Thin tri-fold wallets

In the winter my coat is my defacto bag. But in summer I'm always shuffling my phone/keys/wallet from my pocket to my other pockets and whatnot. Seems like a (cross body?) shoulder bag would be much easier -- I could just grab the bag and toss it on the seat on the car. Ideally I'd like something under $100 that looks good with shorts/knit polo and with a button up (would never wear with a suit). No: fanny pack. I think I'd prefer fabric (easily washable) over leather. Size: keys, wallet (thin), phone, little thing of sanitizer, maybe some napkins.

Hi there!
Disclaimer: this is a very long post. If you read all of it, I appreciate it endlessly! 🥹
After taking a break that has lasted way too long, I have decided to return to writing with my usual enthusiasm and am looking for an equally eager, literate and detailed, male (24+) partner.
My name is Elise, I am twenty-five and have been roleplaying for countless years now. I love creating stories that keep my partner and me on the edge of our seats, as well as inventing characters that find new layers of themselves throughout the journey. I consider myself a literate and write in third person, past tense on Discord. I live in the GMT+2 timezone, however I want to mention that I have been living with insomnia for years now, so I am incredibly flexible when it comes to the hours I am able to write.
For the longest time, mafia and crime settings have been my favorite! (I blame it on the countless dark romance books I have read.😝 ) I love having two dark and complex characters with backstories that influence their beings meet and let the fire start. Morally grey characters that sometimes do not make the best decisions have a special place in my heart, lmao. Also, I think that the combination of crime and romance can be incredibly interesting. It offers countless opportunities for the story to unfold and tropes to make use of.
For the longest time, I have had a specific setting in mind. It includes a young, woman who does not believe in love and has fingers that like to dip into other people's pockets meeting a stern and power hungry man who is involved in the world of crime.
Down below, you can find the starter. If you happen to be interested, please feel free to shoot me a message with an introduction of yourself and perhaps even any ideas you would like to incorporate. I would appreciate a bit of an effort, instead of the generic 'hey, wanna rp?' Merci!
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"Correct. I have just landed and had to check your boutique out. I have read such good things about it." Gianna lied effortlessly to the friendly sales lady. Part of the brunette even felt sorry for her, considering the fact that this was about to turn into one of the worst days she would have at her job. The young woman had really just landed from Los Angeles, quickly having come to the realization that her summer wardrobe was awfully out of place in snowy New York in the middle of December. "I'll try these dresses on as well. This sweater and this skirt look amazing, too.“ She added, knowing she had to bring a pile to the changing room, so the saleswoman would not notice some pieces being missing right away. The poor employee had been told some bullshit story about Gianna having come to the city that never sleeps with her boyfriend and assuming he was going to propose, she needed to look good at all times.
Minutes later, she found herself stood inside the spacious changing room, having managed to sneak her suitcase inside with her. Opening it, she quickly knelt down and stuffed a few of the things inside. First came the jacket, it was freezing outside. Then the skirt, sweater and another dress. The rest of the pile remained hung up. "I will be right back!" The saleswoman announced from the other side of the door, as the store's phone rang. Gianna heard her footsteps grow more and more distant, before quietly opening the door. Perfect. She was gone. Instead of rolling her suitcase behind her and making noise, she quickly lifted it, groaning internally at the weight of it. With quick steps and quite as a mouse she then made her way out of the store. She did not even have to run, the woman was busy with the phone on the other side of the store. Gianna was lucky, she knew that. She always was.
She smiled triumphantly to herself as she quickly turned a corner outside, knowing it was only a matter of time, until her absence would be noticed. After walking for around fifteen minutes, she spotted a public bathroom and quickly got inside to get changed. Ignoring the more than disgusting scent inside, Gianna got out of her jeans and thin sweater, before putting on the dress and the coat she had just stolen. Admittedly, it did look good on her. The dress was black and strapless, exposing her delicate shoulders and neck. It reached her knees and hugged her body. Her legs were elongated by a pair of heels she had snatched on the way out. The black coat fit perfectly, no one would assume the brunette did not even have a place to sleep.
Neither would anyone assume she had lit an entire casino on fire thirteen hours ago. By now, it was almost eight pm and Gianna took confident steps through the streets of New York, as if she belonged to the Upper East Side and nowhere else. Finally, she reached her destination. Tilting her head, she glanced up at a bright colored sign above an expensive looking bar. From the outside, it was almost impossible to look through the windows, but considering the way guests stepping inside were dressed, it had to be a somewhat upscale establishment. She neared the bodyguards controlling the entrance who at first seemed unsure about her, mustering her petite frame and the suitcase up and down.
"Come on, gentlemen. I am freezing." The brunette smiled softly and batted her eyelashes in an innocent matter at them. She was not wearing any makeup, but the look on her face apparently seemed to be enough for them to let her in. With a polite nod, she stepped inside. Gianna had visited a lot of upscale establishments in her twenty-six years of living, but this..this truly was something else. Everything was held in dark colors, the bar, the interior. It all dripped in exclusiveness, letting her know she was exactly where she wanted to be.
She sat down at the bar on one of the high stools and crossed her slim legs, with her suitcase beside her. Still wearing her coat, she glanced around. Several men were here already, some in groups and some on their own. Some had rings on their left finger and some had not. However, Gianna knew it did not mean a thing. Manipulating married men was even easier, since they were up for every thrill. Except, Gianna was not a thrill. She was not some fun for one night. Instead, she was good company, being able to giggle and talk for hours, until her companion was blacked out, or simply too intoxicated to notice her slipping her long and slim fingers into their pockets and taking out what she had wanted all along; their wallet. Perhaps a watch, too. Whatever she could get.
With every married man that fell into her trap, Gianna felt more and more discouraged about trusting any male. It had destroyed her illusion of faithfulness completely. Her gaze landed on the man to her right. He was younger than the rest, but older than her. Admittedly, he was handsome. And he was not wearing a ring. However, there was one problem: He was not looking, unlike the other creeps. Letting her coat glide down her shoulders, she exposed her bare skin, without looking at her right anymore, hoping the somewhat seductive gesture would be enough to get his attention. When the bartender asked what she would like to drink, she gave him a small smile. "An old fashioned, please." She answered, knowing very well she did not have an ounce of cash on her. Surely, someone to pay her bill could be found tonight.

I told my daughter to look at the pretty flowers.
She did, giggling, and I pulled out my handheld, stuck it in the back of her tiny head and pulled the trigger.
I wanted to cry, but I didn't feel sad.
I wanted to feel sympathy, like any other father.
Empathy.
Something.
But I didn't feel anything. I just felt empty.
When I was a teenager, I unwillingly took part in an experiment that ruined my life. That's is all I am going to say.
After shooting my daughter dead, I buried her in the flowers she loved.
Daisies.
My baby really loved daisies.
Hours later, I was sitting on a bench in a park, trembling, my fingers wrapped around a coffee I didn't even want.
The sky was blue, but it wouldn't be for long.
There was no real breeze, nothing to relieve me from the sticky summer heat.
Two children had already disappeared in front of me.
They were running around laughing with ice cream cones, and then they were gone, a puddle of dessert stemming across scorching concrete. When an apple tree blinked out of existence, I pulled out a book, corked in my headphones, and began to read.
Midway down the first page, my phone vibrated.
“Sir, where are you?” The panicked voice slammed into me. “Your daughter–”
“Observing, Allison.” I said.
“But…but… your daughter–”
I ended the call before Allison could chew me out.
I ignored the butterfly changing color in front of me.
The cat sliced in two that continued walking, spilling scarlet lumps.
Poor thing. I wanted to end it's misery, like I want to end so many others.
But I was stuck.
When I moved towards the cat, it slowly bled into nothing.
I was so fucking tired.
Halfway through my book I wasn't really paying attention to, a voice pulled me from momentary peace.
“We’ve found your baby, sir!”
I was half expecting it, but part of me wanted to hope that blowing my daughter's brains out would be enough.
Maybe that was why Allison sounded so scared.
Maybe it was Code Red.
Lifting my head, I found myself face to face with the mayor’s eight year old son.
Jasper Carrington’s eyes were bright with excitement, though I wasn't sure I could call it his excitement. Behind him, were his three partners in crime.
Peter, Evelyn, and Sunny.
I was a stranger to them. Just a man in a park. A park that was a little too big with too much space. A park that didn't make sense. But I had known them their whole lives. From birth, and then even further beyond, all the way back to the beginning. I knew every part of them, while to these four kids, I was just a stranger.
Stranger Danger.
In Jasper’s arms was my little girl, and I had to pretend to be happy, pretend to jump up and grab her, cradling my daughter, my mistake to my chest.
But I wasn't smiling.
Even holding her in my arms, I failed to carve my lips into happiness.
I was a bad father.
But she was a very bad daughter.
I found it hard to hold her, wrap my arms around her like she was mine.
“You don't seem very happy.” Evelyn spoke up, folding her arms.
I wasn't sure if they were her words, but I wanted them to be.
I took a sobering moment to wonder if she was coming loose. Maybe very slowly.
“No, no, I am happy!” I forced a laugh. “Thank you for, uh, finding my baby.”
In my arms, my daughter’s smile was sweet, and the children giggled and cooed at her.
“She's so cute!” Sunny waved at my baby, ruffling my daughter’s hair. Her gaze found mine, and I struggled to make eye contact. “What's her name?”
“Marin.” I said.
Sunny’s eyes widened. “Marin! That's a pretty name!”
Part of me wanted to scoff, but then I remembered they were just little kids. They had zero idea and didn't deserve to have an idea. Not just yet. Slipping my hand in my pocket, I pulled out my wallet and handed out twenty dollars each. But, to my surprise, the kids shook their heads and backed away.
“We’re good!” The Mayor’s son grinned, and my stomach twisted.
“We just do this for fun.” He said, backing away. “We’re happy we found your baby!”
Peter nodded. “Can you tell others about us?” He asked. “Tell them that we’ll find anything!”
I nodded weakly.
“Right.” I said. “Like a–”
“Like real detectives.” Evelyn said, jumping up and down. “We’re going to solve crimes.”
“And find evil murderers!” Peter joined in.
I felt nauseous, my legs starting to give way.
In my arms, my little girl giggled, babbling.
I watched the kids stop abruptly. Evelyn froze in mid air. The Mayor’s son turned back to me, his head twisting all the way around, smile widening.
I stayed stock still, reminding myself this was normal.
If the kids started to cry, then it wouldn't be normal.
“Actually!” Jasper Carrington’s expression contorted, his eyes spinning around, and my daughter laughed harder, squealing. He went limp, and I felt her tugging him back and forth. His eyes blinked open and closed. I could tell my daughter was proving a point.
“Weeeee actually take donations!”
“No we don't!” Sunny hissed, hitting him.
“Yes we do!”
Peter bounced up and down, his lips stretching wider and wider and wider.
“We doooooo now!”
Marin's gleeful laughs made me sick to my stomach.
She waved her tiny hands, and Evelyn threw her head backwards.
I saw the strain in the girl’s face, her eyes widening.
Momentary clarity, and fear twisting her expression.
Terror.
I think she was awake, for maybe a split second.
I think she could taste the blood pooling from her lips.
When Marin shifted in my arms, Evelyn's strings twitched, her head springing back to its original position.
I was not allowed to intervene. If I did, bad things would happen.
No matter how hard I wanted to save them, I had to stay stoic. I had to remember my promise. So, maintaining my smile, I handed the kids their cash and watched them run away, bleeding into the collapsing town around us, where only they would exist. I pretended not to see the strings wrapped around exposed spines, elevating their heads, entangling every part of them. The writhing, almost sentient threads were everywhere, suffocating their blood, entangled around bones, organs, every thought, every inch of their existence, dragging them further and further through an expanding park.
That would never stop growing.
I held my daughter tighter, resisting the urge to snap her tiny neck. I loved her.
I hated her.
She was my mistake, and I was fucking terrified of my sweet, sweet Marin.
But then she would take my fingers and toes, tearing away my limbs like doll pieces.
Finally, my head.
But she wouldn't take my eyes.
Marin wanted me to see what she was doing to them.
So, I watched my daughter’s favorite puppets perform for her, dancing on strings.
And ignored my own, wrapped and entangled around my heart.
That was a long time ago.
My daughter has her very own dollhouse now.
She calls it Middleview.
I've been complicit for this long, letting her get away with this torture.
Marin is a very special and powerful little girl. If she does not have dolls, then she will destroy and rip apart real towns, and real people, twisting and contorting them into her playthings.
She is no longer under my responsibility.
I am her father, but it is the Mayor who continues this cruel charade.
He gives her everything she wants, at the expense of real lives.
He gave her his own son’s life to save his own.
I am terrified of my baby, but this time, I won't stand by and let her do this.
I will stop her.
And I will save her now grown up dolls.
One of them has escaped, and is being hunted down as I type.
Another, is reportedly killing innocent people.
The third is in the back of my colleague's car, neither dead nor alive.
And the fourth is still on stage, still dangling on strings.
I tried to kill my daughter today too.
I stuck my gun into the back of her head, and pulled the trigger.
She just laughed.

I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.

After much debate and research I want to thank this community for helping me decide on joining the club. Everyone here has been so helpful. It’s a 2017 and I’ve a few questions and concerns. Now it’s obviously used with only 40,000 miles. But I’m starting to noticed things I didn’t notice right away. First off it’s missing the rear headrests. Strange but I suppose I could live without them. They seem like they would block most of the rear window anyway. But should I decide to look for replacements where’s a good place to start? There’s also a small triangular quarter panel just behind the side mirror that is watered pretty bad and nearly coming off. The dealer did include the replacement but not sure if I could just pry off the old one and snap on the new one. It looks that way. I wish I knew how to post pictures here. It almost seems like there’s some kind of insert missing from the cup holder. I can see some kind of bolt g up from the bottom of where you would set your cup. Seems like there’s should be some kind of thin cover for that. Again wish I knew how to post pictures. The handle to lift rear hatch feels loose. Is this just the way they all feel or do I need to fix this? The carpeted cover that sits just behind the rear seat to “hide” stuff in the trunk from being seen from the outside appears to have been folded in half creasing it down the middle and now no longer clips into place. Where can I find a replacement one of these? After hearing about the 12V batteries dying out on these older cars, how can I tell if my 12V battery needs to be replaced? When I asked the dealer they said they couldn’t tell how old the battery was but that they are tested when they sell them. And lastly the one thing that bothers me the most is the inlet where you plug in is cracked! I’m thinking maybe it was locked onto a charger and someone tried to force it off breaking the plastic around the inlet port, does the 500e even lock the cables in place like other EVs? I was thankfully able to charge but the connector is loose and I did have to wiggle it a bit before it was connected properly to start charging. And before anyone suggests the mopar site, I already looked there and it doesn’t really have anything other than decals and some touch up paint. Any and all advice is welcome. Maybe if anyone has and tips on what to look for as far as anyone else important on the car? Thanks in advance

A couple months back some Chinese food was mistakenly delivered to my house in the NE heights, near constitution and Eubank. I wasn’t home when it happened but I checked the doorbell cam and sure enough, a doordash driver plops it on my patio. I’m a broke bitch and it wasn’t long before I got home and found the food, checked the cameras, weighed the risks and decided to take the plunge. Now let me tell you. This was some of the best Chinese food I’ve had in my life! There was absolutely no indication of where it was from, no receipts or anything on the bag. All I can say is that I must have this food again. I dream of it. I’m hoping I can describe what I had and maybe someone knows of a place that serves something similar. There were two dishes- the first one was maybe a sweet and sour or sesame chicken. Identifying characteristics: it was breaded/battered and CRISPY. Even with the sauce, and I had it for leftovers after it was in the fridge for a day, the crisp absolutely remained strong. There were no vegetables in with the chicken either. It was served with a separate plain white rice in one of those classic looking paper folding containers.
The other dish is probably more recognizable because Id never had anything like it. It was suuuuper thin stir fried noodles (think like, angel hair thickness or a bit wider, but thinner than spaghetti) with thin slices of beef or pork, no more than a few mm thick, 1-2cm wide, 5-10 cm long, so pretty small thin pieces. It had maybe a few veggies in there, but not many, maybe just some onions and maybe bok Choi? It was all perfectly seasoned in a perfectly salted, umami sauce that turned everything a reddish-brown.
Containers were white styrofoam boxes that were not divided for multiple items. I remember the soy sauce packet brand they used was not the super common one with the panda bear that most restaurants have, and the chopsticks were also not the super common brand either.
I know this is a long shot but it’s gonna take me a while to try every Chinese place in my area to find this spot, which I will absolutely do.
PS: I’m sorry if this was your food. There was no way I could have gotten it to you, but rest assured it did not go to waste.

