I, 29, female, married my 32, male, husband 3 years ago.
I met my husband about 6 years ago while I was in my last year in university and he was in the workforce. I attended university in my home state. I lived on campus and had an on-campus job working as a barista. During my last year, I met a new co-worker named Alex, male, who I quickly became friends with. Alex was one year below me and lived 30 minutes away from my hometown. Most of my coworkers were pretty close so it was not unusual for us to spend in between class time together, or even spend the night at each others dorm rooms. Nothing sexual, just movies, junk food, and good vibes.
Prior to meeting my now husband, I was pretty deep into the online dating scene but was growing very tired of the charades. I frequently told Alex about my endeavors and he would often offer me good advice on the dating scene. Alex had recently broken up with his girlfriend of 4 years so we kind of understood each other in that way. Early on in our friendship, we both established that we were not interested in each other, and only liked each other as friends.
Alex and I told each other everything. We talked about of pasts, about our dreams, and everything in between. We spent countless shifts together and spent many hours binge-watching our favorite tv shows.
At the beginning of the spring semester, my 6- month long situationship broke it off with me, and I was devastated. I confided in Alex and cried all night long in his dorm room. For some reason, his attitude and tone were different that night. He was judging me for online dating and being sexually active outside of a relationship. He told me, "this is the reason that I don't have sex with a girl I'm not dating, because then they become attached." I was so devastated at the break up and even more with Alex's words. I did not have the courage to tell him that his words were hurting me.
Fast forward to a few weeks later, I met my now husband online. Things were great, and as my relationship with my husband grew, I slowly stepped away from my university friendships and with Alex. Alex never met my husband while we were in university as my husband lived about an hour away, but he heard all of the stories, and followed along on social media. Alex was very supportive the whole way through.
As the school year came to an end, I prepared myself for the usual end of school year rituals. Since Alex was not graduating with me and our other friends, I did not see him much. But since we lived only 30 minutes away from each other, I knew we would stay in touch. Right before graduation, Alex congratulated me on finishing my studies and finding a great man. This was the first time of the many times he would remind me of "the night you cried all night in my dorm room." I was shocked to say the least. Again, I did not have the courage to speak up about how his actions then, and now, were hurtful.
I graduated and began my first job soon after. Alex and I met for lunch a few times that year before he told me he would be moving to the other side of the country with his best friend after graduation. We said our good byes and he promised he would be back.
That year I moved in with my husband, and the next year we got engaged. Alex and I occasionally video called and messaged each other. When Alex finally came back into town, he made it a point to come see us in our new home and to celebrate us. At this point, it had been two years since Alex and I were baristas together in university. Naturally we drifted apart, but we were still friends. It was really nice to see him, but I no longer felt the same companionship I felt with him in university. Alex had mentioned that when my husband and I would get married, he would love to attend as my "brother." I found this title to be very odd as I do have three older brothers, all of whom I am very close to. But Alex explained that his relationship with his sisters was very strained, and he saw me as a sister. So I let it slide even though I was not so comfortable with calling him my brother.
Over the next two years, Alex and I really drifted apart. We rarely talked and when we did, it was usually just when he complimented my outfit or makeup on a picture I'd post. I did think it was a bit flirtatious, but I did not pay too much mind to it. After all we were friends, and I was his "sister."
Soon enough my husband and I picked a wedding date and announced our bridal party. One day, Alex calls me up and asks for the wedding details so he can fly in for our wedding. At this time, I really did not want to invite Alex to the wedding as I did not view Alex in the same way anymore. I could only invite such few friends as my husband and I both have large families and it felt like inviting him was cutting into our guest list. I invited some friends from university but none of our mutual barista friends. I could not gain the courage to tell him the truth, so I invited Alex to the wedding and the rehearsal dinner. I did state that he was not allowed a plus-one due to the aforementioned guest-list restraints; a decision I live to regret.
Since Alex still had relatives close by to my hometown (where the wedding was to be held), I knew him coming for the wedding would not be a big deal since his lodging and day-to-day schedule would most likely be with his family. Alex flew in 5 days before the wedding and insisted on spending atleast two nights at my house. That was the last thing I wanted to do during the week of my wedding. I convinced myself that Alex flew all the way across the country for my wedding, and the least I could do was spend some extra time with him. I was able to bring Alex down to one night as I had a very busy week scheduled with the rehearsal dinner on Friday night and the wedding on Saturday. Alex spent Wednesday night at my house where he, my husband, and I spent the night sharing two bottles of wine and playing board games. Alex was visibly more drunk than we were. Before the end of the night, Alex started falling over and tossing around some vintage collectibles I kept in my dining room as decor. I quickly brought him to our guest room, where I asked him to stay put for the rest of the evening. Alex left early the next morning without saying much. I was relieved to have him gone.
The rehearsal dinner came and went and Alex was a great guest. He did not have too much to drink and mingled with our families. I introduced him to everyone as, Alex, a friend from university. However, he would quickly interject with, "her brother." I think most of our families saw I was uncomfortable with the term, and only referred to him as Alex. Wedding day came and my husband and I were happily wed before our families and friends. Only our bridal party and closest relatives were invited to the photoshopt following the ceremony, but somehow Alex also came along. I did not pay too much mind, and figured, he did not want to arrive to the reception alone.
At the time I did not know, but my husband's best man, Bryan, brought a bottle of liquor to share amongst the groomsmen. In an effort to not have Alex be alone, Bryan asked him to join them.
By the time we got to the reception, everything went well. We all had a great time and Alex and I danced a song. He was very emotional during the dance and again, reminded me about the night I cried in his dorm room. He told me how happy he was that I can go from that night, to my wedding night. At this point I was very annoyed as I could tell he was visibly drunk. Again, I would later find out that Bryan and Alex would sneak off during the reception to do shots.
At the end of the night I was fed up with Alex and planned on heading back to the hotel where the rest of the bridal party was staying. I said my goodbyes to Alex and thanked him for flying out to my wedding. During our goodbye, my bridesmaid, Jess, surprised me with the news of a surprise after party at her and her sister, Kim's place just 10 minutes away. Alex immediately insisted on coming along as my "brother." I absolutely did not want Alex to come to the after-party but I could not get him to go home. I also could not give him to someone else to take care of as he really did not know anyone else. I told Alex he could only come if someone came to pick him up and take him to the party as he was too drunk to drive his car. Alex agreed and called a relative to pick him up.
My husband and I arrived at the after-party hosted by Jess. I was so happy that the party was low-key with only a few drinks, food, and a light crowd. After all, I spent the past day and a half hosting. We were all enjoying ourselves when Alex walks through the front door. Alex appears even more drunk and is slurring his words. I am immediately embarrassed and even more so that I could not put my foot down and tell him to go home. I welcome Alex in to the main room of the house and sit him on a chair and bring him some water. I am watching Alex from a distance making sure he's not getting into trouble. Jess approaches me a little while into the party stating that Alex is making Kim, her sister, uncomfortable. She told me that Alex asked Kim to dance, but she respectfully declined citing she has a boyfriend and he is in the other room. Alex did not accept that answer and insisted she dance with him. I angrily approach Alex and told him to leave Kim alone.
I bring Alex to a seat close to me so I can keep a closer eye on him. At this point, my feet are swollen from a whole day's activities and I had a hard time unlacing the straps on my heels. I asked Bryan to help me loosen my heel straps as my husband was in another room. Once Bryan unloosens my heel straps, Alex immediately crawls up to me and starts massaging my feet. I am horrified as is Bryan and everyone else in the room. I immediately pull my feet back and Bryan helps Alex up and puts him back in the chair. My husband comes back into the room and I tell him I want to go back to the hotel. I ask my husband to call a ride share for Alex, when Bryan tells me he saw Alex pull up in his own car. I am immediately angered at Alex's decision to drive his car while drunk, but also mad at myself for not standing up to him. I tell Alex I am leaving and he needs to leave his car at Jess' and pick it up in the morning. Alex insists he will be leaving soon and not to worry. Jess looked at me in my distress and told me not to worry, and that she would make sure he gets in a rideshare. As my husband grabbed my coat, Alex looked at me and said, "when the love of your life gets married to someone else." I was so incredibly angry with Alex. I was embarrassed, I was shocked, and I was so disappointed. I don't know if Alex meant what he said, or if he was just drunk, but I had enough of Alex. I left Alex at the part and went home with my husband.
The next day, I woke up around noon to a text message from Alex, thanking me for a great party, and wishing to extend gratitude to Jess and Kim for their hospitality. I immediately phoned Jess to recap the rest of the party. Jess informed me that Alex did not take a ride share the night before. He spent the night at Jess' as he passed out on the living room floor. Jess, to not further distress me, ended the night early, and cleaned up the house. In the morning, Jess and Kim woke up to find Alex had left the house very early in the morning, but not without leaving behind a surprise for them. Alex had vomited all over the bathroom; missed the toilet as he went #2; had 💩 smeared on the bathroom rug; and to top it off, Alex left his 💩 stained boxers on the bathroom floor.
My jaw hit the floor. I could not process the level of disgust that I felt for Alex. I apologized profusely to Jess and Kim and offered to come clean up immediately. They knew it was not fault, but I felt absolutely horrible for inviting this man into their home.
From that moment on, I decided to ghost Alex. No matter how much anger I felt towards him, I did not feel it was worth my time. I wanted nothing to do with him. I didn't block him initially, I just ignored his calls and texts. He eventually reached out to my husband, and that's when I blocked him and asked my husband to do the same. I still feel bad about ghosting Alex, because a part of me feels he does not remember what happened, and I should give him some closure. The other part of me realizes he's a drunk and ruined parts of my wedding and did horrible things at my bridesmaid's house. I want to reach out sometimes, but then I remember that Jess and Kim had to clean up his 💩 smears. Idk, AITA for ghosting my "brother" after my wedding?

I think I am neurodivergent.
For the past years I have always felt like I was different from others. They way I talked, acted, etc. I am unsure as of now, but over a few months, I’ve written down some symptoms that I’ve seen be heavily related to ADHD or autism.
• Fidgeting. I fidget a lot, even while writing this im fidgeting. this can go from wiggling things like my fingers or squeezing objects.
•The inability to sit down and focus. During school or other projects I wanted or had to do, I’ve noticed that I pretty much have to tie myself to my chair and try to do work, but even then in about a minute or so, I’m on my phone scrolling through social medias or playing a game. Or when writing a script for something, I can barely get 1 or 2 lines down without immediately shifting to something random for a short time, and this continues.
•Hyperfixating. Sometimes I will randomly start fixating on random medias such as games, books, movies, etc. As an example, recently I started to hyperfixate on Ultrakill. (No, I dont own the game, but im obsessed with talking about it or watching videos on it). I pretty much have to tape my mouth shut around my friends about it, because they aren’t interested in it and im scared to come off as annoying.
•Short attention span. I am hardly able to focus on more than 1 thing at a time, for a little amount of time. As an example, say I’m drawing while talking to a friend. As they’re saying something, for a moment I begin to draw. Even though I was just focused on the conversation, in a second I had shifted my attention to my paper and blocked out everything they just said. I couldnt control this. It all happened seemingly impulsively.
•Horrible memory. I am bad at remembering things. Even if something was told directly to me while I was listening, the next moment something grabs my attention, I completely forget what I had just been told. This leads to me being very unorganized or untrustworthy when it comes to being asked to remember things or tackle certain tasks for others or myself.
•Procrastination. Similar to my inability to focus, by the time i sit myself down to do something, I hold it off for a while and get stuck in a loop of “I’ll do it later.”. This leads to me doing things at awkward times, such as before bed, or in the mornings.
•Being a chatterbox. I always have a lot of things to say. This can lead to me accidentally going on rants without even realizing it.
•I am extremely sensitive. Even the slightest rude comment on me or something I am into can really hurt me. This can lead to me yelling at someone or having a breakdown.
•Extreme stuttering. Whenever I try to say things, Iend yo stuttering. A LOT. I usually have to then prepare myself to say something, and it really feels abnormal, as nobody around me stutters at all as much as I do.
•struggle to adjust to change or obstacles. Say I have spent 30 minutes or so preparing myself to draw with a pencil and paper. I then lose this pencil, and this really throws me off, and can even lead to me dropping the task altogether or procrastinating it for a while trying to recollect.
•struggle to maintain eye contact. I can hardly keep my eyes on someone when in conversation. My eyes are usually off looking at the bird that just flew behind them or the poster to their left, trying to read what it says.
So, yeah. I believe im neurodivergent. I am currently unable to get diagnosed by a professional, so if there’s anybody that experiences these symptoms and has been diagnosed, or someone knowledgable when it comes to this topic, I would love to hear some feedback or reassurance of my beliefs.

