Hello, everyone. I’m posting here as I’m becoming desperate to find help or some answers.
I’m a 27 year old male. Toward the end of last year, I began having severe issues with the vision in my right eye that led to a traumatic cataract diagnosis. Around 15 years ago, I was shot in the right eye with a BB gun.
In January of this year, I called the University Hospital regarding the loss of vision and pain in my right eye. I was rushed in, as pain is a big concern and they wanted to make sure everything was okay. I was told I have a cataract and scheduled an appointment with a surgeon for the removal. When I asked about the pain, they told me that cataracts do not cause pain, but it may be what the cause is.
Over the course of the next 3 months, I went through phases of pain in my eye. One night, It was severe enough for me to visit the ER, from which I wasn’t given any real help. I was also incredibly sick with influenza B and congested, which seemed to make the pain even worse.
I was given an MRI and went through several different tests. Ended up getting home around 2am. Around 6am I noticed 5 missed calls from the hospital, asking me to come in right away as they may have seen something on the MRI and need more imaging.
After the additional imaging, I was told nothing seemed to be wrong, and they were at a loss in finding the cause. At one point, the ER doctor said chicken pox may be a possibility (I don’t know why). Then they told me it’s just neurological.
I spent the next few months with the pain coming and going, up to my following surgery appointments. When I brought it up to my surgeon, he didn’t know what could cause the issue either. He mentioned the cataract was so old, it had become soft.
The surgeon then explained to me the procedure, risks and benefits. I was told that I may or may not need glasses after the surgery, which I was fine with. I was told they’re standard procedures, simple and short recovery periods. I agreed and the surgery was scheduled.
Fast forward to the day after my surgery, and I begin to notice the difference in clarity of my vision. It was honestly crazy how clear my far sight vision was, but very disappointing how little I could see close up. I’m now unable to read my phone or see any detail closer than 5-7 feet away, but I was told glasses will correct the issue. No problem, I thought.
This is where my problems really begin. At night, I started noticing these incredibly intense visuals from light sources. So intense, I wasn’t able to go outside at night, or be in a dimly lit room for weeks. I am 1 month past my surgery and I am still unable to drive in the dark and struggle immensely with sitting anywhere dark with acute light sources. The best way to describe the visuals are halos, but not just like glowing street lights, I’m talking about psychedelic looking, hallucination type halos. They disappear when the light source is covered, and move in all directions, side to side and back and forth.
The best way to describe them is that they are perfectly circular and very sharply defined. Sometimes, there will be a slight ray type effect inside of them. They are present around every light source in a dark space. On the street, sometimes it’s so bad that there are dozens and dozens layered on top of each other. For weeks, I could literally feel my pupil swelling and sort of “popping”, as it adjusted to the lights. Immediately after, it would begin adjusting again, and the halos would come back. The lights go away when very bright light sources become present (like incoming headlights) or when equally disbursed. Better nights make the halos become more blurry, less defined outside of the circle.
I’ve tried to design this image to explain what I’m seeing to my doctor and others. I’ve also included a picture of how my right pupil looks in most dimmer lit, inside spaces:
https://imgur.com/a/o7vxpo3
Furthermore, I am experiencing a shadow casted around the outside of my vision in my right eye. Feels almost as if I’m looking through a tube, and seems that I have lost a fair amount of my peripheral vision. Some new floaters and flashes of light starting appearing around week 3, but not as drastic as it was with the cataract. I’m used to floaters in both eyes.
I showed this image to my surgeon and tried explaining the problem. He really didn’t seem to understand what the problem was, saying the eye looked good and halos are common. But I never knew that it would be so debilitating. He was at a loss, and mentioned that if my pupil is over dialating, it may be extending beyond my IOL, causing this issues. He’s been doing cataract surgeries for 2 years now. He also kept saying “well typically patients are older…” and then continued to explain protocol and experiences with older patients, not really considering my case individually, or offering to refer me to someone else.
At my post 1 month checkup, I asked him if there are different sizes that should have been used, only for him to say “well most IOLs are a certain size, but some are slightly bigger.” And then explained that my pupil dilating past the lens, causing the visuals. This makes sense to me, as the visuals do seem almost “prism” like. I was also told the lens was acrylic, and not as perfect as the normal lens, but I’m pretty sure there are different lens material types.
This confused me. It still does. I told him about my pupil being larger than the other before my surgery, and he saw it as well. Was this not a considering factor in my lens choice?
Additionally, I told this surgeon that back in 2013, I was diagnosed with optic nerve swelling, but he said that he had no idea what that was regarding and simply disregarded the diagnosis.
I’ve spent weeks trying to research the subject, but honestly, it’s causing me to become severely depressed and frustrated. I feel that my concerns have been totally disregarded, as I was told to wait another 3 months for my next appointment. I actually had to suggest treatment I read online with eye drops that cause the pupil to stay smaller. He agreed after my suggestion and said he would prescribe me these.
Unfortunately, they have not submitted the medication to my insurance for the past week, so I haven’t been able to try it. I hope it helps.
I really could use some help or advice. I’m writing this in the middle of the night and once again suffering from a headache from my eye issues. These visuals have not gotten any better since the night of surgery. Recently, they just go away, and some nights are better than other. Sometimes, artificial tears seem to help and other times they don’t. Sometimes losing the tension in my neck helps, sometimes moving my head down makes it worse.
I was also severely congested a few nights ago, and the halos were terrible. Decongestant spray seemed to make them totally disappear. I was told in the past I have a deviated septum, and on my right side I believe (not sure if they can be correlated)
If anyone’s has a suggestion as to what type of doctor may be able to help, or what I should expect my recovery to be like, I would be very grateful. I’m starting to feel hopeless and that people don’t believe or recognize the struggle I’m having.
At this point, I feel like I may have permanently messed up by opting in for this surgery, and I’m afraid I’ll never be able to drive or do things at night again. I understand that the damage the accident caused in my eye may be repairable, and that I probably will just need to adjust to new vision, but I really don’t think I can live with the issues I’ve been having at night. I feel as though I may never get to watch movies in theaters or watch events in dark spaces without severe visuals and head pain.
Let me know if there’s any additional info I can provide to help. On Monday, I am going to try to have my primary care provider help recommend me to someone else (insurance requires this for a second opinion).
Thank you for your time and help.

Whats your loadout? Whats your weight capacity? How much food, drink, aid do you bring?
My current loadout includes
Around 10 different items of food
30+ purified water, assortment of nuka cola
100+ stims, forget the count
Bunch of teas from Heather
Some drugs here and there (psychojet and other items similar including X-111 Compound)
Few Rad-X
For guns, I interchange as I feel, I use an assortment of weaponry but I use the main 3 - this is what I'm using as of rn
Primary: MP5 - I carry 1000 rounds for this gun, more or less depending on what primary (shotgun, I carry around 300 since its heavier)
Secondary: Ranger Sequoia (yes, the one from NV, it looks cool in 4 plus fancy animation) - carry around 200 rounds
Special: Grenade Launcher - not many special weaponry I use but I do use an anti-material rifle, the GL is a new addition - since its a modded in gun from the Halo games, ammo isnt very heavy.. got 300 for the hell of it lol
Also curious about the weight you guys have got since mine is above 400 and I'm level 82 atm

