SYNOPSIS: Walking your OP monster girlfriend home is easy. No one messes with you. Getting back to your house on your own? That's the tricky part.
What's worse than an eldritch building? How 'bout a bigger one?
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Chapter Cover Art (From Mood Writing Sample)
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Norman took one look at the towering building to his left. Then he took off.
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“̷̵̵̷̶̷̶̶̸̶̶̸̴̡̛̮͉̹̪̼̙̤̲̤͔̗̮̥̣̜͓̟̞̃̔̈́̑̈̍͌̂̂̐̋͛̉̓G̵̶̸̷̴̸̵̵̴̶̸̷̸̴̶̨̢̧̞͈̠̜̳̪͎̬̜̱̫͚̝̩̑̒͐́͆̃̿̉̆̉̃̓̀̎̐͂̎̒̕̕͘͝͝Ǵ̷̷̷̴̸̸̷̷̷̷̵̨̢̞̥͓̰͖͙̰̝͖̩̺͍͎͉͌̽̂́͐̓̀͒̐͗́M̴̷̶̵̴̷̵̶̵̴̷̷̢̡̧̢̛̫̲͕͇̗̯͚̥͙͓͓̀̒͑͒̂̊̅̐͛̂̄͌̈̚͝M̴̷̶̵̴̷̷̶̷̬̼̭̗͍̺̳̩̱͍̂̄̾͂̔̽̇̀͝͝͝͠M̶̯̙̥͕̞̰̗̗͐̔!̸̞̞̬̼̖̩̈́̇͊͐̾͑͋̉!̷̧͈̘̬̆͑͝!̶̤̜̔̓̆̅̔͆͘͝”̸̨̧̼̭̫̒͜

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The new hunting cry boomed through his body. It was much louder than the first building’s, albeit shorter, like a tap on the shoulder from a titan proclaiming its presence to the world.
Of course, the tap of a titan could flatten a man.
Norman fell. His legs had simply stopped working. Jaws clenched, he forced his will into wobbly muscles. His palms slammed into the waterlogged street, stopping the fall. With a sharp push, he sprang back to his feet and ran on.
Norman yanked out the remaining two flash grenades on the go, strung them together, armed and drew back for a throw.
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“̷̬̳̙̍̎̆G̴̥͇̥͔͕̫̈̀M̵̛͇̜͙͇̫͔̭̩̝̜̓̈̏̓̓̀͛̚͜͝͝M̷̩͈͉̘͙̿͌̃̽͂̃̏̏̓̾̈́͌̈́̉̅̄̉͘!̷̢̧̢̤͓̭̖̝̏̏̄̓̾̉̆͋͘͝!̵͍̱̼̮̯̺̲͙̖̮̗͓̻̓̊͂̒̔͐̎͘͘̚!̵̙͍̟̌͒̃͂̎͠”̶̡̛̠̱̭̞̹̟͉̒̎̎̂͂̐̈́̓̄̚̕

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That quick boom pounded through him. His fingers faltered. The flash grenades slipped from his grip and fell. He was still recovering from the sound when they went off at his feet. The nightsight filtered the flash, so he didn’t go blind. He’d gutted the flash grenade’s speakers, so he didn’t go deaf. The peeping building could deafen him all on its own … no, this wasn’t a peeping building. He’d slew a peeping building. They were small fries by comparison.
This was an eyescraper.
Tentacles the width of busses unsheathed from its sides. Even if he’d managed to launch the grenades and bathe it in smitelight, he suspected that wouldn’t be enough.
Norman sliced at its eyes with a focused beam. It barely flinched. Maybe if it got close enough, he could affect it a bit. By then, it would be too late.
Throbbing chuffs thundered from the monster. It sounded like a laugh.
Norman shot it a defiant glare. He bolted. Not fast enough. He could feel the giant closing in. So, he moved faster. Then faster, and still faster. His muscles blared their warnings. Rain lashed his face. He felt the air begin to resist his movements as he reached a speed at which it mattered. It was in his way, so he pushed through it too. No one was there to tell him he was moving far faster than any human known to history. All he cared about was hearing that thing fall behind him, and so it did. The tremours of its tremendous movements grew fainter.
At the end of the street, an apartment building came into view. Norman threw himself against it, climbing with the reckless abandon of a madman. He was halfway to the top.
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“̷̧̨̭̹̘̥̮͖̤̻̥̬̌̀͒̔͌̊̀̚͜͜͠Ǧ̶̨̨̧̺̘̰̗̘̥̝̗̦̩͖͎͋̈͑͐̒̽̉̔͛̾̒́̕ͅM̴̨̉́̾̉͂͆̔̿̀̃̇̎̍͆̂̽͗̔͘͠ͅM̷̝̻̱̆̍͜!̴̮̬̯̮̦̖́͂̆͋̿̇̎̄̄̅̂͑̎̀̕͘͝͝͝!̸̲͎̲̼̠̮̱͖̥̭̤̩͓̘̜͈̟̖̮̰̦͖̀̂͗͂̽̈́̋͌͂̐̓̈̕!̸̜̆̿̋̔̽̕”̷̢̦̜̰̼̳̝͓̆͗̈́̆̆̑̃̾͑̀͗͒͆́͐͒̈́̿̽̕̕͜

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His grip went limp. He fell. Struck the ground. His head bounced. The world grew fu...z z y.
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W
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w
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_CHAT

• LEMMY.OUTA.HERE: (Stupse) Well, he ded.
• BAJANETTE11: ARN74, JUST GO AND FIND HIM!!!
• ARN74: HE DIDN’T SEND ME DE PIN! DIS BAAARE STRESS! NORMAN, YOU PUNK! YOU EMOTIONALLY INVESTED ME IN THIS CHANNEL! IF YOU DIE NOW I’M GONNA KILL YOU!

Something was yapping in the background, but it wasn’t important. He felt fine. Everything was fine. Why not rest? Why was he even-?

_CHAT

• ARN74: YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULDN’T LEAVE AMY!!

What? No he didn’t! Promises weren’t for trolls! Why would he leave Amy anyway?
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“̸̼͔̖̜̫͍͚̊́̽͆̓̂̋̋͐̕Ģ̴̢͕͉̯̺̗̖͔͙̪͓̻̯̫̭̙̱͕̠̭̩̌M̸̨̧̘̟̹̖̻̲͍̭͓͉̰͙̦̣̜͉̻̎̅͗̇̈́̈̏͌̓̾̀̈̈́͜M̵̢̢̖̯̦͍͕̝̯̥̹̪̠̥̰̝̖̊͛̀̇͜!̵̢̡̡͚͕̘̟͕̥̦̪͆̈́̿͆!̴̛̹͈̜̥͔̬͎̪̩͚̦̯̟̘̩̰̳̍̑̂́̌͌̎́̒͋̽̿̑͌͝͝!̴̛̥͕̪͂̂̂̈̓͆͗̇̄̈́̌̅̎͂̕̚̕͝͠”̷̧̧̛̠̝̰̞̘͙̥̖͎̭̞̜̳̟̓͆̌̊̃̔́͒͋̇̈́͘̚͠͝ͅ
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Oh, right. There was a skyscraper running him down. To think he lived in a world where that made any sense. He rubbed his throbbing head. It was hard to think, though.

_CHAT

• ARN74: TRY AN CLIMB DE TING OPPA!

Brain fog would have to wait.
In two twos he jumped onto the side of the building and kept going up and up without breaking the momentum of the leap. Adrenaline had challenged gravity. Gravity lost. There was no pause to assess handholds. There was no rain stinging his face. In his mind, there was only ‘CLIMB, CLIMB, CLIMB!’ Crest the rooftop. ‘RUN, RUN, RUN!’ Descend the other side ‘JUMP!’ Gravity greedily reclaimed Norman, dragging him 4 storeys down at breakneck speed. He hit the ground in a parkour roll. Bruised a bone. Nearly fractured a shoulder. Wrenched his spine. Joints, muscle, ligaments almost popped. They didn’t.
He was running again.
Norman had never heard a building shred like paper. He’d never thought to wonder what it sounded like.
*( ( BMMM! ) ) ( ( BMM! ) ) ( ( BOOM! ) ) *

SHHHHHRRRRRRMMMM!