Secret Dragon - Chapter 2: Ignite
I opened the book and skimmed through a few chapters, happy to finally see some true information, with substance. Although I had many books of my own, I had never brought any of them to class; I had no intention of being asked about them or pressing the issue.
By virtue of my existence, it and I would be scrutinized. I had neither the patience nor the desire for another microscope to be placed above me.
But Sasha had no such reservations even after I told him about the curriculum, although he relented and said he would figure out a way around that nonsense. It seemed as if he was determined to go against the grain.
We spoke deeply, about different subjects, our project, and his books. The more he talked the more at ease he became. I unknowingly got closer and closer to him as the time passed. I had to literally pull myself back a few times. I wondered if he noticed. It was confusing how I kept leaning into the heat coming off his breath.
We were both startled at the sound of chairs scraping. We looked around as our peers gathered their things.
“It seems that for the first time this class is actually worth my time. Usually I am the first to leave,” Sasha said, surprised.
“I know,” I revealed.
“Hmmm,” he vocalized deeply. I had no idea if it was “oh really” or “interesting” or any other answer. It was just a deep throat vibration. I just knew he would do that a lot. I could feel it.
As I was packing my things, I realized I was a little feverish. I put a hand to my cheek. Was it hot? Or was it that he was speaking heat in my direction? I couldn’t tell. I never ran hot.
He watched me touching my face and chuckled to himself, putting away his books. I really wanted to be annoyed—at anyone else I would have been—but his lighthearted laughter surprised me; so joyous after so many weeks of being a specter in the classroom.
I looked him in his eyes, though, and shook my head challengingly at him, as if to say “what?” That only made him laugh out loud. It was both quiet and bassy all at the same time. The kind of laugh that was bottomless, scratchy. The kind of laugh you could tell would boom and shake you if given the space.
I never thought I’d hear that coming from him, let alone directed at me. I refrained from expressing an iota of emotion beyond a small smile. I had to stay cool.
Pam walked over to our table swiftly, no doubt looking to be rid of Jonah. She smiled at Sasha, grinned really.
“So. We finally meet! Pam Swiftwater,” she chirped. Her hand shot out as fast as she walked. Sasha halted his movement. He extended his hand more slowly, gently, engulfing her delicate hands in his large ones.
“Of course. I am Sasha Emberscale,” Sasha said, pulling his hand back to pat his chest.
Pam gave me a knowing glance of drama. “Oh I know who you are,” she said.
“Likewise; you are in my open physical hour,” he reminded her. “You are on the track team.”
“That’s right! It’s nice to finally, officially, meet you.”
Sasha raised his brow at her. “My friend has spoken of you,” he said offhand.
“What friend?” Pam asked, taken aback.
“Seth Fairbreeze, dragon of the wind.”
“Oh?” Pam said, her interest piqued. I didn’t know whether she knew who that was. But it intrigued both of us nonetheless.
“I will introduce you, of course, now that we are properly acquainted.”
“I can’t wait.” I knew she couldn’t.
Pam glanced back at her table and groaned. “Let’s get out of here. If I have to talk to Jonah any longer, I swear Imma strangle him.”
Sasha laughed heartily. “Very well. Let us depart this place to avoid attempted murder,” he joked.
“Why don’t you stick with us? We’re in the same course after this,” I suggested, gathering my items. I didn’t even hesitate asking him that. I’d done enough hesitating.
Sasha’s laugh tapered off into a quiet chuckle. “Of course. I would desire nothing more.”
I couldn’t hide my elation this time. Pam snickered at me. Thankfully he didn’t notice. I assumed.
Sasha draped his jacket across his arm, opting not to put it back on. Admittedly I enjoyed the view. He gestured for us to exit the class before him.
Every once in a while he would look down at me as we walked through the halls. I noticed his eyes following me.
I would sneak a glance at him when he wasn’t looking. It was apparent just how large he was now that I was walking right next to him. He was one of the only people in school taller than me. His shoulders were broad, arms thick. I know I was staring at the way they flexed as he moved. Couldn’t help but to.
Everything in me wanted to take that arm of his for my own. The thought of it being mine just felt so natural. I had to check myself a few times walking beside him.
It would be mine in time. That I promised myself.
—
We entered our Dragontongue class where I took a seat on his right at a table. Pam sat at mine.
Class with Sasha was much more interesting than ever before. He spoke freely and pleasantly, a stark contrast to the silent dragon he had been before I sat at his table in Dragonology. It was like something that had weighed on him had vanished.
I wasn’t unaware that he was happier since we had talked. I was pleased that it was me that had pulled him out of whatever darkness was holding him.
Again a pang of irritation ran through me. Why had I not introduced myself before? Just hearing the depth of his voice and the eloquence of his speech had me feeling some type of way. I could have been hearing that in my ears for weeks, those words of his carried on desert sands.
As class droned on, I saw that Sasha was appraising the professor with a raised brow as if too polite to allow complete disdain across his face.
He began to tell us about different Dragontongue dialects quietly, I suppose to keep himself occupied or distracted. I had to lean all the way in to hear his voice. It reverberated in my ears.
“If you were to say that word in the southern regions of Lyfax, it would mean to place bricks or stones atop each other as if building something. If you said that in the northeastern region, it means much the same, but doubles as a slang word meaning to fu— I am sorry, to have relations with someone.”
Pam squealed and covered her mouth. I covered mine too. I had wanted to hear the word ‘fuck’ come out of his polite mouth.
“Are you serious?” I asked instead.
“Yes, I am,” he said, brow raised. “Take care in who you say it to and in what context.”
Sasha tapped another paragraph “This term here. If you were to say it in the Northernmost tip of the country, it is basically calling someone a piece of filth in the wrong context, while just a few regions down it simply means to clean something without any further colloquial use. Their origins most likely started off with the same meaning and deviated as the people left and settled elsewhere. Knowing different dialects of Dragontongue in Lyfax is important. Linguistics interests me, as you can probably surmise.”
“Do you speak a lot of languages?” Pam asked.
“I occasionally travel for my work and interact with different dignitaries. I must know many languages and dialects at least at a rudimentary level.”
“Oh wow…” I said, truly impressed. Now that I had listened to his voice, I couldn’t place his accent. Unless deep was one. It wasn’t as if I was familiar with Lyfaxians’ manner of speech or various accents anyway. “What do you speak?” I asked
“Hmmmm. Common Lyfaxian. Common Lizardtongue. Dragontongue, of course; several dialects: fire, moon and wind. Many people know these. Shelltongue. Salamandra…one other.”
“Goodness,” I said in awe. I stashed away that “one other.” I’d ask about it later. I couldn’t imagine why it would be a secret. Hypocritically.
“My speech is not perfect in Shelltongue or Salamandra yet. But I can hold a conversation. I would enjoy learning and speaking your dialect of Dragontongue, as you mentioned earlier,” he remarked to me. Of course, Pam regarded me in shock. She gave me a chiding look, rightfully so.
Sasha didn’t miss her reaction. “If it is trouble, do not worry about it,” he said, frowning.
“No, It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I don’t mind.”
He was still uncertain, looking at Pam’s concerned face. “If I am to converse with a new group of dragons, I would prefer to know their dialect,” he whispered. “But not if it is cause for alarm. For some reason.”
Pam sighed in relief upon hearing him refer to me as a dragon. “Oh okay.”
“It’s fine. Complicated. I’ll tell you later,” I said, waving it all away. Sasha nodded.
“So did you all decide on a topic for your assignment?” Pam asked.
“Of course. We spoke much of it. I look forward to working with Leila.” Sasha said. I liked the way he said my name, the way he swung the vowels upward to where they needed to go. As it should be. “It will be interesting,” he said.
Pam glanced over to me. “How so?”
I looked amused, I’m sure. “Let’s say our Dragonology topic is about to be spicy,” I hinted.
“Sasha you’re a horrible influence already,” she accused, raising her brows at him.
“Of course,” he confirmed, chuckling deeply. “One needs a little corruption in the right direction, every once in a while.”
“Corruption? Oh really?” I said, regarding him in what I intended to be mock surprise. But I was genuinely shocked that he said it. He hadn’t corrupted me yet. He could try, but only when I was through with him.
Sasha chuckled silently. Just a trembling of the shoulders. A soft billow of scalding heat wafting across my face. Mmm, maybe sooner then.
Pam’s eyes widened, but she was beyond amused. If she could manifest a snack to observe our rapidly forming dynamic, she would have in a heartbeat.
She sat back, twirling her pencil. I knew she was about to start something. The twitch in the corner of her mouth was working. She was about to instigate her heart out. I groaned quietly.
“You know, Leila speaks all the same languages you do. She’s fluent in Shelltongue even; one of her best friends is Turtlefolk. She works at a place where a lot of people from different places come through. She took it upon herself to learn their languages.”
I groaned more.
“Is that so?” Sasha inquired, angling his body toward me. He sounded impressed.
I just rubbed my brows. I did not advertise my language skills. He looked at me with interest. “That is admirable. Why do you not wish to speak of it?” he asked.
“I don’t like puffing myself up. Drawing attention. Not that you are doing that,” I clarified.
Sasha smiled. “I know what you meant,” he said, speaking Shelltongue. I grinned. “I have been somewhat successful at not drawing attention—past my appearance at least—for a few weeks now.”
“Except your grades of course,” I pointed out in Shelltongue as well. “Literally perfect grades except two, and that’s only because of inaccuracies.”
Sasha raised his brow. “Ah, right, you have been keeping tabs on my marks. Very well; I have been under the radar except for my marks.”
“See? Y’all can speak tongues to each other in every flavor,” Pam said casually.
My mouth dropped. To say my eyes widened would be an understand. I shielded the side of my face.
Sasha choked and laughed quietly, holding his chest.
Never had she been that brazen. And she had said some crazy ass things for as long as I’d know her.
She looked so proud of herself.
“Pam, you are trying to start something, are you not?” Sasha guessed—back in Lizardtongue—looking away in laughter.
“Of course not. I don’t know what you mean,” she said, smirking.
I rubbed my face. “What were we even talking about?”
Sasha spoke as quietly as he could. “Different languages. Dialects. Things of that nature. Tongues, apparently,” he said, leaning toward me.
Really Sasha? I thought. He was something else.
He leaned back again and looked ahead, his smile dimming. “Also, things your professor apparently will not teach,” he said, the scales of his brows beginning to furrow.
“Yeah. It’s frustrating,” I agreed, uncovering my face.
“This class is testing my endurance. To hear my language butchered and be told that the proper way is incorrect is vexing.”
Pam stared at the professor, then at Sasha. “I’m sorry. This class is far beneath how you—and we—speak.”Pam and the rest of the Swiftwater Clan spoke to my family in the True way, the way of Sun Dragons.
Sasha leaned back. “And yet I have no choice but to be here,” he remarked. “And, apparently, neither do you both.”
It was a painful requirement, but a mandatory one. I nodded.
Pam turned back to the front of class. “You must be bored here at this university,” she said.
Sasha rubbed his chin. “Hmmmm,” he rumbled deeply. The vibration of that inquisitive hum made my shoulders tingle. I had to close my eyes and put a hand to my chest to halt my heart’s pounding.
“I was, yes,” he said slowly, “but yesterday was my last day of boredom. Today, the season has changed.” He glanced at me as he said it.
My mouth twitched into a smile. I found his choice of words particularly appealing. Pam looked curiously at him, but said nothing.
Sasha angled his body back toward me. I don’t know if I imagined it, but it felt like his whole existence was radiating heat now. It sent rush through my body.
“Let us return to our ‘lesson’ and pretend to care,” he suggested.
“Sasha,” I laughed, nudging his arm. It was hot to the touch. I was not imagining it.
“What?” he said innocently.
I shook my head at him, incredulous. I had no idea he was so funny. Who would have thought that sullen dragon was full of humor. He relented.
“I will behave myself,” he lied through his fanged teeth, patting his chest.
“Doubtful,” I returned, amused. It was easy to talk to him. Like we were old friends. Sasha was right: Pam had started something.
—
Sasha continued pointing out more language dialect rules and vocabulary from Lyfax. Things we couldn’t have learned on our own.
There were so many regions to learn about. I listened intently as he described them, and asked questions about everything. It was as if he was taking me on a mental tour of those far away places…
Before that day we hadn’t said a word to each other. Hadn’t shaken hands or anything. Whenever we had met eyes, we would quickly look away. I didn’t understand why we had done that. Now here we were hunched over a text book with our heads damn near touching. The heat of his breath warmed my face. It was hotter than earlier that day. Much hotter. No one was close enough to be bothered by it but Pam, and she did not seem to react to it.
And still I kept on gravitating closer. Because of how he had angled his body toward me, my left arm eventually pressed against his right.
My breathing stuttered, being in such close proximity to him. And I knew he felt it. He had to have felt it. Because I felt him tremble.
And there it was again! That strange rumble emanating from him, from his throat, I could now tell. Now that I was touching him, it was amplified, coursing through me. I tried to pinpoint its essence. It was very much like a growl, the crackling of a fire. And a hum; it reminded me of the way he responded to things without words. Hmmm.
All of it together was a magnetic song. I couldn’t help but listen. Let it lull me into a dream.
I wandered from the lesson for a moment to imagine what it would be like to just feel all of it pressed up against my chest. To embrace him and the heat he radiated.
I wanted to feel his fire whipping around me, not just the heat off him. To embrace a cascade of his flames. washing over me, engulfing me fully.
What would kissing Sasha be like? By the Goddess, the thought of drinking his fire until the persistent ice inside me melted was too tantalizing. If only I could just taste his breath inside my mouth… I wanted to look into his throat where I knew a flickering flame lie in wait. To explore it. Mmm.
It was like some deep ancestral memory was awakening. My breathing grew heavier. I swear to the goddess I heard his breath do the same. Except his breathing was punctuated by the rumbling crackle right under it. I knew he was in the same place I was.
I had to close my eyes and turn my head away from the heat coming off the words from his mouth. Because if I didn’t I would do something about it in that classroom—
“Leila?”
I emerged from my other world, his voice having shaken me from my daydream. I looked back to him.
“Class is over,” he rumbled into my ear quietly, the hotness washing over my neck and face. I rubbed those intense thoughts from my brows but they lingered everywhere else. I inhaled deeply and set about gathering my stuff. My hands shook.
Something hot brushed down my arm as he got up to gather his things. I looked down to see his claw drifting away from it. I thought it was an accident until he glanced at me. He smiled faintly though his brows were intense.
“Let us go,” he said gently, nodding toward the door.
“Okay,” I said, my eyebrow raising in interest. I slipped my bag over my shoulder. When he turned toward the door, I touched the trail of burning scales where he’d run his finger. When I say I could not breathe… I covered my mouth, then just rubbed my face with both hands. I didn’t know what to do. Mercy.
Looking around, my peers were also preparing to leave, so I composed myself the best I could and followed Sasha through the doorway.
—-
Dragontongue had been our last class of the day—”wow, you want that Dragontongue real bad huh?”Pam said— and it was time for us to part ways.
She chatted with Sasha, and I examined him while he was distracted.
I followed his gestures and mannerisms, wondering how he could weave such a spell over me that day. My behavior and my carefully curated facade were usually well under my control, perfected to give nothing away but pleasantness. But this dragon…
What I thought had been a perfect program was utterly interrupted. And the funny thing was, I wasn’t even mad at it. It was a break from the rigidity and monotony of my endless time at school. A break from my own reluctance to invite unknowns to myself, even those I desired. Like him.
For the first time in my life I thought ‘this is what the Sun must feel like to everyone else.’
From the moment I knew myself, my body had been cold. It was a point of contention between me, my parents and my Clan, all the Sun Clans. My mother was literally the leader of the Sun Dragons. And we, Sunscales, were Prime. Named directly after the Goddess.
People thought I was sickly. Anemic they called me. Even worse, some thought I was cursed. Most thought I wasn’t fit to be a leader in the future.
I did not let it stop me. I aimed for absolute perfection to stave off any doubt. Even at the expense of my own happiness sometimes.
My cold scales did not bother me. Although, at times, I wondered if I would be that way forever.
But now, I had felt Sasha’s warmth. This dragon had actually apologized in our first class for giving me the heat I never felt outside of putting my whole hand in a woodfire. It lingered in my scales as if they had drank it. They had awakened from a cold slumber.
I couldn’t go back.
I touched my arm that had been pressed against his, where his claw had grazed. Still hot to the touch. In fact everywhere he had breathed on, been near or looked at blazed. He had touched other things, shook hands with peers, finally, spoken to Pam, and none reacted as if he was exuding endless fire. Just me. Just for me.
“It has been a good day. You two have been so welcoming,” he said graciously. I was broken from my musings, realizing he was leaving. “I hope we continue to be friends during my time here.”
“For sure,” I said without hesitation, a little breathlessly. I didn’t want him to leave. He smiled warmly at me, almost in relief.
Pam smiled too. “Same,” she said. She began to rummage in her bag.
“It was nice to finally meet you,” he said softly to me. He put his hand out. I took it in mine. It was even hotter than before, unless I imagined it. I again put my other hand on top of his as if taking the warmth from it, to hold till later.
I don’t know what possessed me, but I let my thumb slide over the scales on the back of his hand. I didn’t even realize at first. But then I looked up and noticed Sasha was staring at me with his brow raised.
Gods, I could have died right there. Melted right into the floor and fallen into the void.
I almost pulled my hand in embarrassment, but he did not seem startled or upset. Instead Sasha placed his other hand atop mine. His face became intense for a moment, then softened. It seemed that neither of us wanted to let go. We did, though. The moment was brief, but it held much.
Pam, who had glanced up at us, had a barely concealed grin spreading over her face. She broke the spell that had drifted over us.
“Thank you for teaching us all that extra stuff about different dialects. I especially like that ridiculous word with the bricks,” she said, breaking the tense air.
Sasha shook his head as if clearing it. “Of course. I thought you might find that one amusing,” he said. He glanced at his phone, which had vibrated.
“You can lay your bricks on me anytime,” I mumbled to myself, still feeling the heaviness of that moment in my chest. I couldn’t help myself, saying that. I knew good and well it was provocative. I knew he might hear me. My mouth simply didn’t care. It was going to get me in trouble, I just knew it. I stared at my hand in wonder. It felt like fire had spread over it. What was he doing to me? Did he even realize that he was doing something? It didn’t seem like it.
In that same vein, Sasha didn’t say anything; he hadn’t been paying attention, I thought. Probably for the best. But then I heard him say something under his breath.
“Wow,” he whispered, silently laughing. I looked up at him. He covered his eyes, his shoulders shaking.
“Oh shit,” I said, covering my eyes as well.
Pam looked up. “What?” she asked, startled.
Sasha tried his best to keep a straight face, but it was impossible. He just laughed aloud then, a laugh that shook me to the core.
“Shut up,” I said, also laughing. I shielded my face in my hand as if I could hide from the embarrassment.
“I have said nothing,” he pointed out, his hands up.
“Please, please, let’s pretend I didn’t just say that shit,” I pleaded with him.
Pam’s eyes widened. “Oh my gods, what?”
“I will not say, Pam, yet I will never forget it,” Sasha said, smiling widely.
“What?” I replied, shocked.
“I will never forget it,” he repeated.
“By the Goddess Sasha. Are you serious?”
Sasha rubbed his eyes, still chuckling occasionally. “I am. Would you, if you were in my position?”
“Oh my gods,” I said weakly, still covering the side of my face.
Sasha patted his hand on his chest. “Gods, truly I needed today, desperately. It is no trouble to me, that you have said this. Certainly not. Unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend to, but we will discuss this permanent memory later, Leila Sunscale,” he said.
“Yeah, I bet,” I groaned, my voice shakey. I covered my face more. I was out of my mind, surely.
I heard Sasha begin to walk away, but his footsteps slowed. He hesitated, I guessed.
“Leila, do you have plans today?" he asked.
I looked up. He was looking at me expectantly. I couldn’t even say anything. I was still reeling from my ridiculous blunder. Now he wanted to see me! “What? I… umm—“
“No she doesn’t have plans,” Pam spoke up. Bless her.
Sasha smiled. “Perhaps we can speak of our project. I will find you later this evening as long as you are outside. I apologize for my abrupt departure but I must go.”
“Okay, cool,” I said. I rubbed my forehead.
He walked to the exit and looked back at me. “Perhaps we can build something later; I am not a bad mason, Leila Sunscale,” he said, chin raised. My mouth dropped. This dragon…
He let out a deep laugh and left. I watched him disappear through the doors of the hall, then followed him out. I saw a flash of red turn a corner into another building, vanishing from my sight.
"No he didn’t," I said in disbelief. "Did you hear what he just said?" I asked incredulously, gesturing toward his exit.
“What the hells did you say Leila?”
“I may have said a little something about bricks under my breath but his ass heard me. My gods.”
“Are you serious? Girrrrl," Pam said, shaking her head. “The gall on you.”
"Why did I say that? I must be crazy." I placed my hand over my forehead. Hot.
"I mean, he liked it," Pam said. "He thought it was funny. See, no harm done. If anything it sounds like Sasha has some business with you Leila," she teased.
I rubbed my face. I couldn't believe that I had run my mouth like that. In the other hand, I was pleased to have been so reckless. It had led me down this path. My scales prickled despite my embarrassment. Why should I feel bad now? He took my accidental flirtations as an invitation. And wasn’t that what I wanted?
Pam’s demeanor softened.
“Hey, for weeks you’ve been talking about how attracted you are to him. He turned out to be super nice, and he has a sense of humor, too. I like him. Fate is smiling on you again.”
"You sound like my mother," I noted.
“That's 'cause she's always right, isn’t she?" Pam pointed out, brow raised.
“Fine… She is,” I conceded. She would have said those words. In truth I had heard her say them many times.
Resigned to my fate, I stepped into the quad with Pan. I walked into a shaft of sunlight and sat on the bench it spilled onto, the Sun’s rays warming me. I closed my eyes against them, basking.
“I may as well go study while I wait for him. I can’t believe this is happening,” I remarked.
“Well believe it. Your bricklayer is seeing you today,” Pam teased.
“Pam, for real?” I remarked, opening my eyes.
“What? Come on. We can both go study.” Pam hugged me. She looked puzzled though.
“Leila. You feel hot. You never run hot. You’re not having a stroke are you?” she asked, alarmed.
“No. That’s just because he sat next to me the whole day,” I revealed. And breathed on me, leaned on me… I shut my eyes, wishing I had lied.
Pam nodded, not noticing my apprehension. “Oh okay. That makes sense. We did just get out of class. I didn’t know fire dragons were like that just idly,” she mused. “Let’s get on out of here.”
I wanted to tell her what I really felt. But I was sure it would sound crazy. Maybe I would after I met him and spoke to him. Privately.