Scott Masterson had first met Scarlett at a rooftop party in downtown Dallas. Their age and the time of year were both in late springtime, them in their mid twenties and the date in early May. He had on a sharp yet breezy blazer and she astonished in a thigh length sleeveless blue dress.
“Oh hey Scott I don’t believe you two have met…” his then happily married friend had remarked with a slow swinging open hand toward her.
“Scott Masterson…reluctant friend to this knucklehead” he said with a tight lipped grin, trying not to be so obvious with his instant rapture.
“Scarlett…a pleasure…”
Her hand was so delicate to Scott’s touch. They locked eyes. It was like looking back through centuries of connection, endless days of laying in the sun next to the Seine River, or rising to Hollywood fame in the 1940’s and only having each other who would understand the glory and the pain of it all, or generations of quiet, simple country love that would bear such beautiful, happy children that would go on to raise beautiful, happy children, all with their dark blue eyes. Yes, the memories of every love story since the beginning of time was swirling right there in Scarlett’s irises. Scott had to catch himself before he stared embarrassingly too long.
“Sorry Scottie here doesn’t get out often” his friend quipped, which Scott appreciated actually, it helped him snap back to professionalism.
“Well I don’t either…at least I prefer not to.” Scarlett’s words flowed through the air like a flock of rose petals.
“Hey, kindred spirits.” Scott was really sensing a rising energy out of her, they had barely broken eye contact.
“Well, I’ll let you two have at it, I got a wife around here somewhere. Hey…Scott and Scarlett…not bad, not bad.” His friend exited stage right with a sly chuckle.
“Nice guy…so…what are you drinking, Scarlett?” Scott looked around for the emptiest corner of the rooftop bar, hoping to find a nice place for them to be able to hear each other. This night had just become something.
“That depends, Scott…what do you like?”
Oh man.
Well, as you can expect, the evening blossomed into a beautiful, long winded conversation that etched a long list of similarities between the two. They both lived in the city, had never married, and had dreamed of stable, simpler lives far away from tall buildings and busy streets. The next morning Scott awoke in her arms, which warmed much deeper than just his skin. He could feel her soothing his very identity, his future, everything. Her arms were tailor made to fit his very soul, and he had never felt more safe and at home.
“Mmm…you can stay right here…” she whispered, eyes still closed.
“I will…I will”
They both fell back asleep, into a dream that wouldn’t end upon waking.
Two years passed and suddenly they lived that simple backwoods life, way out where acres of land far out-populated the few and far between people. They took a lovely home, which happily looked over a long backyard, right up to a lively yet mostly undisturbed river. Their only neighbor within a mile was an older ranch worker named Charles, who rarely made himself perceivable. Days were spent way on into town where they both had offices. They didn’t mind the commute. Nights were spent mostly like this night, cuddled outside near a lovely little fire, with a slowly shrinking amount of wine sitting between them. Enjoying their Kingdom. Tonight, however, would prove to be a special night, for many reasons, all unexpected.
“Honey, I’ve been thinking…” Scott began, sitting up and opening his hands to the warmth of the fire.
“Oh?” Scarlett also sat up, eyes widening.
“So look, Scarlett, the last two years have been the best of my life. An absolute dream…”
She held her breath, her focus darting between his eyes and mouth.
“Yeah?”
“We have everything we ever want out here. But…what if there’s more?”
“More?” She had envisioned this very conversation hundreds of times.
“Our dreams have come true, but what if we…made some new dreams?” Scott turned and embedded his eyes into hers. He burst into a big smile.
“Scott…I thought…”
“Nevermind what I said” he cut her off, which he always made a point to never do, but this was a good exception.
“I’m ready, Scarlett…let’s have a family.”
“Ohhhh Scott, oh Scott”
They hugged tight enough to where it hurt.
“Well, in that case, we may need to open another bottle.” She said playfully, bouncing her eyebrows twice.
“Excellent. I’ll be right up. I’ll put this fire out and then start yours up.”
“Oh stop!” She bounded away girlishly, up the snowy back steps and into the house.
Scott let out a big sigh that he could see in the cold air and sat back in his chair, taking in his decision. He really was ready. He had secretly been keeping a long list of names that he liked and that he thought would work in front of Masterson. Especially little girl names. He stared into the campfire flames, getting lost imagining the three of them sitting right here, a little girl resting securely in Scarlett’s arms, as Scott had found himself, and stayed within these past two years.
Suddenly his trance was broken when, from the road in front of their house, came the sound of a vehicle approaching at high speed. Scott snapped his head back toward the house to get a better listen. He could see, around the house and through the trees, a large truck barreling down the country road, its headlights racing and bouncing with intensity. In an instant, it had passed up the road and out of sight.
“Huh?”
Soon, after a moment of silence, another sound echoed into the night. This sound rattled Scott to the bone and tore all that was right in his world into pieces. A sharp, bellowing squeal. His eyes shot over to his neighbors house, which was about a tenth of a mile to his right but still had a couple dim lights on that he could see. The shriek seemed to come from there.
Then, more squeals. It was hellish. More than animal but not quite human. Scott stood up. He heard crashing and tearing and further destruction coming from Charles’ house.
“Scarlett!! Scarlett!” He yelled toward his house, where he looked and could see her silhouette behind the curtains at the kitchen window. She didn’t seem to hear him.
He turned back toward his neighbors. The chaos had gone quiet. Not a half a moment after, though, he heard something big barreling through the trees as fast as that truck had been sprinting. Running, running furiously between the two houses. Searching, hunting. Scott was taken aback so hard that his heel had caught the edge of the fire pit, throwing him down only inches away from severe burns. He had knocked his head in the whiplash, making him groan and take a moment to regain his bearings.
“SCARLETT!!!!”
He screamed out toward his home as he sat up, rubbing a quickly rising bump on the back of his head. He heard a loud breaching on the side of his house. The patio door. No. No. Then, all hell broke loose. Scarlett started wailing and crying and he could hear crashes of plates and glasses and deep guttural roars coming from the kitchen inside. Shadows danced in a frenzy from the curtained windows. Sounds of instinctual survival seemed to be thrown from Scarlett inside. Sounds of defeat. Sounds of agony. Sounds of insanity. Scott sprang to his feet, his equilibrium being more damaged than he realized after his fall. He had to catch his hand on a chair to stabilize himself. Scarlett’s symphony of pain had gone quiet. Soon after something burst back out the patio door again and off in the same direction as that truck before.
Scott struggled back up to the house, slowly climbing the wintered, crunching stairs that led to the patio. He no longer yelled for Scarlett. In fact, the only thing that came to his senses was the sound of his own heavy breathing. Everything else had been turned off, save for a heavy and sudden dread that he had prayed he would never feel. He came to the side of his house where indeed the patio door had been busted and forced open. It laid inside the kitchen, its hinges snapped like toothpicks. Scott, with eyes wide and twitching, slowly entered his home and looked into the kitchen.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t even change his breathing. He didn’t blink. He just got a good long look at what laid before him.
Everything was broken. The fridge was on its side, the door hanging open and food and drink scattered all over the floor. The table was upended, its legs to the ceiling. A chair was resting on the counter, possibly having been thrown in defense. And Scarlett. Oh Scarlett. She…was…everywhere. She was all over the floor. She was sprayed against the walls. She was stuck to the window. She was in the sink.
Scott gently walked through the carnal mess and sabotage of his world. Long ago he had known exactly what he would do if something anywhere near this bad were to happen to him. He politely stumbled through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom. He opened his closet door and lowered a fire safe from the top rack. He unlocked it with a passcode. 511, after that warm May date when he had first met Scarlett. In the safe was a Sig Sauer P320 handgun. Scott took it out, along with a box of bullets, loaded one into the gun, put the safe back on its rack, and walked out of the closet, sitting on his bed. Their bed. Where they should’ve been laying right at this very moment, working toward a happy future. Where he would’ve kissed her forehead and put a hand on her growing midsection. Where they would have awoken on Christmas morning to the sound of children who were way too excited to remain asleep. Where they would’ve grown old. Where they would’ve smiled at each other through wrinkles, satisfied with all the love they shared and passed on to the next generations. Where they would’ve held each other in deep peace as they finally fell asleep to this world.
“I will…I will”
In one quick motion Scott pulled back the hammer and stuck the barrel of that pistol right up against his Governor and blew himself away, far away, right back into Scarlett’s loving arms.
Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett quickly yet stealthily made his way back to his Uncle’s house. He hugged the sides of the dark country road, keeping his eyes and ears wide open as to notice any sounds pertaining to the event that he had just witnessed there in the field next to the huge blaze. His only thought was Uncle Chuck. His house was right on the warpath of that horrible thing and Smallmouth had to go to him and make sure he was safe. He dared not go back to his truck, which would bring a lot of unwanted attention. No, Smallmouth walked and walked and finally saw the lights of his Uncle’s house. He carefully approached the front door from the shadowed driveway. Suddenly it occurred to Smallmouth that something was very wrong here. The door was busted in, having been plowed through by something very large and very strong.
“No…no…no”
Smallmouth slowly entered the house. The kitchen and living room were a disaster, chairs and tables and bottles strewn about and shattered. Bloody hoof-prints covered the floors, each of them the size of dinner plates. Smallmouth heard no noise. He felt himself well with tears, his nose a faucet that he began to sniff up as he worked his way through to his Uncle’s room, the door there also being broken in. A small whine growing in his throat, Smallmouth peaked into his uncles bedroom.
It was all in tatters. The bed had been attacked and shredded, the mattress being ripped up and thrown about as if it were made of cotton candy. More bloody hoof-prints were painted all over the brown carpet. Smallmouth trembled and put a hand up to his wet face. He didn’t see a way that his Uncle was anywhere near alive, knowing what he knew about the monster that had been in this house.
Smallmouth slowly walked to the living room, to the only little table that had been untouched in the attack. It was almost as if the bottle of whiskey teleported into his hand from the overturned cabinet, unopened. He fixed that real quick.
Soon he was several pulls deep of the only thing in the world that he knew would make him feel better, even if only for a few hours. He found his pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket and lit one up, although he was indoors. What did it matter? He sat in a chair that he had turned right side up and set the bottle on the table and looked out the back window into the pitch black. He cried for his Uncle and he cried for the world. He cried for himself. He cried for broken promises and his own weakness. He drank and drank until his vision shook from right to left everywhere he looked. At first he didn’t even notice the figures on the back porch. Then his vibrating focus did pick up on them, but by then it was too late. It was so dark out there but in their outlines he could see they wore long robes and hoods.
“HA!! COME AND GET ME! HAHA!! YOU COME AND YOU GET ME!!” Smallmouth boasted with a delusional amount of courage.
A creak escaped from the kitchen and he drunkenly slung his head over toward it. Three more figures stood there. Or was it just one? Smallmouth was none the wiser. All at once the hooded intruders from both inside and outside began to chant a strange, twisted rhyme in strikingly low and dissonant harmony:
“A sliver…of liver…goes down…with a shiver… …and gives…your gullet…to gall… …but drink…the Cider…that drowns…the Spider… …and you…will be free…of it all… …so tighten the grip…that loosens your lips… …O raise…the bottle…of brown… …and wake tomorrow…to find…in sorrow… …ANOTHER…SPIDER…TO…DROWN”
Smallmouth groaned at them in dissatisfaction and turned his bottle up again and began to chug the whiskey. As he did they repeated the chant except this time it was louder and closer. By the time Smallmouth had finished his bottle he was quickly losing consciousness. This wasn’t just whiskey. As he closed his eyes he felt hands grabbing him from all sides.
Smallmouth pulled open his sticky eyelids. His head felt like someone had bowled a strike into it. Wind froze his face. The smell of sickly, wet iron stung his nostrils. His vantage was higher than usual. Way higher. He was looking out into another field, but from easily ten feet up. He saw an old church, formerly painted white but now a flaky pale-beige. He heard the friction of a quick pull of rope below him, matched with a slight, tight pain at his feet. He looked down. A red-robed figure was fastening him against a wooden structure of some kind. His feet sat on a small flat platform perpendicular to a post that went from the ground up past smallmouths head. He couldn’t move his arms, so he quickly shot his eyes side to side. They were also tied to another horizontal post. A cross. He was being tied to a crude wooden cross. His shirt had been removed, exposing a hairy, overweight belly. Smallmouth tried to speak, but all that came out was a slow, unintelligible grumble. He was still drunk. No, this was more than that. He was under the influence of something strong and absolutely inhibitive. He wallowed again, and took in a deep breath. The smell of iron once again hit his nose. He looked down at himself. He was covered in a thick, red liquid. That wasn’t just the smell of iron. He had been splashed full body with blood.
“Now now, young servant…” the figure at his feet had finished his task and took a couple of steps out to admire his own handiwork.
“Ahh…perfect. The picture of martyrdom. Yes, you will always be remembered, Brother Bassett. You are to be the first Saint of The New Bible.” He opened his arms in his declaration.
Smallmouth looked up into the cold night sky. The moon shown down, giving everything a midnight spotlight. It was a gorgeous waxing gibbous, big and bright but not quite full. Yes, he was in a great big snowy field that housed an old worn down church. From the windows of the church he saw candles glowing, showing dark heads and shoulders looking out to him, also covered in loose hoods, hiding faces. He was hanging on a cross about one hundred feet from the old church. In front of the cross was a partially covered pit, a couple of two by fours supporting double armfuls of branches and dead leaves.
The figure at the base of the cross put his arms back to his side. He was still looking right at the drugged Smallmouth’s dumbstruck face. Even with a veiled mouth you could hear the twisted smile in his voice.
“Tonight you will help us finally defeat this legion, Smallmouth. You see, it may have the evil spirits within it, but at its core, it is still an owned animal. An animal that knows its Master very well. An animal that will remember the smell of its Master. You, my friend, are covered in its Master right now. And you are hanging on a cross, the symbol of this brute’s most hated enemy. But take heart, young Brother. Before you is our pit of spears. Yes you will attract the beast, but our Divine plan will intercept it and the beast will fall and be pierced. And then, oh dear brother, you will forever be immortalized. You will be purified in fire by the hands of your church brethren. Out of your screams and into the smoke the iniquities of all will be released. We will go on to preach your good example and your sainthood forever and ever.”
Smallmouth began to drool and hum pathetically. He could hear and understand the words of the robed man but he couldn’t fight back. His body was useless, limp inside its rope confines. All he could do now is think, and watch, and wait, and dread his fate.
The figure turned away from him, walking over near the pit and gathering up a bundle of brambles and throwing them over the last open area, covering it completely. He then crunched through the snow over to the front door of the old church, groaning open the door. He stood at the dark doorway for a few seconds in silence, and then began to make a noise. An over exaggerated pig squealing noise, high pitched and infuriating. Soon after other voices from inside the church began to do the same, their wailing echoing out of the building and all across the field, loudly signaling, calling out. It may as well have been a dinner bell. Not a half minute after they began the distress signal it was loudly answered by a distant squall. A furious squall.
This was it. Either way it happened Smallmouth was about to die. Experience terror, and then die, and not even have the ability to put up any kind of defense. It wasn’t fair. He just slowly lifted up his head and watched out far into the moonlit, white field. He then raised his heavy head further and took a good gander at the moon and stars for the last time.
“God,” he thought to himself, still having full inner monologue yet no outer motor function, “I am so sorry. I am so sorry for being what I am. I am so sorry for ending up in this place. It’s only my own fault. If it wasn’t for me being so stupid and messy and drunk and terrible then this wouldnt be happening to me.”
He began to shed tears that washed lines into the blood on his face.
“Please forgive me God. Please, please, please forgive me for all of my sins. This is it. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!!” He yelled inside his own mind, hoping and trying to send his silent words as far up into heaven as they could go.
He lowered his eyes back to the ground. He looked over at the church again. The windows were empty, the candles were extinguished. Those hooded cowards were hiding from their own handmade sacrificial service. All was quiet for a long pause until a much louder, closer bleating began at the edge of the forest not even three hundred feet away from Smallmouth’s glazed over eyes. It was time, and it was too late for a miracle.
Out of the woods, slowly and heavily, stomped the massive hog. As it marched closer and closer Smallmouth could see its white, boiled over eyes and black-burnt skin. Its jaws were flying open and snapping its sharp, pocket knife-sized teeth together in an intimidating “clack”. It was now less than a hundred feet away, the dark old church to its right shoulder. It stopped, its pale glowing eyes fixed right on Smallmouth on the crude cross. It truly was a monster. It stood as tall as a man and as long as a canoe. Around its murderous mouth were stains of red, the remnants of all that it had taken from the world on this unholy night. In its clanging jaws were bits of flesh. It snorted and scowled.
Then, in a fury, it wailed that horrible squeal and started off into a dead sprint. It galloped and galloped toward Smallmouth at a high, blistering speed. It kept yawping and howling as it cut the distance from the cross down to fifty feet, forty feet, thirty, twenty. All at once it passed over the covered pit and plunged in. In his doomed, dead eyed stupor Smallmouth could hear what sounded like paint being dumped from a rooftop onto concrete. Trails of black liquid squirted and splashed up from the pit, which had been uncovered in the fall of the beast. Unbelieving, Smallmouth saw dozens of steel spear tips standing up from the dug-in ground. Right in the middle of them the beast was stuck. The sheer weight of the animal had caused the spears to pierce through its tough skin, sticking out of its back, soaked in black blood. One spear had stabbed right under the hogs chin, passing up through its jaws and out its black snout. It made agonized sounds. It roared and roared and shook the spears inside it, beginning furiously, then growing weaker and weaker within seconds. Finally, it let out one last weak little squeal, before it went still and quiet.
Smallmouth was frozen both physically by drugs and constraints and mentally by shock. His mouth hung open toward the pit of spears, his vision blurry. He took in a deep, troubled breath and let out a moan of disbelief and relief. The old church doors sprang open, and the sound of jubilation within flowed out into the night. The red robed figures flocked out of the building toward the pit, arms raised in celebration. They surrounded the hole, getting a good look at their success and their enemies defeat. Some held additional spears and began further stabbing the dead animal, causing more black blood to be shed up at them. They all yelled loudly and triumphantly. Some danced around the pit. Some skipped over to Smallmouth on the cross and danced around him, slapping his legs and spinning in circles.
Smallmouth looked on at the raucous celebration, both in utter disbelief of their trap actually working and also in turmoil. How long now until they fully execute their plan.
A taller robed man, whose voice matched the same one who spoke to Smallmouth as he tied his feet, spoke up, sounding almost happily intoxicated.
“Ahh yes my Brothers!! It is done!! We have won!!!”
They all whooped and cheered.
“Brother Norman, go into the church and bring me the small tank of fuel. Let us send our dear Saint Bassett to the Holy lands, where he will be adored for all eternity!”
They all clapped and hollered. One figure began childishly skipping away from the pit and over toward the front door of the church.
Then, it happened.
From the pit all of a sudden a great blaze erupted instantly. It stood as tall as the cross, and it burned a furious red and blue. It raged and raged, blinding Smallmouth and making him clumsily turn his face away from the heat.
All of the figures panicked, screaming and scattering away toward the church. They didn’t get far. Up from the fiery pit, dozens of long, long, black arms, adorned with six hooking claws emerged and stretched out of the flames and latched on to the legs of those trying to escape. Smallmouth heard crying and wailing from the men as the black, razor clawed-hands of the legion grabbed them and began pulling them back, into the blazes. One by one the red robed people were dragged into the flames, their clothes catching instantly. Smallmouth could see violently shaking bodies in the evil furnace. Oh, the screams. Above the tortured howling, the sound of laughing broke out. Deep, menacing laughter, hundreds of voices, echoed up into the air from the burning hole. Then, in one extinguishing squeeze, the ground swallowed the entirety of the fiery pit, leaving it completely covered in dirt, still and quiet. Soon after, and just like the pit of spears, the old church building caught in an instant and raging fire, quickly toppling the walls and dropping the steeple into its ruins. The smoke towered high in the night sky, which had just began to hint at a pale morning blue. Smallmouth hung on his cross in utter horror and surprise.
As the late evening hours glowed into early morning the smoke eventually tapered off, as Smallmouth’s drugs finally began to wear off as well. The fires of the church did garner long distance attention, though. Just as Smallmouth was able to regain control of his muscles and voice he heard emergency sirens call out into the cold morning air. Not long after, two fire trucks, an ambulance and a sheriffs truck tore into the field and toward Smallmouth on the cross. Not long after Smallmouth could feel the tied ropes being cut loose by firemen, their uniforms easily the best red clothes he had seen all night.
“What on God’s green Earth happened here son?” A bearded man with a dark hat and brown shirt and pants asked Smallmouth once he had been lowered down from the cross and sat on the ground with a shock blanket around his shoulders. The Sheriff, no doubt.
“God’s green Earth. It really is God’s, isn’t it?” Smallmouth whispered, staring out across the cold field. Then, at the very place he was staring, an old, familiar truck came barreling out of the gravel road in the woods and through the field in the steadily growing morning light. It was Uncle Chuck’s truck. It hurried over toward the other emergency vehicles, parked, the driver’s side door burst open, and Uncle Chuck came bounding out over to Smallmouth, his eyes wide and his mouth a wonderfully shocked “O”.
“JEREMY! JEREMY!!!” He basically fell on Smallmouth in a tight, warm hug. Smallmouth was caught off guard by Chuck using his real name.
His Uncle held him for several seconds and then let up, but kept his hands on Smallmouth’s shoulders.
“I thought you were dead.” Both of them said at almost the exact same time.
“I came back and your house was a mess and there was blood everywhere. I thought you were dead.” Smallmouth weakly spat out.
“Well, I woke up and you were gone, son, so I walked to the ranch to get my truck. I was worried bout ya son. I came back home and the whole place had been turned upside down. Blood on the carpet. I just thought the worst. Then I tried my neighbors house. Buddy, they’re dead. Looks like some wacko murder-suicide if I ever saw one. Scott probably tried to come kill us too and wrecked the place when he found it empty. I don’t know. But what I DO know is that you are right here! You are okay Jeremy!! Ahhh Praise Jesus!!”
“It’s not that, Uncle. That isn’t what happened out here. It’s..it was a..a, uh…”
Smallmouth’s fried brain couldn’t even comprehend what he had witnessed over the past few hours. It was all a violent blur.
“Dont worry bout it son, you can tell me everything on the way to the hospital. We gotta go get you checked out and cleaned up. C’mon.” He helped Smallmouth up and they walked over to the ambulance, his Uncle’s arm thrown around his shoulder.
Smallmouth would be sent home later that afternoon. It would take him and his Uncle a long time to sort through the chaos of that deadly night and rebuild their lives. But life kept on. Smallmouth would remain living with his Uncle, and would begin a job working with him down at the ranch. Together they started to attend a local church. Smallmouth never touched a drink or a drug or even a cigarette ever again, and remained steadfast in his newly revitalized faith.

I've been into DnD for years and years, listening to DnD podcasts and playing every other week with a group for 1,5 years now. And since several of my colleagues are geeks like me but had never had the chance to play I offered to DM for them. I had a couple of weeks of sick leave, so plenty of time to plan something special. Why I chose IKEA as the battleground: because I like to troll my friends. Also, again, they had never played before and I thought it would make it easier to improvise if they were familiar with the surroundings.
I think it was a pretty basic labyrinth setup; mimics in the living room department, spiders in the beds, goblins in the wardrobes... I even nicked one of the 'find the alien' floor plans they give kids at the ball pit for reference. But of course I sprinkled plenty of IKEA references throughout.
I started the session saying it was a late evening after a sunday opening (we were playing on a sunday), and everyone present was still working when bam! blackout. When the lights came back on, all the customers still present were gone, but there was some furniture oddly carrying the same name where they once were. I made Ingvar (the founder of IKEA) appear Tom Bombadil-style (I mean, he's yellow and blue all over anyway) and explain that there were some bad angry customer vibes. Apparently this happens every now and again in IKEAs all over the world, and that after meeting Gary Gygax in the great beyond he'd come up with a system of eliminating this evil force by turning the IKEA in question in a temporary dungeon, turning all the customers temporarily into furniture and the evil energy into monsters that could safely (ahem) be dealt with.
My players were allowed any improvised weapons they could find. Pencils for darts were along the line I was thinking, but one of them collected every fire extinguisher he could get his hands on, and another rolled exceptionally well and got herself a nail gun. I also lifted the phone system from the podcast Dungeons and Daddies where they had to roll if they wanted to use them.
Many shenanigans were had. Mostly because I thought I had considered every short cut and secret passage known to IKEA workers - except for that VERY important one behind the showcase for the solar panels that heads straight down to the lower level of course.
At the cafetaria they could have a short rest, but to get there they had to answer three IKEA trivia questions from Geralt of Trivia (DaDaddies is a very good podcast okay). Once answered, they could get drinks with a variety of effects and get some more information where this evil energy originated from (customer service, duh).
Market hall was overgrown with evil vines. The floor was SNURRAD (tik-tok-hyped lazy susan for in your fridge) in a hall in the self service area, but if they conquered it they got themselves a fork lift.
After the cashline, at customer service, they got their first hint of what their goal was: one computer was still working, showing info on an item that has not been sold in many years: the DUVBO kitchen doors.
True story: this line was discontinued because of the bad quality. Guess which store they forgot to inform at the time? Ours. When did this happen? Right when they changed from FAKTUM kitchens to METOD kitchens. So anyone returning their doors not only needed a different kind of doors, but an entirely different kind of kitchen, because the new cabinets came in different sizes. This cost our store a LOT of money. Eldritch nightmare item: check. What did our companions find on the computer screen? That there was still one in the system in the depot.
Down to the lower levels they went. I nicked a puzzle straight out of Tomb of Horrors especially for them (relax - it only teleported them right back to the start) and had one of my player's girlfriend who also works at our store save them batman-style from a couple of rogue dishwashers. After retrieving the door from the shuttle and destroying it they heard a terrible scream coming from the customer service area above them - my magnum opus. My final boss. Penelope - aka the angry Karen.
Well, until my sorcerer rolled a critical succes on his charisma roll and calmed her down with a free coffee voucher.
Can't have it all I suppose. If only this worked in real life.
Anyway, it was a very fun night and I'm kinda sad I didn't record it because it was one-of-a-kind, but at least we had fun and now I find myself with a DnD group and apparently I just am a DM now.