Now he knew.
Those booms … was it the eyescraper’s tentacles breaking the sound barrier, or punching holes through the apartment building? Maybe both. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was tearing the building in two with the ease of one parting curtains. Buildings were not designed to be parted. Two became legions as the sundered building collapsed.
Norman rushed for an abandoned truck, slid beneath the trailer. Not quite fast enough. Most of the rubble didn’t reach him directly, but upon hitting the ground? It pulverised into a blast of cloud like a sandstorm. Hissing beneath the trailer, the dust stung at his ankles. He ignored it, racing for the truck’s cabin at the front. Perched on the step beneath the door, he braced as the dust raced beneath, around and above him. The cabin was his shield. He flinched to a duck when its windows shattered as the dust cloud blasted straight through them. The truck rocked and slid slightly, bombarded by wind and dust. It lurched as a chunk of debris finally reached it, crumpling the trailer like cheap foil.
Time to move.
Particles prickled Norman’s eyes, finding their way through the nightsight. He took a fresh glimpse of the path ahead before clouds of grey engulfed it all.
Memorised.
He dashed on. A split second later, the cabin was levelled under a larger slab of concrete. More sporadically thundered down around him. His eyes were squeezed shut, denying entry to any more particles. He scrambled through the street, dodging obstacles from memory. As for the concrete rainfall that couldn’t be seen? He had some prayers about that, but it probably came out like half-baked gibberish.
Norman chanced opening his eyes. They watered like crazy. At least most of the dust was gone. Behind him, the eyescraper’s menacing silhouette was picking through the rubble. Finally, an unblocked street was in sight. He rounded the corner.
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“̵̨̢̮͕̻̲̺́͠G̵̣̒́̓̽̅̊͘͝Ọ̷̝̣͓͙͔̀ͅͅǪ̷̜̺͚̲̯̭̈́̍͂͑̋̋̅͂̅́M̷̨̤̭͈̯̤͋̾̏̈̅̉̀̏͘M̵̡̢̙̱͌̊̓͒́͌Ḿ̸̳͗̀̀͐͒͗́͠ͅ!̷͍͉̣̪̫͙̳̲̤̎̀̾̅̈́̔̎̑͘͜͝͝!̴̨͈͖̘̖̅͛̋̽͠!̸͎̩͓̫̥̼̫̊”̵̫̗̞̣̝̃̅̕͘͜͜͝ͅ
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Another peeping building, rumbling in from the new street. Alright. Straight it was.
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“̷̢̧̻̹͚͔̾G̵̳̭̾̃̎̍̌̂̈́̂͛͘M̶̧̠͇͔͚͉̮͈̰͒͊́̏̔̄̾̊͐̒͂͜M̸̳͓̋͋̔͑̔̔̕͝Ő̷͓̟̱̮͓̍̂̾̽̇͘͠Ô̸̧̫͉̮͚̥̥̯̈̾͋̅͂͘̚M̶̢̫̥̰̮̪͙̬̙̗̺̽͒͐͌̋̈̄͆͝M̴̢̧̧̛̗͔͓̫̭̳̱͑̉!̵̡̛̛͍̲̓̅̑̈́̿̏͘̕͠!̸̧̖͔̣̩̏́͋̀͛͂̏̀̇̑͐!̴̧͕̝̮̤̱͈̬͋”̸͓̉̈́̑̎͊̌
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Maybe not. A third building emerged from the rainfall ahead. All streets blocked. He glanced about. All alleys still blocked. This really was a hunting net, but this much energy for a tiny human? Predators weren’t usually like this.
He ran for the nearest building that wasn’t occupied by eldritch calamari.

( ( BOOMM! ) )

The eyescraper’s tentacle crossed his path. Its supersonic shockwave sent him flying.
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Norman came to. Rain poured against his face as he lay on his back. How long was he out? Why was it so cold? The atmosphere didn’t quite feel right. It didn’t look right either. Something about the colours, or subtle lack thereof. Everything seemed a bit desaturated. Norman sat up and coughed his lungs out, evicting a mix of dust and rain water collected in his slackly gaping mouth. Buildings towered above him on every side, a bit too close for comfort.
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“̸̮̼͍̻̯̲̹͓̬̻̓̍G̷̛̖̙̰̰̟̓Ḿ̸̧̨͊̊̔͒͌̆͆͘͠͝M̷̧̺̏̿̆͑͆͋̅͌̕͝G̵̰̺͇̺̯̲͇̠͖͂͜M̸̡̨͕̹̗̥̎͑́̾!̸͇͙͚̝̩͕̙̒!̵͙̬̮̪̏̍!̶͔̪͉̙̘̃̐̄͝”̶̡̡̥̫̻̝̜̫͙̩͛ͅ
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Oh, right, those weren’t just buildings.
Norman raised a finger, gesturing to wait. “Could you *kaff!* quit subwoofin’ at me for, like, ten seconds!”
“Plucky.̵͚͐͝ for all seasons I .̵̦̺͐̅see,” came a skin-crawling voice from behind him.
Norman swung back his smitelight. It barely moved half a foot, then it stopped. Rather, something stopped it. That ‘something’ was cold. So cold. His wrist felt the chill without even touching it.
Norman turned, slowly, so as not to trigger further attacks. He found himself looking up.
Eight feet tall. Dark grey skin. A grin that went a little too wide. Dagger teeth. An open-chested jacket, revealing sinewy muscles with luminous markings like tattoos. His ebony eyes bore penetrating white pupils. Of all his traits, the dreadlocks stood out most. They belonged in a nightmare, dancing through the air with a life of their own. Somehow, they looked blacker than black, absorbing every ray of light or heat that came their way. That icy chill in the air shifted with the movements of his dreadlocks. They seemed to drink life from the air itself. Norman almost found it hard to breathe. One dreadlock clutched Norman’s smitelight, only by the tip, but its grip was iron.
Norman stared the tall man down.
The nyctal’s grin grew by a smidgeon.
Taking a calculated risk, Norman released the smitelight. Perhaps a peace offering would do good.
“Good.̷̧͋͌̎̿ boy,” the tall man nodded, admiring the smitelight as the dreadlock rotated it. “Clever.̴̧̤̩͈͓̖͂ͅ toy.”
Norman noted an understated Jamaican accent in his voice.
More dreadlocks slithered across the smitelight, as if tasting its every nook and cranny.
Norman did his best to look casual as he scanned for an escape route. The eyescraper’s tentacles had wrapped around the street, fencing him in.

_CHAT

• BAJANETTE11: 😳
• DARCIE222: okay, i’m back
• HARD-BACK-M8N: who you is again?
• DARCIE222: i left after the twilight angel sleep paralysis
• LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: And you’re back for more?
• DARCIE222: wonna know it impossible to stay away from a channel like dis

Norman looked at the tall nyctal again.

_CHAT

• DARCIE222: 😲 WHO IS THAT?!? AND WHY IS HE KIND OF …??? 😍
• MUNSTER-VERSER: I KNOW!!!
• BAJANETTE11: HE LIKE A VAMPIRE RASTA MAN! ❤❤❤
• ENTO_MOLLY: MOVE OVER MIGUEL O’HARA!! 😍🥰😘
• BAJANETTE11: NORMAN ASK FOR HE NUMBER!!!
• NORMAN: I HERE ABOUT TO DIE AND WONNA WANT HE PHONE NUMBER!?!

The nyctal’s eyes shifted to Norman inquisitively. He frowned, raising an eyebrow as the comments piled up. Finally, he smirked mischievously.
“Your fanbase has peculiar tastes,” purred the tall man.

_CHAT

• ENTO_MOLLY: 😳 Is … he talking about us? HE CAN SEE THE CHAT???
• DARCIE222: THE WAY HE SAID IT!!!
• DARCIE222: HBVJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJKL;K''
• LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: Did she just pass out on the keyboard?
• LIKKLE-BOY: lol!
• ARN74: you’re simping. Norman’s about to die, and you’re simping

The tall man handed Norman his smitelight.
Norman’s suspicious gaze flicked between the nyctal and the weapon. Finally, he reached out and took hold of the smitelight.
It crumbled in his fingers like ice-cold ashes. If not for the insulation gloves, he might have gotten frostbite.
The nyctal laughed.
Norman didn’t find it particularly amusing.
The tall man sauntered towards the eyescraper. Beyond it was a darkness even the nightsight had difficulty piercing. He beckoned Norman as if it were an afterthought.
“Please come in, .̵̭̻͌̓̂Norman.̶̲͕͇̅̑̚,” the nyctal instructed.
Norman stared stubbornly, hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels. He felt for his smartphone. It wasn’t there. When had he lost it?
Without looking back, the nyctal held up Norman’s phone. It disintegrated between his fingers as he rubbed them together.
Norman glared. At least the guy hadn’t pickpocketed deeply enough to find other things.
“Hey. To whom do I owe the … pleasure?” Norman almost had to push the last word through his teeth.
The nyctal stopped in the eyescraper’s doorframe. Shrouded in shadow, little could be seen of him, save the piercing white pupils peering out. Then the glint of his Cheshire grin.
“.̴̜͓̭̻̤̍̈́̆͑͑John Crow.̸̻̮̓̈́̏̓͘,” he answered, before receding into the darkness.
The eyescraper’s tentacles dragged in across the street, corralling Norman towards the building. With an exasperated groan, he trudged towards the main entrance.
“I want my bed,” grumbled Norman.
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First Previous (See NEXT>> in comments)