We walked together through the courtyard. I glanced through the windows of various buildings looking for red scales moving in the halls. I saw nothing, of course.
We ended up going to the library. The room was large and made of ironwood. Small nooks with tables were tucked away amongst large shelves full of tomes.
We chose a table with a window next to it.
I studied as attentively as I could, trying to occupy my mind. But I could not stop seeing Sasha in my vision. Pam gave up trying to get me to engage in conversations with her. Instead I studied for the assignment in Dragonology on my laptop, and daydreamed.
—
“It’s getting late. You don’t know when Sasha will be looking for you.” Pam said, shaking me from my focus.
The light from the windows had waned somewhat, giving way to the Sun readying for slumber.
“Oh, right. I was deep into this essay here. I wish I had borrowed his books and saved my eyes,” I said, rubbing them.
Pam yawned as we packed our things, hefting her bag up. “I’m going to head home. Tell me how everything goes. Tell me if y’all build a house!”
“Pam!” I gasped. “Oh my gods.”
“Love you! Bye!” Pam called, rushing off.
—
I strolled around the grounds reading a book, looking up at the Sun every once in a while. But I didn’t spot Sasha anywhere. I hoped that I had not missed him. I had studied a bit longer than I intended.
Eventually I sat on a bench to wait. I would wait until dusk settled. And if he didn’t show I would see him the following day. It was not as if we had exchanged our numbers.
I pulled out my notebook full of writings, poetry, doodles. It was just one volume from a collection of filled books over the duration of my life, where I pressed flowers of my heart through its pages.
Before I could put pen to paper, I paused.
I put away my old faithful journal and pulled out a new one in deep red. It was not a coincidence by any stretch. I had stared at it on the shelves of an art store until I gave in and bought it.
I hadn’t written one thing in it since. After all, I hadn’t known him, and didn’t want to write only about his appearance. I wanted to know what he was made of. Now, having met Sasha, the red book was begging for ink.
So I let myself fall into a rhythm. So many elements of Sasha had revealed themselves to me that day: this dragon’s voice, his heat, his mannerisms. The words he said, the way he said them, his sense of humor hidden under all that seriousness.
I searched my brain and gathered up all my own words, sifted through them. I wrote a few things here and there, but nothing like what I wanted.
I looked up toward the Sun for some bit of inspiration, and my breath caught. A red form flew in front of it, wings beating. Seeing Sasha framed in that circle of fire was more than I could have hoped for. I stared up at him flying until he stopped, scanning for something.
The moment of inspiration I had been searching for was right there. I spoke aloud what I had and wrote it as swiftly as my claws could move:
“A dragon in a Circle. An Inferno wrapped in the Sun A scarlet vision framed in fire A cloud of embers in the Goddess’s hands She Holds all of him out toward me The gift of a flame within a flame “
I dropped my pen and covered my mouth in embarrassment. “Oh my gods what am I writing?” I asked myself. I stared at the words.
I turned my head to read them as if a new perspective would make them less mortifying.
“Hmm,” I muttered. “Needs some work but…’A flame within a flame.’ That’s some good shit.”
I looked back up. Sasha’s gaze swept over me then away. I waved my arm up at him, bangles jangling, hoping he saw me so he wouldn’t be looking all around all day.
When Sasha looked back in my direction he stopped where he was. He descended slowly until he locked eyes with me. My heart pounded again. It was driving me up the wall, the anxiety. Or rather anticipation. I pressed my hand to my chest watching him grow closer. His wings were huge, blocking out the Sun.
I had been staring at Sasha from a distance since he had arrived, his very first day. He was imposing, the way he had entered my classes, but exceptionally polite. I had been silently competing with him since laying eyes on his grades.
Now the distance was finally closed after my nervousness had kept me away. I folded my notebook shut and stood as Sasha landed with a woosh of air.
I looked upon him not as a mysterious figure in the back of class but as a new friend. More. I couldn’t help but smile when he straightened his already straight clothes as he moved toward me.
He smiled right back at me, chin raised.
“Leila,” he said.
“Sasha. Hey,” I replied.
“So,” he said, “you spoke of bricks earlier,” he teased.
My mouth dropped again. This dragon…
“You aren’t letting that go are you?” I asked.
“Never. Even if nothing ever came of it, I would never forget.”
“By the gods,” I muttered.
“I am not complaining,” he clarified.
My eyes widened. Then it occurred to me that he had insinuated something would come of it. Goddess, I felt my own fire sweep across my cheeks. I was so flustered I covered my mouth with the heel of my palm letting my claws settle over my cheek. I couldn’t stop the motion fast enough.
Sasha laughed good naturedly. Sweetly, even. “I will stop teasing. For now,” he said.
“For now?” I repeated past my palm.
“For now.”
I lowered my hand. “You are a trip, do you know that?” I said, raising my eyebrow. Even though I had been nervous, actually talking to him made me feel like meeting all his words head on.
He gestured for me to walk beside him without answering. I did. I almost took his arm again, so I clutched my notebook to my chest to keep my hands in check. We didn’t say much as we walked along the quad together.
Some students were staring at us as we walked. I suppose we made quite the pair together.
“It appears we are a bit of a spectacle,” he muttered to himself curiously, agreeing with my thoughts.
I couldn’t help stealing glances at him every once in a while.
His posture was impecable. He held his left hand behind his back. The other lingered in front of his chest as if ready for something. I didn’t know how else to describe it. It was interesting, that pose; deliberate. I saw that he had rings on his fingers as well. I had not noticed them before. They were red like his scales, rough hewn. The overall pose made him seem so stately.
I couldn’t quite describe his expression. It was both intense and peaceful all at once.
He caught me staring one time, though. He was looking right at me when I peeked. I turned away and put a hand to my face. I hoisted up my bag.
“Here,” he said.
I turned back. “Here what?” I asked.
He put his hand out to me, gesturing toward my bag. I stopped walking.
“Oh. Okay. Such a gentleman,” I said, a smile playing on my face, impressed. He chuckled to himself, accepting my compliment.
I slipped my bag from my shoulder, and he took it to hold on his elbow. We started walking again. I didn’t care after that; I looked at him openly, a little bit enamored.
‘Ok Mr. Sasha Emberscale. I see you,’ I thought.
PART 2

dont listen to liar, snake is the worst beowulf in diamond tier. Read his SA and think about it.
Him gain 3 evasion (no time limit) when enter in hype mode. IF defeat a enemy while Hype mode gets Permanent HASTE and 5 barrier (no time limit)
But why Beowulf needs barrier? If you have evasion that is redundant. Maybe to prevent reflect damage? If you land a crit hit against painwheel those 5 barrier will do nothing to save you.
Even against thorns remains Useless
And lets keep in mind: you just get barrier AFTER defeat an enemy while you have Hype. (you could kill by accident your enemy while you don't have hype)
You need kill someone first so is kinda slow to get haste. But anyways, beowulf dont rely on blockbusters. Beowulf use his chair or wulfshot.
His bb chain Is weak.
So Haste and barrier are actually cringe and giga lame.

If you kill an enemy in hype mode you got haste and barrier = you dont have half of your SA at the start od the match

But evasion is worth? No. Those evasion are slow to get and beowulf cant do much with them anyways. So what do Snake special? Nothing. Absolute NOTHING.
His SA dont give any bonus damage, precision or debuffs. Is like play without any SA.
You want spam infinite block busters with beowulf? We have a nice SILVER variant than DRAIN block buster.
Hear me out some trolls will try to gaslight you saying "snake bite have the higher ATK of any beowulf" yes, but most of the other beowulf have bonus damage or cool SA effects.
Wulfbane have a 50% bonus atk for example. Dragon brawler 100% bonus damage. Cold stone (bronce tier btw) have a 50% bonus damage.
In resume, snake bite is CRINGE. Somehow worse than dark might.

For the past years I have always felt like I was different from others. They way I talked, acted, etc. I am unsure as of now, but over a few months, I’ve written down some symptoms that I’ve seen be heavily related to ADHD or autism.
• Fidgeting. I fidget a lot, even while writing this im fidgeting. this can go from wiggling things like my fingers or squeezing objects.
•The inability to sit down and focus. During school or other projects I wanted or had to do, I’ve noticed that I pretty much have to tie myself to my chair and try to do work, but even then in about a minute or so, I’m on my phone scrolling through social medias or playing a game. Or when writing a script for something, I can barely get 1 or 2 lines down without immediately shifting to something random for a short time, and this continues.
•Hyperfixating. Sometimes I will randomly start fixating on random medias such as games, books, movies, etc. As an example, recently I started to hyperfixate on Ultrakill. (No, I dont own the game, but im obsessed with talking about it or watching videos on it). I pretty much have to tape my mouth shut around my friends about it, because they aren’t interested in it and im scared to come off as annoying.
•Short attention span. I am hardly able to focus on more than 1 thing at a time, for a little amount of time. As an example, say I’m drawing while talking to a friend. As they’re saying something, for a moment I begin to draw. Even though I was just focused on the conversation, in a second I had shifted my attention to my paper and blocked out everything they just said. I couldnt control this. It all happened seemingly impulsively.
•Horrible memory. I am bad at remembering things. Even if something was told directly to me while I was listening, the next moment something grabs my attention, I completely forget what I had just been told. This leads to me being very unorganized or untrustworthy when it comes to being asked to remember things or tackle certain tasks for others or myself.
•Procrastination. Similar to my inability to focus, by the time i sit myself down to do something, I hold it off for a while and get stuck in a loop of “I’ll do it later.”. This leads to me doing things at awkward times, such as before bed, or in the mornings.
•Being a chatterbox. I always have a lot of things to say. This can lead to me accidentally going on rants without even realizing it.
•I am extremely sensitive. Even the slightest rude comment on me or something I am into can really hurt me. This can lead to me yelling at someone or having a breakdown.
•Extreme stuttering. Whenever I try to say things, Iend yo stuttering. A LOT. I usually have to then prepare myself to say something, and it really feels abnormal, as nobody around me stutters at all as much as I do.
•struggle to adjust to change or obstacles. Say I have spent 30 minutes or so preparing myself to draw with a pencil and paper. I then lose this pencil, and this really throws me off, and can even lead to me dropping the task altogether or procrastinating it for a while trying to recollect.
•struggle to maintain eye contact. I can hardly keep my eyes on someone when in conversation. My eyes are usually off looking at the bird that just flew behind them or the poster to their left, trying to read what it says.
So, yeah. I believe im neurodivergent. I am currently unable to get diagnosed by a professional, so if there’s anybody that experiences these symptoms and has been diagnosed, or someone knowledgable when it comes to this topic, I would love to hear some feedback or reassurance of my beliefs.