That’s all it was. A game.
Something my friends and I used to play during the summer when we had nothing better to do. I never expected that it would get so out of hand.
I never expected it to come back long after recovery.
To anyone reading, please don’t do what I did.
I’m putting this out there to warn people.
On that warm summer evening, we played the role of Pandora.
Except, the monsters we released were far worse than what’s told in stories.
Because stories end.
And this doesn’t.
I still remember the date. July 16, 2013. I was an upcoming senior in high school while the others were getting prepared for their freshman year of college, raving on about their majors, life plans, dorms, you get the point. The summer had been bittersweet as those months would be the last I’d see them for a while. Because of this, Anthony, Lola, Eliza, and I would spend the bulk of our time together going to festivals and various camping trips, trying to make the most out of the summer while we could. On that day, the day I wish I could forget, Eliza had run late to one of our hangouts at my place. This was odd since as an Ivy league student, she was usually early or right on time to these kind of things. Half past three, we heard her knocking on my door rapidly, which was also out of character considering that she was usually the calm one in our group. A bit worried, I hurried down the stairs with Anthony and Lola following close behind, expecting Eliza to be in hysterics due to her frantic behavior. When I opened the door, however, there she was with a bright smile on her face, her red hair getting in the way of her eyes, which were a dark green shade. She pushed her hair out of her face with one hand and held a brown box in the other, and she was bouncing up and down as she usually does when she’s about to talk about something exciting.
“You’ll never believe what I found.” Eliza’s voice could barely hold her impatience as she stepped inside and kicked her shoes off once she crossed over my threshold.
“What’s up with you today?” Anthony questioned, looking more confused than concerned now.
“I’ll show you guys in a minute. Can we go up to your room, Felix?” Eliza looked over at me with her trademark smile, knowing damn well we were all too curious to just leave that box unopened. Without a word, I led the group up to my room and shut the door after everyone had walked in. Anthony took his usual spot on my beanbag and unzipped his hoodie, which had the MSM logo sprawled across the front in big red letters. He adjusted his dark rimmed glasses and took on his usual stoic expression. Lola wore a dark blue FIT shirt, which she revealed more of when she moved her locs over her shoulder as she sat on my desk chair and wheeled over to us. As she did, the various necklaces she wore clinked against each other. Eliza herself was the smartest out of the group, and probably in the whole school as well. She had gotten accepted into multiple prestigious schools, but ultimately settled for Harvard to pursue a degree in some obscure philanthropic career. Unlike Anthony and Lola, Eliza wore her regular outfit –usually a white tank top and jeans– and sat on my bed with the box in her lap. I took a seat next to her to get a closer look.
“So what’d you find?” The others moved closer.
“Something we probably haven’t thought about for a really long time. Do you guys remember that one game we used to play in middle school? The one we made after Felix joined our class?” Eliza looked at our puzzled faces to see if we had connected the dots, but her clue didn’t seem to strike any of us with familiarity.
“After Felix joined? Didn’t we just hang out or something that weekend?” Anthony questioned.
“We did, but there was something else,” Eliza raised an eyebrow, “you guys seriously don’t remember?”
At that moment, I saw Lola’s eyes light up and a thin smile grew on her lips, something she always did whenever she was able to figure something out.
“You mean that little map game we played? Where we would go out to the woods and explore?”
Both Anthony and I seemed to have remembered as well with the mention of a ‘map game.’ I chimed in, “ yeah I remember! Every once in a while when we were all bored, we’d pick a random spot on a map to go to and explore there for a bit, right? When did we stop doing that anyways? I remember really enjoying it.”
“Well life happens,” Eliza responded to me, “but I was thinking of things to do for the rest of the summer when I suddenly remembered that game! That’s why I was so late for our meetup today, I was looking through my attic for this.” Eliza shook the box slightly and a couple things clattered around inside.
“There’s no way.” Anthony sounded like he was in disbelief.
“You mean…?” Lola sat forward in the chair. Eliza smirked, her adventurous nature creeping out as realization swept over us like a wave.
“Mhm! I found the map we used to use as well as the things we collected from our little escapades.” With that, Eliza opened the box, revealing a folded piece of paper and various trinkets scattered over the bottom of the capsule. Lola squealed with excitement and immediately snatched the box from Eliza, who simply chuckled and leaned back on the bed.
“No way! Everything’s still in here!” Lola digged through the box and placed whatever objects she found across the blanket. Anthony got up and sat at the foot of my bed, to observe our findings more closely. There was a piece of some clay pottery, some rusty springs and scraps of metal, an old digital camera, and some other random stuff I can’t recall to memory right now. Anthony picked up a spring and turned it in his palm.
“Shit man, this is from that abandoned junkyard we found in 8th grade…that feels like such a long time ago now.”
I examined the piece of pottery with Eliza looking over my shoulder. Lola picked up the digital camera.
“Do you remember where this came from?” I turned to Eliza and held up my discovery.
“No clue,” she shrugged. It must have been a while ago if even she didn’t remember. I turned the piece over and grew curious when I saw weird symbols inscribed on the inside of it. I squinted a bit, trying to discern some sort of pattern within the scribbles.
I turned to Eliza again, “hey, what do you think-”
“OH MY GOD GUYS IT STILL WORKS!” Lola’s voice went up a whole octave as she motioned to us.
The rest of us looked up as she turned the camera to face us. There were various photos we went through. All of us at lakes, museums, exploring the woods; everything we did from 7th grade until my freshman year seemed to be documented. The last photo was arguable the best and msot bittersweet. It was a picture of the whole group from a while ago. We were sitting at Eliza’s dinner table with a giant chocolate cake on the middle of it adorned with two candles shaped like the numbers one and five. Eliza was talking to me in the photo. Her hair was even more red at the time and she wore it in a braid. I looked about the same in the photo as I did then, with light brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles scattered all over my body and face. I was smiling sheepishly at Eliza. I now knew why Anthony said it was obvious I had a crush on her in 8th grade. Lola went through the most changes out of all of us. At the time in the photo, she had her hair straightened and side-swept, with a bright pink streak in her bangs. She wore clunky jewlery and a frilly skirt underneath a long tank top, leaning over the table to cut another slice of cake. All of us had birthday hats on except for Anthony, who kept his sitting on the table. He held up a peace sign staring straight into the camera with a stoic expression. He looked like a statue compared to the rest of us, who were laughing and smiling. You could tell he was having fun, though.
“Well don’t you look like a ray of sunshine,” Lola snickered as Anthony shot her a dirty look.
“At least I didn’t go through some weird scene phase in freshman year,” He smiled and watched Lola’s face, knowing she was blushing despite her dark skin which made it practically invisible. I let a laugh slip out, but quickly stifled it knowing that if I kept going it would mean death. Lola side-eyed me and continued, “I was using my creative liberty to experiment with my options as an artist,” she said with an overly-posh accent that made Eliza laugh.
“Yeah Anthony, don’t be such a downer,” Eliza teased. Anthony simply rolled his eyes and suppressed a smile to pretend like he was mad at all of us. He looked into the box and picked up the paper we left, unfolding it with a hint of excitement and curiosity. When he looked at it, only two words came out of his mouth.
“Holy shit.”
“What, what is it?” Lola tried to look at the other side of the paper, but Anthony quickly held it out of her view.
“What if I didn’t want to show you?” A smile crept onto his face. This was one of those rare moments where he’d be in the moos to joke around with us.
“Don’t be a dick bro,” I said, laughing as I went to grab for the paper. Anthony just held it up in the air and pushed me off of him and I landed on my floor. While he was distracted, though, Eliza took her chance and snatched the paper right out of his hand.
“You boys need to learn to be nice,” she warned in her jokingly stern voice as she unfolded the paper and spread it out onto my bed. We all leaned over to look.
It was a map of a couple towns including ours. There were around ten small star stickers placed on different areas on the map near the streets the four of us lived in. On the top of the map, a couple words were scrawled in black sharpie; “Pick a Place!” I could see everyone’s faces light up.
“Oh my god it’s our map!” Lola shouted and pointed to one of the stars near her street, “this was where we found that old junkyard right?”
Eliza smiled, “I remember that. It feels like such a long time ago now.” She pointed to another star, “and this is where we found that lake we made a hideout of. I still remember swimming in there in 8th grade…”
The four of us reminisced for a while, talking about where we had gone and what we did there, and how impressive it was that we didn’t get tetanus from that junkyard. After nearly an hour of conversation, Eliza asked something that made all of us stop.
“So how about it guys? Do you want to do one last round before the summer ends?”
The rest of us looked around at each other. It was clear we all wanted to do it. Eliza seemed to catch on and she nodded.
“Who wants to pick where we go?”
“How about you do the honors?” Lola suggested, motioning towards the map. “You’re the one that brought this stuff in anyways.”
Eliza raised her eyebrow but didn’t object. Without a word, she examined the map for a few minutes, then placed her finger on one spot a bit far from my house.
“How about here?”
“You think we can make it that far?” Anthony asked.
“Well, we can drive now so why not?”
“You sure there’s some type of trail we can drive on? That spot looks pretty deep in the woods”
“We can find a path to drive on for a bit then walk the rest of the way. C’mon guys, this is probably our last chance to do something like this! Felix, you can drive right?”
Eliza and the rest turned to me with a hopeful expression. I had to comply.
“Sure. No big deal, right?”
All three of them cheered and high fived each other, looking pretty excited to go on one last adventure.
“So when do we leave?” I questioned.
Eliza flashed that smile again, “right now.”
“Right now?!”
“Hell yeah,” Lola chimed in. “It shouldn’t take that long, right?”
“I guess…” Even then I felt uneasy about the whole thing. I didn’t feel prepared enough to go on some random trip into the woods. I needed to pack food, water, flashlights, I had no idea how long this was going to take. Little did I know that those things would be the least of my worries a couple hours from then. I wish I could go back and convince my 17-year-old self that it wasn’t worth it, that I should just convince my friends to stay and talk for the rest of the day. I wish Eliza had never remembered that stupid game. In a way, I’m almost mad at her for what happened, but I know it wasn’t anyones fault. We just wanted to have fun. I wish we could’ve just had fun. But God had a different plan for us. One that made me think Satan himself devised it instead. On July 16, 2013, Anthony He, Lola Smith, Eliza Landserson, and Felix Johanson went on an adventure that none of them were ready for.
Author's Note:
If you just read all of that then thank you so so so much for doing so! I'm a rookie writer, so feel free to comment any constructive criticism you might have if you have actual writing experience! This is the first silly little story I'm posting here, so I hope you enjoyed :)

strength:

• Manhandles Jon and carries him outside
  
• Manhandles Jon and crams his entire body into a cat carrier
  
• Manhandles Jon and uses his foot to plug a leaky faucet
  
• Manhandles Jon, using him as a TV remote
  
• Ragdolls John with a single swipe
  
• Kicks Jon’s chair over, with Jon in it.
  
• Gives Jon a limp
  
• Stuffs Jon’s head in a bottle
  
• Implies he can rip off Jon’s lips.
  
• Actually does it.
  
• Shreds Jon’s chair into an unrecognizable mess
  
• Shreds a couch up until there’s nothing left but a tiny scrap of fabric.
  
• Slams a mailman around like nothing
  
• Hauls Jon up a tree at running speed
  
• Holds himself up by his teeth
  
• Lifts his body weight with his teeth
  
• Rips out a tv’s screen with his teeth
  
• Bends a mirror
  
• Drives a long nail through a door
  
• Pushes Odie all the way around a swingset
  
• Cleanly bisects a christmas tree by slamming a door
  
• Sends a snowman’s head flying with a baseball bat
  
• Breaks a table in two with a stomp
  
• Stomps Odie flat
  
• Stomps through the floorboards
  
• Flings an apple hard enough to knock Odie flying
  
• Knocks Jon over with a snowball
  
• Bashes down a door
  
• Punches down a door
  
• Accidently pushes a door off its hinges
  
• Knocks a down a door by tackling Jon into it
  
• Pushes a door off its hinges and walks with its weight on his back into his house
  
• Busts a hole in the door
  
• Again
  
• Smashes a cat door off its hinges with a single push
  
• Smashes a door in half with Odie
  
• Working with Odie, busts down a door using Jon’s chair as a battering ram.
  
• Sends a fence gate flying off its hinges by smashing into it
  
• Smashes his head through a table
  
• Catches up to a car and rips its fender off
  
• Catches up to a car and rips an entire axle off
  
• Rips a fender off a car and a mailbox out of the ground
  
• Sends Jon flying with a kick
  
• Hurls an adult woman out of his house
  
• Drags a woman back to Jon
  
• Drags a mailman to Jon as a gift
  
• Drags and carries Jon outside
  
• Walks with the weight of Jon and a chair on his back
  
• Rips the cap off a fire hydrant
  
• Launches Odie into the horizon
  
• Punches another cat so hard they go flying
  
• Launches another cat into the horizon
  
• Launches Odie above the panel
  
• Kicks Odie to the ceiling
  
• Kicks Odie from one room into the other
  
• Punts Odie into the distance
  
• Launches Odie above the panel. Claims to have sent him to the moon.
  
• Kicks Odie so hard, he spins fast enough to hover in the air
  
• Kicks Odie so high in the air, it takes a significant amount of time for him to fall back down
  
• Smacks Odie with a signpost hard enough to send him flying far into the distance.
  
• Smacks Nermal high into the sky
  
• Sends Nermal flying with a flick
  
• Sends Nermal through a door
  
• Again
  
• And again
  
• Sends Nermal flying through a wall
  
• Smashes an enormous spider with a rolled up newspaper
  
• Lifts a table full of food
  
• Juggles a sofa
  
• Hurls a tv
  
• Holds up a tv
  
• Nails a tv to the ceiling
  
• Lifts a refrigerator
  
• Lifts a refrigerator and a giant magnet
  
• Pushes a refrigerator
  
• Rips a refrigerator door off its hinges offscreen
  
• Moves Jon’s above ground pool inside to disguise it as a food dish
  
• Dumps a large piano onto a scale
  
• Holds up a large safe on a pulley
  
• Reels a stone birdbath into his mouth
  
• Carries an entire tree into his house
  
• Holds up a giant coffee cup
  
• Holds up a giant donut with one hand
  
• Holds a giant burger
  
• Punts Odie into the distance
  
• And again
  
• Together with Odie, smashes through a wall
  
• Pulls down a chunk of wall
  
• Smashes into a wall with enough force to crack it
  
• Again
  
• Pushes his way out from inside the walls
  
• Jumps through the ceiling
  
• None of Odie's attempts to move him makes him budge
  
• Jon can’t pull him an inch on a leash
  
• Smashes an alarm clock
  
• Smashes a phone
  
• Mangles a scale
  
• With a swipe of his claws, knocks two bricks out of a fireplace
  
• Rips the concrete basin off a birdbath and carries it away
  
• Karate chops a table leg in two
  
• Either carries or creates a giant snowball on the roof of the house and pushes it onto Jon
  
• Throws a massive snowball high into the air to land on Jon.
  
• Pushes Jon’s bed out the window
  
• Rips a fire hydrant out of the ground
  
• Bends a traffic sign by accidentally running into it
  
• Carries a Christmas tree in his teeth
  
• Catches a shark and carries it to shore
  
• Using all of the snow in his yard, builds an enormous snowman that dwarfs his house.
  
• Smashes an ice cream truck, causing its roof to cave in
  
• Slams a window so hard the entire house collapses
  
• Lifts up his house using a jack
  
• Lifts a Christmas tree and shakes all its needles off
  
• Lifts a pile of food larger than himself
  
• Pulls a fish’s skeleton out of its body
  
• Rips a dial off a tv and sends it through a window
  
• Throws Odie
  
• Smacks a clown through a circus tent
  
• Walks with a pile of mud 2/3rds as tall as Jon stuck to his feet
  
• His tongue punches a hole through his bowl and the table it’s on
  
• Blows a spider out of a rolled up newspaper with enough force to stretch a screen window as far as the door it’s attached to is tall.
  
• Inflates a balloon so large it expands beyond the confines of the house he's in and lifts it off the ground
  
• Sucks an entire roast chicken through a straw
  
• Similar feat
  
• The coffee he drinks seems to grant improved strength, allowing an ordinary fly to carry Jon through the air at full speed
  

Durability:

• [No-sells a potted plant to the head]
  
• [Tanks a watermelon to the head]
  
• [Takes multiple shoes to the head in succession]
  
• [Is hit in the head by a thrown spotlight]
  
• [Takes a hit from a guided newspaper launcher]
  
• [Gets mauled by a puma]
  
• [Is thrown against a wall by a buff mailman]
  
• [Gets smacked flying off-panel by a dog]
  
• [No-sells a kick from Odie]
  
• [Survives being accidentally set on fire while soaked with alcohol]
  
• [Falls onto a lit grill]
  
• [Ignores his blanket being on fire while wrapped in it]
  
• [Is inside a fondue pot as it boils]
  
• [Survives a heat wave so bad it melts a radio into liquid]
  
• [Eats lit candles]
  
• [Sticks his tongue in a waffle iron]
  
• [Implied to regularly drink and enjoy coffee so strong a few drops of it melts through a table and bends spoons.]
  
• [His face gets frozen into a birdbath]
  
• [Has his lips ripped from his face by the g-force of sledding down a hill]
  
• [Has a concentrated beam of sunlight shine directly into his eye]
  
• [Gets shocked by Jon’s electrified cookie jar]
  
• [Gets struck by lightning]
  
• [Survives being trapped inside a washing machine as it runs]
  
• [Again]
  
• [Is stuck by every single quill from a porcupine]
  
• [Is eaten by a snake]
  
• [Is run over by a lawnmower]
  
• [Has his tail stuck in a pencil sharpener]
  
• [Is flung through through a window]
  
• [Has a door slammed on him hard enough to crack a wall]
  
• [Is flattened by Jon slamming a door]
  
• [Again]
  
• [Is squashed flat as a pancake by a larger cat]
  
• [Gets brutalized by a whole gang of street dogs at once and enjoys it]
  
• [Survives a fall so hard he leaves a deep hole in the ground]
  
• [Again]
  
• [And Again]
  
• [Has a fridge fall on him]
  
• [Has a piano fall on his head]
  
• [Again]
  
• [Is crushed under a chunk of crumbling wall]
  
• [Is crushed under a larger chunk of wall]
  
• [Is crushed under a huge section of wall]
  
• [Has a slab of concrete fall on his head]
  
• [Has a giant can of cola fall on him]
  
• [Has a tree fall on him]
  
• [Has a large pile of sand dropped on him
  
• [Has a large stone wheel hurled at him]
  
• [Is hit by a wrecking ball]
  
• [Falls from the roof of his house onto concrete]
  
• [Falls down a chimney]
  
• [Falls down a manhole]
  
• [Falls down a sinkhole]
  
• [Has his head rammed through the ceiling]
  
• [Again]
  
• [Steps out of a car going over 50mph]
  
• [Is bounced back by a screen door hard enough to crack a wall and topple furniture]
  
• [Gets smashed through a wall]
  
• [Is used as a battering ram to bust through a wall]
  
• [Falls from a great height out of a bird’s grip 1, 2
  
• [Has a land mine explode in his face]
  
• [Implied to have been hit by a truck]
  
• [Is hit by a car]
  
• [Has a house collapse on him]
  
• [Survives without his stomach after it temporarily leaves his body]
  
• [Has the endurance to hang from a treebranch for an entire week]
  
• [Stays in the same spot long enough for the moon to wax from crescent to full waiting for a flower to grow.]
  

Speed/Agility:

• [Eats an immense amount of food in a single panel. Doubles as a durability feat for his stomach, as Jon states that that much food should cause him to burst if he tries to eat it all]
  
• [Eats all the food in a refrigerator in a very short time]
  
• [Eats a million meals in the same day by noon. This is even more impressive, as Garfield is famously averse to waking up early and fond of sleeping in, meaning it’s likely he didn’t have much time after waking up to eat a million meals before 12:00. For a little more context, Jon states that Garfield sleeps an average of 18 hours a day.
  
• [While on a short walk, eats so many canaries he causes a city-wide shortage]
  
• [With Odie, completely wrecks Jon’s living room in a single second]
  
• [Leaves with all the furniture in a room after Jon leaves it briefly before he can return]
  
• [Outruns a charging bull]
  
• [Dodges out of the way of speeding cars]
  
• [Leaps out of the path of a speeding truck]
  
• [Keeps pace with a speeding car]
  
• [Again]
  
• [Keeps pace with an ice cream truck]
  
• [Claims to be “faster than a speeding delivery truck”]
  
• [Outruns rolling donuts, reaching the floor before they can fall off a table. ]
  
• [Outruns the world’s largest ball of twine as it rolls down a hill after him]
  
• [Outruns a rolling snowball]
  
• [Runs up the wall and across the ceiling to the other side of the room in only a few panels]
  
• [Dodges a thrown shoe]
  
• [Dodges a thrown pair of binoculars]
  
• [Dodges a thrown pie with enough force behind it to knock the moon out of the sky]
  
• [Catches a thrown potted plant]
  
• [Eats his birthday cake out from under its candles, leaving them briefly suspended in the air]
  
• [Catches on to Odie’s tongue as he runs by]
  
• [Leaps to catch a piece of toast mid-air the second it pops up]
  
• [Again]
  
• [Eats several apples out of the air as Jon is juggling them]
  
• [Eats a butterfly out of the air mid-flight]
  
• [Snatches a fly out of the air]
  
• [Leaps to snatch a donut out of Jon’s hands before he can take a bite]
  
• [Rapidly decorates a tree in what Jon estimates to be a world record]
  
• [Catches up to a car and rips its fender off]
  
• [Catches up to a car and rips an entire axle off]
  
• [Demonstrates shocking agility chasing after a thrown mouse]
  
• [Does a flip]
  
• [Flips in midair to land on his feet at the last second]
  
• [Leaps from the floor to the ceiling off-panel]
  
• [Leaps from a table to the ceiling]
  
• [Walks on his front paws]
  
• [Balances a potted plant on his head while rolling atop a ball]
  
• [Swims rapidly into the sunset]
  
• [Spins his leg around so fast he takes flight like a helicopter]
  
• [While trying to escape a sweater, spins fast enough he becomes a small tornado]
  
• [Moves as a blur for a quick costume change]
  
• [After eating caffeinated sweets, he becomes a blur, bouncing off the walls and ceiling.]
  
• [Moves so fast, he seems to vanish panel-to-panel. Gets to his food dish and cleans it out before Jon can finish saying his name]
  
• [Moves so fast, his slipstream shreds Jon’s clothes]
  
• [Zooms in from a long distance away before Odie can take a bite of his food]
  
• [Catches a sandwich before it can hit the floor]
  
• [Zooms out of bed, eats dinner, and returns before his blanket has time to fall to the ground]
  
• [Spots a snowflake, and runs back inside, dragging Jon out to see it before it touches the ground.]
  
• [Moves to his bed before a lightbulb can go out]
  
• [Moves faster than the speed of sound]
  
• [Regularly keeps up with the mice in his house, who are implied to be FTE (except for the fat ones).]
  
• [Moves FTE]
  
• [Moves FTE, eating all the food out of his food bowl in the time it takes Jon to blink]
  
• [Eats a goldfish FTE in the space it takes the reader to blink]
  
• [Somehow loops back around after leaving the panel while Jon is still watching him]
  
• [Lets go of a tree branch to rub his arms, then grabs back on before he has time to fall]
  
• [Changes channels on a tv so fast it explodes and the remote starts to smoke]
  

Misc:

• [Eats an entire lasagna, pan and all]
  
• [Eats 219 lbs of lasagna]
  
• [Eats so many calories in one sitting, Jon’s calculator violently malfunctions from processing such a large number]
  
• [While on a walk, eats so many canaries he causes a city-wide shortage]
  
• [Eats an entire bowl of food, bowl included]
  
• [Again]
  
• [Eats the pants off of Jon]
  
• [Eats a tv remote]
  
• [Eats a bag of tools Jon bought from the hardware store, then spits one back up]
  
• [Eats a brick]
  
• [Casually eats a coffee cup]
  
• [Eats a poison frog]
  
• [Ate a poison toad]
  
• [Fits an entire cake in his mouth]
  
• [Again]
  
• [And Again]
  
• [He just keeps going at it]
  
• [Fits 200 french fries in his mouth]
  
• [Fits an entire glass fishbowl in his mouth]
  
• [Implied to have eaten an entire cow]
  
• [Eats a large fish-shaped sign]
  
• [Eats a giant burger larger than himself]
  
• [Eats a puffer fish, and has it expand to fifty times its size inside him]
  
• [Burps for 43 seconds straight]
  
• [Burps hard enough to send Jon and Odie flying, blow a door off its hinges, and peel away sections of sidewalk.]
  