I went no contact with my sister 6 years ago. She was using a lot of heavy drugs most of her life. Our relationship was never the same after I found her during an overdose. I tried cpr until the emts came because I wasn’t sure if she was breathing. I was still in high school and our family didn’t have narcan and this whole day really messed with me mentally. She was always in and out of rehabs, hospitals, camps, etc. I moved away to college the next year and basically cut all my family out of my life. Our parents were terrible to us and we all experienced a lot of trauma growing up but I was only thinking about myself when I left. She reached out a few times over the years and we spoke once or twice but she eventually stopped trying. She overdosed for the last time this year and it’s been killing me. My family warned me I should reach out because she didn’t have much time left. The regret and guilt of not being her rock, the what ifs … if I had been there for her maybe she would still be here. It’s eating me away and I just don’t know what to do with myself. We were supposed to have a reunion this year but I waited too long and now it’s too late. I don’t know how to get past this and I don’t really feel like I deserve to anyways

I have moved from my home town in Pennsylvania to Austin texas and I am not doing well. We moved for my husbands job I’m waiting for the insurance to come in to start therapy here. I really need it. This is probably the most suicidal I’ve been in a long time. We have been fighting a lot he won’t listen to me and just doesn’t really seem to care about my feelings. I’ve been in this room crying for hours because of today. I asked him why he left his pants on the floor in the living room again,( I’ve been picking up after this grown ass man for years now) he looked at them smiled and went back to watching SpongeBob. I waited a few minutes for him to respond but he didn’t. Then his phone went off it fell on the floor and looked at me as if he wanted me to pick it up. I snapped I freaked out because I’m so tired of being ignored and over looked. How could he have the nerve to ignore me and expect me to fix it. Once I started to get angry he got mad and “fixed” the situation by picking up his pants. It ended today with him screaming at him. He gets angry at me if I get upset with him, he gets angry with me if I don’t want he wants me to do, he gets angry if I don’t let him drink a whole bottle of liquor, he gets angry if I make a mistake or accident. Idk if any of this makes sense but I’m so broken and now I’m 1600 miles away from everything I know. Idk what to do any more I’m aware of how childish this all sounds but he’s made me cry everyday this week.