INT. CABIN #12 - DUSK
A BLACK TV SCREEN fills frame. Silent and stoic.
Rachel sits on the couch, regarding the tape in her hands. Plain black tape, plain white sleeve.
Just the etched "ring" on its spine to suggest it's something other than blank.
Shadows lengthen in the room. Rachel glances to the window. The sun has almost set. Last vestiges of light FLARE through the branches of the maple outside.
She stares out for a long moment. Then pulls the tape from its sleeve.
She kneels at the VCR and inserts it in the VCR. She turns on the TV: STATIC fills the screen.
She glances to the window, just as the sun dips from view. The branch-shadows behind her fade.
Rachel looks back to the snowy screen and hits "Play." The screen goes black.
A low hum from the VCR as the tape turns.
The screen stays black.
Then WOBBLES, as if losing vertical and horizontal hold. A streak of lost pixels rolls sideways--
And then re-balances. Black screen.
Swiftly, another WOBBLE. This time, a hiccup of SOUND: like crashing WAVES. A beat of silent blackness -- and then a swerving, scrolling image -- an ECLIPSE -- a black orb covering a white moon, casting a bright "ring"-- --
which wavers as pixels slide and JAG, as if trying to "tune in" the image--
ON FULL SCREEN
As it goes black.
Silence. And with a BUZZING SEAR, the "ring" image SLASHES back. Buzz. Wobble. Hiss. Image locks -- on steady pictures:
A RED WOODEN LADDER leans against a rustic wall. A strange LOW MOAN on the audio track. Undulating ...
Then a TERRIFYING FAST-MOTION SHUDDER: something spasms under black plastic. Jarring nails-on-chalkboard SOUNDS--
FULL-SCREEN STATIC. The static flows and swells, as if liquid.
A FLY feels its way across the screen-corner in SILHOUETTE.
Suddenly, the BLACK SPASMING--
Then a DARK ANIMAL EYE stares through a keyhole--
More SPASMS, too fast to identify the source--
A VIDEO WOBBLE shakes across frame, a lightning-sear of stuttered pixels before lMAGE RESETS--
A BRIGHT WHITE HOSPITAL ROOM. A single chair in room's center. The MOAN resumes...
... and continues under a shot of OBSCURE SHAPES, lying on a sloping nighttime beach. Surf washes, moving them slightly-- --
as a FLASH OF LIGHT reveals the shapes to be beached CARCASSES OF UNKNOWN ANIMALS-- --
then suddenly pixels slide and jag with a FLASH CUT of the eclipse -- the moan track disappears as--
BLACKNESS. As COMB TEETH rip through, streaking LIGHT--
--OVEREXPOSING a gaping MOUTH with a thin, hairy UMBILICAL emerging from within.
The freakish SPASMING again--
A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN AN OVAL MIRROR, IN A WHITE GOWN. She calmly brushes her hair. The undulating MOAN is there.
JUMP CUT: The MIRROR MOVES.Switches position to the wall's other end, reflecting the woman, now in the distance, walking away into shadow--
--then JUMPS BACK. The seated woman (as before) half-glances over her shoulder. Smiles into the mirror like she's smiling directly at the viewer.
A SUDDEN JOLT: SCRAPING METAL as GRIDS and DOTS appear. An EYECHART with letters turned backwards.
FLASH CUT: DROPLETS OF WATER trickle toward center-frame, congealing into a PUDDLE.
FLASH CUT: The SPED-UP SPASMS behind black plastic.
A lone tree in a forest is ON FIRE. BOLD, RED FLAMES.A surrealist-touch to the image, the foliage translucent. Distorted MOANING constant ...
FLASHCUT: Roiling, foamy WHITE WATER, turning slowly BLOOD RED.
FLASHCUT: the keyhole EYE.
FLASHCUT: The FAST-MOTION SPASMS, now BATTERING the frame, causing the image ~ to bounce and shake.
And as the IMAGE LOSES HOLD, slippng with SEARS of STATIC, with the UNDULATING MOANS and SHRILL BARKS AND SCRAPES building to a crescendo--
-and an IMAGE of a BRIGHT WHITE MOON, high in a pitch black sky. (The sound of DISTANT WAVES and a faint, scratchy KEENING accompanies this image -- the same whispers heard beyond the door before Katie's death.)
A black orb slowly SLIDES ACROSS it -- as ANGLE closes in. And as it fully ECLIPSES it -- a RING OF LIGHT shines a "halo" outline-- --the image loses hold, jarring and skidding and then--
--becoming an image of a STONE MOUND in a wooded clearing. The whisper-keening continues for three seconds...
... until the screen jags to WHITE NOISE. Tape's over.
ANGLE ON RACHEL
She stares at the screen, breathless.
CONTINUED:
The room's grown totally dark. She swallows, takes a deep breath and reaches to shut off the TV.
The screen goes black -- with a blurred reflection of Rachel, and a FIGURE IN WHITE far behind her, RECEDING into darkness--
Rachel spins! But there's no one there.
Just a shadowy room. She settles, shutting her eyes ...
AS THE PHONE RINGS
Rachel jumps, goes dead pale.
It TRILLS once. Twice. Three times.
Rachel stands shakily. She steps to the phone ... and lifts it from the cradle. Puts to her ear ...
...and hears the SOUNDS of distant waves, a faint and raspy high-pitched WHISPER-KEENING, and then ...
DISTORTED VOICE (O.S.) Sevvveeeenn Daayyzzz ...
She slams down the phone!
EXT. CABIN #12 - NIGHT ~
Rachel darts outside, spinning for signs of someone watching her. But the night's still.
She's breathing hard. Her eyes are searching.
She's all alone.
CUT TO BLACK.

I can't seem to remember this fanfic that I read ages ago and I need some help finding it.
I remember that Chuuya and Dazai were on a mission or something and they were fighting people and then Chuuya heard/saw gun and instinctly shoved/pushed Dazai so he wont get hit but turns out it wasnt even a gun but a dart shooter and then he gets shot. I cant remember the exact details but I think they ended up heading to a cabin later cause the dart was poisoned or something. I read it on ao3 and I can't seem to find it anymore and I have spent the past hour looking for it.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, eyes fixed to hers.
“I… I don’t know.” She turned her head down but never broke his gaze. “I guess, I just liked the way he looked.” She seemed to be scanning him, looking for a sign of empathy.
“The way he looked? That’s all it took?” A troubled expression was awarded with this information, it didn’t seem to fill his desire to understand. “What about me? Do you like the way I look? Would you have done the same to me?”
Her expression changed into one of remorse, and regret. Not of authentic origin. She had strategically made this change.
If silence was deafening before, it had become maddening in its tone now. The room filled with the air of dread, and a weight was cast down upon the two men.
Standing in the corner, was the eldest of the two. Sporting short auburn hair, not yet touched by gray. He was donning a pair of round frame, wire rim glasses. His mustache short, well kept, and just stretching the length of his top lip.
The other man, was about ten years younger. His shaggy mop, dripping down over his forehead to his eyebrows. Only stubble decorating the length of his jaw line, and chin. This man was sitting across from the woman, asking the questions.
Their hearts, (while not racing) were thumping rhythmically and strong. They could feel the anticipation building in them with each thump getting stronger.
Thump, thump, thump…
“Would you?” His voice heightened in pitch.
Thump, Thump, Thump…
They never broke her gaze, eagerly awaiting her response.
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP…
She looked as if she was about to speak, her lips pursed together, indicating the thought behind her next move.
Then a flicker of the single overhead light, with both men uneasy, it caused them to reach for their hips. Their faces now beaded with sweat, and eyes narrowed on to her.
She was smiling…
“Do I scare you gentlemen?” A genuine question, filled with malice.
Out came a gruff voice “We saw what you did.”
The older of the two, stepping from the corner right hand hovering on his hip. Left shoulder turned toward the woman, and his left leg rooted in front of him.
“What if I was attacked? He hit me, threatened me, he was crazy!” Feigned innocence.
“No sign of struggle, and you show no indication of injury.” The smaller of the two voices claimed, sitting to her parallel.
Her smile deepened, and her gaze fixed only to him. Gave the impression, they were the only two in the room.
“You don’t have to struggle either,” she claimed “I can make it quick.”
He stood up, fast. his chair shot out from behind him. He attempted to pull the cold steel from his waist.
In a blur, her arm swiped up, smacking the swinging light off its fixes. Launching it across the room and into his chest, sending him back to the wall, with the sound of metal onto the concrete floor.
Four shots rang out from toward the corner, deafening from inside the small room.
POP, POP, POP, POP…
The room being illuminated with each trigger squeeze, then a pause.
Blackness, silence, the interrogation room was filled with the manic mixture. Then a wet THUD from the far wall. Two more shots.
POP, POP…
Ringing ears, and strong rapid heart rate. The detective steps back into his corner, weapon out In front; scanning the width of the concrete box. Peering for any sign of movement.
“Jay,” he quietly calls out “Jay, are you alright?”
Silence for a moment, then a voice from HIS corner.
“I told him, I’d be quick.” A whisper.
Before he could rotate his body, a pair of hands were on his face. Shattering the metal spectacles. The fingers, with nails sharpened into shiv like instruments, dug into the skin. One claw at the bottom of his brow piercing through his eyelids. The other protruding through his eyeballs, each popping like soft grapes.
“Ahhhh” a panicked scream echoed out.
He fell to his knees as she pulled her arms away from each other. One up, one down. Ripping his cheekbones from their respective place. Exposing the fleshy insides once hidden by laugh lines, and crows feet.
The sound of a hollow clatter as she released the mass in one hand. Then the soft thud of the body as she loosened the grip of the other.
The door swung open, low light peering in from the outside. An officer swings through the door, and peers around the void. A shadow passes through the open gap, as he draws his flashlight and places it under the gun in his right hand.
Click
The beam darts across the room. His breath stops, as he looks upon the gore fest decorating the cement box. The building is silent, and the danger is gone. Though the horror will loom decades.

The Penguins of Madagascar

"Just smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave."

The Penguins of Madagascar are four ordinary penguins turned secret commando team. Born in the frozen wasteland that is Antarctica, Skipper, Kowalski, and Rico spent their childhood in boredom, waddling along the ice with seemingly no destination in mind. They were constantly told by the rest of their colony that it was a dangerous world for a penguin, and something so "cute and cuddly" shouldn't take any risks. One day, the group witnessed a lone egg rolling down the snow towards an icy cliff. When they realized no one was going to help it, the three baby penguins leapt into action. They rescued the egg from certain doom, but in the process were separated from the rest of their group, stuck on a lone iceberg and floating towards an unknown future. It was that moment that Skipper, Kowalski, Rico, and the new hatching Private, became not only a team, but a family.
Fast forward a few years, and the Penguins of Madagascar have grown into a skilled group of elite commandos, partaking in various missions that have taken them all over the world, from New York to Madagascar to Africa to Europe. Over the course of their dangerous careers they have accumulated a wide variety of friends and allies. These range from the residents of the Central Park Zoo to the members of the spy agency North Wind. However they have also made no shortage of enemies, including Hans the Danish puffin, the Red Squirrel and the maniacal Dr. Blowhole.

Respect Threads

• Skipper
• Kowalski
• Rico
• Private
• Group Thread

Skipper

"Cute and cuddly, boys. Cute and cuddly."

Skipper is the leader of the group, devising tactics and gives orders. He is calculating, strict, paranoid, short-tempered, stubborn, and has a great disdain for hippies. Skipper's raving paranoia and tendency to view even the most ordinary activities as a military operation, combined with his experience in covert ops, has driven him to prepare for nearly any situation, no matter how bizarre or unlikely. While his antics do tend to alienate other animals outside of his commando team, more often than not his paranoia is proven justified, as he and his team have saved the world on multiple occasions.
Strength

• Slides into a metal door with enough force to dent it
• His punches shake a tree
• Forces open a giant alligator's jaws
• Crushes a golf ball with his flipper
• Throws a plastic unicorn toy with enough force for it to get stuck in a brick wall
• Repeatedly breaks himself out of a block of ice that was "Antarctic cold"

Speed/Agility

• Dodges a multitude of darts from a booby trap
• Dodges a large missile multiple times
• Dodges multiple lasers while charging towards an experimental laser turret
• Slides fast enough to stay ahead of Officer X's combat van
• Jumps over 1 1/2 stories onto a rising platform
• Bounces and flips around several lamp posts, rocks, and trees, eventually knocking out some pins with an explosive dive kick

Durability

• Gets kicked into a brick wall by Joey the kangaroo, cracking it
• Gets kicked high into the air by his evil android doppelganger, who was strong enough to crack concrete
• Kowalski's Nexto Skeleton knocks him through a bench with a rocket kick
• Gets pounded into the concrete by Bada
• Gets slammed into a concrete wall by Roger, creating a penguin shaped indention
• Falls through the roof of a plane mid flight
• Gets blasted into a stone wall by an explosion
• Gets shocked by the Zoo's new electric field
• For a short while, he walks across pavement that was hot enough to turn an egg to ash in 3 seconds
• After being buried alive, gets blasted through the dirt with a piece of dynamite and is perfectly fine

Skill

• Even while unconscious, his reflexes always keep him ready to fight
• Fends off the other penguins with relative ease
• Throws a playing card with enough accuracy to cut a four ropes keeping the penguins suspended in the air as well as a rope holding up a chandelier
• Throws a coin, which cuts two ropes and frees Maurice, bounces off a wall, cuts another rope and frees Mort, and finally bounces off another wall and turns off a light switch

Kowalski

"Okay Kowalski, wow me."
"Behold, a portal to times past. The Chronotron!"
"So, its a time machine?"
"Well, yes."
"So why not call it a time machine?"
"Sure, yeah. And while we're at it, let's call the Great Wall a fence, the Mona Lisa a doodle, and Albert Einstein Mr. Smarty Pants!"

