hit him again across the face.
He collapsed, dropping the rifle to the ground. He spat up blood and stared at me with anger. "If you leave, you could spread the sickness," he said.
I lifted the shovel up again, holding it above my head. It was either him or me at this point. And I of course chose me. I felt the crown of his head crack from the shovel. I watched as he fully collapsed face down on the ground, blood coming from his ears.
I walked over to the truck and could see the keys still in the ignition. It meant I had a way to escape the woods even with the sickness.