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(Previous Part)
(Part 001)
"Hell yeah, I wanna go exploring." Jason says to Calanthra with a smile. "How do we navigate around Ripspace though? Traveling to other galaxies is going to take billions of years, right? Surely, there's a shortcut."
"Ripspace is not as it seems." Calanthra explains, gesturing grandly to the epic sight before them. "It is a connection between the past and the present; the near and far. The further away or the further back you want to travel, the higher the price you will have to pay."
Jason's smile vanishes. "Wait... you can use Ripspace to travel back in time?!"
"No." Calanthra clarifies. "Time is linear. We cannot travel through it. Some can slow it down or speed it up. A rare few can even pause it for a short while. But moving forward and backward is impossible. Countless have attempted to do so over the eons, but all have failed."
She looks at Jason meaningfully. "Many Rulers would wipe out galaxies if it might let them obtain such a power. The fact they still haven't proves it is impossible."
Jason nods slowly. "I won't lie. I have a lot of regrets. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and save my daughter from dying."
"Everyone has regrets." Calanthra muses, looking off into the distance. "I have plenty, myself. But it's better this way. There would be pandemonium if time travel ever became possible."
She pauses before continuing with her explanation. "While we cannot go back in time, we can look back into time. Pinpointing exact moments in history is difficult, to say the least, but it is possible to use Ripspace to search for key moments in intergalactic history."
"So it's like a massive seer-stone." Jason muses aloud. "But wait, didn't you imply earlier that you used Ripspace to travel to the Milky Way from Andromeda? How does it allow you to jump between galaxies? Are other species using Ripspace for intergalactic travel?"
"You can indeed use Ripspace to travel to distant reaches of space." Calanthra explains. "But... you have to pay a certain price. Akasha's Barriers still protect every galaxy. Cosmics cannot travel between them easily. Mortals can, but the price we must pay is unimaginably steep. That is also the reason my mother perished not long after arriving in the Milky Way and giving birth to me."
The Fairy Monarch sighs softly.
"My people used the power of Ripspace to travel to several other galaxies. We were fortunate that the Creator had died, allowing us to take up residence here in secret, but the Angels, Titans, and Dragons were still a threat we could not overlook. Later, the Volgrim rose up too, and that was something that worried us for a while. Particularly when their Sentinels began to rapaciously erase the lives of innumerable Sentients."
She waves her hand. "Ultimately, very few galaxies didn't have a Ruler in power. Traveling to one that did meant flipping a coin and praying our people could avoid their gaze. Sadly, time has shown me that we were likely unsuccessful. I have lost contact with all my sisters across the cosmos."
The image of innumerable galaxies floating in the distance changes before Jason's eyes. Calanthra manipulates some unseen power, causing herself and Jason to suddenly materialize directly in front of a beautiful spiral galaxy.
"This is our Milky Way." Calanthra explains, waving her hand to conjure another, far bigger galaxy beside it. "And this is Andromeda."
"Is it just me or does Andromeda seem... brighter?" Jason asks.
"Andromeda contains far more interstellar particles, cosmic energy, and latent magical power than the Milky Way." Calanthra says. "Of course, in the ancient past, it had even more than it does now, but such is the way of entropy and Chaos."
Jason nods. "How exactly do galaxies lose power over time? Doesn't this feel self-defeating in a way?"
"Every Ruler enters the Unending War with a strategy." Calanthra says, motioning with her hands to disperse the galaxies and reveal images of ghostly creatures, some standing on two legs, some on four, and plenty that appear as mere blobs of energy. "I cannot pretend to know the thoughts of such high and mighty beings, especially as I am a mere mortal myself. Even so, I can definitively state that there are Rulers who seek to put as much galactic energy into their initial creations as possible, while others wish to adopt a more energy-efficient growth-model."
She pokes her finger against Jason's chest. "Take the angels and humans, for instance. The Creator poured the vast majority of his power into creating a galaxy full of Apex Cosmics. At their peak, the angels as a whole commanded enough power to flatten other galaxies. But what did they do instead? They fought with one another, killing themselves due to sheer boredom, if not outright ego."
"I see." Jason says, brushing Calanthra's finger away. "So the Creator dumped all the Milky Way's energy into the angels. I take it this is uncommon among Rulers?"
"Of course. It's a wasteful strategy and usually loses Rulers the War for that Eternity." Calanthra says dismissively. "The Timeless used a different strategy. She created the fairies as mere mortals that evolved over time, gaining greater and greater power through their own efforts. This meant that instead of devouring Andromeda's abundant Cosmic energy, they could slowly sap off its excess over time. For you see, the more energy a galaxy has, the more it can produce. If you ration it long enough, you can reap more of it across the duration of an Eternity."
"That makes sense." Jason concludes. "It's like a Rush build in an RTS versus an Economy build. You sacrifice long-term gains in exchange for short-term power. The problem is, with Akasha's Barriers preventing Rulers from attacking their enemies straight away, a Rush build is dumb because you're just wasting your resources and sacrificing Cosmic energy when you'll actually need it."
Calanthra blinks twice. She looks at Jason with a strange expression, then turns away for a moment, trying to understand the strange terms he's used. They mostly make sense, but some of them are a little...
She shakes her head and returns to the topic at hand. "Right. Rush strategy versus Economy. Of... course. Well, in any case, there is one advantage toward the first strategy. If you drain all the energy from your galaxy, it becomes less appealing for other Rulers to attack. Because Andromeda was so large and still filled with Cosmic power even billions of years after the Expansion Era, it stoked the hunger of the Dark Ones. Meanwhile, the Milky Way only needs to deal with the Plague, which is threatening for mortals, but manageable for Cosmics. In that respect, we've gotten off much luckier."
"I get the bigger picture now." Jason says with a nod. He turns to look back at the cosmos before him. "So, what about all this? Are we gonna go exploring, or what?"
"In order to explore the universe presented here, we would need to make sacrifices we cannot afford. I think you would find the price most disagreeable. But there is something we can explore freely..."
She waves her hand, and instantly, the brilliant and beautiful cosmic view of the universe vanishes.
In its place, Jason and Calanthra suddenly appear inside a dead, barren wasteland. Brown and grey dirt rises up in huge dunes stretching off into the distance. Fallen towers made of gold and stone lay on their sides, or stick into the ground, buried nearly up to their tops as they point diagonally toward the sky.
And speaking of the sky, it glows faintly grey, as if some weak, pale imitation of a star were trying to shine through a thin atmosphere clouded by dust and grime. The very air itself smells of sulfur and toxins, making Jason's nose curl up when he takes a breath.
"Ugh... what the hell? Where are we now?" Jason asks, as he turns and looks around at the dead world surrounding him.
"An Ancient Domain." Calanthra says softly. "A remnant of a dead universe. All life stripped away. All hope lost. Septillions of different Sentient species, gone. Their mortals, their Cosmics, reduced to dust by the Contraction."
The Wordsmith frowns. "This Ancient Domain represents a dead universe? But how can that be possible? If the Heat Death played out and all the galaxies faded to cosmic dust, then there already wouldn't be anything left. And then, if the entire universe collapsed into a singularity before exploding again, there definitely wouldn't be anything left behind resembling physical matter."
"You perceive reality through just three dimensions." Calanthra intones. "Time and space can be considered two dimensions. Cosmic Power is another dimension. I must admit I do not understand how Ancient Domains have continued to exist across countless Eternities, and I don't know how they retain a vaguely familiar form... but I can assure you that in spite of bending logic itself, they do exist and they can provide tangible benefits to those dedicated to exploring them."
"You've been exploring them, then?" Jason asks, turning away from the dead world to scrutinize Calanthra's phantasmal image.
"Me, a little. But often, I dispatch my descendants to scour these Ancient Domains for things of value. It may surprise you, but there are powerful artifacts, vengeful spirits, and all manner of other inter-dimensional horrors lurking within these so-called dead-lands."
Calanthra pauses. She shifts her posture to look at Jason deeply.
"And that is why I've brought you here, Jason. It's time for me to get down to the crux of the matter and breach the subject that I find most important."
He nods. "I'm listening."
"It's like this." Calanthra explains. "The Ancient Domains are unfathomably broad. Think of how large a universe is. Think of how many universes have existed. Think of how much space my people have yet to explore."
She pauses.
"The gains we have received have made my people stronger than you would expect. Among those gains are Yredelemnul's Eye and other leftover remnants of power that many dead ancient Rulers lost when their Existences became forfeit. While their tangible Existences may have perished, their spirits sometimes live on in these broad, unending dead universes..."
"That's why you approached me." Jason says, while crossing his arms and leaning on the ball of his heel. "You said you wanted an alliance with humanity. You... want humans to help you explore the Ancient Domains?"
"Trust is hard to come by among mortals, Cosmics, and Rulers." Calanthra says simply. "I never would have considered allying with the humans before, but you have shown me the broadness of your mind during the debate against your clone and the commander of your military. To some, you certainly appear naive, but to me I see an opportunity I would be foolish to ignore."
She continues. "The Fairies cannot reproduce efficiently. Every fairy we send into the Ancient Domain is one less fairy we have among our Empire. We already have a difficult time replenishing our numbers through the remaining Male Fairies, but do you think it is easy for us to reproduce with other species?"
Jason slowly shakes his head. "Blinker and Kar's children were all crocodiles, not fairies. From that, I can only imagine that most of the time, your mating attempts do not create more of yourselves, but instead more non-fairy children."
"That's exactly correct." Calanthra replies. "But that all changed recently when I found out one of your human males somehow spontaneously altered his genetic profile to become a fairy. There is no doubt about it; Samuel Baker harnesses all the capability to reproduce that you humans do, as well as the trueborn powers of any male fairy."
"So... are you seeking a marriage alliance with Samuel Baker?" Jason asks, scratching his head in confusion. "You could just ask him yourself, you know?"
"This is not about one man." Calanthra retorts. "Samuel Baker, if he were to join our ranks, would certainly help us stave off extinction for a while longer. But that is hardly worth all this melodrama and me taking you to the Ancient Domain in person..."