Kowalski is the brains of the operation. He is a brilliant inventor, creating a multitude of different inventions and gadgets to help the penguins on their missions. If given enough time, there are few things that he couldn't invent. Unfortunately, most of the time his inventions cause serious trouble for the team, either falling into the wrong hands, turning against Kowalski, or just exploding. Not to mention, despite his intelligence, he cannot read (although he still carries around a clipboard to record drawings of their plans). He tends to over-analyze situations, trying to perfect every minute detail of a plan before he acts. This often causes the team more harm than if he would just act. That being said, he is still an invaluable member of the Penguins. Without him, they would simply be a couple of ordinary penguins that can do flips and karate chop people.
Strength

• Slides into a metal door with enough force to dent it
• Kicks a bowling ball with impressive velocity into Private's face
• Pulls down a bill board
• Digs through solid concrete with nothing but a plastic spoon

Speed/Agility

• Jumps over 1 1/2 stories onto a rising platform
• Dodges a multitude of darts from a booby trap
• Dodges several laser beams from the Penguins' lair security protocol
• Slides fast enough to stay ahead of Officer X's combat van
• Wall jumps several times to climb out of King Julian's fake volcano
• Dodges and weaves around several spotlights

Durability

• Gets pulled by Rico with enough force to dent a steel door
• His Nexto Skeleton knocks him through a bench with a rocket kick
• Gets crushed by a swinging wrecking ball and is fine moments later
• Gets crushed under a large boulder
• Gets blasted into the air by Rico's rocket launcher
• Gets shocked by 5000 volt electrical cables twice
• Gets his face torched by the Penguins' flamethrower
• After being buried alive, gets blasted through the dirt with a piece of dynamite and is perfectly fine

Skill

• Flips and dodges around several attacks from chameleon tongues while being blindfolded
• Throws his abacus, which bounces off of both Badda and Bing and then returns to him (similar to Captain America's shield)

Intelligence/Gadgets

• Invents a machine that can remove someone's intelligence and store it in a cardboard box
• Invents a fully functioning time machine, which he uses twice to travel back in time. When three Kowalskis exist in the same space it rips a hole in the fabric of the universe
• Built a thermo fusion reactor within the penguin's base
• Invents the Helmet, which allows the user to move object with their mind, as well as summon any object they think of to them at a moment's notice
• Builds an invisibility ray
• Makes a laser gun that can revert things to their younger, fresher state, which turns Skipper into a baby and eventually back into an adult
• Creates a device that can stop time, (anyone that is touching the device at the time he activates it will experience the stopped time)
• Builds a mech suit, which he dubs the nexto skeleton, that can fly, shoot missiles, is strong enough to life a large boulder over his head, and can even rebuild lost limbs out of seemingly nothing
• Builds a machine that can clone an exact replica of any living organism, as long as it has their DNA (which he uses to bring a dodo bird back to life)
• Built an anti gravity gun
• Hacks into a traffic light with relative ease

Rico

"B-but that shouldn't have worked! It breaks all known rules of science!"
"And that's why we call Rico a maverick. He makes his own rules."
[BLEH BL-BLAH BL-BLUH BLAH BLEH]

Rico is the group's weapons and explosives specialist who mainly communicates through grunts and squeals. With a stomach that defies reality, Rico swallows a plethora of useful tools and weapons and regurgitates them when needed, including ones that appear to be too large to have been swallowed in the first place. Rico has a few screws loose, so the other Penguins need to keep him on a tight leash lest he lose his mind in a dynamite filled frenzy. That said, Rico's love for explosions and destruction is an asset that Skipper has no problem letting lose on their enemies or any problem that the team may be facing.
Strength

• Breaks a fairly large hole through a brick wall
• Pulls Kowalski with enough force to dent a steel door
• Lifts an anvil over his head
• Bites through a lock
• Digs through concrete at an incredibly fast with two plastic spoons

Speed/Agility

• Jumps over 1 1/2 stories onto a rising platform
• Dodges several laser beams
• Dodges one of the Red Squirrel's missiles
• Kicks Kowalski into the air, and by the time he falls back down, Rico had already got into, started, and drove the penguins Buggy next to their base to catch him
• Cuts up a fish into perfectly sized bites of sushi in just over a second
• Climbs over the zoo's main gate in seconds

Durability

• Slams into a brick wall, cracking it
• Falls directly onto a rhino's horn
• Gets crushed by a falling elephant
• Falls through the roof of a plane mid flight and is completely unharmed
• A bomb explodes inside of his stomach and he barely reacts
• Is right next to where Kowalski shot his newly acquired plasma blaster on turbo setting, which caused an explosion powerful enough to blow a hole in their concrete ceiling (that same plasma blaster on medium setting was able to disintegrate a lamp post in a single shot
• Gets hit by a static shock that is strong enough to knock out the power in the Penguin lair
• For a short while, he walks across pavement that was hot enough to turn an egg to ash in 3 seconds
• After being buried alive, gets blasted through the dirt with a piece of dynamite and is perfectly fine

Skill

• Fends off both Skipper and Kowalski with nothing but a doll as a weapon
• Throws Marlene like a boomerang, bouncing her off of both Bada and Bing's heads and then catching her
• Shoots 3 fish out of the air with a crossbow

Swallowing/Regurgitation
Rico is able to regurgitate whatever Skipper needs as long as he has it locked away in his intestines. As soon as an object, weapon, or tool is needed he can produce it almost instantly.

• Spits up a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse and immediately regurgitates a flash light
• Spits out a grenade filled with knock out gas
• Regurgitates a massive missile which is far larger than he is
• Continuously regurgitates hook shots so he can swing from buildings like Spider-Man
• Spits a small anchor into the air with enough velocity to strike him in the head a couple seconds after it leaves his mouth
• Regurgitates a chainsaw with enough velocity to fly into the air and cut through a sewer pipe
• Fires screws fast enough for them to secure a metal door in place and keep Jiggles the slime contained
• Throws up a cinder block with enough force to send a leopard seal flying backwards

Private

"Private, options."
"Hello? I'm the options guy!"
"But not when it comes to matters of the heart. That's where young Private here shines."

Private is the emotionally sensitive, British-accented rookie of the Penguins of Madagascar. Though younger and less experienced than the other penguins, he is the most down to earth and compassionate. Private tends to offer simpler, more commonsense solutions in response to Skipper and Kowalski's complex strategies, often in an understated tone while those strategies are falling apart. He also has an affinity for unicorns.
Strength

• Slides into a metal door with enough force to dent it
• While underwater, he kicks a baby leopard seal which flies into an adult leopard seal, reversing its momentum
• Stops a massive leopard seal from falling off an icy cliff
• Hangs onto his golf club as he uses it to swing their golf cart around a tree

Speed/Agility

• Jumps over 1 1/2 stories onto a rising platform
• Dodges several darts shot out from one of Kowalski's booby traps
• Dodges several lasers from the Penguins' security system
• In the flash that Dave's monster ray is fired, he frees himself from his bindings and hides beneath a piece of machinery without anyone noticing
• Out swims a leopard seal for a short while
• Deflects a golf ball with his club
• Wall jumps multiple times to get to the top of the zoo's gates

Durability

• Gets karate chopped by Skipper to the ground
• After covering one of Rico's bombs with a bucket, he gets blasted through the roof of the zoo's security building
• Gets crushed between Skipper and a concrete wall after an explosion blasts Skipper into him, leaving a Private shaped indention in the wall
• Falls from the outskirts of the Earth's atmosphere and crashes to the ground below
• Gets dropped onto an electric fence by Savio
• For a short while, he runs across pavement that was hot enough to turn an egg to ash in 3 seconds
• After being buried alive, he gets blasted out of the ground by a piece of dynamite and is fine
• Falls into a pit of rusty bear traps, which mildly injures him

Skill

• Defends himself from Skipper's strikes and disarms him while blindfolded
• Defeats over a dozen of Dr. Blowhole's minions with ease
• Fires a dart gun, which bounces off of several objects and walls before eventually hitting the light switch and turning off the lights

Cuteness

• Unlocks what Kowalski calls "quantum hyper cute", which causes anyone who sees him to faint because their brains are overloading from the cuteness
• By using himself as a power source, his cuteness is able to reverse the affects of Dave's monster ray

Teamwork

• Push an elephant into a cage
• Using Rico as a battering ram, they destroy a brick wall
• Forming a penguin chain, Kowalski, Rico, and Private support the weight of an elephant
• Kowalski, Rico, and Private manage to hold Officer X's van in place while it tries to drive away
• Incapacitate Capitaine DuBois and her men, tying them up and launching them out of a canon
• Take on a small army of Dr. Blowhole's lobster minions

Gear

• Grenades
• Rocket launcher
• Flamethrower that is hot enough to melt a lamp post
• Laser pen which can cleanly cut through stone
• Grappling hooks
• Jetpacks gifted to them by the North Wind spy agency

Using the Penguins on WWW

While it may vary from episode to episode, the penguins are all around the same ballpark in stats and skill. They're pretty well rounded, being able to withstand blows that damage stone and metal walls and can dish out those same kinds of hits. On top of that, most have dealt with minor esoteric damage types like heat, electricity, and cold. While they're not too crazy speed wise, they're all capable of aim dodging lasers and can avoid slower projectiles like darts. Combine that with their absurd agility and small size and these four will be extremely difficult to hit for opponents that are on their physical level.
However, it's the areas outside of physical stats that let the penguins fight above their weight class. They're all capable in close quarters combat, with Skipper being the clear standout (though Rico and Private have both shown to be able to hold their own against him under the right conditions). Rico is a walking armory that will give them access to any weapon in their arsenal at any time, Kowalski has plenty of inventions that most opponents won't have resistances too, and Private's hyper cuteness could certainly catch their opponents off guard.
The best way to beat these four is to split them up and fight them individually. They've shown many times that they are far greater than the sum of their parts, engaging in hit and run tactics or using one of their various haxes to battle opponents above their weight class. Kowalski and Private in particular are vulnerable to losing their composures if things aren't going their way in a fight (though I wouldn't exactly call that a strength for Skipper and Rico either).

Use this thread to promote yourself and/or your work!
(Descriptions of fictional crimes investigated by the story's main Character Max.)
Detective's Fate
It's august of 2008.....
Max is a detective living in Chicago He checks his pistol and puts on his police badge as he walks out his front door.
He has been searching for a serial killer known as the Caller for years and always been one step behind due to the red tape.....
More importantly the chief's lazy attitude towards getting search warrants and actions approved by the courts for raids. Twice Max had good intel on the suspect's locations and photo evidence showing him at the sites.
The department needs more vigilant, caring officers and leaders but no one steps up to do it, instead they just complain about the slow progress and officers. And hinder investigations.
Now Max has decided that it might be time to stop playing by the rules and catch this scumbag.... .... ....
Starting his car Max sets his GPS to the address that "The Caller" was last seen and pulls out of his driveway as the 50 miles of directions pop up.
The killer's nickname being for his signature of calling in as he is committing the crime.
As he drives he remembers his first case, five years ago now..... ..... .....
A woman, Joane Taylor, was found dead in an alleyway after going out for the night. She showed no signs of struggle leading the police to believe she had drank to much and expired from alcohol poisoning.... ...
The death was written off as a "party gone wrong".... That is until several more were found and the coroner decided on a whim to test for other substances.
Once it came out that the deaths were possible murders...
The calls started coming in, almost like the suspect wanted credit before revealing himself....
Then ways of the deaths began changing as the Serial Killer explored his twisted desires searching for his preferred method.
The last case being a young woman found stuffed in a dumpster after the killer apparently got scared off.... Max will never forget it.... .... ....
The GPS finishes and the car beeps its final direction, taking an exit off the highway. Ramps out here are always confusing... Which is funny since he has driven this one for five years now...
The chief says he should sit this one out but he can't... The latest victim 3 months ago.
Marie Spelner, a waitress out on her smoke break talking to her spouse on the phone.
Survived by her husband, no children or living relatives. ....
Max Spelner turns into the driveway of the house he was directed to... Stepping out of the car he walks up and knocks on the door. Looking at the house he knows the family must be doing well if they live here.... Raising his hand to knock again he hears a scream from inside....
A second later the door is answered by a middle aged butler holding a tray with wine glasses on it... "Hello Sir, I'm sorry but this house does not wish to partake in any offers at this time..."
Max calmly says. "I'm not selling anything."
The butler looks confused for a moment before his eyes dart over Max's shoulder seeing his unmarked cruiser and he nods.
Looking past the butler Max sees that a woman is cleaning up after their dog.
"Have you seen this man?" Says Max holds up a picture of the one suspected of being the killer.
The butler gives it a once over before replying. "I'm sorry sir, no I have not." His tone sounds like he is lying... ....
"Are you sure?" The detective asks.
"I would not lie about something like that, sir." He states, his eyes not meeting Max's.
The woman calls from inside "Fletcher, who are you talking too?"
"Some man asking about a killer" he calls back.
"The killer is an inside job!" The woman quickly states.
"What?!" Max says.
"The Killer, it's an inside job." She says again, louder this time. In the same Max also hears a child begin to cry in another room.
"We should start from the beginning, it will be easier to explain trust me." The woman says.
'She seems to know what is going on....
"How do I know your story holds water?" He asks out loud.
"Oh I wouldn't lie. I have been following the case myself and it seems like an inside job to me." She states, somehow sounding hurt.
"Is there anyone else in the house besides you two and the baby?" He asks noticing the baby isn't crying anymore.
"Just Fletcher and I live here, the baby is my cousins but he just stays the night sometimes." She replies.
Max draws his gun and enters the house upon reasonable suspicion of an emergency in progress or suspect on the premisses as the man seems to be deceiving.
While the woman still seems unconcerned that the child is now silent.
He pushes past the butler and rushes towards the area he heard the crying. passes the entryway, the dinning room, and a kitchen before finally finding a child in a playpen.
"There there..." He says in a sing song voice picking up the child. "I'm officer Max, do you know where your mommy is?"
The child just cries louder.
Then he sees the man from the photo walk out of the bathroom, upon seeing him he bolts for the door and Max sets the child down gently then gives chase.
He runs through the house, following the man as he can hear the woman screaming at him to stop but he doesn't."
"Stop or I'll shoot." The man doesn't even break stride.
Instead he runs out of the front door and jumps into his car.
Furious that the man might escape he fires at the car as it drives away.
The back window shatters and he hopes he got his tire, but he doesn't wait to find out as he runs to his car and initiates a pursuit....
He flips on his concealed lights in his cruiser as he reverses down the drive and into the street.
The suspects car is fast but he manages to keep up with it weaving in and out of traffic as people move over for the siren.
As they approach a red light there is heavy traffic in the intersection..... ....
The suspect slams on his brakes and Max's cruiser only just stops short of hitting it. Jumping out the Detective points his firearm at the vehicle running up beside seeing heavily tinted windows.
"Get out of the car and on the ground now!!" He shouts as he moves to the driver's side door.
After seeing no response....
Max throws open the door and the driver is gone with the passenger side open.
He quickly runs to the other side catching the man trying to sneak off tackling him to the ground and then takes his arms putting them behind his back.
Max grabs his radio and calls it in as the man cries.
As he is waiting he hears a noise that sounds like static.....
"Wrong guy moron.. Did you ever stop to think I wanted you close for this one. That I planned everything...Even framing the pothead..... I almost lost interest until you pulled in the driveway... The attic is kinda cramped tho... I think I'll go carve some meat. Maybe graduate to other things to. I'm not sure yet. Lets see if you can catch me before......" A familiar voice says over the radio then cuts off... ...
Max looks at the man on the ground. "Why did you run from me?" He asks.
"Cause I have like 19 grams of marijuana in my pocket." He replies...
"Do you know how stupid that is?! I don't care about that I'm looking for a killer."
Before he can answer Max hears the woman from the house screaming for her life and a child's cries on his radio.
Then from below Max. "He's in the house, he's in the house! My mom and the baby!" The man on the ground says crying.
Max uncuffs him and runs to his car heading back to the house as he lays down rubber on the road... ... ...
As he approaches and pulls into the driveway he notices the front door is open.
"Hold on I'm coming!" Max screams jumping out of his cruiser...
He runs into the house finding the woman's body arriving too late. Moving over to her he checks for a pulse but she is gone, a large gash in her neck.
As he stands up he slips in a fluid but gains his balance and tries not to think about what it is....
He rushes to the room the baby was in finding the play pen empty. He leaves the room searching the rest of the house and still doesn't find the child.
"Where are you!!!" He calls out....
"This is the Callers first kidnapping and the media would eat up the fact I failed to stop the man." He thinks as he blames himself.
Sirens begin to blare in the distance as backup is about to arrive... ... ...
"There's a woman dead and a baby missing! The woman is in the dinning room straight ahead of the front door, Hurry!" He yells into his radio...
Looking over at the mother seeing a piece of paper on the floor.
He walks over to it seeing writing.
"So close... Looks like I'm a kidnapper now.... Good luck finding me.... And... I so enjoyed killing that sweet wife of yours. Might do it that way again. Not to the kid tho....later Max. Ps. This game is so fun.." It says.
"He was here..." Is all he can muster as the team enters.
"He was right in this house and I missed it because her son freaked over weed and ran..." He says as another officer speaks to him gently.
"Don't beat yourself up Detective, it's not your fault. He must have hid before you got her and left after you arrived." The words do little to comfort him "First day back on the job and the killer escaped taking a child..." He says as he walks away.
The chief arrives in his new lexus with a screeching of rubber as he lurches to a halt.
He quickly exits and leaves his door hanging open as he rushes into Max's face....
"I told you to stay away from this case MAX!!!!....(takes a breath)...
"If I catch any flak from my superiors, I won't suspend you.... That'd be to easy. Desk duty and an entry level demotion. The new guy will have a higher rank than you if things go my way.... Now get outta my sight...". "(Sighs)...
"This job is gonna be the death of me..." He says walking away from Max and towards the Coroner's van..... ..... .....
On the way home the detective stops by the store close to his house which is unlike him because he usually follows the same routine.
He nears the front door and he hears a kitchen timer ding loudly from behind him as his car explodes throwing him through the storefront windows as they are blown out..... .....
Alarms around the lot and others nearby create a cacophony of noise. His head pounding as his body aches, Max pushes himself up and collapses as the store manager runs over to him telling him not to move as he dials 911.... .... ....
Waking in the hospital Max recalls the feeling of the Shockwave as he flinches in phantom pain.
"Who woulda thought its like holding a ringing metal bat that hurts your hands but all over and way more intense." He thinks.
He suddenly feels tired and falls asleep.... .... .... ....
The next time he wakes, he sees a breaking news story that Jane Saltani is reporting on....
"Young toddler Accidently Shoots Serial killekidnapper ending his life and Alerting residents in the Area." The news anchor says.
Sighing to himself Max thinks about how crazy that is and laughs.
Tho he really wanted to bring the guy in. He closes his eyes to get some much needed sleep as his door opens.
Max looks up to see a man with a silenced pistol pointed at him.
"Hm. Now they think I'm dead. Funny how they just assume they got the right guy. Just like.... You did Detect... ....." Max hears but then hears no more as his end comes at just over the speed of sound....
The Caller leaves the hair of another intelligent convicted murderer that he obtained in a spot that's believable and quickly leaves.....
He disables the surveillance system and sends a virus out to any device that has received video data from the hospital.
Erasing and corrupting the systems. Leaving a master hackers finger prints on a glass from his home....
"Sorry, no witnesses." He says to the security guard as he fires... ..... ..... .... ....