Cannibal had made up his mind a few moves ago: If this kid doesn't swing this chair, doesn't absolutely fuckin' nail me, then he's getting taxed, and big time.
The kid's name is Rob Small, and he's supposedly some hot-shot rookie fresh out of the local school. But Cannibal doesn't get it. Everything about the kid bugs him, right down to the name. The sport lost something when people stopped calling themselves ridiculous things, like 'The Big' this, or 'Ultimate' that.
And besides, it's a dirty trick. It's too easy, just like everything the new kids are doing. It's almost too real. And the audience doesn't want real. They only think they do. Cannibal knows this better than just about anyone.
Cannibal feels that he's been carrying them both since the bell. Again, it's this new, soft shit. Flipping, and posing, and nobody wants a single scratch on their pretty mugs. The word fake doesn't exist in this business, but as Rob winds up for another one of his little tricks, all flare, no impact, you can kind of see where people get that idea.
Cannibal takes a knee, then another, but wide, because that's how you take a real hit. Rob pulls the chair back.
"Don't fuck this up," Cannibal says.
The blade of the chair just grazes Cannibal's eyebrow, opening two inches of scar tissue, and perforation.
This is good. Unintentional, but good.
The crowd isn't theirs yet, but the stream of blood pulls a few people forward and gets them almost leaning into the next row down.
The blood is good, no doubt about it. But the sound of skull on steel would've lit them on fire, and that's just science.
Rob moves to the ropes, taking a squeaky-clean moment to acknowledge the crowd. He waves his arms around like he's leading a marching band or something, and it "earns" him a small pop of recognition.
Here's the problem- there's no story here. No tale of the tape. Just some rookie nobody cares about, and an aging prick that people care even less about. This is when every move is supposed to count. Not just every move, but every transition, every facial expression too. The kid's athletic, sure. But so is everybody. He doesn't have the rhythm yet, and his nose is too straight. And Cannibal is tired of carrying this match.
Cannibal starts back on his feet, quickly, counter-intuitively, like a jump scare. The kid's finally connecting with the crowd now, lifting the chair like some intramural trophy. But it's too little, too late, and Cannibal sees his opportunity.
First Cannibal snatches the chair, up, and behind Rob, then steadies his giant, calloused fingers with a well-timed exhale. He whirls Rob around, ready or not, and drives the lip of the chair into the liver side of his waist, which folds him directly in two. The crowd chatters a bit, but he isn't finished.
Cannibal throws the chair less than a foot away, then sets up the move that's going to win the crowd.
He didn't invent the move, not even close. It's not even particularly uncommon. But he made his name off this move. Here's some wisdom from the old school: There are precious few people who make money from this business by looking good. And if you can't look good, you need to look vicious.
Cannibal hooks his arms under Rob's armpits, then wrenches both arms so violently that the triceps almost touch. Operating on pure panic, and instinct, Rob's legs unwind, independently searching for a better position, but never finding it.
"Hey, easy up there," Rob says from somewhere near Cannibal's midsection, but he may as well be speaking to the mat now.
Cannibal wrenches Rob's arms again, but this time the triceps touch for one moment of searing pain. He does this half for show, and half as a warning to keep quiet during his finisher. He looks out at the crowd, and their features form for the first time since he entered the arena. Before then, they were nothing, just a wallpaper pattern of merch, and facial hair. There's a difference between the individual faces in the first row, and the voice that fills the venue, and guides your match.
A single fan can be wrong, but a crowd never is.
But Cannibal takes some of that power back now, and he's staring at the crowd, the entity, right in the face, starting with the first row.
The first few faces that he locks eyes with are rabid, their eyes wild with anticipation. They're gesticulating wildly, like they can't believe, or can't wait for what's coming next. The next face is a little boy who shies away and looks at his dad for help. He scans about a seating section and a half, screaming spittle-seasoned insults along the way.
Mid-taunt, before anybody can count it off, Cannibal hits his finisher, The Flesh Eater.
Cannibal pushes off the toes of his boots, about a foot into the air, bringing Rob's craned arms with him. That's why you really need to wrench. With Rob feeling real pain at each arm's socket, he has no choice but to sell. At the height of his jump, Cannibal shoots his legs straight out in a wide V, unclenching his ass for a nice, cushioned landing.
Rob's face hits the chair a microsecond before Cannibal's legs, and underside absorb the remainder of the blow. It's enough to make the aluminum ring out into the high warehouse ceiling and put a pretty little face-sized dent in the seat.
The crowd reacts with screams, with horror, with finally, some fucking emotion.
Cannibal climbs to his feet, while the lights flick on-and-off, on-and-off in Rob's eyes. Rob props himself on his palms, and knees, finding the floor he wasn't even looking for.
But he loses it again with a big, booted punt to the ribs. The crowd boos now from every direction.
This is good. It means that right now, they hate Cannibal. It means that when they go home, they'll remember how much they hated him. It means that he did his job.
Cannibal takes a victory lap around the ring while Rob writhes in presumably authentic agony. Cannibal leans over the top rope, pointing at the front row again, dissolving the boundary between them. He's screaming at a fan. He may even be screaming at one hundred fans when he notices a face that shouldn't be in attendance.
Was it section B? He looks over but can't find the face anymore.
He darts his eyes wildly, unfocusing them so that the crowd transforms into nothing but eyebrows, and merch, approval, and disgust.
He glances back toward Section B, right around where he thinks he saw the face, right as Rob crawls from behind, hooks his leg, and rolls him into a three count.
Both men roll onto their backs; Rob, because the pain from his neck, down to his waist puts him there. Cannibal, because he's defeated and confused.
Had he really seen that face? He knows he hadn't. One, because that would make no sense. And two, because, and he only saw it for a second, but the face was significantly younger than it should have been. About 20 years younger. Which would put it right around a time that he doesn't think, or speak about. Cannibal decides that he didn't see the face after all. He doesn't believe in ghosts. Especially not ghosts that haven't even died.
***
Cannibal collects his pay, and the doc plugs up his gash, in that order. He's got a show in a bigger market tomorrow, so the butterfly stitches just need to hold until then.
He unlaces his boots in the parking lot, then trades them for some once-white Adidas from the back seat of his gray Toyota Camry. Then he thinks about the ghost again. The one that he didn't see, the one that isn't even dead as far as he knows.
He stands still in his untied sneakers and thumbs a few reps through his social pages. If he had died, the news would have picked it up by now. An old friend would have even messaged,
"Here if you need to talk." Or, "It's not your fault"
Something like that, anyway. But Cannibal doesn't see anything, no messages, neither of their names gracing, or disgracing any headlines. And besides, that doesn't exactly solve the issue at hand. Maybe the kids are right, he thinks. I've officially taken too many blows to the skull.
For twenty years, Cannibal has always driven to the next city, or the next stop on the road, the night prior. Tonight, he checks into the nearest hotel/rest stop that connects to the main road. It's only about a four-hour drive, three if he can avoid traffic, and the need to piss. He doesn't even need to check into the venue until 5 pm. That's ample time, he decides for the first time in his career.
"I just need a bed and a shower", Cannibal tells the night clerk, a pimply boy who has deepened his voice since the exchange intensified.
He's the only employee, except for a few maids pushing yellow baskets around the parking lot, and a few unofficially affiliated girls prowling around from the local skin bar.
The boy wants to avoid a hassle. He knows that the nearest signs of life are the old warehouse a few exits down, and the sheriff's office even further.
"I'm sorry sir," he begins, and he's really using diaphragm now, speaking to the back of the house, "But all's we got left tonight is the honeymoon suite."
"So it's $30 extra for a dirty mirror on the ceiling, and a vase full of plastic fuckin' roses?"
The clerk winces at the swear, then gleams over Cannibal's right shoulder into the mostly empty parking lot. Cannibal gives the kid his best mean mug, the same one that he'd shoot toward a new opponent or a crowd that hates his guts. The quiet moment lingers, and then, wouldn't you guess it, just like that, thirty dollars gets shaved off the tab.
Cannibal tosses his duffel onto the frilly red sheets, then rolls off his sneakers as his reflections oblige in both the ceiling and wall-length mirrors. He sits on the bed, then wiggles his toes a bit generating a sound like gravel crunching in a driveway. He wants to get up and shower off some of the dried blood that's clotted his hair to his face, but the world rocks, and spins, and he lays down and falls asleep without even killing the bedside lamp.
He can't remember the ramp, the fans, or the bell. He can't remember the promos, or what angle he's supposed to be taking. But judging from the dark cherry splatted canvas, and the ringing in ears, it's been a fuckin' barn-burner so far. He looks directly ahead, at the high, pipe-laden ceiling, and realizes he's on his back. A boot lands next to his head, then another. Maybe it's the high-intensity discharge lights that are stinging his eyes, maybe he's still rattled from whatever move put him on his ass, but as his opponent steps over him, he can't seem at all to make out their face.
Whoever his opponent is, he begins to pick him up by the hair, and that's when Cannibal notices that the abstract art on the mat has mostly come from the back of his head. Drops of blood race down his opponents wrists, and pool near his elbows. Cannibal is bent over looking down at the mat, at his opponent's standard-issue black boots, and at the fresh coat of bright red, which will soon dry darker.
His opponent cranks his arms clumsily but with intensity. He can feel his blood greasing his opponent's grip, not allowing for any real traction. Then his opponent's knees square up, then bend, and Cannibal realizes. "Hey, that's my fucking move!" he says, or tries to say, but his opponent's airborne, and then so is he.
Usually, there's a nice thud when you hit the mat, but not this time. This time it sounds more like a series of wet pops, like cracking your knuckles underwater. Cannibal tries to roll over and assess the situation. Then he tries to roll over again.
Oh. Shit.
He's face down on the mat, and he intuits, rather than feels his opponent hurry off him, and in that same foggy way, he can feel the crowd. The beast with one thousand eyes is silent, but it isn't bored. It's murmuring, but with a sort of upward inflection, like it's asking him a question can't answer. Now a referee rolls him over. Cannibal awakens in a panic and tries to jump out of bed, away from the red sheets, but his body is uncooperative. His head lolls at an unnatural angle toward the mirrored wall. He can move his eyes, but nothing else.
He wants to scream for the pimply-faced boy or one of the night girls, but nothing comes out of his mouth. He can see his reflection, the collapsed muscles in his face, and the pool of spit that's collected on the pillow by his ear. The parts of the bed directly under him appear a darker red than the rest of the sheets. His eyes roll wildly and take in different parts of the same wall that he's frozen on. He can barely feel his breathing, but he knows that it's sporadic and shallow. He keeps rolling his eyes, searching for a modicum of control over his own body. And that's when he sees him again.
The ceiling mirror casts its reflection into its wall counterpart, and with the furthest strain of his eyeball muscles, Cannibal can just barely recognize him. He's a little older than he looked in the crowd earlier, but it's unmistakable this time. Fucking ghosts. Ghosts who aren't even dead yet. From somewhere behind his eyes Cannibal feels the onset of rage.
His eyes blink involuntarily, and a well of tears are pushed, and guided down into the spit-soaked pillow. He imagines himself rocking forward and tries to send this signal to a part of his body that doesn't exist. He imagines it again. He tries to kick a leg, throw an elbow, he'll settle for anything. He sends that signal in random intervals like he's trying to surprise his own faculties. He "throws" another elbow.
Except this time his arm releases from his side and soars out in front of him. His body follows, and he feels a vile concoction of fear, and relief as he falls off the bed, with arms and legs too weak to break his fall. He narrowly avoids contact with the corner of the nightstand and lands with a thud on the carpeted floor. He wiggles his toes, and the sound of tires on gravel rings out into nothing. ***
After regaining some strength, Cannibal uses his recently renewed limb strength to tear through every creak, and crack of the hotel room. He finds nobody in the room, nobody in the mirrors, just himself and his aching fucking cranium. Exhausted, but no longer tired, Cannibal grabs his duffel and checks out of the hotel room by tossing his key in the general direction of the unsuspecting clerk. He tears his car door open, then drives off with only half a plan in mind.
The morning sun breaks as Cannibal pulls up to a red light, and re-reads his early morning text to the promoter, 'Can't make it tonight. I'll make it up to you somehow.'
He's never backed out of a show before, and he knows that he'll have to confront that fact soon, but right now, it doesn't seem to matter. He needs to see him. He cobbles his route out of headlines and news stories that he manages to search up between red lights and stop signs.
Where are they now? 6 Wrestlers Whose Careers Ended In Tragedy The Real Story of Ernie "The Eagle" Samson Former World Champion Contender in Hospice After 20-Year Battle
Cannibals mind races as single sentences fire out at him like shrapnel. He scrolls past his own names, both gimmick and government a few times over. He feels the rage, and tears form behind his eyes again.
You weren't the only one that lost your legacy that day, you prick.
After twenty years he knows these roads well. Well enough to cruise over to the hospice unassisted by a map, or GPS. He acknowledges his thoughts as his motions become routine.
Ernie Samson was poised to be the next big thing back before all the wrestling territories got swallowed up by the Big Guy in the corporate machine. He was a handsome bastard, and a city man with the strength of a farm boy. He could talk fear into the crowd without raising his voice, and he pulled women who didn't know and didn't care what he did for a nightly living. Cannibal hated him, but in a brotherly way that was steeped in admiration. Even in those times, Cannibal was more brutish and uglier than everyone in the locker room. It was a stroke of momentary genius when some otherwise dipshit promoter first suggested that they pair up. Some sort of beauty and brawn type gimmick. The monster and his mouthpiece.
And you know what? It worked. People ate that shit right up. Cannibal chewed through his opponents with ferocity, while Ernie dazzled the crowd with his mixture of strong style, flips, and tricks. They melted the imaginary territory perimeters and became shooting stars in every market they played. Men paid off their tabs at the bar, and Ernie was gracious enough to send some trim Cannibal's way every now and again. It was a nice system, comfortable even.
Then that dipshit promoter had another bright idea. The team was ready to break up.
The way he described it, they'd take all that heat they had amassed together, and cover double the ground. This storyline was a natural, mostly because it was real. What the promoter was saying, in his dickhead way, was that Cannibal had served his purpose. He'd put the real star in place for his meteoric rise. Cannibal looked at where his career was, and how far it had come, and he agreed. They'd go out in one final bloodbath of a match, and defeat their current rivals, The Maniacs. Then Cannibal would attack Ernie, severing their ties, and launching their individual careers. Cut, dry.
Right up until the end, that match stands in Cannibal's memory as his finest work. If he'd been vicious before, he was rabid in this match. The hits were real, the emotions were high, and the crowd invested in every last pectoral twitch. After nearly half an hour of slogging and bruising, Cannibal hit his finisher and covered his opponent to the tune of twenty-something-thousand screaming fans. As the three-count fell, the crowd hit a decibel that he'd never heard before. They were screaming so loud, that it almost dampened in volume, and became a whisper in his ears.
The Maniacs had done their jobs well, bloodying and bruising Cannibal and Ernie for a gruesome glamor shot that would make the following day's paper. That image, of Ernie raising Cannibal's arm before the inevitable turn, would haunt almost every article written about either of them from that day forward.
Soaked in the moment, and each other's blood, Ernie hoisted Cannibal's arm, and they spun the ring, facing every single fan in attendance. Normally you'd wait for a break in the volume before the next big moment, but this crowd had no intention of quieting down. They faced each other, and Ernie mouthed the words.
"You ready?"
To this day Cannibal doesn't exactly know what went wrong. First, he felt sadness. Then he felt anger. He realized that the cheers wouldn't end for Ernie, but there was a very real possibility that this was his own last big pop. He went ahead as planned. First with an absolutely brutal kick to the midsection, which softened Ernie's abs into dough. Ernie let out a real, dry cough as the crowd's cheers morphed into shock and confusion. Then he cranked his arms, clumsily, but with intensity. Ernie's arms were slick with blood, and Cannibal couldn't sink in his hooks correctly. His legs shot out gracelessly, and rather than hearing the cushioned thud of his own ass, all he heard was a sick, wet pop.
Cannibal notes that he is about one exit from the hospice, and shakes his head vigorously as if to erase his thoughts. The exit approaches, and he cuts in deftly. He is immediately greeted by a green, bustling town, in a decent Midwestern neighborhood.
He cruises toward the hospice, passing a few young couples, and their church-clothed children. Bells chime nearby, and a dog emits a medium-sized bark from a nearby public park.
Cannibal glances in his rear-view as he changes lanes. Ernie is seated behind the middle console, smirking, but with no joy in his eyes. Cannibal tries to scream, but can't.
With the wheel slightly angled for his turn, Cannibal cruises subtly across lanes, onto the sidewalk, then into the park.
The first few couples dive out of the way with synchronized, but inharmonious shrieks. A young man pushes his wife and child to the ground, and the driver's side front wheel crunches, and shatters his ankle. The next few people aren't so lucky.
A group of friends sprawled across a picnic blanket snap around toward the source of the commotion just in time to greet the Toyota Camry's fender. Cannibal's eyes dart between his windshield and the rearview where Ernie sits smirking. He sees a young woman snatched from his sight line and hears a gunshot of a pop as the back of her skull smacks against some concrete. Tears roll down Cannibal's face as he wills his arms, legs, or fucking anything to move. The litter of bodies test the car's shocks, as the wheels find their way over strange terrains of bone and flesh. Then, a street lamp.
Cannibal's forehead smacks against his wheel a millisecond before the airbags deploy. He flinches, and his arms twitch as the bag chafes his nose and brow. He has regained control of his movement, if only slightly. He kicks open the door but does not face the trail of mayhem that succumbed to his vehicle. Instead, he realizes that he is just one block away from the hospice. With the remaining screams a comfortable distance behind him, he half runs, half stumbles to the reception desk.
People react to Cannibal's arrival with appropriate confusion and terror. The butterfly stitches have ceased to hold, and a rigid pattern of blood trails him as he staggers across the linoleum tile.
"Sir, do you need help?"
"Samson. I need Ernie fucking Samson."
He peers over the desk and sees a directory of sorts, like a cheat sheet of hospice patients, and their assigned rooms. He leaks blood from his brow over the counter, and onto the sheet, and the seated receptionist recoils with disgust as he snatches and reads it.
Ernie Samson 211
Cannibal marches now on sturdy feet to the nearest stairwell. A small security guard attempts to stand in his way, but Cannibal dwarfs his face with his gigantic palm, and smashes it into the drywall behind him, eliciting a collective gasp from the lobby waiting room. He kicks open the stairwell door and drags himself up the single flight of stairs onto the landing. Then he kicks open the second door.
Nurses gasp and take a step back as he emerges from the stairwell, ferocity emblazoned across his face and written in his scar tissue. He observes the direction in which the numbered rooms flow and stomps toward Room 211.
Half a dozen people are stood outside the room, with hospital staff accounting for only two of them.
"Bradley?" an older woman asks, as Cannibal tears past her, and into the room.
Inside the room is a white sheet spread over a series of lumps on a lightly inclined bed. A young man is seated near the side of the bed where the railing has been temporarily removed. His eyes are bloodshot, and his cheeks are damp.
"Brad, what the fuck is-" he begins to say.
Cannibal lifts his leg and boots the man right off the green cushioned chair. Then he turns to the white lumps and tears the blanket off.
Ernie's face appears as it did in his back seat but without the rigid smirk. The muscles in his face are weak and sag as if they'd collapsed several years before his death. His dull eyes are still open, still staring at Cannibal.
"Ernie, you fucking prick," Cannibal starts, "You fucking prick, you get back here right now! You gonna fuck with me? You gonna fuck with me, Ernie? I fucking made you Ernie! We both fucking died that day!"
A small militia of security guards pour into the room, and it takes every last one of them to restrain Cannibal. He fights, and squirms as the fattest guard sits on the wide of his back, and pulls his arms. Cannibal thrashes and screams like an animal as he is restrained. He bashes his face into the tiled floor, leaving increasingly large spots of blood at the sight of impact. The fat guard applies some pressure to his hold, as small, wet pop emits from Cannibal's back.
There's no story here. No tale of the tape. Just a has-been wrestler in tomorrow's headlines, and a family mourning a loss that begun two decades prior. The crowd of mourners gasp and scream as all the fight leaves Cannibal's body at once. Then a woman breaks into sobs. She used to know Bradley Hughes. The real Cannibal. But nobody wants real.
They only think they do.