Jason's eyes widen in realization. "I see! You... you're thinking that if my magic could make one male fairy, I could surely make another, and another..."
"Yes, precisely." Calanthra says, revealing a beautiful smile. "Additionally, if humans were to assist us in scouring these Ancient Domains, we could make great gains together. There is plenty of room for another species to join ours in locating powerful artifacts and other items capable of Uplifting us."
"You want to become Cosmics still." Jason muses. "You haven't resigned yourselves to your current fate."
"Quite the opposite." Calanthra says. "The curse placed upon us is unbreakable by those beneath the realm of Ruler. As I said before, the fairies have lost this Eternity's war. However, while we cannot Ascend any longer, that does not mean the humans are subject to the same limitation. If we could groom a human into becoming the Milky Way's Ruler, we could finally break free of our shackles by virtue of having a powerful ally."
She pauses, looking meaningfully at the Wordsmith.
"If the Demons or the Volgrim were to become our Ruler, we would not enjoy such a benefit. At best, we would only maintain the status quo, and at worst, they might eradicate us out of fear of having an unsightly tumor in their midst."
"Haha." Jason laughs. "So you brought me here to show your sincerity. I get it. Well, I'm definitely not opposed to helping you. Blinker is my good friend. If she were to ask me, I'd definitely say yes to just about any request."
Jason turns away. He walks a few feet off to the side and pauses, standing to gaze out at the Ancient Domain and its endlessly rolling plains which stretches off into the infinite distance...
"Here's what I can do." Jason says. "My people are already working on laying out the options for humanity and where our fellow men and women will depart over the next few weeks. Some will travel to Maiura. Some will go to Sharmur. Some will stay on Tarus II. It's no trouble at all to put Pixiv on the list, especially as I was already planning to do that. I even have some other places I'd like to include, too..."
"Such as Camael's Cube?" Calanthra asks with a smile. "Or do you perhaps mean Chrona and Hope's Hall of Heroes?"
Jason nearly jumps out of his skin. He whirls around to look at Calanthra with shock in his eyes. "What?! How do you know about Chrona? How do you also know about where Hope has been hiding?? I don't even know that much!"
"For those who are talented in magic, it is possible to see through many lies and deceptions." Calanthra says calmly, unfazed by the alarm on Jason's face. "Your Spynet Sphere isn't so different from the many options I have at my disposal. I have many means to keep an eye on the galaxy. And while Diablo does not know exactly where or what Chrona is, he certainly knows of its general existence."
Her smile turns cold. "I would advise you not to take Unarin lightly either, Wordsmith. That ancient creature is more capable than you can imagine. He is hiding a great many secrets from the galaxy... secrets he does not know that I am aware of. If he were to learn of the true extent of my information web, I fear that he would dispatch a handful of High Psions to eliminate the fairy species tomorrow."
Calanthra's words truly rock Jason to his core. All along, he assumed the precautions he put on Chrona, precautions that fooled even Hope, would make his hidden dimension impossible to detect.
But how could he be so naive?
As the daughter of an Apex Cosmic, Calanthra must have her means, and that likely means Unarin and Diablo aren't too far behind either.
"Shit." Jason curses, lowering his head as a flicker of anger smolders in his heart. "I was too complacent. Chrona isn't secure, which means it's only a matter of time before more Cosmics learn of its existence. How long before they can find its exact location and invade it?"
"Calm yourself, child." Calanthra says soothingly. "The situation is not that dire. After all, Chrona still exists within a highly accelerated timespace. Any biological entity that wishes to travel there could suffer severe after-effects. Furthermore, the entities born inside will be too adapted to living within a higher dimension, so they won't pose much threat to the creatures of realspace."
She waves her hand. "Let's move on, Jason. I want to discuss other matters before dying of old age."
The Wordsmith cools himself off. He inhales deeply, then returns his attention to her.
"Alright. What next, then?"
"Fairies are not the only Sentients capable of entering Ancient Domains." Calanthra explains. "There are others who rarely appear inside here. That is why exploring these domains can be dangerous. The good news is that Cosmics have little need to enter these barren lands, as most of the heritages, treasures, and other such gains you might find inside are only useful to mortals. There are exceptions, but they are so rare as to be a needle found within ten million haystacks. A waste of effort better spent simply progressing one's Cosmic power the ordinary way."
"So what you're saying is, when you send fairies into an Ancient Domain, they can die as a result of crossing paths with Sentients from other galaxies." Jason concludes. "But if you had an army of humans to enter with you, your people would be a lot safer."
"Safety in numbers, yes. And you humans are... uniquely advantaged in Ancient Domain exploration." Calanthra says mysteriously. "Before that, though... do you know what the Power of Imagination is, Wordsmith?"
Jason raises an eyebrow. "Imagination? Like the mental ability to visualize stuff in your head? Yeah. It's not that complicated to understand."
"Ah, that's where you're wrong." Calanthra chides gently. "Imagination is the key to magical power. Imagination, Conception, Visualization, these are all key capabilities powerful maguses and sorcerors use to uplift their capabilities! And as it turns out, most Sentients are actually quite terrible at conceptualizing thoughts into imagery."
She gestures grandly. "Just take the Volgrim! You may think they are a powerful Sentient species, but in fact the Volgrim have terrible imaginations. They are stodgy, dull, and lack a great deal of creativity. All the gains their Technopaths make through technology are developed via brute force. They slowly improve their technological prowess by minute fractions over long periods of time, eventually resulting in a large and cohesive buildup."
"At the same time, the Psions Uplift themselves through meditation and sitting motionless for thousands of years at a time. Can a species capable of such incredible feats of drudgery also possess limitless imagination? I think not."
"Maybe the reason they're able to sit still for so long is because they live in their imagination?" Jason posits. "In which case their power of imagination should be quite formidable, right?"
"Possible, but unlikely." Calanthra says with a wave of her hand. "Never mind that. The point I'm trying to make is that humans have an extremely high affinity for magic. If your people were to ally with mine, we could teach you our ways. You could help us through your Wordsmithing and superior genetics, creating more fairies and humans alike. This would create a recursive cycle that would continually bolster both our species to greater and greater heights!"
She lowers her voice back to normal. "An alliance with humanity would have other benefits. You humans are equally adept in technology and magic both. You are versatile, capable of learning any skill provided you have time to devote to your studies. The bursts of inspiration you receive also allow you to make large jumps in capability as well, which could mean that in a relatively short period, you might even be capable of challenging the Volgrim."
Jason nods. "That does sound tempting, Calanthra. I'm willing to help you, but I won't demand my people join the fairies. It would be better if those who were the most interested did so instead."
Calanthra playfully twirls a finger through her hair. "Well. My daughters are all beautiful. Perhaps you should make mention that the fairies are... aggressively interested in copulation?"
"COUGH COUGH!" Jason wheezes, taking a step back as he asses her bold choice of words. "Yeah! Uh, I can probably- I'll let everyone know about that too. Obviously!"
Calanthra chuckles. "Such a cute boy. Well, it seems I've accomplished what I wanted. Let's return for now. You can always pay Ripspace a visit later."
"I will." Jason says, nodding seriously. "Waypoint."
Calanthra raises an eyebrow. "You think you can return here without a Ruler's power?"
"Won't know unless I try." Jason smiles back.
...
Not long after, Jason and Calanthra emerge back into Realspace. He shivers as he feels the Eye of Yredelemnul fixating on him from behind, but Calanthra quickly reactivates the Formation of Light, sending the sliver of a Ruler back to the shadows so it can no longer interact with the physical world.
"You know, Jason." Calanthra says. "You are a Candidate. You have the capability to become a Ruler someday."
"I am?" Jason asks, before thinking back to a conversation in the past. "Oh yeah, someone did mention that to me before. But... eh. I don't know. Becoming a Ruler sounds awful."
"Awful?" Calanthra asks. "How so?"
"It seems... lonely." Jason says, his voice softening. He looks at the space between the four statues, where Yredelemnul's Eye has disappeared. "Imagine all your loved ones dying, but you're stuck behind, living through the end of an Eternity, which takes trillions of years before Heat Death finally eradicates everything. Then comes the next Eternity, where you can remake your species again... but it won't be the same. Even if you remake your loved ones, it won't really be them."
Jason lowers and shakes his head. "That sort of life doesn't suit me."
"I understand why you'd think that way." Calanthra says. "In fact, you are suffering from the same affliction that plagues all Candidates who began their Existences as Biologicals. We have too many ties to the mortal world, so the majority of Biologicals who ascend to the rank of Ruler... fall to their non-biological opponents."
"As for the things which are not biological..." Calanthra says, looking at Jason with disgust. "You should already know what they are."
"Highly evolved Artificial Intelligences?" Jason guesses.
"That's right." Calanthra affirms. "There are several tiers of power a superintelligence can possess. The Volgrim have taken great care to prevent anything above a Beta Core from forming in the Milky Way, but once, a long time ago... they made a huge mess by accidentally creating the Milky Way's first Alpha Core Synthmind."
Calanthra chuckles. "The stupid fools didn't only create an Alpha Core, they gave it autonomy in the hopes it would be able to stop the wars between their factions. They built indestructible bipedal bodies for its splintered intelligences, and called them... Sentinels. Luckily, they were able to defeat the Alpha Core before it ascended further, but countless other biological species have failed at that juncture, creating an Alpha Core that ultimately devoured the full power of their galaxy for itself."
A chill trickles down Jason's spine. "You're saying the vast majority of Rulers are actually Alpha Core AIs? AIs that control entire galaxies?!"
"No, Jason." Calanthra counters. "Alpha Cores can defeat advanced civilizations. But there is one Existence higher than an Alpha Core, a tier that can only be reached once it has swallowed the power of a galaxy."
"That would be an Omega Core. a sentient artificial intelligence that has become Ruler over one or more galaxies. And in Akasha's game, more than 90% of all Rulers are estimated to be these superior lifeforms."
"It is for that reason that these highly adaptable entities are known as The Evolved."