Medyo mahaba ito so if you can spare 30 min, go ahead. This is also a throwaway account to keep anonymity.
Hi, I'm a M, in my late 20s.
My dad is an OFW, so our mom served as our father figure when he is away 9 months a year.
I have a tita who acted as my mother figure, and a sister.
Yung tatay ko naman ay responsable at malambing sa nanay namin.
Let's just say I always admired him, and always wanted to be like him, and fulfill his wishes.
Lagi niya kasi ako binubulungan na kapag lumaki na daw ako, bibilhan ko siya ng sasakyan. Utang na loob ba.
Well, I tried to be like him, think like him, act like him. Tingin ko kasi yun ang paraan para maging mabait siya sakin. Papaano kasi takot ang tinanim niya sa isip naming magkakapatid.
Until I realized my values don't align with his.
Balik tayo sa childhood. I always find him confusing since my childhood days.
Sa tuwing uuwi siya, pagbubuhatin lang niya ako ng bagahe niya habang malambing niyang binabati yung sister at mom ko.
Isa lang yan sa mga confusing na behaviors niya, kumbaga sa relasyon eh mixed signals lagi.
Pero inisip ko nalang eh kasi lalaki akong anak kaya siguro ganun, dapat tigasin ang trato.
Pero bakit nga ba confusing? Kasi kapag nandyan nanay namin ang bait bait ng tatay namin eh. Pero kapag pumapasok na si nanay sa trabaho, nag-iiba yung ugali ni tatay, nagiging hostile siya up to the point na unreasonable na. Tawag nga sa kanya ng kapatid ko, bully kasi ugaling bully talaga minus pagbubuhat ng kamay.
Paano nga ba siya naging hostile?
Una, hindi mo malapitan kasi nakasinghal palagi at nakasimangot. Tapos palagi may session yan na tuturuan niya kami magluto o papanoorin kami gumawa ng gawaing bahay, para lang punahin bawat galaw namin sabay mura, ad hominem at kumpara sa ibang mga bata. Tapos siya na tatapos ng gawain after niya kami pahiyain. The rest of the day, walang nagsasalita siya lang. He will always rant about anything, basta palagi siya "galit" mode.
Tapos uuwi na si nanay. Sa dinner table, kapag kinakamusta kami ni nanay, inuunahan kami sumagot ni tatay. Kahit kitang kita naman sa mukha namin na hindi kami okay kasama itong tatay namin, hindi namin masabi kay nanay. Nakakatakot magsumbong eh. Tapos ano pa yan, babalik siya sa pagiging mabait at malambing na tatay. Ganyan siya kapag kasama namin si nanay.
Maybe I always knew something is off, that's why it felt weird when he tried to gaslight us. He always says "alam ng magulang ang nakabubuti sa anak" pero hindi naman marunong magturo.
At kapag hindi niya nakukuha gusto niya sa amin (after all his antics and hostility), magiging passive aggressive siya. Kapag gusto niya kami gumising ng maaga, magpapatugtog yan ng stereo ng malakas. Gusto niya kasi probinsya style, eh that time todo puyat na ko sa school sa dami ng pinapasang requirements.
O kaya kapag nagkukulong ako sa kwarto studying, sisinghal uli yan ng "ano ba yan palagi nalang kayo nasa kwarto" na may kasamang mura syempre.
Nanay namin never nagmura sa harap namin.
Heck, there is even one time na nagising ako 11am because I slept at 4am doing schoolwork. Pucha pagising ko singhal agad itong tatay namin na palaging galit at sabi ba naman sa akin, "huwag ka na kumain" (mag alamusal). Edi pumunta nalang ako sa study table para ituloy yung assignment ko. Pero gigil na gigil ako sa galit nun at mangiyak-iyak ako. Sa isip ko, grabe naman 'to, first time ko lang magpuyat ng sagad galit na agad inabot ko. At first time na may nagalit sa akin dahil sa nag-aral ako? LMAO.
Then our aunt (na maglalayas later on kasi lagi siya sinisigawan ng tatay namin) said, "bakit naman ganun" as she tried to reason out how unreasonable our dad is.
Well, it took me years to realize na yung ginagawa niya sa amin, hybrid ng bully parenting at gaslighting.
Pero bakit nga ba siya hindi marunong magturo?
Ganito yon, I still remember when he tried to teach us how to cook but he didn't tell us the basics. Grade 1 ako na hindi marunog magbukas ng kalan. Edi hindi umapoy. Singhal agad si g*go. Sabay mura, panglalait, at ikukumpara ka na sa mga batang salat sa buhay, na hindi daw kasi kami lumaki ng probinsya.. yun pala may hinanakit siya kasi our mom insisted na bumukod sa fam ni tatay sa province, kasi ayaw ni mom na may in-laws na nangingialam. Eh itong tatay namin, obssessed sa pagiging probinsyano niya.
But, kasalanan ba ng mga bata yun? Kami pa talaga pinagbuntungan. Lol.
Lol kahit nga paraan ng pag-kain dapat daw "European"
yung naka fork at knife kahit sinigang ang ulam kasi pagtatawanan daw kami. Ewan, idol na idol niya siguro mga "puti" (yan tawag niya sa Europeans) kaka-cruise ship niya.
Oo, seaman siya.
At first I thought ganun lang siya samin kasi nga "alam ng magulang ang nakabubuti sa anak" until I found a pattern on how he treats people.
Sadly, I found out about it late and I just ignored all his antics all throughout my childhood.
So ganito. By default, palagi siya nakasinghal at hindi nakikinig sa opinyon ng ibang tao na tingin niya ay mas mababa sa kanya.
Oo, sobrang bait niyan kapag alam niyang mayaman yung tao o kaya may "narating sa buhay"
Else, mapanglait na at walang respeto.
Worst thing is, mahilig siya manlait towards lgbt, sa body shaming mahilig rin, dog lover daw pero nagbabanta na pumatay ng aso, maka Leni lang kasi si Mar Roxas talaga idol niya kasi ka-probinsya niya, etc.
Heck, there was even one time na may trabahador sa bahay namin na halos natutuliro na sa takot kasi lagi niya sinisigawan at palagi pinupuna pati personal life. Self-righteous catholic pero mapanglait sa kapwa.
There is also another time na lumayas yung auntie ko sa bahay namin kasi lagi rin niya sinisinghalan at pinupuna (sister in law niya si auntie, pero si auntie kasi helper ang trabaho so alam mo na bakit siya ganun kay auntie).
And many more..
Until one day, I realized na lumalapit na ako sa breaking point.
Papaano, tanda-tanda ko na (early 20s) pero minumura pa rin niya ako at pinupuna. Pangit daw pagkakalatag ng kable sa pc setup ko (paki mo ba lol), payat ko daw kaya dapat mag-gym ako kasi maganda daw bato-bato ang katawan sa lalaki (oo mahilig mangbody shame yan ng boksingero na payat na parang wala siyang alam sa weight class sa boxing lol)
at ang tanda-tanda ko na daw di pa daw ako marunong magdrive (who cares about age lol).
Eh siya? Tanda-tanda na niya hindi parin siya marunong magturo ng maayos.
Idol ko pa siya nito kaya nagpapaturo pa ko magdrive sa kanya. Kaso wala, puro mura lang inabot ko, pangkukumpara sa mga babae na mas mabilis daw magpatakbo (lmao sexist na insecure ata) at kung anu-ano pa.
Muntikan na nga sila mag-away ng nanay ko kasi sagot ng nanay ko "ano ba problema mo sa mga babae" kasi puro "babae kasi" ang sinasabi ng tatay namin kapag may mabagal na sasakyan, etc.
Mind you, I never gained confidence until I am forced to drive on my own kuha ng pandemic at dahil yun sa wala siya sa tabi ko na sinisinghalan ako kada sa galaw ko, witch matching na "p*** ka".
Worse thing is, "wala, wala talaga." tapos hindi ka naman icocorrect. Manghuhula pa ako san ako nagkamali lol. How can you build confidence on that?
Then the breaking point happened.
Komprontahan na.
Nung umuwi siya that year, nag breakdown na ako sa harap ng pamilya. Ayaw pa niya aminin yung mga ginagawa niya lol. He even tried to dismiss and invalidate me, the usual stuff you know. Buti nalang nandyan nanay namin to mediate.
Since then I realized that I will never please him, at nasa 20s na ako pero ganun pa rin siya sa akin. Actually, simula childhood ko hostile na siya sakin.
Heck, I should just walk my own path and stop emulating him. So I stopped imitating him. I dropped his toxic values that felt weird to me, and I followed my own. I felt happy, and at peace.
Then I started meeting people and connecting with them, the right people. Those people who corrected my bad values, and from there I slowly started to change.
I stopped connecting with my old friends of my old self, because not only I was imitating someone who I'm not, but I am chasing an identity that does not align with them.
I finally followed my passion (gusto ng tatay ko kasi mag seaman ako lol), embraced the affectionate side of myself (dati kasi bawal maging malambing hindi daw kasi trait ng lalaki yun), and became more open to people (kahit lgbt pa) and I never discriminated again.
I stopped caring on what others will view me (laging rason ng tatay ko sa mga turo is para hindi daw kami pagtawanan ng iba). Yung takot ko dati na mapagtawanan tinapon ko na. You do you.
I still remember my college days na mapanglait ako sa mga classmates namin na hindi marunong sa mga main subjects. Eh dahil ba sa magaling ako dapat ko na gawin yun? Namana ko pala yung ugaling yun sa tatay ko.
I stopped catcalling, I stopped thinking women as inferior gender, I stopped being a hypocrite Catholic (yes he is a solid Catholic na lumuhod kay virgin mary kada umaga pero ang baba ng tingin sa mga babae), I stopped all the toxic things na nakuha ko sa tatay ko.
I am still in the process of finding who I am and evolving my values, but I never felt this free kaya I am happy to break out of his shadow. Tuloy lang ang buhay at pag-eexplore.
Sarap pala sa feeling na magkaroon ng mga kaibigan. People who are really your tribe. Yung mga dati ko kasing kaibigan, kuhang-kuha rin yung values at ugali na nakuha ko sa tatay ko. I felt like I belonged there but there is always something off.
But not everything is good kasi ang naging kapalit ng breaking free from my father's shadow is, naging distant ako sa tatay ko.
Trauma na din siguro. First, ayoko lang na nasa paligid siya. Mixed emotions eh. Kung hindi anxiety, inis lang nararamdaman ko. Saka para bang nagiging defensive ako, I feel like he will say something bad everytime he comes near me to start a conversation.
Kapag naririnig ko siya na sumisinghal o kahit malakas lang boses eh naalala ko ang lahat. Kapag may minumura siyang mga holdaper sa balita o nagdadabog habang nanonood ng basketball, naalala ko lahat.
Second, I don't know how to express my real self to him. I just know he will never understand kasi salungat na mga values ko sa kanya.
Wala na kami ibang pinaguusapan kundi basketball and that's it.
Third, I consider myself geek and well-read. He is the opposite, and he is street smart (laking probinsya, worked blue collar jobs in Manila in his 20s), but at the same time I can feel his hostility towards smart people. Kasi palagi yan nagsasabi, "pag pinadala yan sa probinsya wala yan"
I get him, but I feel like I am walking on eggshells kasi baka matrigger siya at yung maging response niya mag-trigger din sa mga unresolved trauma ko from him. Mahirap imagine kapag nangyari yun, kasi baka magkagulo nalang talaga.
Fourth, it took 3 years before he become fully nice to me. In denial pa kasi siya sa "awkwardness" namin. Todo iwas kasi ako.
The first year nangpupuna pa rin siya, the second year he is still trying to insist his values. Those two years were hell though, kasi kapag ginagawa niya yan, silent treatment ginagawa ko. Hindi naman kasi siya marunong makinig sa palinawag ng isang taong mas "bata" sa kanya.
Also, he never changed his attitude towards others. Mabait lang sa akin kasi confronted ko na siya. Mapanlait pa rin siya sa iba, yung kapatid ko nga sinasabihan pa rin niyang mataba hanggang ngayon. Pero malapit na rin yun sa breaking point niya.
Until today, never kami nag-outing ng pamilya ko na buo since the confrontation happened.
I just can't stand hearing his voice. Naalala ko lahat eh.
Also, I need to match his energy at kapag hindi ko kaya, I just avoid him. Minsan walang kibo nalang talaga.
Look, days are good if I can match his energy. Para kasing machine gun yun dumaldal. Singhal agad tapos mabilis, tapos walang paki sa social cues dadaldalin ka agad. So matching his energy is exhausting.
Hindi kasi ako yung taong nangpaplastik. Magkaiba kami ng values eh, minsan may mga nasasabi pa yan na bigla nalang ako nattrigger.
So that's the aftermath.
One thing I realized is hindi ko naman pala siya dapat i-please para hindi siya maging hostile sakin.
But it feels staged at parang naging standoff lang.
Maybe I am still expecting some level of affection kasi wala eh, tatay ko pa rin siya. Baka naman kasi kaya ko pa rin maging affectionate sa kanya just like how I am with my tita (mother figure), mom (father figure), and sister.
How did I know that I can? Madali lang sa akin makipagkaibigan sa mga lalaking mas matanda sa akin, sa mga kuya, manong, at lolo. Kahit na same pa sila ng values sa tatay ko, kaya ko. Kaya ko makisama sa ibang tao, pero bakit sa kanya hirap ako?
Hindi ko alam, hindi kasi ako makaramdam ng peace to be affectionate sa tatay ko. Lalim kasi ng hugot at sugat eh. Ganun siguro.
Hindi madali but I am doing it for my mom. Kitang-kita ko kasi yung saya ng nanay ko kapag nag-uusap kami ng tatay ko. Kahit sandali lang, happy na siya na makitang may moments na "okay" kami ng tatay ko.
Well, I'll just give her that.
I still think of my mom as the father figure, siya kasi yung balance ng disciplinarian at affectionate traits. I respect her.
Yung tatay ko naman, I simlply can't think of him as a father figure anymore. I dropped it already. His hostility to me for 20+ years is not easy to forget. I stopped chasing his approval, at hindi ko siya dapat ginaya. I realized that I don't respect him the same as my mom, takot lang talaga ako sa kanya nung bata ako, at ngayon I still have unresolved issues with him.
I guess hindi na talaga maaayos ng tuluyan yung relationship namin. In the words of nanay "may lamat na ba talaga anak?"
Oo nalang talaga ang sagot ko, because my way to keep my sanity is by setting boundaries and part of it is by being distant to him when I need to.
Thank you for reading.