• [Breathes fire after eating a peruvian death pepper]
  
• [Sneezes the petals off a large group of flowers]
  
• [With a single sneeze, he blows away Jon, Odie, and a whole room’s worth of furniture]
  
• [Sneezes hard enough to propel himself partially through a wall, widening an existing mousehole]
  
• [Can walk on ceilings]
  
• [Again]
  
• [And again]
  
• [His weight crushes a scale]
  
• [Even Santa Claus thinks he’s fat]
  
• [His weight bends a long wooden table]
  
• [His weight tips over Jon’s bed]
  
• [Again]
  
• [His weight bends metal playground equipment]
  
• [His weight causes a section of floor to collapse]
  
• [His weight topples a tree when he tries to climb it]
  
• [His weight causes ripples in a hardwood floor]
  
• [He is so heavy that he causes Jon’s chair to bounce into the air just by running nearby]
  
• [He’s heavy enough to pound a very deep, very wide hole into the ground just by cannonballing into a pool]
  
• [His weight warps the very medium of his existence, causing a panel he’s in to bend]
  
• [Wins a cat show]
  
• [Nobody can kill him without an appointment]
  
• [Apparently, he’s already dead]
  
• [With a single swipe, perfectly slices a loaf of bread]
  
• [Swats three spiders at once]
  
• [Scares off a dog larger than he is]
  
• [Can intimidate machinery into fixing itself]
  
• [Intimidates light itself to move]
  
• [Intimidates a balloon into staying afloat]
  
• [He commands snow to stop falling. With a glare, he even sends an errant flake back into the sky.]
  
• [Is completely unafraid of monsters]
  
• [Kills a flower with a single word[
  
• [His breath melts a vase and a picture frame]
  
• [His breath melts a metal fork and a glass cup]
  
• [His breath melts his own teeth]
  
• [His breath instantly knocks out Jon]
  
• [Nails Jon right under the nose with a party horn]
  
• [Lands several thrown donuts on Jon’s novelty moustache]
  
• [Hits Jon right between the eyes with a toy bow & arrow]
  
• [Plays at skeet shooting pieces of toast as they pop out of a toaster, and doesn’t miss a single one (we don’t see any arrows on the ground that haven’t impaled toast)
  
• [Nails Jon in the head with a rock]
  
• [Nails a mouse with a snowball]
  
• [Rapidly nails Jon and Odie with snowballs]
  
• [Uses a birdbath to hit Jon with a perfectly ricocheted snowball]
  
• [Can rapidly spit tennis balls like an automatic launcher]
  
• [Is an expert fisherman---without even using a pole!]
  
• [Pretty good at throwing his voice]
  
• [Steals Jon’s credit cards and uses them to buy himself a designer Italian suit]
  
• [Pickpockets an old man without him noticing]
  
• [Manages to sneak inside his own birthday cake without Jon or Odie seeing him]
  
• [Is aware he’s in a comic strip]
  
• [Addresses his reader directly]
  
• [Knows he’s printed on paper]
  
• [Is aware what angle he is being drawn from]
  
• [Pops his own snooze bubble]
  
• [Rotates his own snooze bubble]
  
• [Uses his knowledge of the fourth wall to steal a snooze bubble from Jon, depriving him of sleep]
  
• [Smacks Jon in the face with his snooze bubble]
  
• [Throws his own snooze bubble at Jon as a weapon]
  
• [Can play a piano from inside of it]
  
• [Can play guitar]
  
• [Makes a sandwich so large it stretches from his house across the street]
  
• [Can precisely identify the dish a stain came from by taste]
  
• [Knows what old hyena tastes like]
  
• [Hears Jon whispering from across the house]
  
• [While asleep, hears a pizza delivery happening three blocks away and is able to tell what toppings are on it.]
  
• [Can “hear ice cream”]
  
• [Implied to also be able to hear donuts.]
  
• [Chases an invisible mouse]
  
• [Steals a security camera out from under Jon’s nose, then pawns it without him noticing until later]
  
• [Plans out an exact chain reaction triggered by John slamming a door]
  
• [Perfectly measures out a hole to cut in the floor for Jon]
  
• [Double-Bamboozles Jon]
  
• [Melts his rubber mouse down and makes earplugs out of it]
  
• [Builds a revolving glass door into a refrigerator]
  
• [Rebuilds the front door so that it opens like a pet door and vice versa.]
  
• [Builds a trap door into a table for spiders]
  
• [Uses parts from an automatic dog door Jon bought to create a remote activated trap door for Odie]
  
• [Disables Jon’s brakes]
  
• [Reprogramme’s a scale with a complex AI. ]
  
• [Creates an elaborate blueprint for his birthday cake, including electrical wiring schematics ]
  
• [Builds a remote activated trap for birds “disguised” as a birdbath]
  
• [Creates an elaborate trap for a dog]
  
• [Sets a working trap for Santa Claus]
  
• [Sets traps for mailmen]
  
• [Sets up snowball lobbing booby traps all over the yard]
  
• [Robs a bank. Claims it was an accident.]
  
• [Steals milk from babies]
  
• [Turns Jon into a tourist attraction, and gets on the news]
  
• [Has a secret plan to lead cats to world domination]
  
• [Counts all the bricks in a silo]
  
• [Knows the exact moment when Jon will wake up every morning]
  
• [Pulls all the fabric off a chair, then knits it perfectly back into shape]
  
• [Using only his claws, carves a sofa into a statue of himself]
  
• [Elongates his body]
  
• [Has his body squeezed and elongated by a corset]
  
• [Has his neck stretched thin by a tight turtleneck]
  
• [Has his body stretched thin and compressed by a shrinking sweater]
  
• [Squashes himself flat with a recliner]
  
• [Able to have his body freely stretched]
  
• [Temporarily alters his body to appear extremely muscular]
  
• [Again]
  
• [Rapidly accumulates muscle mass in his arms simply by eating]
  
• [Has his face squashed into a square shape from sleeping in a corner]
  
• [After colliding with Odie, both have their front halves flattened]
  
• [Can tuck his head into his body like a turtle]
  
• [Can transfer his mass from his torso to his tail]
  
• [Gets squashed into a space between fence posts]
  
• [Squeezes into a vase far smaller than him]
  
• [Again]
  
• [Squeezes his entire body into a coffee cup]
  
• [He and Jon’s heads are shoved into the same bottle]
  
• [Hides his entire body flat under his cat bed]
  
• [Hides his entire body behind a thin lamp]
  
• [Stretches his arm to fit around a refrigerator]
  
• [Stretches his lips far from his face]
  
• [Extends his jaw]
  
• [Transforms into a monster on Halloween]
  
• [Is able to breathe while submerged in food]
  
• [Has his face turned upside down]
  
• [Has his face pucker inwards, folding in on itself]
  
• [Has opposable thumbs]
  
• [Sheds. A lot. Completely blankets John and a table with shed hair.]
  
• [His stomach can separate from the rest of his body, acting independently]
  
• [By viewing the world upside down, he alters the direction of gravity]
  
• [Able to move in slow motion at will, reducing his falls to a snail’s pace]
  
• [Warps reality by tilting a painting]
  
• [Sends Odie through time into the future with a kick]
  
• [Wills himself from an alternate time back to his own]
  
• [Can apparently travel freely between comic strips. Also more fourth wall awareness.]
  
• [Just.. completely breaks physics]
  
• [Seems to be able to make wishes and have them granted, albeit in a way he doesn’t always like]
  
• [Makes a birthday with for his cake to be bigger and has it come true]
  
• [Manifests objects from his dreams in real life]
  
• [Seems to be able to physically manifest and interact with figments of his psyche. Eats donuts representing his conscience, leaving behind crumbs that indicate they’re in some way real. ]
  
• [Can infiltrate other people’s daydreams and interact with them]
  
• [Breaks a mirror with his looks]
  
• [Sings a note high enough to “shatter paper”]
  
• [Flicks off Odie’s nose]
  
• [Swaps noses with Odie, forcing him to suffer a sneeze]
  
• [Adjusts a dog’s nose like a dial to force it to bark more quietly]
  
• [Seemingly teleports Odie’s head from a top hat into his food dish]
  
• [Moves a mousehole while it’s still in the wall]
  
• [Has a flamethrower]
  
• [Has a chainsaw]
  
• [Has a dart gun]
  
• [Has a giant slingshot]
  
• [Has a “mouse call”]
  

Things I really like but also hate

• [King Kong canonically exists in Garfield’s world]
  
• [So do monsters]
  
• [And aliens]
  

Being a natural skeptic, this is a story I never thought I’d be telling. I grew up reading those short, half-edited horror stories that were so popular on the internet, scaring myself out of sleep too many times to count as a kid. These days, I’m still too scared to fall asleep, just like I was when I was 11 reading stories on boards I had no business browsing. This time, though, it isn’t typed words on my aging laptop that have my heart unable to beat calmly in my chest. It isn’t the long traded campfire story that has the hairs on my neck standing in unease.
It’s the envelope sitting on my desk, taunting me as I glance at it from across the room. The top torn open haphazardly, its contents situated neatly against the worn wood grain.
It’s the words that are typed so neatly along the page, bringing back every foul memory I can conjure.
“Thank you for donating.
Come back and see us again soon,
Mr. Weller.”
~
The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a golden hue over the endless river of asphalt stretching out before me. This highway, flanked by gnarled mesquite trees and sporadic billboards advertising the next southern baptist church, had become somewhat of a familiar friend over the years. It was the unofficial gateway between my life at college and my small hometown nestled on the border of Texas and Louisiana.
I adjusted my review mirror, catching a glimpse of my own tired reflection. Summer break was finally here and I had high-tailed it from the campus as soon as my last final exam hit my professor’s desk. Gone was the grueling cycle of exams, papers, and endless nights spent hunched over textbooks. Whoever said that the college years were the best of their life needed to find the nearest sharp object to take a seat on.
As I drove, the familiar scenery slipping by in a soothing blur, my phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts. The screen flashed “Mom”, causing the involuntary roll of my eyes.
“Hey, Mom, I’m on the road. What’s up,” I spoke into the phone, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice.
”Hi, sweetheart! How close are you to home?” Her voice was warm and overly sweet, exactly the tone she used when she was about to ask for an inconvenient favor.
“Probably a few hours out. Why?”
“Perfect! Listen, can you do me a favor and pick up a case of beer for your dad? He invited his friends over tonight and I don’t have time to run to the store with all the cooking-,” she explained quickly, probably sensing my sigh of annoyance before I could even take a breath.
”Mom,” I interrupted evenly, “you do realize there are, like, zero places to stop for miles, right? The last couple hours are practically deserted.”
“I know, but most gas stations always have the kind your dad likes. Just stop at the next one you see, okay?”
I groaned internally, glancing at my half full gas gauge. I had filled up the tank this morning specifically so I wouldn’t have to stop once on the drive.
“Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”
”You’re the best,” Mom sighed in relief, her tone calm again. “Drive safe, honey.”
With that, she hung up, leaving me to the rhythmic drone of the road and my dusty second hand CD’s once again.
I kept my eyes peeled for the next gas station, hoping to get the beer run out of the way sooner rather than later. About 20 minutes after Mom’s call, a rundown gas station came into view, its neon sky flickering erratically against the dusky sky. Like most gas stations in the middle-of-nowhere-south, it looked like it hadn’t seen a renovation since at least the 70’s.
Pulling in, I parked next to a rusted out pickup and stepped out, the heat and humidity immediately oppressive. The place reeked of old oil and dust, the air thick with the smell of mildew. I made my way inside, the crude “bell” over the door made of old fishing lures and soda caps jingling half-heartedly as I entered.
If I thought the outside of the joint was sad, the inside was plain pathetic. Dimly lit and cluttered with off brand snacks and outdated magazines, I wouldn’t be surprised if it hadn’t been stocked since at least the 70’s. I quickly located the cooler, grabbing a case of Keystone Light and headed to the counter. I tried not to breathe the air in too deeply, a little afraid of whatever strange diseases probably lingered.
The attendant behind the counter was a greasy, wiry man with sunken eyes and a gaunt face. He glanced up from his equally disheveled book, watching me approach with an intensity that made me uneasy. Placing the beer on the counter, I fished out my license, hoping to make this transaction as quick as possible. He eyed me while I pulled my wallet out, his voice reeking of prolonged cigarette and cheap whiskey.
“Headed to Texas?” he gruffed.
I nodded slowly, trying to piece together how he knew. I was still at least an hour and a half from the border. “Yeah, lucky guess.” I chuckled uneasily.
”Not lucky at all,” he drawled out, “Saw yer license plate.”
I turned towards the glass door, seeing the direct line to my car.
“Ah,” I responded, not quite sure what else to add as I put down my drivers license next to the case of beer.
Is this how social interactions at gas stations are supposed to go?
The greasy man picked up my license, his gaze lingering on it a bit too long as he rang the beer up without glancing at the register.
“You’re an organ donor,” he remarked, casual, as if it were something he asked every day.
Nope. Definitely not a normal interaction.
”Uh, yeah. Just in case, I guess.”
He handed back the license and I fought the urge to wipe whatever strange grime he accumulated on his hands off my card.
“Makes you a good person,” he nodded, offering me a rotted grin.
I forced a smile, increasingly eager to get the hell out of this place. “How much?”
”Fifteen seventy three.” He replied, his accent catching over the vowels.
I handed over two wrinkled 10s, wondering if I should tell him to keep the change so I wouldn’t have to handle anything else he touched. Before I could decide, the man spoke again, peering back at the door.
”Yer headed the wrong way if yer trynna get to Texas. Should take the next left up ahead.”
I frowned, unable to keep up my polite mask much longer. “The road’s straight the whole way,” I argued, “I’ve driven it a hundred times.”
The grimy mess of a man simply smiled, a thin, almost predatory smile.
“Only bein polite. Suit yerself”
I took my change and beer, muttering a quick thanks before bolting it out of there. The encounter left an uncomfortable feeling in my chest, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of those piercing eyes on my back as I walked to my car.
Last time I do a favor for mom, I thought dramatically.
Once inside the safety of my car, I locked the doors and started the engine, eager to put distance between myself and that disgusting gas station. The man’s words and shit-eating grin echoed in my mind, but I dismissed them. The road home was straight, I knew that much for certain.
As the miles ticked by, I found myself turning the music up louder and louder, trying to shake off the unease from the encounter. I tried focusing on the familiar landmarks and the lyrics of the songs I’d heard a thousand times. Thankfully, it only took a few songs for it to work.
The sun began to dip lower into the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the road. I figured I was about an hour from home at this point, my mind itching to be home.
It took me longer than I’d like to admit to see that something was seemingly… wrong.
When I glanced to the side, expecting fields of unkempt brush and patches of cactus, instead I saw short, twisted trees. My eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of the misplaced flora. I let off the gas slightly, slowing down the car to take in the patches of damp, soggy earth peppering the fields. I looked behind me, my brain desperate to rationalize the sudden change of environment. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach.
This wasn’t right. I had driven this route countless times and the scenery had never changed so drastically. How in the world had I driven myself into a bog?
The road, usually straightforward and predictable, now seemed to wind and twist as my car crept along it, each bend revealing more of the eerie, waterlogged terrain. Doubts crept in, swift and harsh. Had I missed a turn? Was that psycho right after all?
The feeling of unease grew stronger with each passing mile. The familiar landmarks were gone, replaced by dense foliage and the occasional decrepit and rotted building. I glanced at my phone, picking it up in hopes of checking my GPS, but my heart sank when I saw the “no service” icon in the corner.
Panic began to set in, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I needed to find a way back to the main road, or at least to a road sign.
Just as the sense of dread threatened to overwhelm me, I spotted a building up ahead, its bright lights cutting through the encroaching darkness of dusk. Relief flooded through me. Whatever this place is, surely someone in there can tell me where I got turned around.
However, the sight before me only had my eyebrows furrowing deeper. A clean, well-lit, white building stood amidst the desolate landscape, almost cartoonishly out of place. It looked brand new, too pristine for its surroundings. Like a beacon of hope in a sea of… muck.
Desperation overrode my hesitancy of such a place, fueling my decision to pull over. I parked my car in the well-paved lot, comforted by the other vehicles sitting under the bright lights.
I made my way to the entrance, the glass doors sliding open smoothly as I approached. The stark white walls and sterile smell hit me immediately, a stark contrast to the humid smell of wood rot outside.
Is this some sort of clinic?
I paused as I looked around, my eyes landing on a front desk. A cheery looking woman with a bright smile sat behind it, her eyes already on me.
”Good evening! Are you here to donate?” she called out, her voice light and airy.
I turned back to the door for a moment, my instincts not quite thrilled being in such a strange place, but the idea of trying to get myself un- lost in the dark pushed me further towards the front desk.
”Uh, no. I’m actually lost,” I responded, giving the woman a weak smile. “I’m trying to get to Texas and I think I may have taken a wrong turn. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Her smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Disappointment? Annoyance? It was hard to tell.
”Of course, sugar. But why don’t you take a seat first?”
I glanced around to what I now assumed was a waiting room. The occupants were an odd assortment of characters, each making me more uneasy than the last. An elderly man in disheveled clothes sat closest, muttering to himself while looking straight through me.
A few seats down sat a young woman with stringy hair, as if she had just gotten out of the shower. Her eyes looked red and puffy and I could only assume she either was terribly allergic to bogs, or she had been crying for a while.
Next, a man with a little girl sitting beside him caught my attention. The girl clutched a small stuffed bunny, her eyes regarding me curiously. She seemed to be the only person aware of my existence and I threw a small smile her way. Her eyes shifted immediately, darting nervously back to the man beside her. The man had no reaction, continuing to stare straight ahead with a vacant expression.
Lastly, a businessman sat in the corner, his wrinkled suit and messy hair contradicting his aloof demeanor. He held a phone to his ear, checking his watch intermittently. The whole scene of the room reeked of impatience and unease, making my skin crawl.
What the hell is this place?
I turned back to the front desk, forcing a smile. “Listen, ma’am. I’m really just looking for directions. I don’t need an appointment.”
The woman tilted her head slightly, her smile never wavering. “Mr. Weller can see you for a donation. It won’t take long.”
“I really don’t have time for that. I just need to get back on the road,” I insisted, the edge of desperation beginning to creep into my voice.
She ignored my plea, typing something into the computer. “Mr. Weller will be with you shortly. Please, take a seat.”
Frustration boiled over. I was about to argue further when I noticed the other patients had started to stare, their gazes heavy and expectant. The atmosphere in the room shifted to feel charged, almost oppressive.
Deciding I had seen quite enough, I muttered quickly. ”Thanks, but I’m going to pass,” and turned on my heel, making a beeline for the exit.
The nurse’s cheerful farewell followed me out, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in my bones.
I hurried back to my car, the clinic’s lights painting long shadows across the parking lot. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I locked the doors and took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The “clinic” had rattled me more than I cared to admit.
As I started the engine and pulled back onto the road, the clinic quickly disappeared from view, swallowed by the hungry night. My mind raced, grappling with the bizarre turn of events. The woman at the front desk’s insistence, the strange people in the waiting room, and the clinic itself…
none of it made sense.
Determined to put this fever dream behind me and find my way home, I refocused on the road ahead, hoping that with a bit of luck, I could retrace my steps and escape this unsettling detour. The landscape grew darker, the swamp closing in around me, but I pressed on, clinging to the desperate hope that familiar sights were just around the next bend.
The feeling of unease clung to me like an unwanted second skin as I drove further on, minutes passing with no change. Eventually, at least an hour passed, the monotony of the road broken only by the occasional curve and the distant croaking of frogs. I had long since shut off my radio, seeing as no amount of Lynyrd Skynyrd could make the situation better.
My eyes strained against the darkness, searching for any road signs or landmarks.
Yet as time wore on, familiar trees passing by, an alarming realization began to settle in.
Despite making no turns. Despite the road seemingly taking me far away,
I was back where I started.
Bright lights pierced the gloom ahead, the parking lot coming into view mocking my attempt to leave. My heart sank, a cold wave of dread washing over me the closer I got.
I was back at the clinic.