"Hell yeah, I wanna go exploring." Jason says to Calanthra with a smile. "How do we navigate around Ripspace though? Traveling to other galaxies is going to take billions of years, right? Surely, there's a shortcut."
"Ripspace is not as it seems." Calanthra explains, gesturing grandly to the epic sight before them. "It is a connection between the past and the present; the near and far. The further away or the further back you want to travel, the higher the price you will have to pay."
Jason's smile vanishes. "Wait... you can use Ripspace to travel back in time?!"
"No." Calanthra clarifies. "Time is linear. We cannot travel through it. Some can slow it down or speed it up. A rare few can even pause it for a short while. But moving forward and backward is impossible. Countless have attempted to do so over the eons, but all have failed."
She looks at Jason meaningfully. "Many Rulers would wipe out galaxies if it might let them obtain such a power. The fact they still haven't proves it is impossible."
Jason nods slowly. "I won't lie. I have a lot of regrets. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and save my daughter from dying."
"Everyone has regrets." Calanthra muses, looking off into the distance. "I have plenty, myself. But it's better this way. There would be pandemonium if time travel ever became possible."
She pauses before continuing with her explanation. "While we cannot go back in time, we can look back into time. Pinpointing exact moments in history is difficult, to say the least, but it is possible to use Ripspace to search for key moments in intergalactic history."
"So it's like a massive seer-stone." Jason muses aloud. "But wait, didn't you imply earlier that you used Ripspace to travel to the Milky Way from Andromeda? How does it allow you to jump between galaxies? Are other species using Ripspace for intergalactic travel?"
"You can indeed use Ripspace to travel to distant reaches of space." Calanthra explains. "But... you have to pay a certain price. Akasha's Barriers still protect every galaxy. Cosmics cannot travel between them easily. Mortals can, but the price we must pay is unimaginably steep. That is also the reason my mother perished not long after arriving in the Milky Way and giving birth to me."
The Fairy Monarch sighs softly.
"My people used the power of Ripspace to travel to several other galaxies. We were fortunate that the Creator had died, allowing us to take up residence here in secret, but the Angels, Titans, and Dragons were still a threat we could not overlook. Later, the Volgrim rose up too, and that was something that worried us for a while. Particularly when their Sentinels began to rapaciously erase the lives of innumerable Sentients."
She waves her hand. "Ultimately, very few galaxies didn't have a Ruler in power. Traveling to one that did meant flipping a coin and praying our people could avoid their gaze. Sadly, time has shown me that we were likely unsuccessful. I have lost contact with all my sisters across the cosmos."
The image of innumerable galaxies floating in the distance changes before Jason's eyes. Calanthra manipulates some unseen power, causing herself and Jason to suddenly materialize directly in front of a beautiful spiral galaxy.
"This is our Milky Way." Calanthra explains, waving her hand to conjure another, far bigger galaxy beside it. "And this is Andromeda."
"Is it just me or does Andromeda seem... brighter?" Jason asks.
"Andromeda contains far more interstellar particles, cosmic energy, and latent magical power than the Milky Way." Calanthra says. "Of course, in the ancient past, it had even more than it does now, but such is the way of entropy and Chaos."
Jason nods. "How exactly do galaxies lose power over time? Doesn't this feel self-defeating in a way?"
"Every Ruler enters the Unending War with a strategy." Calanthra says, motioning with her hands to disperse the galaxies and reveal images of ghostly creatures, some standing on two legs, some on four, and plenty that appear as mere blobs of energy. "I cannot pretend to know the thoughts of such high and mighty beings, especially as I am a mere mortal myself. Even so, I can definitively state that there are Rulers who seek to put as much galactic energy into their initial creations as possible, while others wish to adopt a more energy-efficient growth-model."
She pokes her finger against Jason's chest. "Take the angels and humans, for instance. The Creator poured the vast majority of his power into creating a galaxy full of Apex Cosmics. At their peak, the angels as a whole commanded enough power to flatten other galaxies. But what did they do instead? They fought with one another, killing themselves due to sheer boredom, if not outright ego."
"I see." Jason says, brushing Calanthra's finger away. "So the Creator dumped all the Milky Way's energy into the angels. I take it this is uncommon among Rulers?"
"Of course. It's a wasteful strategy and usually loses Rulers the War for that Eternity." Calanthra says dismissively. "The Timeless used a different strategy. She created the fairies as mere mortals that evolved over time, gaining greater and greater power through their own efforts. This meant that instead of devouring Andromeda's abundant Cosmic energy, they could slowly sap off its excess over time. For you see, the more energy a galaxy has, the more it can produce. If you ration it long enough, you can reap more of it across the duration of an Eternity."
"That makes sense." Jason concludes. "It's like a Rush build in an RTS versus an Economy build. You sacrifice long-term gains in exchange for short-term power. The problem is, with Akasha's Barriers preventing Rulers from attacking their enemies straight away, a Rush build is dumb because you're just wasting your resources and sacrificing Cosmic energy when you'll actually need it."
Calanthra blinks twice. She looks at Jason with a strange expression, then turns away for a moment, trying to understand the strange terms he's used. They mostly make sense, but some of them are a little...
She shakes her head and returns to the topic at hand. "Right. Rush strategy versus Economy. Of... course. Well, in any case, there is one advantage toward the first strategy. If you drain all the energy from your galaxy, it becomes less appealing for other Rulers to attack. Because Andromeda was so large and still filled with Cosmic power even billions of years after the Expansion Era, it stoked the hunger of the Dark Ones. Meanwhile, the Milky Way only needs to deal with the Plague, which is threatening for mortals, but manageable for Cosmics. In that respect, we've gotten off much luckier."
"I get the bigger picture now." Jason says with a nod. He turns to look back at the cosmos before him. "So, what about all this? Are we gonna go exploring, or what?"
"In order to explore the universe presented here, we would need to make sacrifices we cannot afford. I think you would find the price most disagreeable. But there is something we can explore freely..."
She waves her hand, and instantly, the brilliant and beautiful cosmic view of the universe vanishes.
In its place, Jason and Calanthra suddenly appear inside a dead, barren wasteland. Brown and grey dirt rises up in huge dunes stretching off into the distance. Fallen towers made of gold and stone lay on their sides, or stick into the ground, buried nearly up to their tops as they point diagonally toward the sky.
And speaking of the sky, it glows faintly grey, as if some weak, pale imitation of a star were trying to shine through a thin atmosphere clouded by dust and grime. The very air itself smells of sulfur and toxins, making Jason's nose curl up when he takes a breath.
"Ugh... what the hell? Where are we now?" Jason asks, as he turns and looks around at the dead world surrounding him.
"An Ancient Domain." Calanthra says softly. "A remnant of a dead universe. All life stripped away. All hope lost. Septillions of different Sentient species, gone. Their mortals, their Cosmics, reduced to dust by the Contraction."
The Wordsmith frowns. "This Ancient Domain represents a dead universe? But how can that be possible? If the Heat Death played out and all the galaxies faded to cosmic dust, then there already wouldn't be anything left. And then, if the entire universe collapsed into a singularity before exploding again, there definitely wouldn't be anything left behind resembling physical matter."
"You perceive reality through just three dimensions." Calanthra intones. "Time and space can be considered two dimensions. Cosmic Power is another dimension. I must admit I do not understand how Ancient Domains have continued to exist across countless Eternities, and I don't know how they retain a vaguely familiar form... but I can assure you that in spite of bending logic itself, they do exist and they can provide tangible benefits to those dedicated to exploring them."
"You've been exploring them, then?" Jason asks, turning away from the dead world to scrutinize Calanthra's phantasmal image.
"Me, a little. But often, I dispatch my descendants to scour these Ancient Domains for things of value. It may surprise you, but there are powerful artifacts, vengeful spirits, and all manner of other inter-dimensional horrors lurking within these so-called dead-lands."
Calanthra pauses. She shifts her posture to look at Jason deeply.
"And that is why I've brought you here, Jason. It's time for me to get down to the crux of the matter and breach the subject that I find most important."
He nods. "I'm listening."
"It's like this." Calanthra explains. "The Ancient Domains are unfathomably broad. Think of how large a universe is. Think of how many universes have existed. Think of how much space my people have yet to explore."
She pauses.
"The gains we have received have made my people stronger than you would expect. Among those gains are Yredelemnul's Eye and other leftover remnants of power that many dead ancient Rulers lost when their Existences became forfeit. While their tangible Existences may have perished, their spirits sometimes live on in these broad, unending dead universes..."
"That's why you approached me." Jason says, while crossing his arms and leaning on the ball of his heel. "You said you wanted an alliance with humanity. You... want humans to help you explore the Ancient Domains?"
"Trust is hard to come by among mortals, Cosmics, and Rulers." Calanthra says simply. "I never would have considered allying with the humans before, but you have shown me the broadness of your mind during the debate against your clone and the commander of your military. To some, you certainly appear naive, but to me I see an opportunity I would be foolish to ignore."
She continues. "The Fairies cannot reproduce efficiently. Every fairy we send into the Ancient Domain is one less fairy we have among our Empire. We already have a difficult time replenishing our numbers through the remaining Male Fairies, but do you think it is easy for us to reproduce with other species?"
Jason slowly shakes his head. "Blinker and Kar's children were all crocodiles, not fairies. From that, I can only imagine that most of the time, your mating attempts do not create more of yourselves, but instead more non-fairy children."
"That's exactly correct." Calanthra replies. "But that all changed recently when I found out one of your human males somehow spontaneously altered his genetic profile to become a fairy. There is no doubt about it; Samuel Baker harnesses all the capability to reproduce that you humans do, as well as the trueborn powers of any male fairy."
"So... are you seeking a marriage alliance with Samuel Baker?" Jason asks, scratching his head in confusion. "You could just ask him yourself, you know?"
"This is not about one man." Calanthra retorts. "Samuel Baker, if he were to join our ranks, would certainly help us stave off extinction for a while longer. But that is hardly worth all this melodrama and me taking you to the Ancient Domain in person..."
Jason's eyes widen in realization. "I see! You... you're thinking that if my magic could make one male fairy, I could surely make another, and another..."
"Yes, precisely." Calanthra says, revealing a beautiful smile. "Additionally, if humans were to assist us in scouring these Ancient Domains, we could make great gains together. There is plenty of room for another species to join ours in locating powerful artifacts and other items capable of Uplifting us."
"You want to become Cosmics still." Jason muses. "You haven't resigned yourselves to your current fate."
"Quite the opposite." Calanthra says. "The curse placed upon us is unbreakable by those beneath the realm of Ruler. As I said before, the fairies have lost this Eternity's war. However, while we cannot Ascend any longer, that does not mean the humans are subject to the same limitation. If we could groom a human into becoming the Milky Way's Ruler, we could finally break free of our shackles by virtue of having a powerful ally."
She pauses, looking meaningfully at the Wordsmith.
"If the Demons or the Volgrim were to become our Ruler, we would not enjoy such a benefit. At best, we would only maintain the status quo, and at worst, they might eradicate us out of fear of having an unsightly tumor in their midst."
"Haha." Jason laughs. "So you brought me here to show your sincerity. I get it. Well, I'm definitely not opposed to helping you. Blinker is my good friend. If she were to ask me, I'd definitely say yes to just about any request."
Jason turns away. He walks a few feet off to the side and pauses, standing to gaze out at the Ancient Domain and its endlessly rolling plains which stretches off into the infinite distance...
"Here's what I can do." Jason says. "My people are already working on laying out the options for humanity and where our fellow men and women will depart over the next few weeks. Some will travel to Maiura. Some will go to Sharmur. Some will stay on Tarus II. It's no trouble at all to put Pixiv on the list, especially as I was already planning to do that. I even have some other places I'd like to include, too..."
"Such as Camael's Cube?" Calanthra asks with a smile. "Or do you perhaps mean Chrona and Hope's Hall of Heroes?"
Jason nearly jumps out of his skin. He whirls around to look at Calanthra with shock in his eyes. "What?! How do you know about Chrona? How do you also know about where Hope has been hiding?? I don't even know that much!"
"For those who are talented in magic, it is possible to see through many lies and deceptions." Calanthra says calmly, unfazed by the alarm on Jason's face. "Your Spynet Sphere isn't so different from the many options I have at my disposal. I have many means to keep an eye on the galaxy. And while Diablo does not know exactly where or what Chrona is, he certainly knows of its general existence."
Her smile turns cold. "I would advise you not to take Unarin lightly either, Wordsmith. That ancient creature is more capable than you can imagine. He is hiding a great many secrets from the galaxy... secrets he does not know that I am aware of. If he were to learn of the true extent of my information web, I fear that he would dispatch a handful of High Psions to eliminate the fairy species tomorrow."
Calanthra's words truly rock Jason to his core. All along, he assumed the precautions he put on Chrona, precautions that fooled even Hope, would make his hidden dimension impossible to detect.
But how could he be so naive?
As the daughter of an Apex Cosmic, Calanthra must have her means, and that likely means Unarin and Diablo aren't too far behind either.
"Shit." Jason curses, lowering his head as a flicker of anger smolders in his heart. "I was too complacent. Chrona isn't secure, which means it's only a matter of time before more Cosmics learn of its existence. How long before they can find its exact location and invade it?"
"Calm yourself, child." Calanthra says soothingly. "The situation is not that dire. After all, Chrona still exists within a highly accelerated timespace. Any biological entity that wishes to travel there could suffer severe after-effects. Furthermore, the entities born inside will be too adapted to living within a higher dimension, so they won't pose much threat to the creatures of realspace."
She waves her hand. "Let's move on, Jason. I want to discuss other matters before dying of old age."
The Wordsmith cools himself off. He inhales deeply, then returns his attention to her.
"Alright. What next, then?"
"Fairies are not the only Sentients capable of entering Ancient Domains." Calanthra explains. "There are others who rarely appear inside here. That is why exploring these domains can be dangerous. The good news is that Cosmics have little need to enter these barren lands, as most of the heritages, treasures, and other such gains you might find inside are only useful to mortals. There are exceptions, but they are so rare as to be a needle found within ten million haystacks. A waste of effort better spent simply progressing one's Cosmic power the ordinary way."
"So what you're saying is, when you send fairies into an Ancient Domain, they can die as a result of crossing paths with Sentients from other galaxies." Jason concludes. "But if you had an army of humans to enter with you, your people would be a lot safer."
"Safety in numbers, yes. And you humans are... uniquely advantaged in Ancient Domain exploration." Calanthra says mysteriously. "Before that, though... do you know what the Power of Imagination is, Wordsmith?"
Jason raises an eyebrow. "Imagination? Like the mental ability to visualize stuff in your head? Yeah. It's not that complicated to understand."
"Ah, that's where you're wrong." Calanthra chides gently. "Imagination is the key to magical power. Imagination, Conception, Visualization, these are all key capabilities powerful maguses and sorcerors use to uplift their capabilities! And as it turns out, most Sentients are actually quite terrible at conceptualizing thoughts into imagery."
She gestures grandly. "Just take the Volgrim! You may think they are a powerful Sentient species, but in fact the Volgrim have terrible imaginations. They are stodgy, dull, and lack a great deal of creativity. All the gains their Technopaths make through technology are developed via brute force. They slowly improve their technological prowess by minute fractions over long periods of time, eventually resulting in a large and cohesive buildup."
"At the same time, the Psions Uplift themselves through meditation and sitting motionless for thousands of years at a time. Can a species capable of such incredible feats of drudgery also possess limitless imagination? I think not."
"Maybe the reason they're able to sit still for so long is because they live in their imagination?" Jason posits. "In which case their power of imagination should be quite formidable, right?"
"Possible, but unlikely." Calanthra says with a wave of her hand. "Never mind that. The point I'm trying to make is that humans have an extremely high affinity for magic. If your people were to ally with mine, we could teach you our ways. You could help us through your Wordsmithing and superior genetics, creating more fairies and humans alike. This would create a recursive cycle that would continually bolster both our species to greater and greater heights!"
She lowers her voice back to normal. "An alliance with humanity would have other benefits. You humans are equally adept in technology and magic both. You are versatile, capable of learning any skill provided you have time to devote to your studies. The bursts of inspiration you receive also allow you to make large jumps in capability as well, which could mean that in a relatively short period, you might even be capable of challenging the Volgrim."
Jason nods. "That does sound tempting, Calanthra. I'm willing to help you, but I won't demand my people join the fairies. It would be better if those who were the most interested did so instead."
Calanthra playfully twirls a finger through her hair. "Well. My daughters are all beautiful. Perhaps you should make mention that the fairies are... aggressively interested in copulation?"
"COUGH COUGH!" Jason wheezes, taking a step back as he asses her bold choice of words. "Yeah! Uh, I can probably- I'll let everyone know about that too. Obviously!"
Calanthra chuckles. "Such a cute boy. Well, it seems I've accomplished what I wanted. Let's return for now. You can always pay Ripspace a visit later."
"I will." Jason says, nodding seriously. "Waypoint."
Calanthra raises an eyebrow. "You think you can return here without a Ruler's power?"
"Won't know unless I try." Jason smiles back.
...
Not long after, Jason and Calanthra emerge back into Realspace. He shivers as he feels the Eye of Yredelemnul fixating on him from behind, but Calanthra quickly reactivates the Formation of Light, sending the sliver of a Ruler back to the shadows so it can no longer interact with the physical world.
"You know, Jason." Calanthra says. "You are a Candidate. You have the capability to become a Ruler someday."
"I am?" Jason asks, before thinking back to a conversation in the past. "Oh yeah, someone did mention that to me before. But... eh. I don't know. Becoming a Ruler sounds awful."
"Awful?" Calanthra asks. "How so?"
"It seems... lonely." Jason says, his voice softening. He looks at the space between the four statues, where Yredelemnul's Eye has disappeared. "Imagine all your loved ones dying, but you're stuck behind, living through the end of an Eternity, which takes trillions of years before Heat Death finally eradicates everything. Then comes the next Eternity, where you can remake your species again... but it won't be the same. Even if you remake your loved ones, it won't really be them."
Jason lowers and shakes his head. "That sort of life doesn't suit me."
"I understand why you'd think that way." Calanthra says. "In fact, you are suffering from the same affliction that plagues all Candidates who began their Existences as Biologicals. We have too many ties to the mortal world, so the majority of Biologicals who ascend to the rank of Ruler... fall to their non-biological opponents."
"As for the things which are not biological..." Calanthra says, looking at Jason with disgust. "You should already know what they are."
"Highly evolved Artificial Intelligences?" Jason guesses.
"That's right." Calanthra affirms. "There are several tiers of power a superintelligence can possess. The Volgrim have taken great care to prevent anything above a Beta Core from forming in the Milky Way, but once, a long time ago... they made a huge mess by accidentally creating the Milky Way's first Alpha Core Synthmind."
Calanthra chuckles. "The stupid fools didn't only create an Alpha Core, they gave it autonomy in the hopes it would be able to stop the wars between their factions. They built indestructible bipedal bodies for its splintered intelligences, and called them... Sentinels. Luckily, they were able to defeat the Alpha Core before it ascended further, but countless other biological species have failed at that juncture, creating an Alpha Core that ultimately devoured the full power of their galaxy for itself."
A chill trickles down Jason's spine. "You're saying the vast majority of Rulers are actually Alpha Core AIs? AIs that control entire galaxies?!"
"No, Jason." Calanthra counters. "Alpha Cores can defeat advanced civilizations. But there is one Existence higher than an Alpha Core, a tier that can only be reached once it has swallowed the power of a galaxy."
"That would be an Omega Core. a sentient artificial intelligence that has become Ruler over one or more galaxies. And in Akasha's game, more than 90% of all Rulers are estimated to be these superior lifeforms."
"It is for that reason that these highly adaptable entities are known as The Evolved."