What we realized was distant thundering footsteps getting closer showed that there was still life here on the Cinturón Verde, and like life elsewhere in Viracocha, it was far from safe. Then came the sounds of explosions, as well as sudden bursts of orange beyond the fog. As the Reino del Cielo continued to drift along, we found ourselves a dense thicket of trees on the nearby shore, and we positioned ourselves behind it. After all, it was better than potentially getting caught in the crossfire of whatever was going on out there. Despite us staying in one place, the modified plane had a rather handy addition; a periscope, with circular 360-degree rotation and detailed zoom lens. It took some slight resistance, but the periscope managed to penetrate the gnarled canopy, giving us a view of the grasslands ahead, and with it, the grisly scene as it got closer to view. A mixed herd of panicked animals materialized from the fog, with Castled’s horses, chukchayuqs, stalkpeckers and Darwin’s grazers storming out together as one. The fact that the latter among them was panicked was bad, since nothing can make them run. At first I thought some hitherto unknown predators scared away by the region-wide disturbances were coming in droves, but that thought vanished when the sounds of tires and machinery joined the chorus of panicked animals.
A convoy of vehicles followed shortly behind, trucks and tanks modified for traversing Hollow Earth terrain, and protruding from them were people. The front truck gave me some Mad Max vibes, being a semi truck-tractor hybrid with spiky rollbars along the outside, and a large turret on the back, complete with a railgun or harpoon. The other vehicles were smaller, mainly resembling Hummers and minesweepers, each one armored and possessing external weapons. “Hold on,” Missy said next to us. She was fiddling with some auditory equipment hooked up to the periscope. “Let’s unmute.” After some brief static, we heard many overlapping voices. Then one familiar one. “Delta Force, cut them off at the hill. Gamma, corral them from behind. Beta, stay behind. We got some meat and charcoal to bag!” It was the damn husky and curt voice of Mordecai Hutton, Mr. Pullman’s surly bodyguard. “That asshole,” Mary Ann muttered under her breath. “So that means… they’re all here. Pullman, the Seldanos, everyone. They’re responsible for this.” Chris clenched his fist. “Including Abernathy.” As we looked on, the trucks and tanks herded the animals into an open space off to our left. Suddenly, the herd was cut off by another set of vehicles, and the volley of bullets and harpoons began. Almost immediately, horses, chukchayuqs, grazers and stalkpeckers fell by the dozens, the sounds of thudding bodies echoing over the landscape. One of the Darwin’s grazers tried to charge at the side of one of the tanks, only for another tank to blow a hole in it head, the animal stopping just short of its target. The horses tried their best to vault themselves over the vehicles, but were being brought down by ropes and harpoons, sometimes banging them against the metal exteriors of the vehicles. Stalkpeckers ran under the vehicles, only for the drivers to purposefully drive forward and backward, crushing them under the tires. Many surviving animals fled in all directions, and for a moment it seemed great that there were some survivors. Then, the ground beneath several of them opened up; pitfalls, traps. Spikes emerged from the dirt and skewered them by the dozens. Then Mordecai’s voice once again bellowed over the chaos. “Remember boys! It’s not just about the meat, boss wants many alive too. Use the non-lethals, nets, tranq darts, everything, and try not to hurt ‘em all. If you get some bruised ones, well, let’s not waste ‘em.” Then smoke bombs were dispersed into the frenzied remains of the herd. The animals, caught in the ashy smoke and forced to stop, were now vulnerable. Then, several men disembarked from the vehicles and ran to the animals, wielding shock prods, nets, tranquilizer guns, chloroform, and other non-lethals. I saw two men grab a chukchayuq and tackle it to the ground, shocking it with a prod and wrapping chains around its neck and legs before carrying it off. The same was done to several stalkpeckers, the small dinosaurs scared by the men into running into cages or traps.
A Darwin’s grazer was restrained with a net, and as the massive herbivore squirmed and roared, an enormous set of steel claws emerged from a nearby tank and engulfed the animal in its grasp, forcing it to stay still. I saw the horses try to navigate their way out of the haze, with one mother and her foal making good progress. My hopes were dashed when a particularly heavyset man forced the mother to the ground, and the steel whip of another forced the foal down, before its legs were tied together rodeo-style. The mother, angry, got back up and kicked at the first man, killing him with a hoof to the head, and charged at the other, stomping on his chest with her hooves, causing him to cough up blood. Then she whinnied and whimpered as electric shocks appeared on her body, before she collapsed on top of the man she was attacking. Mordecai was the one who did it, proudly wielding a stun gun, before setting his foot on the fainting animal. “Now this one, this one I like. A real jackass, and with a little one too. Boys, when the cargo’s being loaded, put these two in. Separate cages, of course.” The hunt finally died down, though what followed may have been worse. Once the carcasses ultimately reserved for consumption were loaded and the living captured ones were contained, the other bodies - mainly being ones too damaged or injured to be of value to them - were gathered into a pile, almost like a pyramid. It bore an uncanny resemblance to that photo from the 1800s of that guy standing on all the bison skulls. Once some particularly thieving men whittled off body parts as trophies or souvenirs, something else entered the scene. Machines, being loaded off the trucks. These machines however were not vehicles, they were robots. Four-legged canine-like robots. I’m not talking about those basic, rudimentary Boston Dynamics-type ones either. These ones had defined heads with glowing eyes and sharp teeth, silver-bronze bodies divided into flexible armor-like sections, robust clawed limbs, and tails lined with spikes and a stinger-like apparatus. Two of these robotics dogs stepped out in front of the collected piles, and waited as the last remaining men got out of there. When it was clear, their mouths opened and the air began to blur with heat. Then, bright jets of flame erupted from their mouths, setting the carcass piles ablaze, their heads going back and forth so as not to miss a shot. Minutes went by as we watched these burn into ashes, but they didn’t stop there. Once these formerly majestic and beautiful creatures were nothing more than ashes and dust, they were collected by the robots via a vacuum-like suction in their mouths. Once the pile was gone, the two robots finally departed, and with them, the men and their convoy. The scene was finally over, but there was still much more to come.

He thought he could get away with it. He thought that the harm he caused to someone else would simply fade away into the shadows, never to be brought to light. And for three years, he was right. He went about his life as if nothing had happened, while the person he had hurt suffered in silence.
But then, on the exact same day three years later, everything changed. Suddenly, his life was falling apart at the seams. His relationships crumbled, his career went up in flames, and he found himself facing one misfortune after another. He couldn't understand why everything was going so wrong, but deep down, he knew that he had brought this upon himself.
It was as if karma had finally caught up with him, exacting its revenge in the most brutal way possible. And while he couldn't explain how or why this was happening to him, there was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that someone was behind it all. Someone who knew what he had done, and had sent this karmic retribution his way.
He couldn't prove it, of course. There was no evidence, no smoking gun that could point him in the direction of his tormentor. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more going on here, something beyond his understanding.
And so he suffered, day after day, as his life continued to unravel. He tried to make amends, to right the wrongs he had committed, but it was too late. The damage had been done, and there was no going back.
In the end, he was left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret. Regret for what he had done, and for the fact that he had thought he could get away with it. But most of all, he felt regret for the fact that he had hurt someone else, and that he had caused them so much pain.
As for the person who had sent the karma his way? They remained in the shadows, content in the knowledge that justice had been served. They didn't need recognition or thanks for what they had done; they simply knew that they had done the right thing, and that wasn't enough.
Little did the man know that the karma he received was not the end of his punishment. The person who had sent the karma had bigger plans for him, plans that would take nine long years to unfold. The punishment would be slow and subtle, and it would be designed to make him question his own sanity.
Over the next few years, strange things began to happen to the man. He would hear whispers in the night, see shadows darting out of the corner of his eye, and feel an overwhelming sense of dread whenever he entered certain rooms. He tried to brush it off as paranoia, but deep down, he knew that something wasn't right.
As time went on, the incidents became more frequent and more intense. The man would wake up in the middle of the night to find his possessions moved or broken, and strange symbols etched into the walls. He tried to rationalize it away, but the fear continued to grow inside of him.
Eventually, he found himself on the brink of madness. He couldn't trust his own perceptions anymore, and he was convinced that he was being haunted by some malevolent force. But what he didn't know was that the force was not supernatural, but rather the result of someone who had carefully planned their revenge over the course of nine long years.
And as the man lay there, alone and terrified, he realized that he had been wrong. He had thought that he could get away with hurting someone, but in the end, the only thing he had achieved was to bring his own downfall upon himself - Karma
I met an old man a few months ago, he told me this story before he died. His name was John.
John spoke of a man who had caused harm to someone else and thought that he could get away with it. But after three years, karma caught up with him in the most brutal way possible, and his life fell apart at the seams. The man suffered day after day, and eventually, strange things began to happen to him, driving him to the brink of madness.
John then revealed that he was the person behind the karmic revenge. He had carefully planned his revenge over the course of nine long years, and he was satisfied with the outcome.
He explained to me that the meaning of the story was that justice always prevails, even if it takes time. He believed that it was essential to hold people accountable for their actions, and if the law couldn't do it, then you should.
John thought that revenge was worth it because it was the only way to make the man pay for the harm he had caused. He believed that sometimes, people needed to take matters into their own hands to ensure that justice was served.
His story made me reflect on the consequences of our actions and the importance of accountability. It reminded me that our actions have a ripple effect that can last for years, and it's up to us to take responsibility for them.

Each event is suffering. Each event is themed after a type. Each event has every single one of that type (excluding collaboration, crazed, or awakening enemy’s) as well as a special enemy. More information below.
Must complete CotC ch3 AT LEAST to play these stages. Each costs 700 energy and no continues.
White out: traitless. Boss: a cat with two katanas. Deals insane amounts of damage, attacks super fast, and is immune to the cat cannon. Only has one knockback.
Forest fire: red. Boss: similar to the first in looks but looks more like pyro from tf2. Burns the ground and deals lots of damage, attacks slowly. Gives a sort of burning affect.
in the sky: floating. Boss: a flying cat who uses the rocks and chunks of ground to kill everything. Attack is less powerful, but much faster. Also knocks back cats. Many knockbacks.
Black out: black. Boss: black cat with a few daggers. He moves like their cat but much more dangerously. Will freeze everything on impact for 3 seconds. (Basically perma-freeze)
Silver suffering: metal. Boss: a cyborg-like cat with a cannon arm. Shoots slowly, but has immensely long range and damage, as well as base-destroyer and metal. (Duh)
Heavens choir: angel. boss: a cat god-like entity who uses its halo as a laser. Can dodge attacks and can wipe out your base in one hit.
Otherworldly massacre: alien. Boss: a goofy lil alien cat (gnarp gnarp?) who fires his laser gun super fast. Single attack, quick shots.
Intergalactic fleet: star alien. Boss: much like the other alien but much more serious looking and brings the death doge (Death Star but doge) from the background and fires the laser.
The monster mash: zombie. Boss: an undead cat who digs underground every knockback (27) and kills all. Has every zombie effect to the max. Revives infinitely.
The olden days: relic. Boss: a seemingly not to powerful relic-like cat, until it attacks and half of your units die or are worthless now.
Hells orchestra: aku. Boss: much like the angel but worse to fight and harder in every way, as well as the shield and other aku stuff.
Wild time: behemoth. Boss: I think you get it, it’s like all behemoth things in one.
Colossus extremus: colossal. Boss: a huge version of the first one but colossal and significantly longer range as well as immune to all effects and can dodge with high chance to.
The awakening: awakened cats. Restriction: only the cats with awakening stages. Boss: a mixture of all of the bosses in the other stages. Beating it will give you the final form of all of them.
Beating any stage (excluding last) gives you the boss as a cat. They make whatever stage they came from a joke. Beat the red one? The red cat will eliminate all reds and will be the ultimate anti-red.
Any ungodly suggestions to make it worse? Put in the comments.

Werthin crouched low on the evening watch crag, the setting sun turns the sky a burning gold. The cold fall wind whipped his light gray fur and carried a strange, pungent scent. He lifted his stance to get his nose more into the wind. It wasn't the familiar tang of industry from the beavers nor the energizing hum of golden chi. This smell was raw and primal – the unmistakable odor of. “Death.”
The rest of the pack started to smell it too, Werthin could see a few thousand heads turn and sniff the air, wisps of condensation visible in the sunset. The pack had decided a unified action was taken, knowing what that meant he flexed his exposed chest, his abs rippling his fur, as he leaned up onto two feet and let out a howl. Every wolf lifted their head and joined into the harmony of their voices. The one that carried the loudest was the wolves current leader, Wutzel.
The howling died down when a lone speedor was spotted far on the horizon, a small dust cloud following it. Werthin climbed down and dashed through the maze of tents and other impermanent residencies to a wooden watchtower where his fiance Worina was crouched low, a knocked arrow tracing the rider as the zig-zagged their way towards the camp, tendrils of steam rising from her steady breath.
“Who is it?” Werthin whispered.
Without breaking her concentration, she spat. “Lion, although I have no idea which one is stupid enough or suicidal enough to approach our tribe completely alone.” Even crouching , he was a few centimeters taller than Werthin, her maple fur broken up by much lighter pale vitiligo patterns. Her arms were shaking from the strain of keeping her bow knocked and taught.
Other wolves had taken notice of the speedor and had started to get into defensive positions. As the speedor did a wide loop around the camp, Wutzel ordered the wolves to stand ready but relax. Werthin jumped down and stood next to Wutzel. He had shifted the holster for his double-sided sword to the quick-draw position, although he felt exposed without his armor on.
The rider pulled a hard stop just inside the entrance of the camp. They were a young lion with a dapper yellow and red fur pattern. They looked and smelled 20 at the oldest. Their heavy blue plate armor and crown marked them as royal. He held himself like a prince, even when staring down the entire wolf tribe. If it was not for an ugly sneer with a nose upturned in disgust, he may have even been considered handsome.
Wutzle barked an order, and five wolves lowered their spear and barred their teeth at the lion. The lion put up their paw in response, trying to show he meant no harm, but his sneer was not at all reassuring. He took in a deep breath and glared at every single wolf, seeming to calculate his odds if a fight broke out. “Who is your leader, if you are even civilized enough to have one?” He muttered coldly.
Multiple wolves lurched forward, hackles raised and fangs showing, but Wutzel snarled a warning, and they backed up but kept the aggressive mirthless smile. Wutzel himself did not look amused at the insult, but he stepped forward. “I guess you can say I am. Which means I am the one that decides if you live or die for trespassing.” Wutzel stood as tall as he could, but he still had to look up to make eye contact.
“Good. I am Prince Leyan of the lions… Why did you kill my dad?” The prince gave a look of pure anger and hatred.
Wutzel’s muzzle started to quiver in anger, his eyes burning red. The rest of the wolves looked like they were just waiting for the signal to kill this lion. “How dare you come into our home accusing us of murder with no evidence! How absolutely suicidal are you? I should have you killed for such an insult!”
The threat didn’t seem to phase Leyan at all. Two strides were taken to get right in the face of Wutzel. The height difference between them was now much more apparent, with the lion towering half a meter above the wolf's leader. “No evidence!? I have all the evidence in the world! It was no secret that you hated him and would do everything you could to rule Chima! So tell me: why did you kill him?”
Wutzel’s ears dropped back, and his pupils dilated. Spit flew from his mouth as he seethed. He kept opening his mouth to speak, but he seemed incapable of finding words strong enough to express the hatred he felt. When he spoke, all that came out was a cold and barely audible. “Kill him.”
Werthin drew his dual-bladed staff and stepped forwards, the humming of the energized edges rung out. Other wolves, some with spears and others with guns, also stepped forward. The prince drew his greatsword as his eyes narrowed into slits. He dropped into a defensive fighting stance, with as much armor and blade between him and the blades leveled dangerously at him. His terror was clear as day, though. His knuckles’ fur was spreading from how tight his grip was, and his breathing was irregular and short.
Werthin dropped into his fighting stance, his blade held close to him, and his chest turned as perpendicular to his opponent as he could manage while still facing him. His current lack of body armor made him incredibly nervous because one lucky hit would be it for him.
The whole wolf tribe was about to pounce on the lion prince when Worina’s voice rang out in warning. “Second speedor inbound! Another lion!”
Wutzel put up his hand to get every wolf to pause as the second speedor whirred up. It stopped, and a much younger lion dismounted, a crown also marking him as royal. This one was in similar armor but with a chain undershirt and a lighter torso plate. Emerald green eyes shone with panic out from behind his glasses. His fur was much darker than his brethren, a dark brown with lighter red highlights in his growing mane. He ran to the side of his fellow lion and tugged on his shoulder. “Leyan! What are you doing!?” His voice quivered with fear.
Leyan shrugged him off. “Avenging our father Laith, now get out of here, you are not capable of handling this.” There was a collective tension and hesitation that rose in all the wolves as they realized that they now had both of the lion princes to deal with. Wutzel broke down into unchecked anger as the new lion stared him down. “Your brother comes waltzing into our land and accuses us of killing your father! He then insults our entire pack! By all rights of the moon, he is ours to deal with, boy. Leave now before we are forced to kill you as well!”
The tension and anger in the pack were thick enough to chew on. The steam rising from the breath of the wolves gave them an almost ghostly look. Their collective eyes darted from the lions to their leader, awaiting a command.
“Please brother! Come home! I am just as hurt as you, but that is no excuse to get yourself killed!” The younger lion pleaded, his voice cracking from stress. "This is how you change everything for the worse!”
Leyan glared at his brother, his teeth barred and his body shaking with fury. “No one needs to hear your words!”
Laith also drew his sword, a narrower tachi whose edges glowed blue with chi energy. The wolves turned their attention to him, but instead of turning to face them, he turned to his brother. Regret was etched into his face as he unsteadily gripped the blade. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will do what I have to to make sure you are safe.”
His brother’s face flashed surprise at the actions but returned to his rage as he pointed his blade tip between Laith’s eyes. Laith took a step back, the scent of fear wafting off him. “You are still a coward.” Leyan hawked at Laith.
Wutzel snarled, clearly having enough of their crap. “The sibling conflict is awfully cute, but you two are still trespassing on our home. I'll give you two 30 seconds to leave before I let my family have dinner.”
The two lions stared at each other, no words exchanged, but they were clearly having a very in-depth conversation. Laith was doing his best to look big, but his eyes were still darting around, his tachi being shifted from one hand to another. Leyan still looked murderous but seemed to be slowly coming to his senses, as his posture got more and more relaxed as they stared at each other. Wutzel kept tapping his foot and counting out loud. “15 seconds!”
The lions came to some sort of agreement because Leyan sneered once more at the wolves as he turned and stepped onto his speedor. “I will prove to everyone what you did.” He shouted as his ride hummed to life, and he took off. Laith still smelled like fear as he scanned the crowd of wolves with a look of sorrow. His voice was quiet and hurt. “I am sorry…” He then got onto his own speedor and took off after his brother.
Werthin sheathed his blade with a muted shing. He turned to look at the still hatred filled face of Wutzel. They made eye contact, and both of their expressions went deathly grim. “So that's… who's going to..?” Werthin muttered darkly. The rest of the wolves discussed everything that just happened as they slowly relaxed and went back to what they were doing.
Wutzel nodded solemnly. “We are in for one hell of a ride.”