-First- -Previous- -Next (on Patreon)-
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Hello again! This batch of chapters is looking pretty spicy, and I'm really excited to share them with you! Not really much else to say, tbh, other than that I'm once again really thankful for all of your patience and understanding when it comes to my upload schedule. I know it's tough sometimes to drop in and out of stories like this, and even worse to see the last upload date for a story you like being "100 days ago," but we're still making our way there slowly! Besides, the most tender dishes are the ones that boil slowly~
As always, I hope you enjoy reading! :D
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Fanart: The Brightest Star in the Night Sky, by u/Frostedscales
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Thank you to Philodox on discord for proofreading and editing RfD.
Thank you to Pampanope on reddit for the cover art.
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Memory Transcript Subject: Sylvan, Venlil Citizen
Date: [Standardized Human Time]: December 13, 2136
​
“Everything’s good to go over here, Kenta! How about you?”
“Fine on my end too boss! Though I still don’t know how to feel about how I’ve arranged the sandwiche– err… sylvanas. Cucumber salad next to blueberry? They kind of don’t match…”
“I already told you a million times, they look fine!”
“You sure…?”
“I’m sure! Now are you ready to start this thing?”
“Ready!”
“Then let’s go!”
I shut the door to the kitchen, making sure that I had not left anything behind that would be needed for the day, then began wheeling out the final cart of amenities. As I rolled it down the wooden floor of my emptied out diner, one long serving tray jostled back and forth across the surface top.
I looked down to recap my inventory. A motley of sylvanas cleanly cut into triangles lay in an ornate pattern atop a decorative bed of raw ipsom grain stalks, spiraling around the edges of the plate as it creeped its way closer to the center. The sylvanas were split into clear groups based not only on their filling, but of the colour of that filling as well, creating a literal rainbow of flavours to choose from. By all means, it was an absolutely marvelous display of art; a visual performance that I had no idea could be captured in something like a dish to be served at such a quaint event. Kenta, however, seemed to still be worrying over it.
Despite it apparently being part of the name according to my translator, the Terran fruit named “blueberry” was actually a deep shade of indigo rather than blue, especially when crushed into a form of jam. As a result, lacking any blue to connect the various green options of our rainbow to that of the very limited indigo, Kenta had ended up spending much too long worrying over such a minute detail.
‘What a dummy…’ I thought back to myself with a slight chuckle. ‘I guess he’s worrying about this just as much as I am.’
Hardly two or three steps remained between the food cart and the diner’s entrance. Hastily, I jogged up to the front door to prop it open. However, when I went to turn the handle, I felt it give way without even the slightest push. Someone was pulling it from the other side, causing me to be yanked forward and stumble. Looking up, I saw the rusty figure of Fehnel standing impatiently in the doorway.
“You almost done in here, Sylvan?” she asked in a hurried breath. “Here, let me help you with that.”
Before hearing my response, Fehnel had already grabbed ahold on the cart and began pulling it outside without delay. I let go and didn’t attempt to stop her, knowing full well the farm woman was likely much stronger than I. In a blur, she was already far from the door, and I began jogging after her in an attempt to keep up.
Just as the day before, the Inverter was powered on and running perfectly. The metal pylon let out a slight, continuous hum as it projected an energetic beam from its center, which split at the apex around the height of the Lackadaisy and fell down in a parabolic curve, creating a tangible anti-gravity field in its wake.
Just outside the field, it became immediately clear just how necessary this piece of advanced Federation technology was. Beyond the radiant dome, a thick rain riddled the sky and drowned the world it fell unto. A harsh wind howled and distant thunder roared, which combined with the rain to push against the field to no avail. Within, where so many confectionaries, decorations, and other preparations had been so carefully placed, not even the paw of Solgalick could disrupt us.
“You know this would be goin’ a lot faster if I could jus’ start grabbin’ the food ma’self,” Fehnel commented in a tone too preoccupied to be annoyed.
As I ran after the hauling Yotul, I tried to say, “Fehnel, I’d really appreciate it if you would–”
“I know, I know,” she interrupted back, seemingly distant. “You want me to ‘not go into the diner during the event.’ Listen Sylvan, I get that Kahnta back there is a fainter, but don’t you think that this is a tad extreme? We’re on a tight schedule here, y’know?”
“I know… it’s just kind of a golden rule. I can’t stress to you enough how important it is that nobody does so much as peak in there,” I reiterated as I jogged alongside the speeding Yotul. “And don’t worry. Once everything starts, then you can feel free to socialize and spend the day with your daughter. I’ll take care of restocking the food.”
“I suppose that’s awful nice of ya,” Fehnel breathed out. “Sure you won’t be tirin’ yourself out, hun?”
I shrugged. “Eh. How fast could people possibly eat? It’ll be fine.”
“Careful there. Don’t wanna be sprintin’ before your legs catch up,” Fehnel chuckled. “But I’m plenty thankful for the confidence. I’ll try to hold ya to your word.”
As we moved, I was able to take a brief second to look around. I began to marvel at how far the event had come since its initial inception. And under such short time restrictions as well! Through a combination of both the Lacakdaisy’s furniture, as well as a number of decorations that I had rented, we had ended up with something that I had truly considered exemplary. In traditional Venlil style, a forest of various greenery had been set out in a colourful array of paw-crafted pots and other containers. Small bushels, flowers, a few overhanging trees, and other vegetation stood proudly within. From each, incandescent ornaments of various hues emerged in a bright and brazen display. All of which combined to transform the normally secluded street atmosphere into one that was truly cozy, if not just the slightest bit packed within the bubble. In accordance with one of Fehnel’s initial requests, we had even arranged for a small wooden stage to be brought in, which fit neatly against… something that I would rather not look at…
Of course, decorations aside, one of the most enrapturing displays was that of the food itself. Positioned at various places all around the event’s area, tables upon tables of buffet items had been laid out. It was a marvelous display on all fronts. From the generously sized serving bowls of pasta, plates of still steaming gyoza, and the diverse types and variations of strayu laid in motley rows all throughout, the feast was like a colourful microcosm of everything Kenta and I had been working towards.
But what was even more impressive were all the new additions Kenta had made. Just as expected, my wayward chef had taken the original request and spun it on its tail, seemingly pulling no stops when it came to expanding our already diverse arrangement. From end to end, small, round discs of strayu called “Danishes” lay against each other down the side of one of the tables. Most impressively, the center of each had been filled in with various hues of jam, in a similar style to that of the sylvanas that I was currently wheeling towards it.
On the other side of the same table, a sundry of embellished wooden bowls sat parallel, each filled with various kinds of Venlilian-style salads. I had taken the time to teach him such recipes a good while back, but while at first these seemed to be rather unostentatious, a quick look revealed that Kenta had added his own twist to the otherwise typical mix of local produce. Tossed about each salad were dozens of small strayu cubes called “Croutons,” each baked until crisp and crunchy. What’s more, if the olfactory receptor in my mouth didn’t deceive me, I had even picked up the heavenly aroma of something Kenta had only introduced to me recently as “Garlic,” which had clearly been infused into the cubes.
On another table, steaming crocks of both soups and stews had been laid out for guests to self serve. But in lieu of a bowl, Kenta had elected to do something truly unique. It had taken me a moment to process his idea at first, but hollowed out husks of rotund strayu loaves had been left out for guests to grab, in which they were supposed to fill the “bread bowls” – as Kenta had called them – with the soup and eat them as normal. This even came with the advantage of being able to tear off small pieces of the now soup-soaked strayu, allowing one to enjoy the taste of both simultaneously. This idea, I had soon realized, would be the hardest to explain to any confused guests that might happen by.
As we approached the soup table, Fehnel and I began loading up the cart-full of sylvanas we had brought over onto a free area. We placed them right next to one other new recipe that Kenta had decided to share. A simple display of thinly cut slices of crunchy, lightly seasoned strayu, with a bright red sauce readied next to it that I instantly recognized as being the product of tomatoes mixed with oil. According to Kenta, these “Bruschetta” were a simple, yet simultaneously alluring appetizer, which would do well to pair with the soup he had stirred up.
Once the sylvanas had been laid out, Fehnel felt the urge to ask, “Is that the last of it?”
“Yes, for now,” I replied, absentmindedly stretching my back. “This’ll cover the initial rush of hungry people, I assume. But Kahnta’s already busy working on seconds.”
“Gotta say Sylvan, this is quite the impressive spread,” Fehnel said with a quick, delighted wag of the tail. “Y’know… When I asked for somethin’ new, I wasn’t expectin’ Kahnta over there to whip up so much.”
“Oh this isn’t the new dish you asked for,” I answered flatly. “That’s still being worked on.”
Fehnel froze solid, only her ears remaining seemingly automotive as they slowly shifted towards me. “Wait… what?
“Yeah all of this is just the appetizer according to Kahnta,” I explained, messing with a few arrant sylvanas that had broken symmetry. “There’s going to be one more plate of food that should be coming out shortly. And then dessert after that.”
“That’s… surely somethin’...” was all Fehnel could say. She opened her mouth as if to continue her train of thought, only to have something else pull her attention away.
Peering out into the stormy weather of the darkened town, an eye-catchingly large herd of people were making their way towards the bright dome that sketched our event’s area. Silhouettes of familiar patrons and wayward newcomers alike huddled under their umbrellas. All the while, an excited murmur hummed throughout the air, despite the noise of the rain around them. The guests were here, and they seemed excited.
I peered down at a small data pad. “Oh, second-sun already? Looks like we just barely made it on time.”
Fehnel simply wagged in acknowledgment, still the slightest bit flabbergasted.
I nudged her side, which seemed to knock her out of her trance. “Want to go greet them?”
Taking one look at me, then peering back at the ensemble of strange and alien foods behind her, one of Fehnel’s ears flicked a little. Then, she did the tail equivalent of a Human shrug, letting out a pleased chuckle. Whatever had been on her mind was apparently pushed to the side for now. “Heh, of course hun. Let’s treat ‘em to somethin’ special.”
With a newfound kick in her already hastened step, Fehnel began to proudly jog over towards the approaching crowd. By now, we could already begin to make out some faces, each looking more curious than the last.
In addition to the Brachistochrone Inverter itself, Jeela had also taken the liberty to have a reception area installed in the form of a metallic tunnel about the width of three Venlil. The tunnel seemed to fold and bend the anti-gravity energy around it, allowing for people to easily enter the repulsion field without having to tread through a torrent of redirected rainwater. Additionally, a series of hooks alongside the interior of the tunnel also served as a convenient area for the storage of umbrellas and coats, which our guests quickly began making use of the moment they started funneling through.
Fehnel and I stood at the side of the entrance, welcoming in guest after guest with the appropriate propriety. At first, many of them were stymied in their step, staring in awe at the sanctuary-like atmosphere that had been created in the middle of the street. But almost as soon as they got their bearings, most realigned their immediate priorities, and subsequently made a beeline for the buffet tables. That’s what they were here for, after all. Hopefully they’d come to appreciate the actual reason Fehnel was hosting this event soon enough.
As we busied ourselves, the voices of many excited guests made themselves audible.
“I’ve been looking forward to this!”
“Look at the decorations!”
“I feel like I’m in the Capital!”
“Are you sure all of this is free?”
“The ad said it was! Either way, I need to try some of this!”
Fehnel and I watched in delight as the crowd began to form around the tables, a number of plates I had left out disappearing as fast as the eye could blink. However, it was clear that a majority of the attention received had been focussed solely on the more familiar menu items already offered by the Lackadaisy.
“Think they’re gonna touch any of the new stuff?” Fehnel idly commented, her attention still fixed on the crowd. “It’d be a shame if any of it goes to waste.”
“Oh they will,” I answered without hesitation. “Just give them a moment. They’ll be all over it soon enough.”
Fehnel laughed. “You sound awful confident, don’tcha?”
“Oh please, this is hardly the first time I’ve served some wacky new thing to my customers,” I answered back with a chuckle of my own. “If anything, at this point I’d say I’m quite the expert. Just watch. You’ll see.”
Like clockwork, my precognitive claim had been proven true mere moments later. Some soul amongst the table’s crowd had seemingly been more curious than the rest, and ended up taste-testing one of the bruschetta. It was hard to make out from this distance, but if I had to guess, her ears had perked up and her eyes had widened in surprise. What was made clear, however, was their opinion of the new food, because only a few moments later could their voice be heard.
“You have got to try some of this stuff!” she practically yelled at anyone who would listen. “It tastes like the red stuff that’s on the pasta, but like… even stronger! It’s so good I feel like I died and am one with the Stars already!”
Like a Farsul unto a library, the crowd collectively swiveled their ears and began to gravitate towards the bruschetta with eager eyes. A few more voices piped up in glee, each more delighted than the last as paw after paw descended on the strayu until there was nothing scarce of crumbs left.
‘Guess that’ll be the first thing I’ll need to restock,’ I thought with a passive wave of the tail, before a sudden realization crept into my mind. ‘Ugh… Kenta and I might be busier today than I thought…’
It wasn’t long before the elation of trying something new, mixed with the sudden and devastating lack of bruschetta, had urged our party guests to move on to the other, never before seen options that laid out to fill their fancy. All at once, the wall of wool and fluff had spread out the slightest bit as fresher waters were explored. Plates were filled with various salads, despite the unfamiliar bits of crunchy strayu inside raising some skeptical ears. Helping after helping of the technicolour pastries were reached for as well, with the sylvanas not lasting much longer after that. And most impressively, it seemed that people had quickly begun to figure out the concept of Kenta’s cute “bread bowl” idea as well, even without instruction.
That last turn of events had actually caught me the slightest bit off guard. For the bread bowls being quite possibly the most unique aspect of the event – well, that I knew of – I found myself rather impressed by how fast people were getting the hang of it. Sure, it meant that I wouldn’t have to bother myself with having to go around explaining it to everybody, but in my eyes, there was a bit more to it than that. Perhaps it was a case of grasping at straws, but for the briefest moment, it made me wonder whether or not Humanity’s ideas had been affecting my people more than I had realized. Perhaps, if only in the slightest, Kenta had been opening their minds to more unique ideas than I had given him credit for. Without the slightest bit of hesitancy, the partygoers did well to experiment with more than the obvious, quickly wrapping their minds around something completely new and extraordinary.
I exhaled a short-breathed snicker, shaking the thought out of my head. ‘Calm down there, Sylvan. It’s just some soup and a piece of strayu shaped like a bowl. No need to get all philosophical about it. Still, I guess them figuring it out saves me some time. Good, cause it looks like I already need to start stocking the next round…’
I moved to grab my cart so that I could head back inside, only to have Fehnel call out and grab my attention instead.
“Sylvan, hun,” she began. “Before you go makin’ yourself scarce. I think there’s somethin’ about this here party that you haven’t explained yet.”
My head turned out to face her. “Hm?”
“Now, don’t get me wrong… What you did here is great and all. By all means, whenever it is that Kadew decides to show up here with that date of hers, I’m sure she’ll start coming around to the idea of my peoples’ Runnin’ Day. But…”
I now realized that Fehnel was completely focussed on something off in the distance.
“Oh,” I replied. “That…”
I had done well to ignore it up until this point. In fact, if I tried hard enough, I was even able to keep it completely hidden from my peripheral. But the truth was, no matter where I went or what I did to distract myself, there was no denying that it was there – that She was there.
At the opposite end of the dome, an onyx terror lurked over the ignorant, complacent masses. Its wicked enormity great, and the pressure about it even greater. The form it took was terrifying. An alien pose, unknown to the mind, originated from a people feared by many. Its peering eyes descended as domineering malevolence. And from its onyx chassis, a message rang clear as a day personally forged by Solgalick themself: Even if I couldn’t see her; if I shielded herself from my sight all day… No matter what, She could always see me.
“I’m gonna be honest Sylvan, I did not take you as someone that had a thing for Magister Jeela.”
I shot back quicker than a bolt of lighting. “I DO NOT HAVE A ‘THING’ FOR–” before stopping myself short.
Luckily, my voice had not been noticed among the now loud, chattering crowd about us. Which was good. I was pretty sure that my voice had cracked into an almost childishly high pitch. Taking a deep breath, I yanked my composure back, and stuffed an air of professionalism back into my voice yet again.
“I a-appologize…” I mumbled out, my head shrinking between my shoulders.
“No worries!” Fehnel replied. She couldn’t help but let a few chuckles pour into her voice. “I was just teasin’ is all. But seriously, you’re gonna have to whip up a pretty darn good explanation… Else I’m boutta start thinkin’ that what I just said was true.”
I took a deep breath, which soon shifted into a long-winded sigh. “Listen… It was part of the deal, alright? I’m not proud of it, but it’s there now, and unless you’ve got a herd of Mazic heavylifters at the beck and call, I can’t get rid of it.”
“Part of the deal?” Fehnel repeated.
“It’s my end of the bargain for us being able to have this Inverter during the event. And no, before you ask, it was not worth it,” I explained.
I could do nothing but feel immense shame for the inconvenience. To have something so overbearing, so shamelessly grandstanding placed in the middle of what was supposed to be a quaint event about cross-cultural understanding… It was beyond disrespectful to Fehnel’s original request. It took something that the poor woman had been planning for who knew how long, and brutally morphed it into a shadow of its former self. Into nothing but an ego trip for a politician that probably already surrounded themselves with weed biters and paw lickers.
“Listen…” I said, lowering both my tail and ears in respect. “Fehnel, I apologize profusely for allowing that thing to be placed here. I should have put my paw down and just hosted the event inside like we planned. But it’s too late now. I’m really sorry…”
But to my surprise, Fehnel had not been paying attention to my display of humility. Instead, her focus was still on that of the statue.
“I think it looks neat!” she said in a cheery tone.
“Y-you do?” I mumbled back.
“Well yeah!” She wagged her tail to assure me. “Sure it’s a bit, err… unconventional… But I think it’s got quite a bit of charm to it!”
“That’s… one way of saying it…”
“Besides, it might not be the worst thing to have somethin’ from the Magisters here with us,” Fehnel continued to think out loud. “Sorta gives this whole event a kinda official feel, y’know? Like it’s lettin’ everyone here know that the Yotul have got just as much right bein’ under the same heedin’ ears of the Governor as anyone else. Sure, dependin’ on where you are and who you ask, that may or may not be a good thing. But it at least means it’s harder to ignore us now. Heck, might even convince some of the people ‘round here to open up a little to the other parts of us.”
“Well… so long as you’re happy with it, I suppose?” I worded awkwardly.
If I had been completely honest with myself, I was expecting the slightest bit more… Well, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps anger? Annoyance? Unrelenting grief that invariably led to locking yourself in a closet, crying? But there was no sign of that in the rusty Yotul’s eyes. As she stared up at the onyx marvel, I couldn’t help but feel as though there was no sign of the negativity I had anticipated in the slightest. Instead, all that remained was that of a solemn pride. Maybe she was lying to herself. Like it was some sort of coping mechanism that helped her work around this unwelcome development in her plans. But regardless, the end result remained. And I was left feeling relieved at being able to avoid yet another hurdle.
‘Fehnel really knows how to look at the optimistic side of things, I guess… Good. I could really use some more of that around here.’
“Feel free to run along now, Sylvan,” she said, waving me a satisfied flick of the tail. “I’ll keep waitin’ here so I can greet the other guests. And I do hope you and Kahnta can bring out the main course whenever it’s ready. I wanna make sure everything’s ready to blow Kadew’s fur off whenever she decides to get here.”
I had to force myself not to flash a Human smile in return. She and the rest of the partygoers had no idea what was coming. And to a certain extent, neither did I. He did mention he had some sort of “surprise” coming, after all. But I always trusted Kenta for his word, and knowing what my chef was capable of, it never occurred to me once that it wouldn’t live up to the expectations. In fact, I was counting on him to exceed them.
I turned around and headed back to the kitchen. It was time to get the real party started.
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Hello again! This batch of chapters is looking pretty spicy, and I'm really excited to share them with you! Not really much else to say, tbh, other than that I'm once again really thankful for all of your patience and understanding when it comes to my upload schedule. I know it's tough sometimes to drop in and out of stories like this, and even worse to see the last upload date for a story you like being "100 days ago," but we're still making our way there slowly! Besides, the most tender dishes are the ones that boil slowly~
As always, I hope you enjoy reading! :D
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Fanart: The Brightest Star in the Night Sky, by u/Frostedscales
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Note: This is a Fanfic of the Nature of Predators series by u/Spacepaladin15, that is being reposted from the NatureofPredators sub. Please support the original content.
Thank you to Philodox on discord for proofreading and editing RfD.
Thank you to Pampanope on reddit for the cover art.
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Memory Transcript Subject: Sylvan, Venlil Citizen
Date: [Standardized Human Time]: December 13, 2136
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“Everything’s good to go over here, Kenta! How about you?”
“Fine on my end too boss! Though I still don’t know how to feel about how I’ve arranged the sandwiche– err… sylvanas. Cucumber salad next to blueberry? They kind of don’t match…”
“I already told you a million times, they look fine!”
“You sure…?”
“I’m sure! Now are you ready to start this thing?”
“Ready!”
“Then let’s go!”
I shut the door to the kitchen, making sure that I had not left anything behind that would be needed for the day, then began wheeling out the final cart of amenities. As I rolled it down the wooden floor of my emptied out diner, one long serving tray jostled back and forth across the surface top.
I looked down to recap my inventory. A motley of sylvanas cleanly cut into triangles lay in an ornate pattern atop a decorative bed of raw ipsom grain stalks, spiraling around the edges of the plate as it creeped its way closer to the center. The sylvanas were split into clear groups based not only on their filling, but of the colour of that filling as well, creating a literal rainbow of flavours to choose from. By all means, it was an absolutely marvelous display of art; a visual performance that I had no idea could be captured in something like a dish to be served at such a quaint event. Kenta, however, seemed to still be worrying over it.
Despite it apparently being part of the name according to my translator, the Terran fruit named “blueberry” was actually a deep shade of indigo rather than blue, especially when crushed into a form of jam. As a result, lacking any blue to connect the various green options of our rainbow to that of the very limited indigo, Kenta had ended up spending much too long worrying over such a minute detail.