The 3 basic parameters of hashtag #Valzubiriagenda:

1. We artists and everyone else can write and self-publish art- and artist-related books: memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs. Books are forever. Pamphlets and brochures are not books.
2. We announce a schedule of increasing prices of our art pieces, which includes quantities (scarcity numbers) per price point and overall (the total quantity of art pieces we might ever make). This helps art traders, art investors and art collectors speculate or even stop speculating and instead join a community of investors working together to hopefully skyrocket to the higher announced prices in a shorter span of time.
3. We can use the NFT world, because NFTs provide the tracking (who owns what) and trading.

We can also not be involved with NFTs. Stores and individuals can help sell art using online presence and our catalogs in the stores. If this trends, or once this trends, even expensive art can be sold by neighboring businesses, without exclusivity. Commission systems do not have to be standardized. Art investors can produce their own catalogs to leave at the cafés. Even the cafés can produce their own catalogs.
Valzubiriagenda NFTs
NFTs only came about a few years ago. But I had been working on this since the 1990s. I wrote a book, Valzubiriagenda, along with fellow artist Silverio Perez, and released it in 2018 (Amazon and elsewhere), tackling everything related to #1 & #2. We'll come up with #3 in a later book/ memoi marketing book.
Any artist, including tangible artists can release 10,000 NFTs if the artist chooses to do so. For tangible artists, the NFT first becomes an Art Commission Contract for sight unseen, yet-to-be made art. Once the art is made, the NFT becomes proof of ownership that the actual, tangible art is theirs.
Warehousing our tangible art
Another related idea is that the tangible art may be warehoused by the artist so that the NFT traders continue to trade. This means that even 10-ton 10-foot tall sculptures can be owned and traded by anyone without worrying about shipping, reshipping, scratches, smudges, parts breaking off, etc. The newness of the pieces remain because they are stored by the artist, source, gallery, etc. The art piece gets shipped to the art collector, the ultimate owner.
An artist who makes ceramic coffee mugs - smaller art pieces, can release 10,000 NFTs with a schedule of increasing prices so that NFT traders can trade immediately. The 10,000 coffee mugs can get damaged, so as they are made, they continue to be stored by the artist, until the time when art collectors decide to have the art pieces shipped to them.
Why only now?
I decided to write as many book-length memoirs as I can before I came out to promote this.
I'm an artist and an author. Both need time to "master." I would not even fully use "master" on myself, because there's always something new, even to my own art, my own writing and publishing.