Werthin crouched low on the evening watch crag, the setting sun turns the sky a burning gold. The cold fall wind whipped his light gray fur and carried a strange, pungent scent. He lifted his stance to get his nose more into the wind. It wasn't the familiar tang of industry from the beavers nor the energizing hum of golden chi. This smell was raw and primal – the unmistakable odor of. “Death.”
The rest of the pack started to smell it too, Werthin could see a few thousand heads turn and sniff the air, wisps of condensation visible in the sunset. The pack had decided a unified action was taken, knowing what that meant he flexed his exposed chest, his abs rippling his fur, as he leaned up onto two feet and let out a howl. Every wolf lifted their head and joined into the harmony of their voices. The one that carried the loudest was the wolves current leader, Wutzel.
The howling died down when a lone speedor was spotted far on the horizon, a small dust cloud following it. Werthin climbed down and dashed through the maze of tents and other impermanent residencies to a wooden watchtower where his fiance Worina was crouched low, a knocked arrow tracing the rider as the zig-zagged their way towards the camp, tendrils of steam rising from her steady breath.
“Who is it?” Werthin whispered.
Without breaking her concentration, she spat. “Lion, although I have no idea which one is stupid enough or suicidal enough to approach our tribe completely alone.” Even crouching , he was a few centimeters taller than Werthin, her maple fur broken up by much lighter pale vitiligo patterns. Her arms were shaking from the strain of keeping her bow knocked and taught.
Other wolves had taken notice of the speedor and had started to get into defensive positions. As the speedor did a wide loop around the camp, Wutzel ordered the wolves to stand ready but relax. Werthin jumped down and stood next to Wutzel. He had shifted the holster for his double-sided sword to the quick-draw position, although he felt exposed without his armor on.
The rider pulled a hard stop just inside the entrance of the camp. They were a young lion with a dapper yellow and red fur pattern. They looked and smelled 20 at the oldest. Their heavy blue plate armor and crown marked them as royal. He held himself like a prince, even when staring down the entire wolf tribe. If it was not for an ugly sneer with a nose upturned in disgust, he may have even been considered handsome.
Wutzle barked an order, and five wolves lowered their spear and barred their teeth at the lion. The lion put up their paw in response, trying to show he meant no harm, but his sneer was not at all reassuring. He took in a deep breath and glared at every single wolf, seeming to calculate his odds if a fight broke out. “Who is your leader, if you are even civilized enough to have one?” He muttered coldly.
Multiple wolves lurched forward, hackles raised and fangs showing, but Wutzel snarled a warning, and they backed up but kept the aggressive mirthless smile. Wutzel himself did not look amused at the insult, but he stepped forward. “I guess you can say I am. Which means I am the one that decides if you live or die for trespassing.” Wutzel stood as tall as he could, but he still had to look up to make eye contact.
“Good. I am Prince Leyan of the lions… Why did you kill my dad?” The prince gave a look of pure anger and hatred.
Wutzel’s muzzle started to quiver in anger, his eyes burning red. The rest of the wolves looked like they were just waiting for the signal to kill this lion. “How dare you come into our home accusing us of murder with no evidance! How absolutely suicidal are you? I should have you killed for such an insult!”
The threat didn’t seem to phase Leyan at all. Two strides were taken to get right in the face of Wutzel. The height difference between them was now much more apparent, with the lion towering half a meter above the wolf's leader. “No evidence!? I have all the evidence in the world! It was no secret that you hated him and would do everything you could to rule Chima! So tell me: why did you kill him?”
Wutzel’s ears dropped back, and his pupils dilated. Spit flew from his mouth as he seethed. He kept opening his mouth to speak, but he seemed incapable of finding words strong enough to express the hatred he felt. When he spoke, all that came out was a cold and barely audible. “Kill him.”
Werthin drew his dual-bladed staff and stepped forwards, the humming of the energized edges rung out. Other wolves, some with spears and others with guns, also stepped forward. The prince drew his greatsword as his eyes narrowed into slits. He dropped into a defensive fighting stance, with as much armor and blade between him and the blades leveled dangerously at him. His terror was clear as day, though. His knuckles’ fur was spreading from how tight his grip was, and his breathing was irregular and short.
Werthin dropped into his fighting stance, his blade held close to him, and his chest turned as perpendicular to his opponent as he could manage while still facing him. His current lack of body armor made him incredibly nervous because one lucky hit would be it for him.
The whole wolf tribe was about to pounce on the lion prince when Worina’s voice rang out in warning. “Second speedor inbound! Another lion!”
Wutzel put up his hand to get every wolf to pause as the second speedor whirred up. It stopped, and a much younger lion dismounted, a crown also marking him as royal. This one was in similar armor but with a chain undershirt and a lighter torso plate. Emerald green eyes shone with panic out from behind his glasses. His fur was much darker than his brethren, a dark brown with lighter red highlights in his growing mane. He ran to the side of his fellow lion and tugged on his shoulder. “Leyan! What are you doing!?” His voice quivered with fear.
Leyan shrugged him off. “Avenging our father Laith, now get out of here, you are not capable of handling this.” There was a collective tension and hesitation that rose in all the wolves as they realized that they now had both of the lion princes to deal with. Wutzel broke down into unchecked anger as the new lion stared him down. “Your brother comes waltzing into our land and accuses us of killing your father! He then insults our entire pack! By all rights of the moon, he is ours to deal with, boy. Leave now before we are forced to kill you as well!”
The tension and anger in the pack were thick enough to chew on. The steam rising from the breath of the wolves gave them an almost ghostly look. Their collective eyes darted from the lions to their leader, awaiting a command.
“Please brother! Come home! I am just as hurt as you, but that is no excuse to get yourself killed!” The younger lion pleaded, his voice cracking from stress. ”This is how you change everything for the worse!”
Leyan glared at his brother, his teeth barred and his body shaking with fury. “No one needs to hear your words!”
Laith also drew his sword, a narrower tachi whose edges glowed blue with chi energy. The wolves turned their attention to him, but instead of turning to face them, he turned to his brother. Regret was etched into his face as he unsteadily gripped the blade. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will do what I have to to make sure you are safe.”
His brother’s face flashed surprise at the actions but returned to his rage as he pointed his blade tip between Laith’s eyes. Laith took a step back, the scent of fear wafting off him. “You are still a coward.” Leyan hawked at Laith.
Wutzel snarled, clearly having enough of their crap. “The sibling conflict is awfully cute, but you two are still trespassing on our home. I'll give you two 30 seconds to leave before I let my family have dinner.”
The two lions stared at each other, no words exchanged, but they were clearly having a very in-depth conversation. Laith was doing his best to look big, but his eyes were still darting around, his tachi being shifted from one hand to another. Leyan still looked murderous but seemed to be slowly coming to his senses, as his posture got more and more relaxed as they stared at each other. Wutzel kept tapping his foot and counting out loud. “15 seconds!”
The lions came to some sort of agreement because Leyan sneered once more at the wolves as he turned and stepped onto his speedor. “I will prove to everyone what you did.” He shouted as his ride hummed to life, and he took off. Laith still smelled like fear as he scanned the crowd of wolves with a look of sorrow. His voice was quiet and hurt. “I am sorry…” He then got onto his own speedor and took off after his brother.
Werthin sheathed his blade with a muted shing. He turned to look at the still hatred filled face of Wutzel. They made eye contact, and both of their expressions went deathly grim. “So that's… who's going to..?” Werthin muttered darkly. The rest of the wolves discussed everything that just happened as they slowly relaxed and went back to what they were doing.
Wutzel nodded solemnly. “We are in for one hell of a ride.”

Thursday night I went out for drinks and darts with the boys. Bartender told us some local hardcore bands were opening for Militarie Gun and GEL. I'm a huge fan of GEL and the guys are into Militarie Gun so we closed our tabs and went down the street. I guess I forgot that I'm not 17 anymore and can't mosh like I want to without days of recovery.
Yesterday I was a little sore and tired but I chalked that up to a minor hangover. Today is a different story. Bruises all over my forearms and legs and my neck is so stiff it's painful to turn my head or bend over. Usually that wouldn't be a big deal, I would just go into work early to compensate for moving slower. But, I have to bartend for 6 hours today and I've got a dinner party with my girlfriend and her friends immediately after work. Outside of lidocaine lotion and ibuprofen have y'all got any advice on how to bounce back quicker from the dreaded bangover?

My current collection. Still on the hunt to complete it, might go out searching today.

Hi everyone,
Here's the summary/outline for the second half of Day 2 of Safe House. Sorry again for the length; they did a lot of talking-based activities today, and I wanted to try to translate and explain a good portion of it for you all. Hope this helps!
Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/live/GkCLXss5hHI?feature=shared