‘What a dummy…’ I thought back to myself with a slight chuckle. ‘I guess he’s worrying about this just as much as I am.’
Hardly two or three steps remained between the food cart and the diner’s entrance. Hastily, I jogged up to the front door to prop it open. However, when I went to turn the handle, I felt it give way without even the slightest push. Someone was pulling it from the other side, causing me to be yanked forward and stumble. Looking up, I saw the rusty figure of Fehnel standing impatiently in the doorway.
“You almost done in here, Sylvan?” she asked in a hurried breath. “Here, let me help you with that.”
Before hearing my response, Fehnel had already grabbed ahold on the cart and began pulling it outside without delay. I let go and didn’t attempt to stop her, knowing full well the farm woman was likely much stronger than I. In a blur, she was already far from the door, and I began jogging after her in an attempt to keep up.
Just as the day before, the Inverter was powered on and running perfectly. The metal pylon let out a slight, continuous hum as it projected an energetic beam from its center, which split at the apex around the height of the Lackadaisy and fell down in a parabolic curve, creating a tangible anti-gravity field in its wake.
Just outside the field, it became immediately clear just how necessary this piece of advanced Federation technology was. Beyond the radiant dome, a thick rain riddled the sky and drowned the world it fell unto. A harsh wind howled and distant thunder roared, which combined with the rain to push against the field to no avail. Within, where so many confectionaries, decorations, and other preparations had been so carefully placed, not even the paw of Solgalick could disrupt us.
“You know this would be goin’ a lot faster if I could jus’ start grabbin’ the food ma’self,” Fehnel commented in a tone too preoccupied to be annoyed.
As I ran after the hauling Yotul, I tried to say, “Fehnel, I’d really appreciate it if you would–”
“I know, I know,” she interrupted back, seemingly distant. “You want me to ‘not go into the diner during the event.’ Listen Sylvan, I get that Kahnta back there is a fainter, but don’t you think that this is a tad extreme? We’re on a tight schedule here, y’know?”
“I know… it’s just kind of a golden rule. I can’t stress to you enough how important it is that nobody does so much as peak in there,” I reiterated as I jogged alongside the speeding Yotul. “And don’t worry. Once everything starts, then you can feel free to socialize and spend the day with your daughter. I’ll take care of restocking the food.”
“I suppose that’s awful nice of ya,” Fehnel breathed out. “Sure you won’t be tirin’ yourself out, hun?”
I shrugged. “Eh. How fast could people possibly eat? It’ll be fine.”
“Careful there. Don’t wanna be sprintin’ before your legs catch up,” Fehnel chuckled. “But I’m plenty thankful for the confidence. I’ll try to hold ya to your word.”
As we moved, I was able to take a brief second to look around. I began to marvel at how far the event had come since its initial inception. And under such short time restrictions as well! Through a combination of both the Lacakdaisy’s furniture, as well as a number of decorations that I had rented, we had ended up with something that I had truly considered exemplary. In traditional Venlil style, a forest of various greenery had been set out in a colourful array of paw-crafted pots and other containers. Small bushels, flowers, a few overhanging trees, and other vegetation stood proudly within. From each, incandescent ornaments of various hues emerged in a bright and brazen display. All of which combined to transform the normally secluded street atmosphere into one that was truly cozy, if not just the slightest bit packed within the bubble. In accordance with one of Fehnel’s initial requests, we had even arranged for a small wooden stage to be brought in, which fit neatly against… something that I would rather not look at…
Of course, decorations aside, one of the most enrapturing displays was that of the food itself. Positioned at various places all around the event’s area, tables upon tables of buffet items had been laid out. It was a marvelous display on all fronts. From the generously sized serving bowls of pasta, plates of still steaming gyoza, and the diverse types and variations of strayu laid in motley rows all throughout, the feast was like a colourful microcosm of everything Kenta and I had been working towards.
But what was even more impressive were all the new additions Kenta had made. Just as expected, my wayward chef had taken the original request and spun it on its tail, seemingly pulling no stops when it came to expanding our already diverse arrangement. From end to end, small, round discs of strayu called “Danishes” lay against each other down the side of one of the tables. Most impressively, the center of each had been filled in with various hues of jam, in a similar style to that of the sylvanas that I was currently wheeling towards it.
On the other side of the same table, a sundry of embellished wooden bowls sat parallel, each filled with various kinds of Venlilian-style salads. I had taken the time to teach him such recipes a good while back, but while at first these seemed to be rather unostentatious, a quick look revealed that Kenta had added his own twist to the otherwise typical mix of local produce. Tossed about each salad were dozens of small strayu cubes called “Croutons,” each baked until crisp and crunchy. What’s more, if the olfactory receptor in my mouth didn’t deceive me, I had even picked up the heavenly aroma of something Kenta had only introduced to me recently as “Garlic,” which had clearly been infused into the cubes.
On another table, steaming crocks of both soups and stews had been laid out for guests to self serve. But in lieu of a bowl, Kenta had elected to do something truly unique. It had taken me a moment to process his idea at first, but hollowed out husks of rotund strayu loaves had been left out for guests to grab, in which they were supposed to fill the “bread bowls” – as Kenta had called them – with the soup and eat them as normal. This even came with the advantage of being able to tear off small pieces of the now soup-soaked strayu, allowing one to enjoy the taste of both simultaneously. This idea, I had soon realized, would be the hardest to explain to any confused guests that might happen by.
As we approached the soup table, Fehnel and I began loading up the cart-full of sylvanas we had brought over onto a free area. We placed them right next to one other new recipe that Kenta had decided to share. A simple display of thinly cut slices of crunchy, lightly seasoned strayu, with a bright red sauce readied next to it that I instantly recognized as being the product of tomatoes mixed with oil. According to Kenta, these “Bruschetta” were a simple, yet simultaneously alluring appetizer, which would do well to pair with the soup he had stirred up.
Once the sylvanas had been laid out, Fehnel felt the urge to ask, “Is that the last of it?”
“Yes, for now,” I replied, absentmindedly stretching my back. “This’ll cover the initial rush of hungry people, I assume. But Kahnta’s already busy working on seconds.”
“Gotta say Sylvan, this is quite the impressive spread,” Fehnel said with a quick, delighted wag of the tail. “Y’know… When I asked for somethin’ new, I wasn’t expectin’ Kahnta over there to whip up so much.”
“Oh this isn’t the new dish you asked for,” I answered flatly. “That’s still being worked on.”
Fehnel froze solid, only her ears remaining seemingly automotive as they slowly shifted towards me. “Wait… what?
“Yeah all of this is just the appetizer according to Kahnta,” I explained, messing with a few arrant sylvanas that had broken symmetry. “There’s going to be one more plate of food that should be coming out shortly. And then dessert after that.”
“That’s… surely somethin’...” was all Fehnel could say. She opened her mouth as if to continue her train of thought, only to have something else pull her attention away.
Peering out into the stormy weather of the darkened town, an eye-catchingly large herd of people were making their way towards the bright dome that sketched our event’s area. Silhouettes of familiar patrons and wayward newcomers alike huddled under their umbrellas. All the while, an excited murmur hummed throughout the air, despite the noise of the rain around them. The guests were here, and they seemed excited.
I peered down at a small data pad. “Oh, second-sun already? Looks like we just barely made it on time.”
Fehnel simply wagged in acknowledgment, still the slightest bit flabbergasted.
I nudged her side, which seemed to knock her out of her trance. “Want to go greet them?”
Taking one look at me, then peering back at the ensemble of strange and alien foods behind her, one of Fehnel’s ears flicked a little. Then, she did the tail equivalent of a Human shrug, letting out a pleased chuckle. Whatever had been on her mind was apparently pushed to the side for now. “Heh, of course hun. Let’s treat ‘em to somethin’ special.”
With a newfound kick in her already hastened step, Fehnel began to proudly jog over towards the approaching crowd. By now, we could already begin to make out some faces, each looking more curious than the last.
In addition to the Brachistochrone Inverter itself, Jeela had also taken the liberty to have a reception area installed in the form of a metallic tunnel about the width of three Venlil. The tunnel seemed to fold and bend the anti-gravity energy around it, allowing for people to easily enter the repulsion field without having to tread through a torrent of redirected rainwater. Additionally, a series of hooks alongside the interior of the tunnel also served as a convenient area for the storage of umbrellas and coats, which our guests quickly began making use of the moment they started funneling through.
Fehnel and I stood at the side of the entrance, welcoming in guest after guest with the appropriate propriety. At first, many of them were stymied in their step, staring in awe at the sanctuary-like atmosphere that had been created in the middle of the street. But almost as soon as they got their bearings, most realigned their immediate priorities, and subsequently made a beeline for the buffet tables. That’s what they were here for, after all. Hopefully they’d come to appreciate the actual reason Fehnel was hosting this event soon enough.
As we busied ourselves, the voices of many excited guests made themselves audible.
“I’ve been looking forward to this!”
“Look at the decorations!”
“I feel like I’m in the Capital!”
“Are you sure all of this is free?”
“The ad said it was! Either way, I need to try some of this!”
Fehnel and I watched in delight as the crowd began to form around the tables, a number of plates I had left out disappearing as fast as the eye could blink. However, it was clear that a majority of the attention received had been focussed solely on the more familiar menu items already offered by the Lackadaisy.
“Think they’re gonna touch any of the new stuff?” Fehnel idly commented, her attention still fixed on the crowd. “It’d be a shame if any of it goes to waste.”
“Oh they will,” I answered without hesitation. “Just give them a moment. They’ll be all over it soon enough.”
Fehnel laughed. “You sound awful confident, don’tcha?”
“Oh please, this is hardly the first time I’ve served some wacky new thing to my customers,” I answered back with a chuckle of my own. “If anything, at this point I’d say I’m quite the expert. Just watch. You’ll see.”
Like clockwork, my precognitive claim had been proven true mere moments later. Some soul amongst the table’s crowd had seemingly been more curious than the rest, and ended up taste-testing one of the bruschetta. It was hard to make out from this distance, but if I had to guess, her ears had perked up and her eyes had widened in surprise. What was made clear, however, was their opinion of the new food, because only a few moments later could their voice be heard.
“You have got to try some of this stuff!” she practically yelled at anyone who would listen. “It tastes like the red stuff that’s on the pasta, but like… even stronger! It’s so good I feel like I died and am one with the Stars already!”
Like a Farsul unto a library, the crowd collectively swiveled their ears and began to gravitate towards the bruschetta with eager eyes. A few more voices piped up in glee, each more delighted than the last as paw after paw descended on the strayu until there was nothing scarce of crumbs left.
‘Guess that’ll be the first thing I’ll need to restock,’ I thought with a passive wave of the tail, before a sudden realization crept into my mind. ‘Ugh… Kenta and I might be busier today than I thought…’
It wasn’t long before the elation of trying something new, mixed with the sudden and devastating lack of bruschetta, had urged our party guests to move on to the other, never before seen options that laid out to fill their fancy. All at once, the wall of wool and fluff had spread out the slightest bit as fresher waters were explored. Plates were filled with various salads, despite the unfamiliar bits of crunchy strayu inside raising some skeptical ears. Helping after helping of the technicolour pastries were reached for as well, with the sylvanas not lasting much longer after that. And most impressively, it seemed that people had quickly begun to figure out the concept of Kenta’s cute “bread bowl” idea as well, even without instruction.
That last turn of events had actually caught me the slightest bit off guard. For the bread bowls being quite possibly the most unique aspect of the event – well, that I knew of – I found myself rather impressed by how fast people were getting the hang of it. Sure, it meant that I wouldn’t have to bother myself with having to go around explaining it to everybody, but in my eyes, there was a bit more to it than that. Perhaps it was a case of grasping at straws, but for the briefest moment, it made me wonder whether or not Humanity’s ideas had been affecting my people more than I had realized. Perhaps, if only in the slightest, Kenta had been opening their minds to more unique ideas than I had given him credit for. Without the slightest bit of hesitancy, the partygoers did well to experiment with more than the obvious, quickly wrapping their minds around something completely new and extraordinary.
I exhaled a short-breathed snicker, shaking the thought out of my head. ‘Calm down there, Sylvan. It’s just some soup and a piece of strayu shaped like a bowl. No need to get all philosophical about it. Still, I guess them figuring it out saves me some time. Good, cause it looks like I already need to start stocking the next round…’
I moved to grab my cart so that I could head back inside, only to have Fehnel call out and grab my attention instead.
“Sylvan, hun,” she began. “Before you go makin’ yourself scarce. I think there’s somethin’ about this here party that you haven’t explained yet.”
My head turned out to face her. “Hm?”
“Now, don’t get me wrong… What you did here is great and all. By all means, whenever it is that Kadew decides to show up here with that date of hers, I’m sure she’ll start coming around to the idea of my peoples’ Runnin’ Day. But…”
I now realized that Fehnel was completely focussed on something off in the distance.
“Oh,” I replied. “That…”
I had done well to ignore it up until this point. In fact, if I tried hard enough, I was even able to keep it completely hidden from my peripheral. But the truth was, no matter where I went or what I did to distract myself, there was no denying that it was there – that She was there.
At the opposite end of the dome, an onyx terror lurked over the ignorant, complacent masses. Its wicked enormity great, and the pressure about it even greater. The form it took was terrifying. An alien pose, unknown to the mind, originated from a people feared by many. Its peering eyes descended as domineering malevolence. And from its onyx chassis, a message rang clear as a day personally forged by Solgalick themself: Even if I couldn’t see her; if I shielded herself from my sight all day… No matter what, She could always see me.
“I’m gonna be honest Sylvan, I did not take you as someone that had a thing for Magister Jeela.”
I shot back quicker than a bolt of lighting. “I DO NOT HAVE A ‘THING’ FOR–” before stopping myself short.
Luckily, my voice had not been noticed among the now loud, chattering crowd about us. Which was good. I was pretty sure that my voice had cracked into an almost childishly high pitch. Taking a deep breath, I yanked my composure back, and stuffed an air of professionalism back into my voice yet again.
“I a-appologize…” I mumbled out, my head shrinking between my shoulders.
“No worries!” Fehnel replied. She couldn’t help but let a few chuckles pour into her voice. “I was just teasin’ is all. But seriously, you’re gonna have to whip up a pretty darn good explanation… Else I’m boutta start thinkin’ that what I just said was true.”
I took a deep breath, which soon shifted into a long-winded sigh. “Listen… It was part of the deal, alright? I’m not proud of it, but it’s there now, and unless you’ve got a herd of Mazic heavylifters at the beck and call, I can’t get rid of it.”
“Part of the deal?” Fehnel repeated.
“It’s my end of the bargain for us being able to have this Inverter during the event. And no, before you ask, it was not worth it,” I explained.
I could do nothing but feel immense shame for the inconvenience. To have something so overbearing, so shamelessly grandstanding placed in the middle of what was supposed to be a quaint event about cross-cultural understanding… It was beyond disrespectful to Fehnel’s original request. It took something that the poor woman had been planning for who knew how long, and brutally morphed it into a shadow of its former self. Into nothing but an ego trip for a politician that probably already surrounded themselves with weed biters and paw lickers.
“Listen…” I said, lowering both my tail and ears in respect. “Fehnel, I apologize profusely for allowing that thing to be placed here. I should have put my paw down and just hosted the event inside like we planned. But it’s too late now. I’m really sorry…”
But to my surprise, Fehnel had not been paying attention to my display of humility. Instead, her focus was still on that of the statue.
“I think it looks neat!” she said in a cheery tone.
“Y-you do?” I mumbled back.
“Well yeah!” She wagged her tail to assure me. “Sure it’s a bit, err… unconventional… But I think it’s got quite a bit of charm to it!”
“That’s… one way of saying it…”
“Besides, it might not be the worst thing to have somethin’ from the Magisters here with us,” Fehnel continued to think out loud. “Sorta gives this whole event a kinda official feel, y’know? Like it’s lettin’ everyone here know that the Yotul have got just as much right bein’ under the same heedin’ ears of the Governor as anyone else. Sure, dependin’ on where you are and who you ask, that may or may not be a good thing. But it at least means it’s harder to ignore us now. Heck, might even convince some of the people ‘round here to open up a little to the other parts of us.”
“Well… so long as you’re happy with it, I suppose?” I worded awkwardly.
If I had been completely honest with myself, I was expecting the slightest bit more… Well, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps anger? Annoyance? Unrelenting grief that invariably led to locking yourself in a closet, crying? But there was no sign of that in the rusty Yotul’s eyes. As she stared up at the onyx marvel, I couldn’t help but feel as though there was no sign of the negativity I had anticipated in the slightest. Instead, all that remained was that of a solemn pride. Maybe she was lying to herself. Like it was some sort of coping mechanism that helped her work around this unwelcome development in her plans. But regardless, the end result remained. And I was left feeling relieved at being able to avoid yet another hurdle.
‘Fehnel really knows how to look at the optimistic side of things, I guess… Good. I could really use some more of that around here.’
“Feel free to run along now, Sylvan,” she said, waving me a satisfied flick of the tail. “I’ll keep waitin’ here so I can greet the other guests. And I do hope you and Kahnta can bring out the main course whenever it’s ready. I wanna make sure everything’s ready to blow Kadew’s fur off whenever she decides to get here.”
I had to force myself not to flash a Human smile in return. She and the rest of the partygoers had no idea what was coming. And to a certain extent, neither did I. He did mention he had some sort of “surprise” coming, after all. But I always trusted Kenta for his word, and knowing what my chef was capable of, it never occurred to me once that it wouldn’t live up to the expectations. In fact, I was counting on him to exceed them.
I turned around and headed back to the kitchen. It was time to get the real party started.
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I began crouching while I walked, hopefully concealing my body. But hiding my tracks and the sound of snow crunching beneath my feet, I’d have to keep my ground until I could discern any weapons or armor. Crouching and wading through foot high snow proved more difficult than I expected, as my grey cloak snagged itself on unseen twigs and became wet and freezing to touch. Great. I guess I’ll have to remember that in future but anyhow I was now close enough to catch a detailed glimpse of the wanderer. He had been sitting on a stump of a felled tree with his arms pressed against his knees, supporting his weight. The man was short of stature but his arms filled the sleeves of his shirt to the brim, he bore a purple cloak with brown stains and a golden insignia was embroidered on his left breast. The cloak's hood was up. One I had no knowledge of. He sported no weapon I could see though looked capable of defending himself without one. I decided I would approach him. I slowly stood from my brush and made myself known, “Greetings good sir, I see you have no one to share your fire with, may I join you?” I spoke eloquently and irenicly, hoping to have the opportunity to dry and warm myself. The man lifted his head towards me and looked me up and down, replying. “You may, although my company will only prove to be sour.” “Sour or not, I’d prefer not to be cold. Are you here alone?” I spoke with a faint smile attempting to hide my chattering teeth. I took off my saturated cloak, folded it and laid it neatly on the cold dirt to sit on. “Why yes, I’m a traveler such as yourself. Though I only spend the winter months as one.” The man shifted his weight to his right leg and pulled out a small square parcel that was wrapped in thin strips of twine. “Do you have food, I have plenty to share?” He offered it to me openly. “No I don't, sadly, I tried hunting for some rabbit but it appears the game trails are all dead. I know it’s winter but rabbits and other small animals still search for food this time of year.” I explained with my stomach growling for my own morsel. “Well that won’t do, here.” He spoke wistfully and he was distant, like his mind was elsewhere but threw the package onto my lap. It was mushy yet tough. “What is this, exactly?” I quizzed in confusion looking at the bloody paper wraps, there was some weird spherical lump right side up as well. It was perplexing, could it be seasoning of some kind? “Its meat of course, there was some good hunting near Jarlsburg this time of year. I’m on my way to Nautic Row, then traveling south and hopefully meeting the summer early in my home.” The stranger smiled looking blankly and deep into the base of the fire, reminiscing on some past days it seems. I set the package aside for a moment and rose from my makeshift seat, searching for a stick to roast my newly received goods. “Are you traveling from the north? I heard there have been terrible blizzards these past weeks and more so than usual years.” Struggling to find a dry skewer the man offered me an iron spit in which I graciously accepted, “Thank you once again, culinary gift giver haha.” He gave me a look of wild bewilderment in response. His eyebrows raised to an unreasonable height, wrinkling his forehead into folds of skin. At that moment I caught a glimpse of his hair, it was slicked black and was salt and pepper grey. “Haha apologies, I haven’t even asked for your name so what is it?” I amended before he could speak. “My name? It’s uh It’s Kartrid, Kartrid Boarson and somewhat when I passed through they seemed tame but I never heard of such rumours.” He spent a moment pondering before he answered as if it were something he used to be called or he had forgotten. This fellow is odd and standoffish but he has given me food and warmth, to leave now would be rude and an insult to his hospitality. “My name is Signe, a pleasure to meet you Kartrid.” I began unwrapping my meal as I returned to my cloak cushion, taking off the twine was a chore as it was knitted tight and then paper was wet and sticking to the meat. As I lifted the last fold of paper the spherical object rolled onto my lap. It was a human eye, the iris was a hazel brown and the capillaries were a dark red bloodshot, the cord still dangled from where it was connected to the brain. My immediate reaction was to jump to my feet and scream, “WHAT IN ODIN’S SCROTE IS THAT, A MAN’S E-!” Before I finished my exclamation I felt something smite the back of my neck and base of my skull, I immediately fell and rolled around in the muddy, freezing snow. My thoughts had gone whizzing from my head and joined the starry night. I'm not sure who had hit me but I held the back of my head as if that would stop the pain. I was still conscious, I can get up and do something, I can still fight. As I began to stumble to my feet, my head thrummed with pain and the sound of the smack rebounded off the bone in my cranium. “A resilient one eh, well customers WILL be pleased.” The voice wasn’t that of the traveler, this man’s voice was croaky and dry, like he had gone without water for a week. “Shut up and finish him, I WOULD like to get out of this infernal cold.” Spat the purple cloaked man, not wasting another moment to put out the fire. As the fire's heat began to suffocate my own consciousness melted into myself. Second by second I slipped deeper into the confines of my head and began to dream. A dream in which you never want to leave, one where you manifest your own warmth, your own happiness and your own world with you being the only inhabitant.