chapters 1&2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Link to AO3
For the first time in a long while Q’s bedroom didn’t feel empty. Next to him, lay the pinnacle of human beauty.
His little prince, exhausted after a single session of vigorous love-making, peacefully slept, curled in a cocoon of blankets and his newfound lover’s smell. Despite his promises to “ride Q all night long”, he went out like a light once he climaxed, quickly drifting off while still reveling in the afterglow.
But that wasn’t why Q was feeling worried. In fact, he was grateful for his student’s lack of endurance tonight because when their foreplay finally got to the serious stage, the older man came to an unpleasant realisation: he wasn’t going to get what he wanted out of this encounter. Yes, however tempting Iliya looked sprawled on the bedsheets, however shameless his moans and pleas were, however selflessly Q served him with his mouth, hands and hips, the only thing that got excited was his’s aesthetic taste.
Good thing Iliya didn’t notice his partner’s body lose interest before he fell asleep.
For the first time in a long while Q craved a stimulant. Caffeine, sugar, nicotine. Anything to dispel the dark cloud of the nasty disillusionment: the man he was in love with wasn’t going to keep him happy in the bedroom.
Could they work up to that? Perhaps. But despite Q’s best efforts to hint at wanting to be pushed around, submitted and taken over, Iliya only saw them as cute meaningless teasings, and insisted on being the one who was being serviced.
Could he deal with that? Wasn’t Iliya worth it?
Q sighed and climbed out of bed to look at the night city.
He should be grateful. It wasn’t a big deal, was it? As long as Iliya was happy, he could cope. He could always satisfy his own fantasies alone or with a simulation.
Which was the same thing really.
The ever-clear skies were getting greyish, which meant the night was coming to an end.
Ashtapadans lived almost throughout the whole day-night cycle, taking advantage of the safety of the night city and the mild climate that made being outside comfortable the whole year-round. The people below seemed impossibly small from the high floor but somehow as far away from Q as the perfect person in his bed just a couple steps away.
His bedroom wasn’t empty. But it felt dead.
Well, time for some work.
The only stimulant that was available.
Better do another round of checking the system status, or go through the surveillance cameras again. That would help him take his mind off of the swarm of the dark thoughts in his head.
The Turk was already sitting on the edge of the table, as if it had heard Q’s steps towards the room. Without any need to use the auglasses to see the little assistant, the man stretched his lips in a greeting, but the hologram’s facial recognition algorithms were too good.
“Not what you expected?” it asked, head tilted questioningly to the side.
“Please, T, I’m not in the mood,” Q said, plopping himself into the chair in defeat.
Had the Turk been listening? Hadn’t he closed the bedroom door?
“Alright, as you say. What can I help you with?” the simulation readily offered.
The man considered what could be the best course of action.
“Just run a check-up and notify me if anything is out of the ordinary,” he ordered. “Meanwhile, show me the main nodes and facilities’ cameras.”
“On it,” — the Turk froze for a moment, loading the 3D map on the desk that came to life, painting Q’s tired face with a blue hue, his sharp cheekbones and eyebags suddenly casting deep shadows.
Finally with something familiar to do, Q got to the methodical analysis of each of the critical points in the system, checking the logs and cameras in order. He knew that this process was supposed to be automatic as the AI ran diagnostics 24/7 without his help, but didn’t it mess up just yesterday? He could stumble upon another conspirators ring or a critical issue that the automatic process might have missed. A little double check never hurt.
After a while of watching its young master, the Turk spoke again, “There’s a couple of issues at the corn processing factory, and an incident with a cargo hound. The first problem is being dealt with and the hound is getting back to the main transport node and then to the repair facility to get fixed.”
So, nothing too serious, huh. Ashtapada ran like a clock. There had to be something he could be useful for though!
“What’s wrong with the hound?”
“It somehow got its front camera broken. Body sensors say there’s been an impact.”
“And the cargo?”
“Undamaged. The hound is going to be repaired and its logs loaded into the system for investigation and diagnostics. I’ll send you the report as soon as it gets generated.”
“Alright. What about the factory?”
“A couple of saccharification containers had a leak because of a pressure jump, the repair hounds already took care of that.”
Well, the system could at least to pretend to wait for Q’s order to send the hounds!
Realising where his thoughts were going, he immediately felt pathetic.
He wasn’t any kind of god, he didn’t even control the system in the slightest. The fact that he was allowed a glimpse into the inner workings of Ashtapada was a privilege, easily taken away if he wasn’t careful. But he needed to do something useful even if it was mere supervision.
“Turk,” he sighed. “Show me the saccharification containers.”
“Who are you talking to?” — came a sleepy voice from the door frame that Q couldn’t help but tune into immediately, like a mother hearing her baby’s crying.
Iliya was standing at the door, his ethereal silhouette pale against the dark rectangle. A loose sheet hugged his hips in a mock attempt at modesty that put a warm smile on Q’s lips.
“Just doing a bit of work, Cuddles, I’m talking to the system.”
“But where’re your glasses?” Iliya asked, coming closer, watching the desk curiously. For his bare eyes, it was lit up but didn’t display any sort of information, a normal person would need a pair of auglasses for that.
“I’m just using the voice recognition mode,” the man lied. “Bright light hurts my eyes.”
Iliya hummed in acknowledgment and came in, dragging the sheet behind like a very lewd wedding gown. Q’s unsatisfied hunger immediately stirred his insides, prompting him to tap his lap in invitation and get a couple of spare auglasses from the drawer at the same time.
“Come here, Cuddles, I’ll show you something amazing,” he lured, watching his lover gracefully approach.
He was so damn lucky to have this man in his life.
“More amazing that you’ve already shown me?” Iliya teased. He straddled Q’s lap, a warm back to a firm chest, and put the glasses on, instantly going “Whoahhh!” at what he saw.
“If the AI is the brain of Ashtapada,” Q murmured into his ear, hoping to sound seductive and not all lecture-y. “This is its heart.”
His arms instantly laced themselves around the narrow waist that clung to the warmth of Q’s body as Iliya’s buttocks teasingly shifted on his quickly heating seat.
“Amazing!” the boy breathed out, not failing to notice a warm palm snaking its way up his belly in a lazy motion. “Are those hounds? They look like ants from this angle.”
This awe-struck delight in the lecture hall and in the bedroom alike never failed to put a smile on Q’s face.
What they saw generated as a live 3D visualisation was indeed amazing. An enormous underground space, millions of tons of concrete shaped a little like a heart chamber with huge arteries of four main semi-circular tunnels coming out. The space was filled with hounds of various sizes hurrying to deliver the cargo, all sorts of pipes, wires and conveyor belts. The whole place seemed buzzing with activity even though the hologram didn’t generate any sound.
“Look,” Q pointed at one of the “arteries” with his free hand as the other caressed Iliya’s chest with the tips of the fingers. “This is the cargo sorting center. A hound that needs to transport something drops it off at this belt and it goes to the other part of the city to be picked up by another one.”
Iliya interlaced their fingers on his chest and showed his appreciation with a little wiggle of his hips in Q’s lap again.
God, he was temptation in the flesh.
“And this?” the boy asked innocently.
“Where the hounds go? This is the repair and modification facility. Here they automatically get diagnostics, maintenance and updates.”
“So cool!” — another brain-melting wiggle. — “And this?”
“This... ahh... This leads to the bio-ethanol factory,” — it was harder and harder to focus on the educational task and keep hands above the desk. — “See these pipes? They carry the fuel to the rest of the critical parts of the city.”
“And this last tunne... aahh! Q!”
“What? I’m just hoping for a little guided tour myself,” the man breathed into Iliya’s ear.
“Under my sheet?” he scolded coquettishly and last remnants of Q’s self-restraint ran dry in an instant.
“Let’s see if I can find my way without a map,” — he growled as his hands lost all shame and together with the mouth got to work on the treasure in his lap.
Hopefully, the Turk had enough decorum to disengage a while ago.
Like this, encompassed from all sides, the little prince was helpless to escape his teacher’s caresses. Encouraged by the writhing of the young body and the soft gasps, Q let his fingers tentatively slip under the bed sheet around the boy’s hips to find the hot hardness that already was leaking wet into the fabric. It was easy to lay back on the chair’s reclining support, making Iliya lose his balance and fall on the broad chest with a little endearing yelp. Like this, both of Q’s hands could explore what was to be had as he firmly grasped the already damp length as the other hand’s finger curled into the inviting heat of the place he had pleasured earlier that night.
“There, put your feet on my desk,” he whispered into Iliya’s neck between gentle bites, his own arousal catching up with his actions in a smothering wave that left him panting. “You’re so good and open for me like this, Cuddles.”
“Mmmhh…” the boy in his arms whined, doing as he was told, presenting a shameless picture of long graceful legs lecherously spread over the edge of the desk, with the other’s hands disappearing under the sheet around his hips. “What… ah… are you doing?”
Q let his finger slip into the tight heat just a little even though his lover was still wet from earlier, giving a couple of pumps with the other hand to admire the motions of his hands that looked deliciously lewd hidden like this under the fabric.
“It’s you who I must ask this question, my dear,” he went on, pushing the finger in and out slowly, circling the tip with his thumb to elicit another whine and a keen buckle of the other’s hips. “Do you know what you do to me, squirming like that in my lap? Do you know what your innocent sounds make me feel? Have you got the slightest idea how thoroughly your beauty ruined me?”
With those last words Iliya’s tortured motions halted. His mouth, too, stopped the soft panting and before Q knew it, the boy recovered his balance with the grace of a dancer he was, slipping away from his hands.
“What? Iliya? Did I hurt you?” he said hurriedly, his hands still itching to grab and squeeze and caress.
Iliya indeed looked hurt and indignant, and not in his usual flirty way. He stood a couple of steps away, and wrapped his bed sheet around his chest, as if protecting his assaulted innocence.
“Look, Q,” he said with a somber look in his eyes. He had never spoken like this before. — “I told you twice today to stop calling me beautiful. Why do you keep on doing it?”
“I… Did you? I... sorry, I thought you were just being coy,” Q scrambled for words, still sprawled on the chair, unsure what to do with his hands. “I’ll stop if you want.”
Oh, no. Had he ruined everything? So soon?
Iliya didn’t look impressed in the least.
“Listen, I told you I want you to stop but you ignored me,” he went on, clearly annoyed, pointing at the wall of the room where they started the evening. “I tried to be delicate, but looks like it takes me raising my voice for you to get it. It’s like you don’t see anything past my looks, just like everyone else!”
His student was indeed beautiful, even like this, looking daggers at him, but Q had the presence of mind to bite his tongue before letting it out. He just raised his palms in an attempt to reconcile.
“You’re right, Iliya,” — was it too much to call him Cuddles at a moment like this? — “I thought it was a simple compliment, but I should’ve listened to you the first time. I promise it won’t happen again. Come back to me?”
Iliya seemed hesitant for a moment looking at Q’s outstretched hands, the wetness of his body still lingering on his teacher’s fingers. The room wasn’t dark any more: the sun had spilled onto the walls and the furniture inside in an angry splatter of red.
“No. Sorry, but not now. You asked me not to call you Teach and I dropped it instantly. Because I respect your boundaries. Can’t you do the same for me?”
This was it. He did ruin everything.
Q’s shoulders drooped as he let his arms fall together with his gaze in defeat.
“You’re right, Iliya. It looks like I didn’t respect them. I apologise and hope you can forgive me.”
It was hard not looking at Iliya’s face, but it was terrifying to lift his eyes and meet something he wouldn’t be able to handle. What was in the other’s face? Hurt? Disgust? Resentment?
What was he supposed to say? To do? Was it over without even properly starting?
“It’s ok, Q,” Iliya’s voice came. It sounded a little choked, like the boy was forcing himself to calm down. “It’s new for both of us. I accept your apologies, but...”
But...?
But...?!
But what?
“...but I need some space right now. I‘ll go. I’ll see myself out,” he finished sternly, as if forcing himself into the firm tone.
“Of course,” Q said weakly, daring a glance at his Cuddles, wondering at the newfound depths of the other.
He’ll learn how to be the best partner for Iliya. He’ll have to.
“Thanks,” — the boy left the room to get his things and in a matter of minutes was already at the front door, hesitant. “Thanks again, I’ll see you... around, bye!”
Q covered his eyes with both hands and it wasn’t to block the bright sunlight that now filled the whole airy space with a blinding brilliance.
See him... around?