• They're relaxing and playing Uno when we join them
• 15:30 PD asks Earth to go collect some snacks from the front door (sponsored by Snack Jack)
• 18:30 Earth starts reading the directions for the next medal game (also sponsored by Snack Jack. King of the Day divides everyone into two teams of 4. Each team in charge of "protecting" one flavour of Snack Jack. One person from Team A will sit blindfolded and try to protect the Snack Jack while all members of Team B will have two minutes to try to retrieve the Snack Jack while wearing bells on their bodies to make their movements louder. The blindfolded person can order everyone in Team B to move and stop, and each time they call stop, they have the opportunity to make one shot with a water gun. If they successfully hit a member of Team B, that person is eliminated from the competition. If someone from Team B successfully retrieves one bag of Snack Jack, opens it, and eats one piece, then Team B wins. If this has not been completed within the two minutes, Team A wins. The person with the water gun can only shoot up to 10 times in total during the 2 minutes. The team positions will change and they will play again. If both teams successfully steal, the team that steals the soonest within the 2 minutes wins. Winners get one medal each
  • 20:15 Luke decides to pick his team based on the three lowest-scoring people on the ranking board, hoping that he can help carry them to a victory and help them get one medal
  • 23:00 They go to the play zone/pool area and start strategising. Team B will attempt to steal first, and Luke will be the blindfolded person from Team A. There's some brief confusion about which flavoucolour each team is supposed to protect and steal.
  • 28:30 PD helps to go over the rules one more time and serves as the referee. Everyone on the stealing team needs to start by touching one of the walls of the room. Blindfolded person has to spin five times before the game begins.
  • 31:30 Luke didn't know that the eliminated people have to go stand behind him, so he mistakenly shoots Mix, but it doesn't count
  • 38:00 The next stealing team is strategising, and PD says that they have 15 more seconds to talk before they have to take their positions.
  • 40:00 The protecting team's "cheering" is a bit suspicious. PD asks them to be quiet, but they don't listen
• 46:00 Dinner. Menu includes soy sauce chicken with rice, pad gaprao beef with dried chili, pork gyoza, and banoffee pie for desert (in the fridge). They decide to eat directly out of the containers so there will be fewer dishes to wash. As usual, there's some awkwardness at the beginning because everyone wants to eat, but they want to think of something to talk about so the audience don't get bored
  • Dinner highlights: 55:00 They decide to exchange ghost stories tonight. Neo asks Luke if ghost stories is as much of a thing abroad as it is in Thailand. He says that he has one friend who has a personal ghost story that he can share: When Luke's friend was around 7, he was running around another friend's basement when he ran into an elderly woman doing some laundry. He later asked the parents of the house who that lady was, and they said that there's no one there, but they had an elderly maid years ago who died. So after that, the friend didn't like to go into basements anymore.
  • 58:45 Earth asks why Western ghost stories always seem to take place in attics or basements
  • 1:02:00 The guys ask if Luke has heard of the type of Thai ghost that wears old-style ceremonial clothing and does Thai traditional dance (considered very creepy).
  • 1:06:00 They bring dessert to eat outside. They get inspired to start playing on the large floating rafts in the pool while still clothed, and PD warns them to at least take off their mic packs first if they're going to do that
  • 1:14:30 They snack on some items from the seafood fridge, and then relax for a while in the area in front of the medal board. Pond gives some dance pointers.
  • 1:26:00 Some English/Thai lessons. They discuss how the direct translation of the Thai term for "living room" means "room where you sit leisurely" (or if you translate it even more literally like how Luke does, it translates to "room where you sit down and play"). Neo struggles a bit and blames it on Luke "unclear pronunciation." Luke gives some sentences for Neo (then Earth and Gun) to translate to Thai
  • 1:29:45 They think about what else to do, and they suggest several traditional Thai games, one of which is the "live fish/dead fish" that I explained previously. The topic of being blindfolded comes up, and they mention that when Luke was playing the Snack Jack game, he handled the water gun as if he were a cowboy. They start playing the live fish/dead fish game, but PD intervenes and invites them to come play the next medal game
• 1:38:30 Medal game (sponsored by the black inhalers). King of the Day will pair everyone up. Each pair will be tied together at the waist and hands, and all the pairs need to walk around the house together in order to try to find the two random mystery items somewhere around the house that have been scented with the peppermint scent of the black inhalers. The two pairs that find these two mystery items will get one medal each. Some of the pairs struggle a bit because they were smelling the inhalers too much at the beginning, so everything was smelling like peppermint to them.
• 1:51:30 Relaxing time
  • 1:55:45 Since everyone is planning to take a shower, Pond is a bit lazy to shower, and he s that his says uncle once told him that if your heart/soul are clean, your body is automatically clean, so he might use that excuse. He wants to go downstairs to make a Thai omelette (a little extra salty), but since he didn't shower in the morning, he'll shower first and then go make food.
  • 2:03:00 Small jam session in the larger bedroom
  • 2:22:00 Pond and Phuwin wish a happy birthday to P'Golf if he's watching
• 2:26:00 They do a game/activity where you answer questions and then the book will interpret aspects of your personality based on your answers. Gun reads the questions and interpretations, and the rest of the guys choose which option they want from each question
  • General statement: the answer choices are numbered 1-3 or 1-4. The numbers in Thai are 1=neung, 2=song, 3=saam, 4=see, so maybe you can hear which options each person is talking about when they're deciding which fits best with each person. Sometimes Gun also reads them as A, B, C, D.
  • 2:27:00 Question 1: When you sing karaoke with your friends, what type of song do you choose?
    • Rock: don't feel the need to overcompensate to express your uniqueness or individuality
    • Current chart hits: (Gun didn't read it because no one chose it)
    • Old songs: wants to be different/unique. You're a bit dramatic sometimes and sometimes it's like you're in a drama/lakhorn
    • Don't like to karaoke: Really wants to be unique/different. You might not be good at singing, but for the things you're good at, you're so good that people around you will compliment you and grow your ego even further
  • 2:33:45 Question 2: When you go to a roadside noodle stall, how long will you wait until you start to get a little impatient about the wait time? (as a qualifier, they make their decisions based on the assumption that the restaurant is not that crowded)
    • 3 minutes: No one chose it, but Gun read that it means that you are a bit selfish and you prioritise your needs and feelings over others'
    • 8 minutes: you have some patience (~50%). You can do a pretty decent job with enduring hardships and uncomfortable situations
    • 12 minutes: patience level ~90%. You might have a hard time believing in yourself or standing up for yourself
  • 2:37:30 Question 3: Close your eyes and imagine a bunch of flowers. What colour are these flowers? (at first, some of them didn't think of any of the listed options, or they thought of multiple colours). The guys made comments throughout this question that the interpretations were either not accurate, or that they seemed unnecessarily harsh. Hahaha. [also, this was quite a difficult question for me to translate because a lot of the words and concepts mentioned are quite specific in Thai and don't have direct/clean translations to English, but I tried to keep the translation as concise as possible, so I apologise]
    • Red: You have a high level of confidence/pride (90%). You put your full effort into everything and want to demonstrate your abilities and power. However, your level of confidence might turn out to be a bit of a curse because others won't want to be close to you
    • Purple: Confidence/pride 50%. You can think a little highly of yourself sometimes. You can hold grudges for a long time. You are probably talented in the arts.
    • Yellow: Confidence/pride 40%. You can change your mind easily and quickly. You're a little idealistic. Stay humble, and your self-confidence will grow naturally with your achievements
    • Blue: no one chose it
  • 2:42:20 Question 4: Imagine a person in your head who you might want to go and get to know (they also comment throughout that some of these interpretations are harsh or inaccurate. Like the further along in the game they get, the worse they feel about themselves. But then they realise that the name of the book they're reading means "Why is your heart cruel?" and the moral of the book is that everyone has some non-ideal qualities, etc.)
    • Colourful: no one chose it
    • Clean/classic/neat: The person in your imagination doesn't get lonely easily. They can be stubborn and demanding.
    • Trendy fashion: The person in your imagination likes to change to fit in with people around them. They get lonely easily
    • Own individual style: The person in your imagination gets lonely only sometimes. They can be serious/intense and can pull some energy from those around them
  • 2:47:40 Question 5: You're at a restaurant with a romantic partner, and you're both full. Someone brings a dessert for your romantic partner that happens to be a favourite dessert of yours. What does your partner do? (They found the question confusing, so they changed it to ask what they themselves would do. But then there was confusion about who was the person bringing the dessert, like if it's a potential romantic competitor or just the restaurant employee, etc. They never fully understood the question or agreed on the conditions of the hypothetical situation. It wasn't until Gun started reading the interpretations that they started to understand that the point of this question is basically to anticipate how likely you are to cheat in a relationship. It's not clear to anyone because the question isn't worded well, but they're interpreting it as if a potential romantic competitor handed a dessert to your romantic partner. If your partner eats it, then I suppose it means that they're not being faithful to you because eating the dessert means that they're showing the competitor that they have a chance? It's honestly a poorly worded question, and everyone was still confused at the end)
    • Don't touch it at all
    • Try it a little bit ("nit neung" in Thai so you guys can understand what they're discussing)
    • Eat half of it
    • Eat all of it
  • 2:55:30 Neo reads Question 6: if you and a romantic partner are feeding animals, which animal would you both choose to feed?
    • Snake: no one chose it
    • Tiger: You do everything fully; if you want to do something, you do it. You might prefer romantic partners who are older than you
    • Elephant: You are chill and easy-going. You hope that you can find someone supportive
    • Monkey: You prefer to be friends first before becoming romantic partners
  • 2:59:00 Question 7: If you're travelling out of town with someone you're romantically interested in, which method of travel do you choose? (it doesn't specify how far you're going)
    • High-speed train: Your prospective partner wants you
    • Train: no one chose it
    • Car: You and your partner want to get to know each other better
    • Plane: Your partner wants you to be more bold and wants to spend more time with you
  • 3:02:00 Question 8: If you and a romantic partner are walking up a mountain to admire a view together, what view would you most want to see? (this question is more explicit than they're openly talking. They're basically talking about sexual preferences and making innuendoes, but censoring as they go)
    • Sunrise
    • Another mountain
    • City scape
    • A cloudy/foggy cover scene
• 3:06:00 Relaxing time. Pond still wants Thai omelette like he did before, so he and Phuwin go to the kitchen to make one.
• 3:15:30 Fan Talk
  • Group 1 Highlights: Most of them stayed up late talking last night because they haven't seen each other in a while. Mix slept earliest and also woke up one of the earliest. Their throats are still sore from the chicken sounds competition from the morning. They playfully tease Luke about being King of the Day, like how it's easier for people in larger bodies to make louder sounds, and also that apparently American chickens sound weird. They mention how he was thoughtful to pick the three lowest-scoring people to be his team later so he could try to help them get a medal. They recapped the black inhaler game and said that the ones who smelled them too much before starting the game couldn't smell anything because the smell was lingering too strongly in their noses. Neo also talks about how the others pranked him to push him into the pool earlier. They're feeling increasingly more comfortable with each other, so they're looking forward to seeing how their relationships develop throughout the rest of the week. At around 3:22:00, Neo mentions that before, he thought Mix was quieter and "cooler" than how he's shown himself to actually be these two days. They are a bit surprised at Luke as well because he can switch between super playful moods and super serious moods when it's time for competition because he really wants to win. They all agree that Khaotung is the "dark horse" because he's more quiet and low-profile but he's one of the highest scorers. They enjoyed the Snack Jack game a lot, and around 3:26:00 they make fun of way Luke handled the water gun; it made them feel like they were in a thriller film. The second defending team tried to defend their "cheering" to help Earth when he was blindfolded
    • Fan Comments: They wanted to hear Khaotung more. They ask about things they might have forgotten to bring, and Neo said that he brought only four pairs of underwear for the week. Khaotung admits that he was a fan of Gun's before joining GMMTV. Fans complimented Neo's humour and requested more jokes. Someone said that they looked like four cats, so they tried to synchronise their head movements to look like a group of cats. Fans said that Gun was cute with his childhood blanket.
  • Group 2 Highlights (3:38:15): They made fun of Neo for not exercising with Luke, but he said that at least Neo woke up and went down, but he only exercised a little before giving up and going back to sleep. They agree that Neo is the life of the house, and the experience would probably be a lot less exciting or entertaining without him. Luke enjoyed being King of the Day, but he was a little frustrated that he and Earth didn't find the scented toilet paper in the black inhaler game because they walked past it but couldn't smell it. They all really enjoyed the Snack Jack game, and again, they said that Luke looked so cool and intense when he had the water gun. Luke learned that he always pointed the water gun correctly initially, but he kept second-guessing himself and moving his aim before shooting. They're all finding the house and the environment easy to adjust to, and they're all feeling happy. They're all playfully perplexed by how much energy Neo has, and they also agree that Khaotung is the dark horse. At 3:47:00, Pond and Earth bond over the fact that in all GMMTV competitions they've every participated in, they've always scored very lowly. Earth says partially jokingly that he has sometimes gone home and asks, "Am I just truly not good?" They have faith that Pond can perform well in any activity with a physical component (especially dancing), and Mix and Gun are probably best at activities that require cunningness/craftiness.
    • 3:50:00 Fan comments: Luke tries to answer an English comment, and he successfully translates them to Thai. Luke and Phuwin give statements in English. People ask when they're going to finally play a full game of "live fish/dead fish." People make fun of Pond for being lazy to shower, and he reiterates the saying his uncle told him about having a clean heart/soul. They also address the comments asking for English subtitles. They say that Mix eats the most in the house, but he gains a lot of happiness from food. They hope that they'll have the ghost story session tonight.
• 3:58:00 Relaxing/leisure time. Gun and Khaotung are making crispy fried shredded imitation crab with truffle salt.
  • 4:06:30 Pond, Neo, and Luke play darts. Phuwin joins later. Luke explains the rules to Khaotung.
  • 4:19:00 Phuwin plays around a bit with a guitar. Others later join to sing a bit. Khaotung and Luke continue playing darts.
  • 4:34:30 Gun and Earth play with one of the cameras. Neo joins.
  • 4:42:00 Neo, Luke, Khaotung, Gun, and Earth play Uno [sorry, I don't know the rules]
  • Gun and Phuwin make some noodles and share them with the guys around 5:09:00
  • 5:13:00 Khaotung and Phuwin make a different type of instant noodle and discuss their preferred ways to prepare instant noodles
• 5:29:00 Ghost stories
  • 5:30:00 Pond's story: A story of a friend of his. It takes place in a dormitory that is next to a temple. They keep interrupting him, so Pond keeps repeating the phrase "dormitory next to a temple" many times, which makes everyone laugh and continue interrupting him. Pond's friend was living with a roommate, and the roommate had to pray in the evenings. Pond's friend was on the top level of a bunk bed, but every night, he heard the roommate sit almost like they're praying, but they're always facing an empty chair like they're talking to someone. One day, the roommate asked Pond's friend if he could sleep on the upper bunk with him, and Pond's friend was confused but agreed. At night, Pond's friend heard a voice asking if the bedroom was full yet and whether another person could come sleep. (There's a belief in Thailand that if you hear voices talking to you in the night, you shouldn't reply to them or engage with them). They sat up and looked around, and there was no one else in the room who could have asked that. After that, Pond's friend wanted to move to a different room/dormitory.
  • 5:34:30 Add-on to Pond's story; takes place in the same dormitory building. The guys jokingly ask if it was next to a temple before letting him continue. There was a small room/passageway inside that they believed was a passageway for ghosts. Every day at 02:00, people will hear knocking sounds and sometimes door slamming from that area. These sounds even continued when the students were mostly away at their homes. A few times, things were falling off of shelves. The remaining students investigated but couldn't find anything. In that room/area, there was a closet/wardrobe with a mirror next to the bathroom. In the mirror, they could see a woman sitting hunched over in the bathroom, but they couldn't see anything when they turned to look directly in the bathroom.
  • 5:39:00 Earth's story. Earth tells Mix to tell it instead because he's better at storytelling. Once Mix was at the house of a friend of his (implied to be Earth's house). He was showering upstairs, when he heard someone opening and closing a door. He later asked the owner of the house, and they said that they never went upstairs because they were sleeping downstairs. Mix demonstrates the walkway to enter the bathroom/powder room, and how when you can see the mirror immediately upon opening the door. One time, Mix opened the door and saw a man standing. At 5:41:50, PD pranks them by playing a loud slamming noise to scare them. Mix continues the story: The man he saw walked straight into the area outside of the bathroom and disappeared into some of the furniture.
  • 5:43:20: Add-on to Earth/Mix's story. A different day, someone came to collect Mix at the house. The person who came to collect Mix at the house saw someone standing by the front of the house when they arrived, but at that time, Mix and the owner of the house were still sleeping inside. Quick additional story: Mix was in the bathroom once, when he heard someone trying to forcibly enter the bathroom. He opened the door and saw nothing.
  • 5:45:30 Earth's story: He went with a friend on a vacation where they stayed in a two-bedroom bungalow that was made of wood, including the furniture. Earth was having trouble sleeping, and at one point, he heard some noises. He tried to sit up to investigate, but he couldn't move anything in his body. In his peripheral vision, he heard a woman (he's basically describing sleep paralysis). He starts praying a bit and slowly, his condition improves until the vision of the woman disappears and he's able to move.
  • 5:49:00 Neo's story: He sets the story in his old school without saying the name, but he mentions so many descriptors like the location, history, etc., that everyone makes fun of him that it's clear which school it is already. He was staying in an athlete's dormitory. The badminton players used to have ghost storytelling sessions where they would talk about the ghost of that building. People would see a person in a white outfit on the stairs, specifically on the flight of stairs on the fifth level. (there are two sets of stairs, one on each short side of the building, and there's a small passageway where if you wanted to, you can pass to the opposite stairwell. This passageway was the haunted one on the fifth level, so people were afraid to look or walk though that area. Neo didn't believe the stories, but one time, during the regular evening dormitory inspections (around 22:00 every night), the inspector was passing by. Neo's bedroom was in a location where the walkway outside that section had a dead end, so you could only walk in one direction and then walk back the other direction in order to leave. Therefore, the boys always waited for the inspector to pass by the window twice before they knew that the coast was clear for them to continue talking, playing on their phones, etc. However, this time, the inspector only passed by the window once. The boys waited in silence for the second passing, but it never came, so eventually four of the boys decided to open the door and look for the inspector. They looked toward the end of the hallway where the person must be if they haven't walked back past the window again, but there was no one there, so everyone wondered who that must have been who walked past the window once and disappeared.
  • 5:56:45 Mix's story: In his house outside of Bangkok, the structure used to be a small apartment building but got turned into a house. Mix's father bought it, split it in half, and rented out the other half. When Mix was younger, he was watching television with the room door ajar (his room was next to the head of the stairs). The light from the TV could illuminate the area outside of the door. One day, outside his door, he saw an elderly lady dressed in a traditional dress of Northern Thailand. Mix followed her out onto the stairway until she disappeared. The next day, Mix told his father about it, and his father stoically told Mix that the previous owner of the house was an elderly lady who died by falling off the stairs and breaking her neck. Apparently in the other half of the house they were renting out, the tenants tended to not stay long before moving out. At one point, a friend of Mix's father rented the half of the house for a short lease, and the friend said that he kept hearing and/or seeing a male walking around the house, even though he lived alone.
  • 6:02:00 Phuwin's story: he lives in a Chinese-style house, and this was during a Chinese festival. Phuwin's father lit some incense to pray around 16:00 (late afternoon). (usually incense sticks take a couple of hours to burn out). That night, a little after midnight, Phuwin's father felt like something wasn't right, so he went down to investigate. In Phuwin's house, people usually go upstairs around 22:00 and don't really come down for anything. Phuwin's father saw that the incense he lit >8 hours prior were still smoking, and as he looked at the incense, they caught in flame (incense are supposed to just smoke until they run out, not be actively on fire). So Phuwin's father thinks a ghost was warning him to come and put out the incense so the house wouldn't catch fire, but it was still very strange that the incense was burning/smoking for >8 hours.
  • 6:05:00 Everyone says goodnight to the viewers