When I was looking through the finished chapter folder today, one was missing, and I got worried that I deleted it on accident. Turns out it was at the top of the folder instead of the bottom, because I put a space in the title that wasn't supposed to be there. So, crisis averted, I guess.
Many thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for the universe.
Enjoy.
Prev - First - Next
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Chapter 14: Hydrophobic
- Memory Transcription Subject: Meba, Venlil Computer Scientist
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 20th, 2136
It was comfy.
I wasn’t sure about the whole ‘scarf’ thing, but after finishing it, and putting it on, I actually liked it quite a bit. Finishing it wasn’t even hard, all I had to do was bring the end of the yarn through the last loop and weave in the end, which was a breeze with a little help from Arlene.
She helped me put it on. Apparently, there was a nearly infinite number of ways to wear the garment. Anything from braids, to knots, to wraps, to simply dangling from the neck. It was truly amazing how many ways humans managed to use a simple strip of fabric.
She showed me several different ways to tie it. First only draping it around my neck, then showing me how to do the ‘once around’, next tying a ‘Parisian’ knot, and finally showing me a braided one that was really just a modified version of the Parisian, where instead of bringing both ends through the loop, you only put one through, and then give it a half turn, put the other end in, and repeat until the ends are completely integrated into the braid.
Arlene made a weird squealing noise. “Okay hold on, I need to take a picture of this.” She pulled out her phone and took shots of me from several angles, even pulling the camera right up to my snout at one point, and causing me to flinch.
She turned the phone around to reveal an extremely distorted, and equally unflattering close up of my face. “Everybody loves a fish eye filter.”
I didn’t know what to say. The disrespect was palpable.
“Oh, let me show you a trick.” She undid the braid, taking the scarf and wrapping it around front to back, and bringing the ends back around and down through the loop at the front. Then she took the back part, and brought it over the back of my head in a hood, having a bit of trouble getting it past my wool, and pressing my ears down towards the front of my face. I liked the Parisian better.
“This is really uncomfortable.” My voice sounded muffled with the hood flattening my ears.
“Okay, okay. Just let me get one picture.” She pointed the phone at me again.
Once she was done with her ‘photoshoot’, I took off the scarf. “Is this really that enjoyable for you?”
“Extremely. You have no idea how cute this is. I’ll make one with ear holes for you so you can wear the hood comfortably next time.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever need that much insulation.”
“You never know. What if you go to the night for some reason?”
“Despite my heritage, I don’t have much of a thing for freezing temperatures.”
“Well, it’s up to you. Do you like it?”
I folded up the scarf and put it into my bag. “It’s comfy. Like a hug.”
She smiled. “It looks good on you too.”
My tail wagged of its own accord. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Hold on, let’s get one more picture.” She pulled out her phone again, and crouched next to me to match my height, pointing the camera towards us both. “Smile!”
Flustered, I struggled to make the foreign expression. Arlene put her arm around my shoulder, and took the picture.
“There we go, Dad’s gonna get a kick out of that… once I actually get a way to send it to him.” She tapped away at the screen for a moment. “How much time do we have before we need to leave for dinner?”
“A quarter claw or so.”
“Okay, perfect. Since we have some time…” She smiled. “You wanna learn how to spin thread?”
“Sure.”
Her smile deepened. “Okay okay, come on, let me show you how.” She nearly sprinted over to the spinning wheel.
I followed, though not nearly as eager.
“Sit down.” She ordered, bringing up a chair next to the contraption.
I obliged. Arlene loomed over me, looking even larger while I sat in the wooden seat. A pointless shiver went up my spine.
She brought a little bag of rolags next to the wheel, placing it on the ground, then turning to the wheel.
“It’s already set up, but I’ll redo it so you can see how.” She removed the bobbin from its spot. “Before you start, you need a bit of yarn to start off, so you can attach the new fibers to it.” She tied a loop in the end of the yarn, and slotted the bobbin back in with a clack. “It goes in like this. Then we set the tension, which is how much the bobbin will pull on your side of the yarn. You change it using this little knob down here.” She twisted the knob back and forth a few times for effect. “It should be fine for you, just tell me if it’s pulling too hard.”
I flicked an ear.
“Okay, so we bring the yarn along the hooks here, towards this hole, which is called the orifice. I have a little hook here to pull the yarn through.” She stuck it in, then pulled the yarn back through, and handed it to me.
The yarn was fine; a single strand of wool, though I knew it was actually a tangle of several. As I slid my paw pad along the yarn, it felt slightly fuzzy in my paws, with a few errant hairs struggling to escape.
“Don’t grab it so hard. Try to be firm, but gentle.”
I adjusted my grip. “Better?”
“I wont really know for sure until you start. Let’s try the treadle. You play an instrument?”
“No, why?”
What would music have to do with this?
“Well, just pretend that you do. You need to keep a steady beat so the speed stays constant. Put your foot on the treadle and give it a try.” She smiled.
“Okay then.” I put my paw down, and gave it a push. As the wheel turned, my paw was soon lifted back up from the floor, then reaching the apex of the turn. Instinctively, I pushed down again, and the wheel gained yet more speed. Then, I misplaced my next push, and sent the wheel turning the other way.
A pat on my shoulder. I didn’t realize I was so tense. “Relax, it’s hard at first. Just keep trying. You gotta be gentle with it; you don’t want it to go too fast. You had the right idea before, just let it move your foot, and give it a little tap when needed… oh, and be careful not to let go of the yarn.”
“Uh huh… thanks.” I tried again, paying more attention to my timing now. Keeping the speed consistent was harder than it looked. However, while I didn’t think of myself as more coordinated than the average venlil, I think I was getting the hang of it.
“There ya’ go. That’s pretty good. Can you try changing directions?”
How the brahk am I supposed to do that?
I looked up at her, then back to the wheel, when my concentration faltered.
“Just push down before it goes over the top of the spin. It’s basically what you’re doing now, but in reverse.”
Just keeping it spinning was hard enough. Turning it around? Nope, that wasn’t gonna happen.
“Come on, you can do it.”
Ugh.
I attempted to get it to turn in the other way, to no avail; when I pushed down, it still went over the apex of the turn, and I didn’t take the pressure off fast enough, so it sped up way more than before, throwing me off beat.
“Brahk.” I spat, claws from my free paw digging into my thigh. My face burned with bloom.
The wheel slowed to a crawl, then a stop, lifeless. My eyes fixed on it like hooks to meat.
“Hey, don’t worry, just give it another shot.”
“Y-yeah.” I gave it another push, repeating until it was up to speed. The machine made a gentle whirring as it turned.
I watched the treadle, and the plank that attached it to the wheel. After a few more rotations, I gave it a big push in the other direction, and it slowed greatly. The next rotation, I gave it another push, and it turned around.
“Woo! You did it!”
Arlene’s yelling startled me, and I stopped.
“Let’s get you spinning some thread now.” She gave me a big teeth bearing grin.
I tried not to look at her mouth too hard. “Okay.”
She grabbed a rolag from the pile. “It’s probably best if I just show you.”
“Alright.”
Arlene roughed up the end of the rolag, then she grabbed the yarn from my hand, and looped the fibers around the loop. “Could you start it up again?”
“Yeah.”
Once the wheel was spinning, she slid her fingers down the rolag; the whole thing constricted into a length of yarn, due to the twist.
After it twisted up, she fed it into the orifice, which promptly swallowed it up, and then she repeated the process: thinning out the rolag a bit, sliding the twist in, and feeding it into the machine. She did this 6 times before she ran out of fiber. But that didn’t stop her; she just grabbed another rolag and pressed the feathery end into the yarn, and continued. Three more times, and she stopped.
She motioned for me to stop pedaling. “You get all that?”
I blinked. “It doesn’t look too hard.”
“Let’s get to it then.” She handed me the fibers, and stood back, a thumb pointing up to the sky.
I took them in my paws, and held them in a firm grip, so they wouldn’t come out of my hands when I started pedaling. The wheel came up to speed, blurring slightly. My vision narrowed to the singular point in front of me: the fiber. Heartbeats felt like footsteps in my chest, my breathing slow. I felt the fiber; how it pulled against my paws, the roughness of the strands, the texture of the wool. Drafting a bit of the fibers out, I slid my paw pads along the fiber, to let a little twist into it. It strangled into a single line of yarn. Slowly, carefully, I fed it into the orifice, all while keeping the wheel turning at a reasonable speed. There were bits where the yarn was thicker, and thinner, where I failed to keep the fibers consistent. Particles of dust played in the corner of my vision.
Repeat.
The bumps slid against my paw pads like thorns, though I tried to squish them down. I didn’t know how you were supposed to get rid of them. I pulled along the fiber, feeling the twist rub against me. Another length into the bobbin.
Repeat.
My claws slid along the fibers, twist came in, I fed it into the orifice. Repeat. I drafted more fiber, slid along it, and fed it into the orifice. Repeat. I struggled to pull apart the fibers, so I slowed down the wheel’s speed. Repeat. When I untwisted part of the yarn in my paws, the fiber came apart easier. Repeat. Every now and then, I would grab more yarn from the pile, and attach it to the yarn. My leg burned from the constant motion. Repeat.
Repeat, repeat, repeat,
Instead of hitting wool, my paw struck air. I was out. I sopped pedaling, and the wheel came to a stop.
Arlene struck her hands together in a rhythmic motion. “Good job!” She had moved to the other side of the machine from her original place beside me, and I didn’t even notice. “I was going to show you how to feed the yarn evenly onto the bobbin, but you were so focused I just decided to change the hooks for you. Seriously, you’re a natural; I’ve never seen someone get it so fast.”
My mouth was dry from thirst. How long had I been spinning? I glanced around the room. “W-what time is it?”
Arlene grabbed the end of the fibers from my paws and tied it around an extrusion on the machine. “I think you started about forty minutes ago.” She scratched at her head. “Sorry, that’s uh…”
“So not long?” I asked. My perception of time was completely off. It felt like I had just sat down, though that was obviously not the case.
“Yeah.” She replied. “Wanna take a look at your yarn?”
An ear flick later, and she was humming some Earth tune while removing the bobbing from the spinning wheel, tying off the end of the fiber in an overhand knot to keep it from unraveling. After a moment of inspection, she passed the bobbin to me.
“It’s damn good work for your first time.” She said bluntly.
I ran a paw along the bundled yarn. “There’s a bunch of bumps.”
“Come on, I didn’t even show you how to control the thickness yet. You should be proud.” Arlene ordered, with a slap on the back that struck a cough out of me.
She was just being nice, I knew. Arlene was like that; she would probably praise me even if I somehow managed to destroy the wheel. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit happy about it. I made this. I was holding it in my own two paws.
“Thanks.” I tried to smile.
“Aw, you’re welcome.” Arlene smiled back. It was warm.
“We should get going, or we’ll be late.” I said, handing her the bobbin back.
“Sure, give me a sec.” She replied, grabbing a pocket umbrella from the other room. I considered the claim that humans could smell rain before it started dubious at best. Though, it might have been a good idea to check the weather report.
---
I should have listened.
So much rain, and that’s not even mentioning the wind. Anything that wasn’t blown away was pummeled, including us. We huddled under the singular human umbrella, which was wholly insufficient to shield us from the raindrops. We were shuffling towards the restaurant at a painfully slow pace, Arlene unbuttoning her coat to drape its hydrophobic veil around the both of us. From the outside, we probably looked like a horrid chimera of venlil and human, with tough stitched skin, stretching under powerful muscles. It’s a good thing we didn’t have to worry about other pedestrians. It was too late to go back now.
Arlene said something, but I couldn’t hear it over the rain and the wind.
“What?!” I asked.
“I said! Are we close!?” She yelled in response.
“What?!”
She brought the coat around our heads to shield from the wind. “Are we almost there?!”
“Almost!” I said, throat scratchy.
On the horizon—no, it wasn’t the horizon, it was just the edge of our vision in the wet hell we were trapped in—a spattering of warm neon lights shot through the endless layers of water like a photon cannon, while each speck of liquid reflected the shiny oasis, beckoning us closer with promises of warmth and comfort. Arlene slipped on a puddle, her boots caked thick with mud, the rubber treads no longer providing traction. I helped her to steady herself, and almost fell myself.
I saw movement in the window of the establishment, the details of which I couldn’t place. A drop of rain charged straight into my eye, and I lost focus.
There was a small awning above the door, but it didn’t do much to help against the rain, completely useless against the nearly sideways path of the water. Though, at least we weren’t completely soaked. Arlene’s coat was a boon I couldn’t have predicted. I was beginning to see the appeal of human apparel; I couldn’t imagine traveling through such weather with just my wool, or, stars forbid, nothing but skin. Though, that wouldn’t stop my brain from trying.
The rain like gunfire, wind stinging like nettles, piercing right through your insignificant form. Bones rattling with imminent death, breath frozen in the lungs.
We both wiped our feet on the doormat, which was as soaked as everything else. Arlene heaved the door open with excessive force, completely void of concern for the reaction of those inside the building, which was… sub-optimal, to say the least.
I had not yet noticed what an expensive place it was, but as soon as I spotted the two waitstaff near the entrance, I couldn’t help but say a prayer for my wallet, and our survival. Both of them nearly jumped out of their wool as soon as we entered, and almost immediately after, the more confident of the two stepped forward to shove us right back out the doors.
“Get out, get out! You’ll scare the patrons!” He hissed, below the chatter of the dining area.
“We’re not going back into the storm.” Arlene informed him.
“Oh yes you are, human.” The waitstaff corrected.
“We do not serve predators in this establishment.” The second educated further.
You’re not going to let them speak to her like that, are you?
I flicked my tail in disgust, and my voice bounded forth with unprecedented spirit. “Are you brahking dense? You can’t refuse service because she’s human.”
“What a farce. Do you seriously expect the exterminators to comply with that drivel?” The first questioned.
“Who in their right mind would let a blood thirsty animal into a place for eating? Do you want to get someone killed? Or are you just as mad?” Reiterated the second.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I inquired calmly.
Arlene grabbed me by the shoulders. “Hey, calm down. They’re just doing their jobs.”
Jobs? What do jobs have to do with this?
“You must be some sort of mad if you think we’re going back into that storm.” I explained.
The first waitstaff sighed. “Do you even have a reservation?”
“Of course we do!” I pulled my datapad out from its pocket. It wouldn’t turn on.
“What’s wrong?” Arlene asked.
“The rain killed it.” I replied.
“No reservation? I figured.” Said the first waitstaff, with an extremely punchable look on his face. “Then, if you please. Get. Out.”
“Now hold on just a second,” Arlene said, with palms raised in some sort of odd threat display. “it’s murder out there. Won’t you let us stay at least until the rain lets up?”
“Most certainly not.” Said the first.
“Not a chance.” Echoed the second.
“Look, I’m sorry about my friend, he’s on edge because of the storm. We won’t be long, just until it’s safe to leave.” She pleaded.
Some of the people dining noticed the commotion at the door, and more than a few shot sidelong glances at us. Gusts of wind blew against the door, shaking it against the little foyer we were standing in.
As the waitstaff were about to give their rebuttal, I spotted a familiar coat near the back of the dining room, ducking out from behind a covered booth. A small figure, with sandy fur, and a look of endless confidence on his face: Gram. He made his way towards the entrance, stopped a few paces from the foyer, rubbed his eyes, pinched himself, rubbed his eyes again, and then hid a deranged snicker behind his paw.
“H-hey Meba.” He let out a muffled giggle. “Doormen giving you trouble?”
I rolled my eyes.
Gram addressed the waitstaff. “Don’t worry, he’s with me.”