When I first took this job, I never could have predicted what would happen. After all the years of training and the experiences that I have had throughout my life, I am pretty good at being prepared for the worst. But before I begin this story, a little bit about myself.
I was a bit of a troubled child some might say. I lost both my parents to a car accident when I was 2. After that, I bounced from foster home to foster home. I blame it on the system. Almost every foster home I was put in was terrible. The parents were only doing it for the money and barely took care of the foster children. And when Social Services came, you think they listened to the children? No. But, I took on a personality that did help throughout this time. I decided that I wouldn't take shit from anyone. When some of the foster homes' actual children tried to bully me or other foster kids, they very quickly learned not to after several broken bones. In addition, I took this attitude to the public schools. Bullies would pick on the weak, and they would suddenly have broken noses and fingers. But, since it was the public school the bullies were not punished. Only me. However when the bullies would see me or get close to their victims while I was around they would quickly go the other way. This went on for the entirety of my youth. I never had a plan for my life. All I knew was that I was unwanted anywhere, and had nowhere to go. But one day, I was passing by the living room, and I saw a commercial on the tv that changed my life's course. It was an ad to join the United States Marine Corps. After this, I found a new purpose for my life. Unfortunately I was 15 at the time. But I immediately started training myself physically and mentally for this new course. I studied at the public library since I wasn't allowed to use the foster home's computer. I started working out at the high school's gym after class. And finally at 18 I joined the Corps. The next 8 years were the best of my life. After boot camp, MCT (Marine Combat Training), and SOI (School of Infantry) I soon learned about the Raiders. Which is Marine Corps special forces. I immediately put in for it and got selected. I was able to go to several foreign countries and fight many battles. All of my fellow Marines were the greatest family I ever had. Once I was at the end of my second enlistment I decided it was time for me to enter the civilian world again. At that time, we had a bad mission and I lost my closest friends. So I did what anybody in this situation does. I found a reasonably inexpensive apartment and drank excessively for the next month. Once I felt that my liver had been well punished, I began searching for a job. Now, money was not an issue for me at this time. I had plenty in savings to last most people a couple of years. While I was in the military, I never really bought anything since I knew I would be traveling all over. I also still had money saved from the insurance when my parents passed all those years ago that I refused to spend. So I tried finding a job that I would fit into given my skill sets. After some time I found what I was looking for. It was a position within a security company that provides its services to companies in both the private sector as well as government facilities. I immediately applied and got accepted. For the next year after this, I was able to complete some training required for the job and bought my own house in Nevada. I worked as a fill in guard for multiple high ranking officials here and there within my state. But one day, I was given a position that would alter my perception of reality forever.
“John!” my boss bellowed as he entered the locker room. I had been getting my gear, body armor, and rifle ready to head to the meeting room. I look up and see this mountain of a man standing in the doorway with a large jolly smile on his face. “Got a job for you” he continued, waving a file in his hand. “What's the Job?” I asked while doing my best to give back a friendly grin. I've been told I’m not great at expressing my emotions. But I’ve been trying. “Well, good news. It's a government facility that needs a pair of guards.” My ears perked up as he said this. “Where at?” I asked with some excitement in my voice. “A warehouse in the desert just outside of the town where you live.” My shoulders drop a little with disappointment. “What sort of warehouse is it?” I ask. “It is a government funded science facility. Something about monitoring seismic activity in the area. During the evening, you and one other guard will be posted there to watch over the equipment.” I thought for a moment and I remembered the place he was talking about. About 5 miles from my home on the outskirts of town, there is a fenced off plot of land that has one large building out in the middle. I had always driven past it on the way to a rifle range and saw the no trespassing signs on the fence and didn't think much of it. “What's the uniform situation?” I ask. “Standard Polo, slacks, and duty belt.” “Body armor and weapons?” I asked, already feeling the boredom seeping in. “None required. You can wear soft armor if it makes you feel better. But there will be a locker with shotguns as a last resort. Aside from that, just your nightstick.” It is at this point I let out a disappointed sigh. After a long moment I look up and ask, “why did you pick me specifically for this position?” He looks at me with that unwavering smile and says, “well, nobody wanted to volunteer for it. So I decided to volun-tell the first person I saw this morning.” He leans over and gives me a strong pat on the back and walks out. I sigh again, take off my usual gear and just dress in the uniform he told me. I do grab my soft armor though. With my duty belt and the file in hand, I head to my SUV. Opening the file, there was the basic information about the warehouse and a padlock key labeled “Front gate”. I shake my head and begin my drive to this warehouse. Luckily, this place was in between home and our headquarters. So once I started this job, at least I wouldn't have to drive as much.
I pulled up to the gate and pulled out the key that was provided with the file. After entering and securing the gate, I look toward the building and see two vehicles parked out front. One large gray sedan and a red prius. Once I pulled up, a round looking man alongside a woman that was wearing our security uniform stepped out of the building and headed toward me. “Welcome!” the man said with a blinding smile. Man, these morning people really are something else. The woman approached me with an equally bright smile holding out her hand. “You must be my new partner. I'm Stacy. Nice to meet you.” “Likewise.” I said, shaking her hand and trying to put on my friendliest smile. Stacy, on first impressions, has a very friendly personality. She had fairly light brown hair and emerald green eyes. She stood roughly a foot shorter than myself, and her physique is slender and well toned while still being curved in a very attractive way. What caught my attention was the fact that, despite her size and stature, she carried herself with a sense of confidence while not trying to be overly imposing. The man that was there I could only describe as plump. He was about 2 inches shorter than Stacy. He had a balding head with a very poor attempt at a comb over. “Well then, Mr. Miller.” He said. “Just John is fine.” I responded. “Alright John. You can call me Bill. Now that we are acquainted, let's begin the tour.” He turned around and headed to the main entrance. Upon entering, I quickly identified the four quadcons and large mobile research vehicle parked in the center. There were dirty tire tracks leading from the large double doors to the vehicle. “Here is the research equipment you will be guarding. Every evening, once the scientists put their equipment away, you will be responsible for verifying that all of the locks are secured. The keys will be given to you and placed in a lockbox that is kept in your office.” Glancing to the right, I saw what I assumed to be our office. It was a small shack built into the side of the main building. Beckoning us toward it, Bill said, “and over here is where you will likely be spending most of your time.” In the office, there was a long desk with large windows looking out to the interior of the warehouse. At the back there was a small restroom that was surprisingly clean. And, what I was looking for, at the back corner was a locked green weapons locker that housed two Mossberg 500 pump action shotguns. Next to that was a small table with walkie talkies on charging stations. Above the charging station were two flat screen TVs with the video feed of security cameras monitoring both the inside and outside of the building. On the desk was a land line telephone, coffee pot, and a microwave. Underneath was a minifridge and a locking filing cabinet. Bill motioned to the cabinet, “This is where the keys to the storage units and truck will be kept with at least one of you having the key to it nearby. All the amenities are available to use, the AC works, and the chairs are comfy.” He grinned proudly like a child that had just finished his chores. “And if you'll follow me,” he said exiting the office door. As we followed, he went around the office shack where a side by side ATV was parked. Attached to it was a spot light on the front and an extra fuel container in the back. “This will be your steed” Bill says with exaggerated grandeur. “You will be able to use this to go around the compound if needed. Just log your driving so we know when the fuel needs to be replenished. Now, over here,” turning on his heel, he walked toward the opposite end of the warehouse. In this direction was a door labeled Janitors closet. Opening it, there were shelves of cleaning supplies, a push broom, and a wheeled bucket with a mop in it. “You can use these if you need to. There are cleaners that take care of the whole building during the day.” Well, at least we won't be doubling as janitors. Bill clapped his hands together, “do you have any questions?” He began walking back toward the office. “Do you get much disturbance out here that requires guarding?” I asked. “Well, the equipment and research is funded by the government. So they want to be sure nothing gets taken. As far as the disturbances, there are the occasional teenagers that try to sneak onto the property at night to do whatever teens do these days.” “What sort of research is being done here?” Stacy asked. We got back to the office and Bill leaned on the wall sweating and out of breath. “I don't know all the details. But it has something to do with monitoring the seismic readings in order to predict earthquakes or something. But I'm sure they can explain it better.” He pulled out a white cloth and wiped his head. I guess he used all his energy for the introduction. At that moment, we heard the crunching of graven as more vehicles pulled up outside. “Speak of the devil” Bill put the cloth away and looked at his watch. Through the window of the office the clock on the wall read nine in the morning. “If you follow me, we can meet the researchers.” For the next several minutes, we were introduced to the lead researcher Mike and his four grad students. Once introductions were finished, they loaded up the large truck and headed out to the desert. “Allright,” Bill said again, clapping. “You will be on guard during the night. Be here at six this evening. for the start of your shift. At six in the morning we will have two other guards relieve you during the day.” He headed over to the red Prius. “If you have any other questions, my cell number is in your files. Good luck” He hopped in and drove off leaving the two of us standing in front of the building. “Well,” Stacy said after a moment of silence. “I look forward to working with you, and I guess I'll see you tonight.” I nodded at this. “See you then.” We both left the site for the day. It turned out that Stacy and I both lived in the same town not too far apart. At least the company chose guards that live close to the site to save on driving.
The next four weeks were fairly uneventful. On the first night, we were able to talk with the researchers. Their explanation was the same as Bill had said. They were monitoring the seismic reading to predict earthquakes. But when the lead researcher said that, I got the sense that there was more to it. After some interrogation tips that I got from a CIA member that was stationed in Syria with me, I began to get good at knowing when someone was lying or withholding information. But, I didn't press the issue. If this was something more serious, there would be alot more security than two guards at a time with minimal equipment. After some deliberation with Stacy, we came up with a routine for our shifts. Every hour, one of us would take a walk around the inside of the warehouse. And every four hours one of us would take the ATV and do a patrol around the perimeter of the fence. The whole drive takes about twenty minutes. As far as issues during this time, not much happened. Every once in a while a camera would go down and one of us would check on it. After either jiggling the cable or just resetting it, the feed would go back to normal. There was one night that we noticed some teens outside of the fence seemingly daring each other to climb over. After revving the ATV and hitting them with the spotlight, they decided to leave. But during our shifts I did get to learn more about Stacy. She is a near polar opposite to me. She is very cheerful and chatty. From what she told me, I learned that she was mostly raised by her grandfather who was a police officer for the majority of his life. She had great respect for him before his passing. She wanted to be just like him with his sense of justice and strength. However, she decided to become private security instead of a police officer. I did notice that she seemed to avoid the topic of her parents. From the different walks of life that I encountered within the military, I decided it was best not to press the topic. She also seemed to like the horror genre of stories and films. During our shifts we were allowed to bring things to pass the time. She would bring a wireless speaker and play music and something called creepypasta. I on the other hand would put in one ear bud with music and read a book when we were not chatting. During the first week, we did have to stand guard for the entire 7 days. But after that more guards were stationed at the warehouse for the weekend to give us time off. This did come with an issue. Stacy would ask to hang out during the weekend. She would want to go to the movie theater or get lunch somewhere. But when she asked, I would say that I had plans. Which isn't a lie, but it mostly consisted of meal prep, physical training, and going to a shooting range. The problem I had was this, I never had a girlfriend. While Stacy is both kind and beautiful, I have no idea how to proceed with this. I would only feel awkward. Despite this, she didn't seem to have any intention of giving up. She would still ask every Friday, and when I told her I was busy, she would say, “maybe next weekend then.”
It was Friday of the fifth week when it happened. Me and Stacy were five hours into our shift, and I had just gotten back from a patrol on the ATV. “See any of the Graboids that they are looking for?” Stacy asked, grinning. “I'm afraid not,” I said disappointedly. “Just the usual rodents and reptiles. Although maybe they turned to shriekers and left.” I grinned as well. After logging the patrol, I entered the office and picked up “The Art Of War” and continued reading where I left off. Stacy was listening to one of those creepypastas on her phone. It was about something called a Skinwalker hunting hikers in a national park. It seemed kind of interesting. Maybe I should start looking into these stories. “So,” Stacy said, pausing the video. “You wanna catch a movie this weekend?” Her emerald eyes glistened with anticipation. “Sorry. I have plans.” I responded. She sighed and slouched sadly. “Well. Maybe next weekend then.” I know if anyone saw me in this situation, they would be screaming at me. A beautiful woman is asking me if I want to spend time together outside of work. After this exchange we continued with our activities waiting for my alarm to go off signaling a patrol. It was at this moment when we felt a strong tremor beneath the warehouse. Feeling tremors wasnt that unusual for this area. Every once in a while we might feel a light one during our shifts. But this one was stronger than any other that we've felt. But before we could get under our desk expecting it to be an earthquake, it was already over. The whole thing had lasted less than a minute. We both sat back in our chairs and looked at each other with a sigh of relief. Soon our nerves were settled and we returned to our entertainment. Fifteen minutes later the alarm on my phone sounded. Stacy stood up stretching. “I'll take this one”, she said. I nodded in agreement and looked back at the camera feeds. The camera that overlooked the corner by the janitors closet was static. “Could you look at camera three when you walk by it?” I asked, pointing at the monitor. She nodded and gave a thumbs up. “Got it.” She grabbed a walkie off the charger and clipped it to her belt. Once she left the office, I returned to my book, occasionally glancing at the monitor. After a few minutes, I heard a click on my radio and then a door slam from the other side of the warehouse. I picked up the radio, “Stacy, you good?” I asked. From the way the office was positioned, the view of that closet is blocked by the truck and quadcons. I looked at the monitor and that camera was still out. “Stacy, you good?” I repeated. No answer. I grabbed my radio and a flashlight and headed out the office to check on her. My worry was that during that tremor, some of the cleaner spilled and she might have slipped on it hitting her head. I very quickly walked over to the closet. I didn't see Stacy anywhere, but her radio was on the floor by the door. I ran over and opened the door worried. But instead of seeing Stacy laying on the floor unconscious, there was a large hole on the concrete. I stood there for a moment trying to process what I was looking at. But remembering Stacy, I pulled out my flashlight carefully looking down the hole. Instead of going straight down, it went in at an angle almost like a tunnel. It was large enough for myself to crawl into if I needed to. “Stacy!” I yelled. “Are you down there?” No response. “Shit” I muttered to myself. I then got down and headed in.
The tunnel seemed to go down for at least twenty feet before leading into another much larger tunnel. Once there, I was surprisingly able to stand up with plenty of room. “I wonder if this is what those researchers were looking into.” I thought to myself. Looking left and right, this tunnel continued further than my flashlight could reach. “Stacy! Can you hear me?” I yelled. The only response I got was my own echo. Looking down, I tried to find any indication of the direction she might have gone. At first I didn't see anything. I did notice that there were drag marks in the dirt going left. No boot marks though. I made a mark in the dirt to indicate the tunnel back to the surface, and started down the left tunnel. For the next ten minutes, I was quickly walking my way through this dark tunnel, yelling Stacy's name all throughout. The tunnel kept going down and curving every now and then. But still no sign of Stacy. Eventually I came to a fork. It was here that the drag marks stopped. After calling Stacy's name a few more times, I knew I had to get to the surface and call for backup. As much as I hated the idea, I knew it was necessary. But right as I was about to turn and head back, I heard a scream. It was very faint, but it came from the right tunnel. Now that I had a direction, I decided to continue quicker than before. I traveled deeper and deeper into these unknown depths. It was at this point that I noticed a turn off up ahead going left. I knew that if there wasn't another sound at this intersection, that I would have to return. I got to the turn off and yelled for Stacy. After a few minutes I heard what sounded like footsteps coming toward me. “Stacy?” I yelled. I carefully walked forward. There was another sound. Heavy breathing. The tunnel turned right. As soon as I rounded the corner, I saw something straight out of a horror movie. It stood on all fours with short legs and long arms, head just about touching the ceiling at roughly eight feet in height. Its skin was an ashen gray color with small tufts of fur near the shoulders. The face and large ears reminded me of a bat. Its eyes were so white, they almost seemed to glow in the darkness. I got the sense that, while it couldn't see me, it knew I was there due to my yelling. As soon as I lock eyes with this creature, before I can do anything, it inhales and lets out an ear piercing shriek. I covered my ears, but it didn't do anything as my vision started to fade to black.
“Sergeant!” There was somebody yelling. “Sergeant Miller!” I opened my eyes and I was on the ground looking at the bright sky. Then a figure appeared reaching down to help me up. Corporal Johnson grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “You good sergeant?” He asked. “Yeah, I'm good!” I yelled back grabbing my rifle and getting back to the cover of the hummvee. As bullets riddled the opposite side of the vehicle, I went to the front and returned fire over the hood taking out two of the attackers. Johnson came up behind me doing the same. “The fifty is down, and Rodriguez is hit!” He yelled while reloading. I looked at the hummvee ahead of ours. The doors were open and I saw Corporal Smith messing with the radio while being covered by Private Williams. On the ground beside them was Rodriguez being treated by the Corpsman. I looked back to Johnson, “Cover me! I'm moving up”, I yelled to him. He nodded, racking his rifle. “Moving!” I yelled as I sprinted to the next vic. A couple of bullets hit near my feet. As soon as I got to the rear, I yelled, “set!” Johnson started running while I kept him covered. Once we were both there, we checked on Rodriguez. The corpsman looked up at me, “we need a medevac now!” He yelled holding a wound near the neck. I nodded quickly and got up to Smith who was yelling on the radio. I knelt down, “what's the ETA on those birds?” I asked. He shook his head angrily. “They are at least five minutes out!” He said cursing as a bullet hit the top of the door next to him. “We won't last that long! Just get on the 240 and fire back now!” I yelled in his ear. “Aye Sergeant!” Smith climbs into the hummvee and mounts the turret with the 240 machine gun firing back. I looked back at Johnson, “we need to get to the lead vic and mount the Mark 19!” I yelled back. Johnson gave me a devilish grin, “aye sergeant!” He yelled back. The lead hummvee was two vehicles ahead. With the help of Williams’ suppressing fire, we got to the second vic. “Just one more” I thought to myself. Johnson got ready to move to the next hummvee. I nod at him and get set for suppressing fire. “Moving!” He selled. Right as he started running there was a snap and he hit the dirt as blood started pooling by his head. “Sniper!” I yelled back to the others. But as soon as I looked back to where Smiths’ 240 was roaring, the entire hummvee exploded as an RPG detonated below it. A large piece of what I assume was the door, hit me in the helmet and I was back on the ground. I looked up with blurred vision seeing an attack helicopter unloading its payload toward the enemy placements. But as I blinked, there was a large face staring at me from across the street. An inhuman face. Almost like a bat. I start to remember what this thing is, just as my vision fades to black.
“Sergeant!” There was somebody yelling. “Sergeant Miller!” I opened my eyes and I was on the ground looking at the bright sky. Then a figure appeared reaching down to help me up. Corporal Johnson grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “You good sergeant?” He asked. “Yeah, I'm good!” I yelled back grabbing my rifle and getting back to the cover of the hummvee. As bullets riddled the opposite side of the vehicle, I went to the front and returned fire over the hood taking out two of the attackers. Johnson came up behind me doing the same. “The fifty is down, and Rodriguez is hit!” He yelled while reloading. I looked at the hummvee ahead of ours. The doors were open and I saw Corporal Smith messing with the radio while being covered by Private Williams. I looked back at Johnson. “Wait.” I thought to myself. “I-I was just here.” I watched as Johnson continued to make the same moves as he did in this memory. I stand up and look around as he runs to the next hummvee. I hear the corpsman yell about evac. Smith yelling about the ETA on the birds. “This,” I said to myself. “This was the last mission.” Then I remembered. A face. An inhuman face. I looked across the street where I saw it. I close my eyes and shake my head. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the darkness of a tunnel. The monster was now looming over me reaching out with its large clawed hand. I immediately jumped back out of its arms reach. The monster seemed surprised that its trance was broken. It began to inhale, readying another shriek. But before it could let out its scream, I drew the compact Sig pistol that I keep under my uniform and put two rounds between its eyes. Now when I asked the boss about having weapons, he said they weren't required. He didn't say I couldn't conceal one just in case. The creature slumped to the ground lifeless. Despite the ringing in my ears from the shot, I knew I had to continue forward to find Stacy. I looked down and was glad to see the footprints and drag marks were clear and continued forward. As I continued down the tunnels, the walls started to change. The texture went from the dirt and stone to a black and almost rubbery plastic. If I had to compare, it looked almost like the walls in that Aliens movie. That thought also unnerved me. Soon after noticing the changes, I started to hear a voice further down the tunnel. It was Stacy's voice. Faint, but there. I quickened my pace. The tunnel then seemed to open up into a large cavern. It was so large that my flashlight couldn't reach the opposite end. The walls had that same alien-like texture. I then noticed bulb-like growths attached to the walls. Walking to the nearest one I peered in. There was the remains of a human skeleton. From the looks of it, the bones were here for many years. The clothes, or what was left of them, looked similar to those I've seen in mining pictures from the 1800s. Moving forward, each bulb, or pod I guessed, had a similar sight. A human skeleton, no flesh remaining. They were all in a pose that suggested they all died screaming. At least, those that still had a jaw attached. After looking into the fifth one, I heard Stacy’s voice again from across the cavern. I immediately started walking in that direction. At that moment I looked up toward the ceiling and saw a nightmare. There were hundreds of those creatures attached and encased in similar pods. All seemingly asleep and ready to get out at a moment's notice. Off to the side, there were several of those bods that were empty. Immediately lowering my light, I hastened my pace as quietly as possible. At the end of the cavern, I saw the pale face of Stacy peeking out of what I now assumed were feeding pods. “No daddy, no.” She was muttering to herself quietly. “Don't hurt mommy.” I lifted her head up and her eyes were open but unfocused. “She must be in that trance” I thought to myself. Reaching to my belt, I pulled out a pocket knife and began cutting away at the pod. Luckily for me, whatever this was made of had not hardened yet. As soon as there was enough give, I pulled Stacy out and placed her on the ground. “Come on. Wake up Stacy.” I said quietly into her ear. After about a minute of speaking to her and giving a light sternum rub, her eyes finally came back into focus. “John?” She asked. I put my hand over her mouth and whispered into her ear, “Shh. We need to get out of here quietly.” I pointed the light up at the creature pods. Her eyes widened. Then she looked at me and nodded slowly. I removed my hand and helped her to her feet. She was a little wobbly. “Can you walk?” I asked. She nodded again and we began our track to the surface.
I took point and followed the tracks that led me here. Seeing me with my pistol aimed ahead Stacy asked, “are there more of them in the tunnels?” “Yeah.” I said gesturing up ahead at the carcass of the creature that I shot earlier. She nodded approvingly. She then pulled out her own Sig pistol from her waistband. I think I’m in love. We continued down the tunnels with haste. When we rounded one corner, another two more of the creatures were shuffling towards us. As soon as I saw them, I took a knee and put two rounds in the first one killing it. The second one climbed over the body and sped up taking a deep breath. But before I could fire at it, Stacy put three rounds into its head. I looked back at her and she was in a perfect shooter's stance the muzzle of her pistol still smoking. With our ears still ringing, I gave her a thumbs up and we continued. After some time, we finally reached the smaller tunnel leading up to the janitor's closet in the warehouse. We got out and looked around making sure that none of the creatures were waiting above. After clearing the building, we both sighed with relief. Stacy then started toward the office. “I'm going to call for backup,” she said. I shook my head. “No. We need to collapse that cavern before those things can get up here.” She looked at me with confusion. “And how do you expect us to do that? I doubt the researchers have explosives in their truck,” she said pointing at the vehicle. “Just follow me,” I said heading to the front door. Stacy hesitated and quickly followed. I immediately ran to my SUV and opened the rear. As soon as Stacy caught up, I opened the plastic cases and her eyes widened. “Take your pick,” I said gesturing toward the case full of guns and armor. After a moment, she grabbed a suppressed Honey Badger rifle, a glock 17, and a chest rig for spare magazines. I took my own Suppressed M4 rifle, glock 19, and my plate carrier. After we strapped on the gear, I handed her a pair of noise canceling headphones to help with the gunshots underground. “So, you usually carry this much gear?” Stacy asked, turning on the headphones. “Well,” I said. “You never know when you need it.” After putting on my own headphones, I pulled out a duffel bag from a much deeper compartment of the case. I set it on the ground and opened it. Stacy's eyes went even wider than before. “Is that?” she stammered. “Yep.” I said, looking down at the large bag full of plastic bricks marked as C4. “Where did you?” she started. “Let's just say I know a guy who knows a guy.” I responded, pulling out a detonator and making sure I had enough components. “Let's move.” I said, throwing the bag over my shoulder and loading my rifle. She nodded, loading her rifle.
Once we reentered the tunnel, the mics on the headphones were able to pick up the faint sounds of the creatures footsteps and distant shrieks. I looked back at Stacy, “ready.” I asked. “Let's go,” She responded. I placed a glow stick at the entrance and began the move forward. After only a few minutes of walking one of those creatures rounded a corner. As it did, it let out one of those ear piercing screams. But, fortunately for us, those headphones worked very well at canceling out the effect that it had. I grinned and promptly put two rounds between its eyes. After stepping over the body and rounded the corner, there were two more. “Shit,” I thought. “More of those pods must have opened.” Despite this revelation, we continued. Killing every creature along the way. Stacy did surprise me though. All of her moves were smooth and calculated. She clearly had more training than what the security company provided. Maybe I should ask her about it when we get out of here. She might make a good range buddy. It took twice as long to get to the cavern the second time. A couple of those creatures almost got the jump on us. They would wait around corners or try to attack from behind. I did get hit, but somehow it only damaged the armor plate. I did note that it went through the plate like butter. Definitely didn't want to get directly hit by that. Once we finally arrived at the cavern, there were more empty pods. And even more were starting to move. I dropped the duffel bag and gave Stacy some of the bricks and detonators. “You take that side and I'll take this one,” I told her. “Got it,” she said. I quickly showed her how to arm the device and we began planting. I put some of them in the empty food pods as well as sticking them to the wall. A couple of the pods burst open. I was quickly able to dispatch them. Once we finally finished planting the C4, we met back at the entrance of the cavern. I took out a timer and attached it to the wall. “We are going to have to run,” I said, punching in fifteen minutes. She took a deep breath and nodded. I nodded back and hit start. We bolted down the tunnels. The bodies of the creatures we killed on the way in, did slow us down. But I calculated that. A couple of them did try to ambush us, but we quickly put them down. Throughout this run, I was able to place a couple of the remaining C4 at key intersections in order to collapse the tunnels. We finally reached the last turn and saw the first glow stick up ahead. I glanced down at the timer on my watch. 5 minutes. “Perfect,” I thought, grinning to myself. I helped Stacy up the tunnel. “Keep going. I'll be right up.” I said. I knelt down and planted the last C4 charge at the base of the exit. I then began crawling up the tunnel. But just before my legs entered the hole, something grabbed my right foot and yanked me back down. It held me upside down and I was able to get a good look at my assailant. It was one of those creatures, but this one seemed bigger. There were scars all over its face and torso. “And you must be the leader,” I said. It snarled. My rifle was on my back so I couldn't grab it. It reared its other arm back and readied a slash. “I don't think so,” I said, drawing my pistol and dumping half the mag into its body. It let out one last scream dropping me and falling dead. I looked at my timer. 2 minutes. Shit. I dove into the tunnel and crawled up as fast as I could. When my head popped out, Stacy was there and she helped pull me out. I looked at her and quickly motioned to the door. “We need to haul ass!” I yelled. Without hesitation, she sprinted with me to the door. She passed me and slammed into the door opening it. I guess I'll need to work on my run time. As soon as I passed the threshold, I heard the beeping of my watch indicating the 5 second mark. We bolted toward the gate. Once we got there, the timer went off. There was a rumble underground as I knew the C4 had detonated. It was a moment later that the backside of the warehouse exploded, as the rest of it caved in. I noticed that a section of the desert seemed to sink slightly. That area was where the researchers seemed to spend the most time. I knew they were hiding something. I shook my head and looked back at our vehicles. Somehow, by some miracle, no debris had hit them. We glanced at each other and both let out a big sigh of relief. We began walking back to my SUV. “So,” I said. “What’s playing in the theater?” Stacy looked up at me, smiled and began laughing. I laughed too as she leaned on my shoulder. “Don't know. As long as it's not horror.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “I agree.”