Hello everyone!
I am planning to buy an android phone. I am currently using an iPhone 11 promax and MiPad 5 for gaming.
I used to have Poco Phone F1 yung unang labas na version I could say that no other phone could beat it in terms of graphics and heavy gaming. Kaya lang my Poco phone f1 died yung suspect ko is yung genshin, yung battery nya keeps draining simula nung triny kong laruin yung genshin. I tried ipaayos but still nabalik after a month yung pag drain ng battery. That’s why I switched to Mipad for Gaming.
However, I may need to switch na on phone because Mipad is too large to carry for my kikay bag. And I need another phone for my other simcard / may used it as a work phone.
Can you recommend a phone that can be compared to poco f1 in terms of gaming, pics and such?
My first in mind is Samsung fold cause I like watching movies on big screens but that was pricey. I don’t think they sell LG ThinQ here in Philippines which I would like to buy instead of fold though.
Thank you in advance!

Hey, so you ever get a birthday present that's so not your style, but you really can't return it because it'd be really awkward? Normally it's like, I dunno. Shoes, or shirts or something like that, right?
For me it was four fire-breathing horses.
Okay, so I should clarify. My dad didn't really give me four fire-breathing ponies to keep. It was more of a test for him to treat me like his son again.
See, I just recently got out of a Styx oath that would have led me to eternal damnation if I didn't fulfill it. It's a long story, but to keep it short: I swore an oath on the Styx to be a brave hero by my eighteenth birthday when I really should have just pinkie promised. But yeah. My dad, God of War and dad of the year took it well. …In that he pretty much said that I was a waste of space, disowned me and he'd personally hand me over to the Styx for eternal damnation.
Nice guy. Really should get into motivational speeches.
The night before, after riding the high of not having the threat of being sent to Super Hell I had a pretty bad dream. I mean, it wasn’t the normal David nightmare. It wasn't me killing endless hordes of monsters while my dad laughed at how pathetic I was.
Well, half of that. It was just my dad. To be honest, rather I’d take the monsters.
He was laughing at me, with that smug face of his, in that all-leather biker outfit with the shades that made him look even more like an asshole, as if that's hard to believe.
Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to cuss. Anyways yeah. Me and my dad. Not the best relationship, even by demigod standards.
He gave me a toothy grin, like a shark’s as he circled around me. I instinctively stood up straight, at attention. As much as I hate my dad, ticking off a god is a pretty dumb thing to do. Plus, I was pretty dumbfounded to see him here in my dream of all things.
“Well, color me surprised. To be honest, boy, I thought I'd end up taking care of this myself. So, congratulations on that front. But, sorry to burst your bubble, it might be good enough for ol’ Styxy but…it’s not good enough for me. But, you know, I'm a generous guy! Prove me you're a warrior. Do that, and I'll welcome you back in the family with open arms. I even got the perfect way for you to prove yourself.”
Without warning, he tossed me a set of keys with a miniature boar-headed keychain and a really big switchblade on the end of it. I fumbled with it before slipping it into my pocket.
“An oldie but a goodie. Used to let my sons prove themselves to me all the time with this one. Now, I'm sure once you see what I got planned you'll know the rules, considering you're a fuckin’ nerd. But in case you forget…”
He lowered his shades, revealing balls of fire as he glared right at me.
“Sundown. My temple. Don't be late or I'll toss you in the Styx myself. Well! Have fun, yeah? I'm looking forward to watching you fail this one, like your last quest. Now, get up. Clock’s ticking after all…”
“Gaah!”
I snapped my eyes open, falling out of my bed and onto the hard floor under me. As soon as I hit the floor, I could hear one of my many siblings start to stir from their sleep. Immediately, my sister Tiffany started to sigh as she shot up from her bed. I could see her pastel pink sleep mask perched on her head as she glared into the darkness of the early morning. She groaned in frustration, her words cutting through the quiet of the dawn.
"What the hell are you idiots doing?"
To be fair, I could see why she’d think that. Most of my siblings were fond of pranking each other every now and then. The chaos of the Ares cabin was unmatched from most cabins, except maybe Hermes. But, when you cut off her beauty sleep, the threat of an angry Tiff was usually was enough to make nighttime a truce. Usually.
My sister rubbed her eyes and looked down at me. I sheepishly gave a smile as I rubbed my head, still sore from when it hit the floor.
"Seriously, David?"
Tiffany got out of bed and silently made her way to me. She wordlessly held out a hand and I grasped at it as she pulled me up.
"Thanks Tiff. I had this dream, where Dad called me a nerd and was talking to me about testing me now that my Styx Oath is..."
I felt something hard and metallic poke against my leg, from my sweats pocket. I pulled out the unfamiliar object and to my surprise, there were the same keys from my dream. My eyes widened as I realized that my dream was a little bit more than usual demigod stuff.
"Oh. That...wasn't a dream."
She raised an eyebrow as she looked at the keys that sat in my hand. I played with the accessories, absentmindedly feeling the boar head and the switchblade knife. She leaned in, peering at the keys as the dawn started to rise.
"What the hell are those for?"
She looked to the keys, then back at my face, and then the keys again. She looked at me as if I just said that Kronos was about to come back and throw an ice cream party courtesy of the Titans.
"You're telling me Dad gave those to you or something? You're joking. Have to be."
I shook my head, but I could see why she thought so. I was pretty sure I was near the bottom, if not at the bottom of his list of favorite kids. If I was being honest, I was pretty sure he wanted me dead more than a few times.
"Tiff, you know that I'm not exactly Dad's favorite by a long shot. Why would I say something like that and risk him getting even mad more mad at me because of my lying? Dad disowned me, remember? He mentioned something along the line in my dream that if I pass his test I'd be treated as one of his sons again but he didn't mention what it..."
The gears started turning as I looked at the keys in my hands.
”A test…keys…sundown…oh no. Oh, no.”
I immediately pocketed up my keys and started putting on my shoes. No time for pants, sweats would do just fine, I just had to make sure to take my wallet with me, considering I was going to New York now. I had to be quick or this test was over before it even started.
"No. I...I think I know what it is. But if I'm right, then shoot I gotta get going then! Before our brothers take it."
In hindsight, I probably should have told Tiff a bit about my thoughts. But, the more I delayed the more issues that could have cropped up. I just had to make sure it was safe.
"Take what? Where the hell are you going?!"
I burst out of the cabin, staring at what was in front of our cabin. I felt a bit of nervousness bubble up as my thoughts were proven true. Tiffany was close behind me as she walked outside our cabin. I looked at her face and caught an expression of wonder as whatever she was going to ask me was forgotten. Parked in front of the cabin was a red and gold Harley. The seat was white leather and gave a sorta…humany vibe to it that I did not wanna think about. Only one thing came to mind, something I knew instinctively from the moment I saw it. Dad's War Chariot.
Or as the god of war would call it, his chariot.
"I...I think dad wants me to take his ride for a spin."
I ran my hand over the cold metal, and I realized what Dad meant about the “oldie but a goodie.” A while back, before the Second Titan war ended, and all of the children of the gods had to be claimed, there was a ritual all sons of Ares went through. It was something all my brothers did at fifteen. Drive around his Chariot and return it before sundown. It wasn't easy, my Godly siblings, Phobos and Deimos both loved to mess with whoever was in charge of the chariot at the time. And you had to deal with monsters too, but overall when it came to demigod stuff it wasn’t the most dangerous around. I dunno if that says a lot about how dangerous this life can get though.
But, shortly after the then-counselor Clarisse La Rue became the first girl to do it, Dad pulled the plug. I dunno if it was good ol’ sexism, someone totaling it, or dad not wanting to let all of his kids drive his ride, either way it wasn't super common nowadays. It wasn't like he stopped, but it was something given, not a right. Dad letting me do this was him at least giving me a chance to prove myself to be one of his kids, which was more than I expected to be honest.
I took a breath as I looked at Dad’s ride, feeling a pit of unease in my stomach as I started to climb in. If it wouldn't end up with me being tormented for the rest of my short life, I'd tell him no and go back to sleep. But, telling a god no, especially my dad is a neat way to be turned into a rodent. Or a fine red paste. Or a rodent that would be turned into said paste.
Tiffany's brows furrowed as she processed my words, a layer of disbelief on her face as she chewed over it.
You? He wants you to drive it? I...that...what the hell?"
I fought off a wince as she looked at me, then the ride, then back at me again. I could tell she was a bit annoyed. I mean, yeah from her perspective I was singled out by dad to do something she probably wanted to do for a while. I felt a pit of guilt in my stomach, it wasn't fair, really. But at the same time I had to do this.
"I mean, seriously? He must be out-"
She cut herself off. Calling my dad crazy was another way to get turned into a rat that would then be turned into a fine paste. Actually a lot of things carried the threat, my dad is kinda a jerk. I sighed, figuring I might as well tell her about why Dad was doing this. I didn't wanna hide it, but it's not like I like to talk about the fact that I've been disowned for two years. She knew, most of us did. But it's not something I like bringing up, because yeah. It sucks.
"I read a bit about previous Ares campers. He used to do this more often, at first only his sons did, but later his daughters could. I dunno why he stopped but, this isn't really like he's doing it because he's proud of me. I'm sorta disowned, remember? He said if I can drive the chariot, he'll take me back as one of you guys again. It's...more of a test to earn myself back into his good graces, I think.”
Tiffany listened to my explanation, not saying anything for a bit She looked a bit bothered about the fact that I was chosen to drive the Chariot, which again, not surprising.
"Ugh, I guess that makes sense."
I could hear the frustration in her voice as she crossed her arms. I winced again, preparing for her to resent or hate me. But to my surprise, I heard her add more in a softer voice.
"Well, don't get yourself killed trying to pass this stupid test, I don't want to have to explain to everyone why you're not coming back."
Her icy tone defrosted as she looked back at me with a bit of concern in her eyes. She seemed less annoyed and more worried about me, which was sweet. Not that I'd let her hear that. I hoped that maybe, dad would let her give it for a spin later down the road. If anyone deserved it, it would be her. I gave a nervous laugh as I took the keys out of my pocket.
"Of course, I passed my Styx Oath, didn't I? It'd be really dumb of me to die right after barely avoiding that, right? Oh, yeah. If Ellie asks for me, tell her about dad's little test he has for me. Hopefully it won't be too long but you know how it is with godly stuff. I should be back in time for us to hang out for the rest of my birthday once I do this for dad. I'll bring back something cool!”
I felt my trepidation fade away as I prepared to drive. Lots of my siblings dreamed of piloting the chariot. It wouldn't be right to reject the opportunity when it was given to me. And, who knows? Getting back in Dad's good graces (or as much as one can get in them) might help me out. At least I would have one less target on my back. As I sat down in the white leather seat, I put the keys in the ignition and instantly it began to morph.
OOC:Read this while listening to whats coming up
The front split apart into one steel horse that slowly split into two, and then four cream-colored horses that looked around with a cruel intelligence. The seat dipped, and warped before it became a horse-drawn chariot I was now standing in. The chariot was gold and blood red, adorned with the lovely images of people dying gruesome deaths, because Dad's taste in decor is somewhere between military surplus and serial killer, apparently.
“Okay…so, I need to get to Dad's temple before sundown. I don't know New York highways though, so how can I…oh hey! A gps!”
My fingers brushed against a touch screen set up on the chariot and punched The Intrepid into the coordinates. I gave one last wave to my sister before I lashed the horses and they immediately took off. I led them out of camp easily enough, but as we reached the highway they sped up to an impossible speed for a chariot. Their speed was even faster than any cars on the highway, rivaling the time that Aphrodite camper drove us to the beach once. I pulled back on the reins, trying to get them to slow down. Instead, they gave a rebellious snort and went even faster.
I would like to say that I embraced my inner Ares kid and relished the challenge. But I'm not going to lie, when you end up going past 80 MPH in a chariot, you tend to think you're going to die, fun fact. I screamed for most of the way, yanking and pulling at their reins so we could bob and weave through traffic.
It's a bit of a drive from Camp Half-Blood to New York City, I know it well, it’s a pretty common place for me to go for some monster slaying. But, up until now, I've been in the passenger seat while Argus drives. The speed of the horses really made the time go by faster. As we entered the city, the horses started to slow down and I felt a ray of hope as I started to steer them through the city. I gave a triumphant laugh as I looked down at my ETA. It was surprisingly quick, considering how congested New York can get. And I didn't see hide or hair of either one of my godly brothers, so I felt pretty good, all things considered.
“Huh. That's weird. There's not many cars today…my luck must be turning around!”
“Traffic update: Incoming Monsters. Rerouting. Cannot reroute.”
“Huh?”
Immediately, a massive boar the size of a garbage truck burst from a nearby alley way behind me. Behind the massive pig, two armored bank cars recklessly merged into traffic. One leaned out, revealing a gray-skinned human in body armor brandishing a shotgun.
“Of course! I had to open my big mouth! Is there anything that I’m going to have to deal with?”
“You are on the fastest route!”
“Well that’s just GREAT! Now I can be on the quickest way to the underworld!”
”Rerouting to: D.O.A. Records, Los Angeles.”
“Woah, woah, woah, no! Keep me on The Intrepid! The Intrepid!”
Seeing all these enemies together though, I started to put a thought in my head. They all had something in common, now that I saw them all in front of me. A boar was sacred to Ares, Spartoi too came from a dragon sacred to him. I put the pieces together as I saw the monsters come out of the woodwork and all to me. Now things made sense. The lack of Phobos and Deimos, the sacred beings to Ares, the lack of mortals on the street.
I didn't see my siblings because Dad wanted to mess with me personally.
Even now, I don't know if he wanted to test me in a Spartan way, or if he just wanted to get rid of me without kinslaying. Either way, I couldn't back down now. Not when I was so close. I snapped on the reins and the rebellious horses continued on their path, bickering and weaving left and right as they snorted and whinnied.
I heard the wiz of something traveling through the air and quickly moved out of the way. A metal feather hit the chariot, bouncing off the hull and onto the ground. I looked up and saw a few birds. They were black and crow-like, but their feathers had a metallic sheen, like iron. Their wings flapped and I heard the sound of metal on metal as they soared above me.
“Dad called in feather-shooters too? Come on!”
I steered left and right as I evaded the metal feathers shooting at me. The newcomers behind me quickly gained as I bobbed and weaved. I had to figure a way out of this, and fast. Problem was, I was quickly outnumbered and outmatched. I wasn't the best at archery, and my sword could shoot a blast of force, courtesy of the then Forgemaster. Main issue was it took a bit to charge, and I couldn't take them on so high up.
I couldn't run. I needed to fight out of this. But even if I could fight the two Spartoi and the big pig, the problem was the birds. I didn't have a ranged option…or did I? I looked to the horses, breathing embers as they huffed and pulled the chariot further on. Ares kids couldn't talk to horses, but these were godly horses. They seemed smarter than your average horse. Maybe I could talk them into behaving, the same way I got some of my siblings to listen to the plan during Capture the Flag.
“Hey guys, are you bored? I'm sure Dad and my brothers take all the good fights, huh? You know, if you guys continue fighting each other, I might lose this and you guys will miss out on a good fight.”
At first, I thought it fell on deaf ears. But then, they stopped their jostling and started to take a more unified path as we raced along the streets. Like I thought, they enjoyed a good fight as much as their owner did.
“That's what I like to see. Look, we're pretty surrounded right now. What do you say we rampage a bit before I take you guys home?”
An evil-sounding whinny came from the horses. I couldn’t really speak horse, but I took that as an okay and pointed at the birds above us. Did I feel stupid? Kinda. But as long as it worked, I couldn’t complain.
“See them? All yours. I'll cover you guys from the ground forces, and in exchange, you guys fall in line. Alright?”
A burst of fire came from one of the horses in response and I heard a loud squawk as it engulfed one of the feather-shooters. I breathed a sigh in relief as the rest of the birds started to scatter. They veered left and right in an attempt to avoid the flaming streams that were now sporadically being fired in their direction.
“Alright! Good job, I'll leave it to you!”
I gave a smile as I turned behind to my land-based foes, quickly gaining on me. I could hear the occasional woosh of fire as the horses fought the birds. One of the armored trucks caught up to my right and one of the spartoi leaned out of the vehicle. They aimed down the sights and pointed their shotgun at me.
“Sudden traffic in your area. You will be delayed by…five minutes. You are still on the fastest route!”
“Woah, that’s not fair! Come on Dad! A gun? Really!?”
I felt a tug in my stomach. It wasn’t something I could do a lot in a row without being exhausted, but I had some sorta pull when it came to weapons. When I gave a command, they were able to fall right out of their owner’s hands.
“Alright, let’s even the playerfield shall we?”
I held out my hand and they dropped it, the gun fell onto the ground, crushed by the wheels of the car. The second caught up to my left and once again, a spartoi leaned out of their car, weapon in hand.
“Another one!? Come on! How am I going to…”
I was jerked to the side as the horses suddenly veered right. At first, I thought it was the horses misbehaving again, but then a monstrous squeal came from behind me, rushing forwards.
Crash
I heard the sound of steel groaning as the boar rushed past the truck, pushing their truck out of the way as they aggressively charged forward. It was a good thing I managed to get out of the way, or else I would have been in trouble. I could see the spartoi shaking their fist as they spun out, their car massively dented with a massive gash in the armor. Now that I had to deal with two enemies, I decided to use the boar’s momentum to my advantage. I pulled back on the reins and the boar kept barreling on, too fast to stop as I made the chariot suddenly stop and then take a sudden turn away from the temple. The boar ran straight into a brick wall, seemingly dazed but otherwise okay.
”Rerouting...”
That temporarily took care of two of my enemies. Now that I had one to worry about, and my horses were pretty steady, I could start this fight in earnest. I kept one hand on the reins as I grabbed my Miku keychain. I unclipped it, and the keychain turned into a katana, with said keychain still on the bottom. It was my sword, Anime (I want to clarify, my friend Jules named it, not me). One of the Spartoi readied a spear and lunged at me. I parried it with my blade, and stabbed at their chest. I felt my blade plunge into their body. I pulled away at it, slashing at it again to tear it apart. To my disappointment though, the monster quickly reformed.
I don't know what I expected, to be honest. They wouldn't be much of an immortal soldier if they died after the first hit. But it bought me valuable time as we pushed forward. Almost as soon as its bones knit back together, it struck at me. I guarded once again, my sword starting to glow brighter and brighter with each strike. Our blades clashed and separated again and again for, I don’t know how long to be honest. I was putting up a good fight, but I just couldn’t gain the upperhand in that fight. For starters, if it was a monster or even a demigod it’d be ten ways to Tartarus at the moment. But, no matter how I sliced or diced it, the immortal soldier kept on coming back. Also, I just wasn't used to multitasking like that, I held on as tightly as I could, but the brief times I practiced Chariot combat with my friends Jules and Cel, I was either driving or fighting. Both at the same time was hard, and I was lucky that the horses were so cooperative.
I heard the whinny of one of the horses ahead as I looked back to the front. No sign of the birds meant that there was a few extra-crispy feather-shooters along the road somewhere, which was good news. But then, I looked out in front and realized that there was a big problem. One of the trucks we left behind somehow got in front of us, blocking the road with their car. Five spartoi were standing outside of the car, swords and spears drawn as they headed the chariot off.
At this moment, I knew I was screwed. I was too fast to just stop. And, even if I did stop, I’d have to deal with all the angry skeleton men chasing me down. I just winced, bracing for impact. But then, I heard a neigh as the horses pulling my chariot started to turn into steel and combined once more. The chariot started to shift, the creak of metal folding and turning. I quickly sheathed my sword as the reins turned into chrome handlebars which I gripped like my life depended on it. The chariot continued to morph until once again it was a motorcycle with flame patterns. I veered as left as I could, narrowly avoiding hitting the side of a nearby building as I sped past the skeletal blockade. I braked, motorcycle now turning back into the chariot form as I turned back and watched as the car that was chasing me slammed straight into the other.
The now pissed spartoi stumbled out of the wreckage and started to scream undead obscenities to each other. I couldn’t speak ghost, but whatever they said seemed to be pretty rude, because both sides started to unsheath their swords and get into an all-out brawl. One of the spartoi sliced the other in two, and they didn’t reform this time as their essence slid into their black sword.
Huh. Well, that was one way to deal with them.
“Whew! Good horses.”
I turned, ready to snap the reins once again, but I stopped as I saw what was waiting for me at the other end of the road. The boar, still very much on my trail stood in front of me. It pawed at the ground in front of it, and my horses started to do the same. I stared at the boar, unsheathing Anime once again as we stared off.
“Keep straight for…500 feet.”
The thing about boars is that they can be pretty deadly. They’re brutish and aggressive, and they go down fighting. You know the crossguard that’s near the pointy end of a spear? That’s so the animal doesn’t run up the spear to take you out with it. You don’t think them being that dangerous, but there’s a reason that dad’s symbol is a boar.
I had to make this quick, and efficient or I’d end up maimed, or worse. I snapped the reins one more time, and the horses started to dash down the street. The boar squealed as it barreled to me. I could see it get closer and closer. I grit my teeth, holding my blade in my right hand as it started to shine more and more brightly. My hand held onto the grip tightly, bracing for my next action.
I’d have one shot at this.
I miss, I’m dead.
I hesitate, I’m dead.
I don’t hit the vitals, I’m dead.
Time started to slow around me as I watched the boar rush at the chariot, enraged as it reached the point where there was no stopping it now. I could see the powerful muscles push and pull, the beast using all its power in an attempt to off me for good. I felt heat coming from the front as all four horses breathed a stream of flames at the swine. The boar kept on charging forwards, through the fire as the flames engulfed it. An angry squeal erupted from the inferno as it lept up from the sea of flames, still on fire as it used its strong legs to clear the horses and go straight for me.
Breathe in
I felt a sense of calm wash over me as I pulled my sword hand back. My blade shined brilliantly, even in the May sun. I watched it fall ever closer to me, the flames still eating away at the flesh. I stared into its ever-angry eyes, burning brighter than the flames surrounding it. I don’t falter. I’ve faced monsters that have crushed my bones. I don’t feel fear. I’ve fought creatures that could have killed me in five seconds. This is it. I need it to be perfect.
Breathe out.
SHING
I swung my blade and a rush of air followed it, making an arc that flew to the boar. I don’t doubt my skills. I simply watch, confident that this will end the monster once and for all. The blast, charged from my fight flew unimpeded. The beast’s chuffs turned into surprised squeal as it sliced the boar cleanly in two, bisecting it from the snout down. I sheathed my sword and put both hands back on the reins, eyes on the road as I barely watched what came next. The flaming boar started to fade into dust, still falling through the air until only a tusk was left. I held out my arm and caught it with my right hand.
“Oh hot, hot!”
I juggled it a bit with one hand before placing it down on the chariot floor. I grinned triumphantly as I realized what happened. Dad tried to test me, to see if I was “worthy” or he genuinely tried to kill me. Either way, I beat him this time, proving to him that I was more. That he underestimated me when we first met, that I was a brave warrior all along. In the end, I proved to him that I could fulfill my Styx oath even past what was expected of me. I laughed as I sped up, I felt pretty good about my victory. I wondered how his face would look, or if I could read his expression past his dumb sunglasses.
But as I rounded the corner, a terrifying sight came to my face as my glee turned to sorrow. I watched with horror as I realized Dad’s influence on the fight kept a more dangerous foe than any before at bay. Now that the fight was over, he had no reason to keep it around, and for once, I wasn’t sure if I could get through this unscathed. I gulped as I put my hands on the reins, not ready to face the impossible challenge alone. I hoped it wouldn’t break me as I prepared what little I had to fight this foe.
”There is an unusual amount of traffic in your area today.”
“Now you tell me…”
None other, than New York traffic.
I’d like to say that I did something else. Like I defeated an army of drakons on my way, or managed to fight off crazed demigods sent by my dad…but no. It was pretty much just traffic the rest of the way there. It was long and arduous, but I managed to make my way over to The Intrepid. After that traffic,I had to say, the amount of crazy drivers was almost San Francisco bad. I’d have taken as many spartoi and boars as dad could throw at me, if it meant I wasn’t drowning in the sea of cars. I drove down Pier 86, feeling a sense of relief as I got closer and closer to the aircraft carrier turned museum. As I got within eyeshot, I realized that dad said to take it to the temple, but not where to drop it off at.
It would be really stupid to end up failing just because I wasn’t sure where to leave dad’s ride. I got off the chariot, and was eyeing the prices of a ticket.
“Adults are thirty-six, Seniors and College Students…thirty four… Oh hey! Children of Ares get in free! Now, how do I wheel dad’s chariot through the front…”
Suddenly the side gate opened, lights flashing and clanging as it automatically retracted. The person standing in the booth waved me over and I hopped back onto the chariot, driving it by cautiously. They were dressed like a security guard, shades covering their eyes as they looked down onto their phone that they were absentmindedly playing with. Eyebrow piercings peeked out from behind the shades. They were tall, looked about early twenties, and seemed like your average bored museum guard, if not for that sorta godly aura I got from them.
“Take the chariot this way, Lord Ares will be at the end of Pier 86. Can’t miss him.”
I eyed the godling suspiciously. They seemed like one of those myriad younger and minor gods I saw when I was on Olympus. Not anyone I’d know, but if they wanted to stop me, it’d be annoying to get past them. They didn’t seem to be that dangerous, at least right now. But when you were a demigod, you learned to be wary of free handouts.
“Uh…look man, I’m going to be honest. I just got through some hellish traffic to get through here. So if like, you’re leading me into a trap or if my godly brothers are going to show up to try and take this, can you just start the fight and save me the trouble? It’s been a long morning, and I just wanna get this over with.”
I stared back at my reflection through their mirrored shades. Growing up, I always thought of myself as gangly and awkward. I could see my messed up hair, tousled from the wind. I stood tall, and although I wasn’t the buffest Ares kid around, you couldn’t call me skinny anymore. I looked almost heroic as I held the reins atop the chariot. Was that how I looked now? The godling shook their head as they chuckled, putting down their phone as they looked at me in the eyes.
“Kid, even for a god like Ares who likes conflict, you don’t do something like that in a temple. You can’t just attack his kid on his own grounds. Plus, it's part of the rules of war to respect neutralized zones. Trust me, you’re home free.”
“Oh. Um, thank you.”
He nodded and went back on his phone. I snapped on the reins and the chariot trotted along, even fire-breathing horses had to follow traffic laws apparently. I was on guard, not taking the godling’s words at face value. Mortals in a daze parted around the chariot, a few snapping pictures at me. I freaked out for a split second before I heard the tourists being in awe at what I heard to be a “vintage bomber”. Dumbfounded, I stopped for a brief second. It didn’t even have wings! But, I could see the mist shimmer around me and for a brief moment, see the silhouette of the plane around the chariot. It was an old fighter, a single propellor with flaming horse art on the nose.
“P-40B Warhawk? Alright, guess we’re working with that.”
I frowned a bit, trying to think if I knew that before this, from a school project or if it was more demigod shenanigans. I was never into fighter jets, but when you’re a demigod sometimes your parent’s godly influence shoves itself into your head and it’s always confusing when it does.
I drove the “plane” to the end of the pier, where I could see my dad sitting down on a barricade, blocking off a massive plane above him. It wasn’t used for war apparently, because I had no clue what type of plane it was. Looked cool though, it was really narrow around the nose end and the wings were all near the back end. He had a big wicked-looking combat knife in his hand that he used to clean his nails. He looked up at me, disinterestedly, before going back down to the knife.
“You’re alive.”
I couldn’t tell from his tone if that was a good or bad thing. It seemed… neutral. Like he was stating the sky was blue. But, overall I’d take that as a good thing, considering our last meeting. I spoke a bit warily, not sure if he was in a good or bad mood considering my victory.
“Uh, so Father. I’m finished with what you-”
“No. You’re not.”
“I’m not!? Do I need to do anything or-”
A moment of panic snuck up into my chest. For a brief moment I was afraid he was going to pull a twelve labors on me, but then he whistled and held out his hand.
“Not until you give me the keys kid, then it’s done.”
I hopped out of the chariot, the reins in my hand turning into keys as the horses went back into their motorcycle form. I somewhat clumsily tossed it to my dad, who grabbed it. He pushed himself off his perch, first making sure his motorcycle was unharmed. Then, he turned to me, eying me up and down as he circled around where I stood. I stood still, at attention as I felt my heart racing in my chest. I felt like a deer, cornered by a wolf just waiting to strike. Yet, the first pang of anxiety soon settled down. If he wanted to take care of me, he would have done so already. Or sent something more dangerous like a Drakon at me when I was driving. I felt my heart leap up into my throat as he clapped a big hand on my shoulder. The gesture wasn’t hostile, if anything, the motion seemed friendly. But his grip was anything but. His hand, like the claws of a tiger dug into my shoulder as he grinned at me.
“I have to say, I thought you were a lost cause, but look at you kid. Took you long enough, but I guess you have enough of me in you after all. Well, a late bloomer is better than being completely useless, but man! You were one of my most pathetic kids when you took that oath. I don’t think I had a kid as wimpy as you in a long time. Well, I’m glad my little nudge helped you keep that oath up after all. It would have been a waste of a perfectly good warrior if you didn’t shape up.”
I looked at him, dumbfounded. He helped me? He didn’t do anything! I wasn’t stupid enough to point it out, but I guess he knew what I was thinking as I felt his grip tighten as he growled.
“Come on, don’t give me that look, kid. Oh, don’t look so surprised. Tip of advice: don’t dip your toes into cards. You have a horrible poker face. Your mom was the same way. But, yes. I helped. Not that kids these days would understand. Parents these days are too soft, including most of us gods. Back in Sparta, we’d leave our kids to fend for themselves. Just give them barely enough food and let them hunt or steal the rest. If they end up dying in the hunt or starved, well that’s fine. They were too weak to do anything of note anyway. You should consider yourself lucky I was generous enough to just turn my back on you.”
He chuckled low, and my blood ran cold as he shook me. I shook my head, fighting off a wave of dizziness as he threatened to take off my arm.
“Oh, but that’s in the past! You passed your agōgē period, all by yourself. Now that is true strength.”
His evil grin widened as he gave me the closest thing to an approved look he’d ever given me. I furrowed my brow as I shook my head. This credit, it wasn’t mine to take, was it? Before I could think, I spoke what was on my mind.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t do this by myself. Everywhere I went, I had someone to help me out. If it wasn’t for the help from my friends, I don’t think I would be standing here. I didn’t-”
My dad’s good mood instantly soured as his grin warped into a snarl. His grip, although somewhat friendly now seemed dangerously tight as he frustratingly interrupted me.
“Oh for the love of! I’m complimenting you, kid. Look. I don’t care about those other twerps one way or another. Allies are fine enough in war, as long as you don’t make them do all the work. Kid, you’ve gotten strong all on your own, like a true son of mine. Don’t deny you and me the kleos you rightfully deserve ever again. Shut up and just take the honor.”
“I…uh…yes, Dad.”
I was surprised that all it accounted to was a mild scolding. My dad, too seemed to calm down after I agreed with his words, as he went back to a smile. He put his hand back into his pocket as he started to walk up to his chariot. He ran his finger across the chrome finish, taking out a cloth and cleaning off my fingerprints from the metal.
“About your joyride. Not bad, not bad at all. It took you a bit to embrace your birthright, but you ended up not even scratching my ride. Nice. Nice. Saves me the trouble of buffing it out. Now, if you could only stop complaining at everything that opposed you. You’re a man, aren’t you David? Start acting like it. If you think a bag of bones and a pig are hard, just wait until your future. The stronger a warrior gets, the stronger their foes get. Make sure you’re strong enough to stand up against them before you end up a stain on the pavement.”
I heard the engine rev as he got into the seat. He threw a bag at me that I clumsily fumbled with before I fully caught it. I opened it, and a few golden drachmas shined back at me.
“Since your agōgē finished up, consider yourself un-cut off. Even I’m not heartless enough to leave a son of mine stranded in New York. Keep the rest. Feel free to hang around my temple, and help yourself to the gift shop if you want, it’s on the house, happy birthday and all that. Just don’t go overboard.”
He turned the motorcycle, wheeling it around so he could leave the pier. He turned around, giving me a few more parting words he shouted over the roar of the engine.
“Don’t think you’re done yet, David. You got a lot more to grow. Especially now that you can receive my blessings again. What, did you think that taking a good hit was all you can do? You’ll see sooner or later. See ya kid! Don’t disappoint me.”
He revved his engine one more time and took off, leaving me behind on the pier. As I watched my dad leave, I realized that with that resolved, the last of what made my Styx Oath so suffocating was finally finished. A part of me felt that I’d always keep the consequences of it with me. Either dad would continue to disown me, or I’d be horribly injured from my jobs. But, to my surprise, everything worked out alright. I worked as hard as I could, and now everything was over, truly over. I…wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I mean, like obviously I didn’t wanna have them with me for the rest of my life. But, for all of my oath’s lifespan I had the deadline looming overhead, and my expectation was that something would happen to me as a result. I was glad to have it over with, but I never felt that I could relax until now. The feeling of not having the anxiety of my imminent demise was something I wasn’t familiar with, and to be honest I still have trouble relaxing. As he disappeared into the afternoon traffic, I realized that, so too did my previous life.
Maybe…maybe I could afford to enjoy my life now after all.
OOC: And there we have it! The final David storymode relevant to this storyline! I meant to have this yesterday but I didn't see the modmail that gave me the okay until literally an hour ago oop. Which means that yes, the Chariot and Ares both are approved from the mods.
Big thank you to Tiffany's writer, angelspoint for helping me with her parts, I had a blast working with them! Hope you enjoyed David's Victory lap!