SMP Economy Server with a Working Money System!
Realm Code: hcBGME7gFPM
To make things easier we’ve added the following to our server:
•Spawn Paper Teleporter: Throw down a Spawn Paper to instantly teleport to spawn from anywhere in the overworld
•One Person Sleep Cycle: If there’s more than one person on the server, only one person has to sleep to make it day time.
•Fast Travel: Travel instantly to certain points in the world from thousands of blocks away.
•Anti Cheat: We have one of the greatest anti-cheat modules in the world!
•Anti Combat Log: PvP is legal outside of spawn borders, so if a player try’s to leave while in a fight, the server will automatically kill them upon rejoining!
•Spawn Protection: On spawn island, there is no greifing & everyone is invincible!
Mods Enabled:
•Better on Bedrock: Better on Bedrock is a Minecraft Bedrock Mod that aims to improve the overall gameplay of the base vanilla game. It aims to improve a lot of aspects by improving and adding new bosses, blocks, items, mobs, structures, biomes and systems.
•Better enchantments: Adds a whole bunch of new enchantments to the game!
•Gun Mod: Looking for extra safety out there? We have Guns for sale in our gun shop in town!
•Furniture Mod: Adds MANY new furniture items to the game such as TV’s, Chairs, Radios, Tables, etc!
Server Features:
•Fully working Redstone Bank •Fully working Redstone Shops •PVP Arena •Courthouse •Guns & Ammo Shop •Loan Office •Player Owned Shops •Casino •Employment Tower •Jobs •Mob Arena •Shopping Mall •Apartment Buildings for rent •Houses for sale •Shops for sale •Jail •Stores •Trading Posts •Private Vaults •Send Cash and Receive Cash to and from other players with the fully working money system!
Own your own house & shop in this server 100% protected and insured!
Come see why we have over 400+ members and join today!
Message me on Xbox: Brandon368
Bedrock MCPE
Realm Code:hcBGME7gFPM

• Man who don't hide his emotions and just don't keep piling up inside and wait for heart attack.
  • Crying is a way to heal your mind.
  • Whenever you cry, have you ever noticed you feel light?
    • What is that the release of cortisol hormone out from your body that makes you feel light.
  • Why so many blood cancer cases in guys?
    • They are taught not to show emotions, they are taught to be tough.
    • Strangely, these teachings are given by woman with an aggression to remove man dominating society.
    • This is a trend which triggered long back, and we are quite idiots to follow this.
    • Cry out, when you feel like doesn't matter where you are. Just cry. Good for you.
• Why there is so much imbalance between man and woman?
  • Because we try to control each other.
  • where we are supposed to appreciate the differences, we are fighting over the differences.
• What your thought processes, why feminism is so loud?
  • Aggression of creating differences and being controlled, to get rid out of this they blocked men to express themselves.
• But is it a right way to handle things, or we are training our brain in very different way?
  • What pushed all this female into terrorism?
    • The aggression of less paid as compared to male colleague.
  • What pushed male to get into terrorism?
    • A woman place is always at the bottom of their shoes, they just can't handle strong woman.
• All have their own reason to get into terrorism, women are running behind earning more to prove their point and man are running behind their ego that man are more powerful. And that's where we are standing now between all the mess.
• When there is a gap in social understanding, one day it will burst like this and that is what is happening.

All are in rat race just to prove their point
Now let's talk about what gentle man looks like:

• The one who don't hesitate to show their emotions
• You definitely don't have to pull the chair for your lady but have that respect for her beyond her body.
• Ask for help when and where needed, keeping aside your ego. You too can be in a problem.
• Stand against if something is going wrong, stand for right and be bold.
• Allow your lady to be independent and treat her with full respect. Encourage her and tell her what all talent she is having.
• Never show your physical power to a woman, she is not weak her strength lies inside her.
• Be real and honest with your lady.
• Never judge her by her attire in-fact ask what made her to do so.
• It's easy to call someone prostitute, but there must be some reasons "No one likes to sell their body".

Written By-
Puja

I am 23M and I am a mechanic. I regularly pinch and cut my fingers but this one is different.
The other day at work I was swinging a 4lb hammer while holding a bearing disc and pinched my finger between the hammer and the disc. I was left with a pretty large blood blister, that was leaking, so I cleaned it really well and drained it. When I got home I cleaned more and bandaged properly with antibiotic.
Now 3 days later I’m playing Xbox and sitting back in my chair, and that same finger starts to go numb. This chair usually hurts my shoulders when I sit back in it for a while, and I have pretty regular shoulder pain, but the chair has never made me go numb.
I have had collarbone surgery in the past and am wondering if when I sit in that chair, it restricts blood flow enough so that blood can’t make it to the end of the finger with the blood blister. Does this make sense/should I be worried about the clot inside the blister going into or blocking my blood stream?
When I stand up and massage the blood blister, I get feeling back.

I have scrolled and read reddit stories, but I’ve never formally wrote anything on it, so sorry for inconsistencies and for the story being really long. All names are fake.
My friend “Eve” (27F) and I (28F) have been friends since we were in high school. She has a roommate Martha (28F) who she lives with. Martha also has a son and her boyfriend living with them as well. I have a nephew who is the same age as her son, so they often play together. One time, I came into town and asked Eve if Martha’s son was available to play with my nephew. She said yes, and we decided to meet at a restaurant that has games for children inside.
Instead of Eve and Martha coming with her daughter, it was just Martha. She told me that Eve was busy cleaning her room because the owners were going to fumigate their place tomorrow, and if it wasn’t clean, they would get fined. This is because the fumigators would have to spend more time moving things around to do their job. I said, “okay,” and proceeded to eat my food.
While the kids were playing, we engaged in small talk. I asked if Eve had been able to fully finish setting up her room. They had just moved in together, just had received most of her furniture, and I know she works full-time. So, I knew she had very little time to put her room together. I know she was really excited about it, and so I was excited for her.
Martha said no, she hadn’t really started. She told me she was worried that Eve wouldn’t be able to finish cleaning her room, and they would get fined because of her room. Martha doesn’t work, only her boyfriend. So, she spends most of her time at home cooking and cleaning her room, her bathroom, and common areas. She, of course, respects Eve’s rooms and doesn’t go in there to clean.
I said "respect" because Martha said she has undiagnosed OCD, so she prefers not to think about Eve’s room while they live there. Martha told me that her and her boyfriend told Eve that if they get fined, Eve would be responsible to pay the full amount as they did their part in cleaning their spaces. Thus, Eve was determined to finish and hadn’t come.
Martha told me she was getting tired of having to clean the common areas all by herself as she has back problems. She asked Eve to help her clean and told her something along the lines of “you should tell your boyfriend to help you as I work as much as him.” Martha told her that her boyfriend works 50hrs a week while she works 40hrs a week. Also, her boyfriend provides for her and their son. I just said, “Oh yeah, if that’s the case, then Eve should be helping you with the common areas.”
Martha also shared with me that they took a loan out on her boyfriend’s name, so they could pay the down payment for their place. He already finished paying his half, but Eve has only been giving them the minimum payment to cover it ($65). Martha even told me that Eve one time only wanted to give them $35 and they had to remind her that the minimum payment was $65 and should give it to them since her boyfriend finished paying their half. Martha was telling me this because she was worried about her boyfriend’s credit, after all, it was his.
I supported and said if that was the case, Even should pay fairly since it’s not her credit. While Martha was sharing this story with me, I remembered a time Eve, another friend (“Sam”, and I went on a trip to Europe a few years back. We had planned to go and stay at some airbnbs, hostels, etc. as well as do some activities that we needed to book and pay in advance. Sam had paid a big chunk of some of the reservations, so I sent her my part of the payment minus what she owe me for the reservations I made.
Eve didn’t do any reservations and hadn’t paid either of us the money. Sam felt weird bringing it up, but also was worried because if she didn’t pay her, she would be running out of money for the trip soon. I told her I would bring it up. I did and she raised her voice at me saying she had paid us. I raised my voice at her and said she hadn’t. She checked her statements and realized she hadn’t.
We told her how much it was, and she said she couldn’t pay that right now, so she decided to only send us $20 (around 1/6 of what she owe us). I didn’t want for this to become a huge issue, so I dropped it and she paid us the rest of what she owe us later. I decided to share this with Martha letting her know that I too have been there with our friend. I wanted to reassure her that even though they were having issues with it, they would find a resolution.
Martha told me that she was worried because she sees the things that Eve buys with her money knowing that she owes them money. Also, she mentioned how much her car payment is, which is more than their rent. Martha told Eve would be in the couch scrolling looking at palettes and asking her if she had one similar.
Martha told me she always says yes to her because she has tons of palettes, she has a collection of them, and told me she doesn’t need more. I know Eve collects palettes, but I didn’t know how many she had. Eve has ADHD/ADD and has mentioned to us that it affects her concentration and makes her an impulse buyer.
So, I assumed that affects her concentration with cleaning/organizing. I told her that we have another friend in common “Talya” who has struggled with it too and said she struggles to keep her apartment clean as a few times I went, it was messy. She had a dog they had just gotten, and he wasn’t potty trained, so he would poop/pee and sometimes they wouldn’t pick it up. If they, the trash would smell and no one took it out.
Most of the dishes were not clean, so I had to wash my dishes to eat some cereal. Martha told me, “oh no, I would’ve gotten into a fight with her if I would’ve been you.” I told her I didn’t say anything as I was a guest, she had recently injured her back, and I know she struggles with her ADHD. Also, I’m not very close to her, so I thought it wasn’t my place.
Back to Eve, I know that Eve has been struggling ADHD all her life, so it is part of her day to day. I told Martha years ago, Eve, Sam and I went to the mall and wanted to buy this skirt. Eve rarely wears skirts, and the quality on the skirt was cheap – you could see the strings coming out of it.
We said no for the reasons above. Eve said if she didn’t wear it, she could resell it later. I told her that would be more of an issue because you must find someone that would want to buy it, etc. So, we just told her no and she left it.
Martha asked me, “Did you ever go to Eve’s parents house?” I said no, I had just seen the outside of it once when I picked her up. Martha told me her parents are hoarders and that’s why she can’t get mad at Eve for not knowing how to clean. I was surprised because I didn’t know that at all. Martha told me that she thought Eve wasn’t ready for marriage because she doesn’t like to cook and clean.
When Eve moved, she told me she left several of her clothes (in bags) in the living room area. She left them there until Martha decided to help her wash all the clothes. She told me it took her 3 washes to clean all of her clothes and their light bill went up that month. She also told me that Eve didn’t really want to live with her and her family. Her ideal was for Sam, Eve, and I to get an apartment.
I was surprised because Sam didn’t even live in the same city as us. I told Marth with had discussed living together, but I was struggling to get a job at the time, and I was interviewing in some cities outside of the city. I told Martha I changed my mind to living with her because I had lived with friends before and it hadn’t end well. I was scared that we would fight about random things (which happened with my previous situation). Martha told me they weren’t fighting, maybe they had 2 times.
One time was because Eve kept leaving her dirty dishes in the sink instead of washing them, and Marth didn’t like that. Another was because Sam kept going to their house unannounced to hangout. They only wanted family to visit and not friends. All of this came from a conversation regarding Eve’s crush (“Monty”).
She confessed to him she had a crush on him, went on a date months after she told him, and that’s it. He never texted her back. I thought it was weird because Eve told me their date went great. Martha told me extra details Eve avoided since she was at the coffee shop they had their date. She said the guy paid for her drink, stayed for 30mins because he had to go to a last minute meeting and, Eve said she understood, and he walked out.
Outside, they have some tables and chairs, and Monty saw a girl he knows. He said hi to her, talked for around 10-15mins, wrote something on hehis phone, and walked out. Martha said it was funny because Monty told Eve he was in a hurry. I was surprised and thought maybe Monty doesn’t really like Eve like that. My boyfriend told me that sometimes guys go on dates with girls that like them to not hurt their feelings.
So, maybe he was doing that here? Martha said he doesn’t know if Monty doesn’t like her because he spent the whole 30mins complementing her. I said, “was it a, “you are awesome, smart, great, but not for me?” kinda vibe?” I told her a guy did that to me once. I liked him and he told me all these niece things about me, and still hung out with me, but nothing ever happened. Martha said she never thought of it like that, but it was probably true.
Martha said Eve would talk about Monty for hours, analyzing every single detail as to whether he liked her or not. Eve even yelled at Martha, “Why are you SO negative?!” when Martha told her she didn’t think it was going to workout with them. I told her it’s hard to talk to Eve about her crushes because she might pop out at something.
After that, I dropped Martha and her son. My nephew wanted to play some more, so we stayed for a bit. Eve was asleep with her door closed, so I didn’t see her that night. Nothing happened until 2 months later, I found out by Sam that Eve was mad at me because I “talked shit” about her with Martha. Apparently, Martha told her I said she’s dirty, childish, and always wants “Yes” people around her.
Sam said Martha emphasized that I said everything in a criticizing tone. Sam didn’t believe that I would say that because it doesn’t sound like me, but Eve just told her, “She did because she told her about the skirt and when we went to Europe.” Sam advised her to talk to me as it was probably a misunderstanding. Eve has known that I “talked shit” about her since March (it’s June now).
I confronted Eve by sending her a message saying I knew she was mad at me and when she wanted to talk, we would talk. I send her 2 followed up messages saying that I was weirded out by Martha saying that I was “talking shit” and saying that I was disappointed and mad that after 10+ years of friendship, she would just believe that. After that, she replied to me saying she had no time to reply because she was working. I got upset and I am probably the a-hole for replying back, “you say you have not time now when you had weeks to let me know you were upset.”
She started saying that she didn’t have time because she was at work and that she wanted me to come clean, and I wouldn’t because I wasn’t too sure what I was “admitting” to. Then, she said I was talking bad about her because of the mentioned of the skirt and the time in Europe. I got heated (I was at work too and needed to do stuff), so I blocked her. I was really hurt that she believed that I talked shit about her instead of coming up to me right away and asking me.
Instead, she was depressed and crying that a friend would say those things about her. She wanted me to be confessed without hearing my side of the story, accusing me of things I never said.
I should let you know that this is not the 1st time that Eve has gotten mad at a friend for something someone else said. I’m the fourth one in the spam of 10 years. She even got mad at Sam and stopped talking to her for months before she found out it was a misunderstanding. All three girls before me have forgiven her.
The reason why I don’t want to resolve this is because 1. I don’t want friends like that that accuse me of things without hearing my side of the story, 2. I don’t want the drama (I’m almost 30) in case it happens again, and 3. I don’t think I’m doing her any good because she keeps doing it.
Last year, I was telling her she needs to get all the sides of the story before making conclusions because she got mad at another friend without hearing their side. Now, I’m the next one.
So, reddit, am I the asshole for blocking my friend while arguing?

CHAPTER 2 “Hey bud? Can we talk?”

Phin jumps up and sits at the edge of his bed, trying to act like he’s not still half asleep. 

“Sure dad, but I feel like I know what this is about.”
“Listen the school called and explained what happen”
“Dad I didn’t…..”
“STOP. Just listen to me, son. It’s ok, you are not in trouble. It was an accident and now we know for sure that you do have powers! I bet Mandy will be super excited!”
“Dad hold on, I don't even know anything about them.”
“That’s ok, I already set up an appointment for you to get checked out by a professional.” Dad proclaims proudly

As he walks closer to Phin, Phin’s father reaches into his pocket fishing for something. 

“Here son, I know it’s a week late but better late than never” his Dad says as he pulls keys out of his pocket
“DAD WHATS THAT”
“Go outside and see for yourself”

Phin takes off, jumping down the stairs and out the front door in what seemed like one fluid motion. Shocking even his dad with how agile and fast he was. 

“Man that kids growing faster and faster everyday” his dad states in disbelief
NO WAY! HE GOT ME A DURON! The fastest, most insane, electric dirt bike there is! I can take this bad boy everywhere!!! JASON’S GONNA BE SO JEALOUS!

Phin goes back up to his room with the biggest smile on his face still. As he gets back into his room, he fake punches at his homemade punch bag that is being held up by old dangly rope. Without realizing it he releases a strong gust of wind. This causes the rope to snap and the bag slams into the wall. 

“IS EVERYTHING OK UP THERE?” Dad shouts from downstair
“YEA EVERYTHINGS FINE JUST PRACTICING MY KICKBOXING” Phin answers smoothly
Crap not again. How did I do that? Where is it coming from?What is it? I better not try anything like that inside again. Well it’s getting late, better start getting ready for bed.

The next day Phin can’t wait to see Jason’s face when he pulls up to the school on his new dirt bike. He sips in and out of traffic, feeling the wind brush his face. It's an unreal sensation he can't begin to describe. Wow, that was much faster than taking the bus. I can start leaving later than usual. 

“NO WAY! You actually got one!” Jason yells as he runs from the bus
“Yea, my dad handed me the keys last night!”
“Woah even after what happened at lunch?”
“He was surprisingly cool about it, the school explained everything to him. He basically told me to be more careful. He also set up my powers appointment.” Phin explains as they walk through the school doors

Phin can feel all eyes on him as he walks to class. He can tell everyone wants to ask him. He finds his way to his class, then his seat. It feels like all eyes are on him and only him. 

“OK class, settle down, settle down.” the teach calls out
“Mr. Davies, i understand that your powers have manifested, congratulations”
Phin smiles and avoids eye contact with everyone in the room.
Man this stinks, I already know all this stuff. School is so easy, why can't I just start training to be a hero now. Wait. I still don’t even know what my power is yet.
The rest of the school day was a drag. Phin couldn’t stop thinking about the abandoned car factory on the edge of town. He knew that would be the perfect place to practice. No one had touched that dump in years, the mess was too big for anyone to worry about cleaning.
RRRIIIIINNNNNGGGG

Finally Phin could run out the doors to his school and begin his training. He zoomed through the streets like he was invincible on his new dirt bike. Only stopping as he pulls up the long dirt road to the factory. 

SCREEECCCCHHHH

Woah, this place is bigger than I thought. How am I gonna get in? I bet all the doors are locked. Maybe there’s a low window i can break through. Phin circles the building looking for a large stone or heavy brick to throw through the window on the back side of the building. 

CCCCRRACCCKK

Just like that Phin was inside walking through to get his dirt bike from outside. He figured he could use it to hold open a door until he was ready to leave. As he walks around he comes to a large opening just passed the door he lodged open. On the ceiling is a large dome shaped window where he can see the bright blue sky. Or so he thought. Outta nowhere the hairs on his neck stand, and rain, lightning, and thunder start hailing down out. 

What the heck the weather didnt as anything about a storm today. I made sure to check it. Hmmm let me check again.
pulls out phone
Huh? That’s weird. I could have sworn it was gonna be sunny all day. Maybe I just dreamt that. Well I’m already here, might as well get started.
Inside smells like an old attic, it’s extremely dusty and dark. The lightning lights up the whole room every time it strikes, reminding Phin of his favorite hero. Tempest, the #1 hero, the Goddess of the Storm. Something feels off again, Phin looks up as another bolt of lightning crashes through the sky. This time there's something in the light. NO! PEOPLE! Phin sees 2 people in the storm, just before it goes dark again.
BBBOOOOOOMMMMM
The entire skylight came falling down from the roof, throwing glass everywhere. In a state of panic, Phin swings his hands in front of his face, which blocks all of the glass but one piece. The single piece sliced Phin clean across the cheek. In all the commotion< Phin recognizes one of the voices.
“You scumbag, I will bring you to jail!” Tempest echos through the building with a prideful tone

HOLY CRAP I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE NOW! RUN! FASTER LEGS! As Phin gets further and further from the car factory the rain begins to lighten up. Phin’s mind and heart are racing like never before. He can’t believe what he just saw, Tempest fighting a bad guy in the flesh. I need to get upstairs without being seen. I can’t let anyone find out I was there or what happened to my face. Another kickboxing accident, yea, that will work again wont it. Or maybe I tell dad I ate the curb while riding. No I can’t do that or he’ll take the keys away. 

With a lot on his mind Phin can't seem to complete a thought. Seemingly playing the evening over and over in his head. Trying to understand how he knew something was about to happen before it did, try to connect the dots in any way possible. Until he mindlessly falls asleep sitting at his computer chair with videos of Tempest playing.

Hi people!
I am new to backpacking and would like to get a chair. I don't want to spend too much on an Helinox (150CAD) so I was looking at other options. I reduced it to two and would be curious to know which one you think would be the better purchase.

• Quechua Folding Camping Chair MH 500: 2.4bls, 55 CAD
• Naturehike Folding Moon Chair Ultralight: same 2.4lbs and about 54 CAD on amazon.ca

I am curious to know if anyone tried both (or similar) and could tell me in one design is better than the other. I am open to other chair recommendations.
Is a 2.4lbs chair too heavy for casual backpacking?

Hi people!
I am new to backpacking and would like to get a chair. I don't want to spend too much on an Helinox (150CAD) so I was looking at other options. I reduced it to two and would be curious to know which one you think would be the better purchase.

• Quechua Folding Camping Chair MH 500: 2.4bls, 55 CAD
• Naturehike Folding Moon Chair Ultralight: same 2.4lbs and about 54 CAD on amazon.ca

I am curious to know if anyone tried both (or similar) and could tell me in one design is better than the other. I am open to other chair recommendations.
Is a 2.4lbs chair too heavy for casual backpacking?