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I see a lot of posts of lonely ppl who want friends. As someone who has consciously taught myself social skills, now makes friends easily, and has maintained deep bonds over decades, I feel qualified to share what I’ve learned. I’ll warn you, tough love and even tougher truths are part of this. If you find yourself arguing, but don’t have friends yourself, ask yourself where that resistance comes from. Don’t direct it at me; take some time to journal and sit with it. This is part of the journey.
I have a lot of info so I’m breaking this into parts. I’m naturally pedantic and have a lot to share. I will do my best to keep it as concentrated as possible but be warned: this will be wordy with no TLDR.
The first part of making friends starts with your physical self. Humans are primarily visual creatures(all genders) and how we present ourselves is the first invitation or hurdle to interacting with ppl.

1. Hygiene: daily showering is a non-negotiable. You can rot on your own time in your own house. If you are going to be a part of society you need to wrangle your body smells so that ppl aren’t offended by your very presence. This is the first tough truth: no one wants to be friends with a smelly person. Use soap and a washcloth, stay away from those plastic nightmare loofahs. Wash every nook, cranny, divet, and crevices. Wash your booty hole and genitals. Change your washcloth daily (wash a$$ last) or use a separate one for your butt. Wash your sheets, pillowcases, towels, robes, and floor mat once a week. Wear deodorant (no, body sprays aren’t deodorant) daily. Some of us are extra stinky due to “stress sweat” aka apocrine glands and this is a common physical side effect of an overtaxed nervous system. Extra stinky ppl need to touch up their armpits with a disinfectant wipe and reapplication of deodorant; lunch time is great for this. Brush your teeth upon waking, after drinking coffee, and after eating. No, gum and mouthwash are only temporary, they aren’t good enough. You still have bad breath. Drinking coffee wo brushing in the morning leads to that extra stinky breath that smells like death. Don’t be that person. Floss once a day. When washing hair, use shampoo and focus on the scalp more than the hair. If you can’t feel the lather on every centimeter, add more to those spots or you will still stink. Most ppl need to wash it twice if they don’t shampoo everyday. Shorter hair, thinning hair, and fine hair need to be washed more often, sometimes daily. We can smell your scalp from far away. Keep your nails trimmed or neatly filed. I’ve had to school multiple men in my life on how raggedy their nails are. Don’t just grow them out until they break off. Keep them short unless you have the time and desire to file and shape them at least once a week. Wash your hands every time you use the bathroom. I don’t care if you didn’t touch yourself, that’s not the point. Ppl notice. Also wash your hands when you’re alone and at home, seriously it’s not that hard. How are you going to want friendship if you don’t value them enough to keep them safe and sanitary? Trim your toenails and stay abreast of how your feet smell. If you have smelly feet you probably have athletes foot. Sprays are an easy way to treat this. If you still have stinky feet after this, keep a change of socks with you so if you go to a no shoes house, you aren’t making ppl sick. Wash inner clothes like shirts and underwear after every wear. Sweat shirts and jeans can often be worn a few times before needing to be washed but smell the armpits and ass, and check for stains before you put them on.

Don’t proceed further until you can adhere to these standards at least when you’re in public. If you’re in a depression and can’t maintain these, stay at home until you can. If you don’t have the energy to bathe and be clean, you don’t have the energy for friends.

1. Grooming. This about looking neat and together. Humans are visual creatures, we judge others based on their looks. I’m not talking skinny/fat, ugly/pretty. I mean that if you look like your life is rough, ppl aren’t going to want to get involved with that. We have our own issues and struggles, we don’t want to add someone to our lives that looks like they are on the brink of a meltdown. Brush your hair and teeth before you leave the house. This is my bare minimum. Curly hair is different but my wavy hair needs to be brushed the same as straight. Combing is also acceptable. Keep an eye on your dandruff. If you have it, treat it. There are many otc options. At the very least shake it out and don’t wear dark colors until it’s fixed. Make sure you don’t have eye crusties, mouth corner goop, or boogers. If you’re showering these are usually not an issue but check for these a few times a day. I don’t iron my clothes but many ppl associate wrinkles with poor grooming. Consider getting a handheld steamer. I personally fold my clothes kon-marie style or hang them and that’s good enough for me. Keep your shoes clean. Lots of people are taught to judge other by the state of their shoes. Notice how many ppl look at your shoes the first time you meet. Wash the white laces regularly, polish and condition leather. Patent shoes are super hard to keep scuff free so avoid them if you are prone to scuffs or dragging your feet. My shoes come untied so I double knot my laces to avoid looking sloppy. Replace buttons and ask a dry cleaner to repair any holes or tears. Relegate worn out and stained clothes to lounge wear.
   
2. Posture. Your posture says so much about you. A relaxed and tall posture says you’re confident and easy going. The type of person we all want to be friends with. Forward head means life has beaten you down. Rounded shoulders says you’ve been hurt but haven’t healed. Collapsed chest says you’ve given up. Lordosis means your core body and core self are weak. Stand with your feet an inch or two from the wall and stand naturally. Your head and most of your spine should touch. If it doesn’t you have work to do. You can’t just force yourself to stand up straight. Your muscles have stretched and atrophied to accommodate this unnatural stance, you will need to rehab your body over weeks and months to regain proper function. Research and watch videos on strengthening postural muscles. My fave that’s easy to explain: when you’re at the wall checking your posture, bend your knees slowly until you can press your spine and back of head into the wall. Stay there for a moment and feel it. That’s the proper position of your pelvis; posture comes from pelvic position not our chest, shoulders, or back. Now clench your ab muscles, they might be weak or non existent. These are the muscles that need to be strengthened. Hold those muscles tight and try to straighten your knees while maintaining that pelvic position. Breathe and hold for 30 seconds. If you can’t do 30 start with 10. Do this every time you go to the bathroom, not necessarily in the bathroom but by tying it to an inevitable part of your day you have a better chance of being consistent.
   
3. Body language. Like posture, we communicate much more than we realize with our bodies. How we walk, sit, fidget, etc telegraphs nonverbal messages to those around us. Many ppl are very dissociated with their daily movements. Take some time to notice how you walk. Do you drag your feet? How would someone describe your walk? Do you schlep, shuffle, scurry? Or do you glide, prance, or stalk? I love to drag my feet and do this at home in my slippers. But in public I am more conscious of how I walk. This is much harder for me to explain. My main tip is to watch out for small, jerky, fast movments, like fidgeting and scurrying. These are prey movements and relegate us to an undesirable social standing: prey. Think of how a mouse moves: small, jerky quick movements. Now think of a panther. Every movement is intentional and controlled, smooth, slow. Go on walks if you are able bodied and start to notice how you move. Notice how those around you move. Which ones seem confident to you and which ones are off putting. Same with sitting. Do your best to sit up straight rather than completely melting into the chair. Don’t “throw” yourself onto someone’s furniture, use your legs to lower yourself down. When listening do your best to keep movements to a minimum. Breathing slowly and deep helps with this. I use my hands to talk when I’m excited and don’t see this as a problem.
   
4. Eye contact. Eye contact is very important but it also varies by culture. This will be regarding western/American culture. Eye contact used to be difficult for me. I now have an engaged and sometimes intense gaze. It’s more important to maintain eye contact when listening, not as important when talking. You don’t have to laser focus, break your gaze regularly to take in the other person’s movements and body language, look briefly at other parts of their face, lower your gaze, glance at the room. But don’t stray for too long, wandering gaze makes ppl feel like you aren’t listening and ppl don’t want to engage with bad listeners. Don’t look at breasts or genitals. Once you’re comfortable with someone you can look away much more or sometimes even look at other things while you listen. But in the beginning you are building trust.
   

Extra credit: cultivate your personal style. This is optional but supremely helpful. A pleasing physical appearance can garner compliments which is a great way to start conversations. It can also connect us with like minded individuals or show our place in a culture or subculture. Hair is one of the best ways to customize your appearance: cut, color, and style are all options. If you choose long hair, make sure you understand that long hair is a hobby; it takes tons of time and effort to maintain. Not to mention the research and trial and error to find products. Especially men who want long hair, make sure you are up for keeping it clean and neat. You will need to still keep it trimmed, learn to part your hair, learn to tie it back neatly, keep it from looking greasy, etc. if it’s thinning, it’s more flattering to keep it short. if you have curls you will need to learn different techniques that take even more time and effort. Same with vivid colors: they take so much time and money to maintain. Go for it if you have taken time to understand the upkeep.
For clothing, any style works. If you have zero idea how to build a wardrobe choose one dark neutral (black, charcoal grey, navy, or chocolate brown), choose one light neutral (white, ivory, light grey, beige), and one medium neutral (olive green, khaki, camel, mid grey, rust, beige). Only choose one of each and preferably ones that look nice on you. From now on only buy clothes in these shades. Focus on getting your basic covered before you choose colors: tshirts, sweaters, sweatshirts jeans, slacks, jacket, coat. There are so many options and it’s a great opportunity to get to know yourself. Do you like graphic Ts or plain? V neck or crew? Do you like sweatshirts that zip? Do you like hoods? For sweaters: turtlenecks, cardigans, pullovers, or quarter zips? Wool coats or puffers? Leather or denim jackets? Enjoy each detail you learn about yourself. Once your basics are covered, choose two colors. Then try to only get stuff in those colors. My pallet when I was blonde was: black, ivory, and beige with red or blush pink. Now that I’m my natural color it’s: navy, grey, ivory with sky blue or forest green. By putting limiting your colors, everything matches and you always look put together. Accessories are where your personality can really shine: loud sneakers, big belt buckles, unique watches, rings, necklaces, hats or caps, scarves, bags. There are so many ways to express yourself. Keep your accessories to your chosen colors at first. Once you have figured out your style and built up a wardrobe that works, you can add more colors and pizazz.