I am now claiming that I'm the visual artist who has produced the most artist memoirs in the world. I have 5 on Amazon. I count Valzubiriagenda as both a marketing book and a memoir-of-sorts, because it has a lot of my own life lessons on writing and publishing. I would not care to contest my claim of having the most memoirs. I will release 5 more over the next 3 years.

BARTER! Get help to write, photograph art and publish your books!
Anyone can hire 11 ghostwriters for 11 memoirs. If you can make art, but you cannot write, then barter your forever art with those who can help you produce forever books.
I don't feel the pressure of writing and publishing because I feel my focus should be on art students and art experts who would study my art and my books 100 years from now. Don't expect relatives and friends to read your books.
I call myself the Dollman
For my NFTs, I am proposing to make dioramas - my original, costumed, bejeweled porcelain dolls in backdrops that will also have precious metals and gemstones. This way I can incorporate precious metals and gemstones in my work, to make sure that people perceive my art as expensive, just in case I myself don't become "famous" - there's no need to get world famous. We are artists and all we need to do is to satisfy the art niche.
Use your laptop now!
I will encourage you to start writing your book-length memoir. Write, Edit and then Self-publish it. Get help. Why wait a hundred years for someone to write about you when all you need is a laptop and a nearby coffee shop.
Don't start counting chickens before the eggs hatch. I have encountered a lot of would-be writers who immediately see themselves as bestselling. world famous assets to society. Two even wanted me to sign NDAs (Nondisclosure agreements), because they did not want me to steal their book ideas.
Here's a suggestion. I would not personally do it. From one manuscript can come 2 books: The Original Draft (unedited, with misspellings, considered to be an art piece, scanned pages(?) of your handwritten original effort), and The Final Edition (edited).
PROVENANCE!
Another way to enhance our investability, tradability and collectability is PROVENANCE - how art ownership proceeds through time. The way this can be done is also through publishing books. Everyone can write their memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs, including traders, investors and art collectors. In effect, we artists can continue to be included or mentioned in even more books, without any additional effort by us.
You as an investor, reseller, trader, art collector should be able to publish a catalog with 250 works by 250 different artists, but they need to agree to this right from the start - it's your money, you should require them to follow your version of the hashtag #valzubiriagenda parameters, which preferably should include permission for you to publish their art. Why would you track down 250 artists later?
No exclusive contracts
If you're a café, you can call for artists, and come up with a book with for example, 30 artists, with a chapter devoted to each artist's profile and images of the artist's art.
You can distribute your catalogs to businesses and individuals near and far and online.
The book Valzubiriagenda even cites that funeral homes and janitors closets can sell art, with or without exclusivity. Airline catalogs can include million dollar art pieces. Car manufacturers, showrooms and even car repair shops can sell art as well. Everyone should be able to do this, anywhere in the world, especially not just because of the pandemic, but right now, we are in really bad economies.
What's with the name #Valzubiriagenda
I was into conspiracy theories in 2018, and this term, "The Mandela Effect," was popular. I had read many times that an artist coined the term, but I had to research online, for her name, many times, before remembering it. I'm not good at remembering names. It took me a year and a half to finally tell you that Fiona Broome coined "The Mandela Effect."
I also thought I might have to research trademarks and copyrights just to come up with a generic name. So I decided on "Valzubiriagenda." I was not really sure at first, but I decided to use it as the title for my book (with co-authoartist Silverio Perez) so that there would be no turning back and I can move on.
Am I a FUTURIST?
Someone I recently met this May 2022 just called me a futurist.
In the 1990s, I proposed to a pension fund that they can raise billions of dollars, especially for emergencies, or as needed, or out of desperation, if the pension fund purchases a quantity of art from an artist who not only has a current, reasonable price, but an announced future price that the artist wants to reach.
That future price would obviously be higher than the current price. The art commission contract for multiple art pieces can be taken to the fund's financial lender for a loan. The higher future price can be used for financing purposes.
The pension fund's treasurer, a publicly elected official, said this idea might work, but we had to keep this a secret and discuss this some more, because other pension funds might copy and do this prematurely. This idea had to come from the two of us. The treasurer needed his votes and I needed credentials.
Added into the pot was my idea that I, as the artist, will also write one book-length artist memoir. This was and still is a strong factor, because the leadership and marketing books I had read then mentioned a strong tip. If you want to advance in your field, write a full-length book that is related to the field.
Unfortunately, the elected official, the treasurer of the pension fund, who was also a friend, passed away - he was old and had ailments. At that point in time, I cannot just approach another pension fund treasurer to share this idea with.
I realized I had to write a few memoirs. I needed to set an example for other artists, so I needed to write more than one memoir. Then I felt I should also make ready another book - the how-to of what I'm up to. I wrote Valzubiriagenda, which was a memoir of sorts. I knew how long it would take me to write a book, so I had to make sure I can also consider this book a memoir.
In 2008, I imagined that someone like Bernie Madoff, or a fund like Lehman Brothers, would be desperate enough to use this to save themselves and their companies. I was not ready. I had only written 1 manuscript for a memoir.
In 2012, I released Dollman the Musical, A Memoir of an Artist as a Dollmaker. Once again, I was not ready because writing it depressed me a little, and I knew I had to write more.
In 2014, I released 3 memoirs, and re-released Dollman the Musical. Besides releasing regular books, I released special editions of the 4 books, which had a "Special Secret Insert for Bankers," which explains my ideas of an announced schedule of exponentially increasing prices, to satisfy investors, and the publication of artist memoirs, to satisfy art collectors.
In 2014, I also issued out a press release. Google "Can Billion Dollar Artist Save Investors and World Economy Valentino Zubiri PRWeb August 19 2014" and you will see the press release.
What I did was stake a claim on my ideas. I did not promote my books and the press release. I just wanted them to stay online, like a sleeping giant or a dormant volcano. I even designed 3 of the book covers to look like indie books from the 1980s. I was planting the seeds, thinking they will eventually grow and bear fruit in the future.
In 2015, I was interviewed by Richard Syrett, about one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately. This book is my memoir with paranormal stories. I could have pursued promoting my paranormal stories, but I wanted to be known first as a visual artist and memoirist, so I allowed myself one interview related to Hocus Pocus Lately. Richard Syrett has(had?) his own syndicated radio show, The Conspiracy Show with Richard Syrett, about the paranormal. He also guest hosts on Coast to Coast AM, another internationally syndicated show about the paranormal.
In 2018, I released Valzubiriagenda (co-authored by artist Silverio Perez, a fellow artist). Finally, this book is "the how-to of what I'm to."
I'm going to end this with some strangeness. In 1986, a lady at a religious gathering went into a trance and left a good number of messages. Supposedly, anyone who got into a trance would have messages, but once the trance was over, the person would not remember what was said.
I was not part of the group, but the lady turned her head to face me. She "foretold" that whatever I would decide to do in the future, it will take time, but it will be the right thing. This is one of my stories in one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately.
The Tulipmania of 1634-37
I discovered that there was this incident of rare tulips becoming collectible during the Dutch Golden Age. There were tulips so rare and so well-desired that their prices equaled to that of a house. You can read more about this online (Wikipedia) or watch a few YouTube videos about it.
Here is the most useful idea that I gleaned from the Tulipmania. The tulip bulbs remained safe inside nurseries. The traders were carrying the deeds of ownership to the tulip bulbs.
Then NFTs came to the forefront
I started learning PHP, an HTML scripting language, and MySQL, the database that PHP can connect to in the background, in 1999, when there were only 3 books about PHP and MySQL at the bookstores.
By 2014, I was trying to figure out how to make the "ledger," or database that can be used to update ownership and who can be contacted. If we are trading art, then the art ownership should be updated.
Then NFTs came about. This can be used as our ledger. Everyone can immediately trade NFTs of future, yet-to-be made art pieces, especially because it takes time to make tangible art.
NFTs actually went a step ahead, by allowing digital art to be traded.
The only setback with NFTs, in my opinion, is that it still lacks a commission system for resellers and representatives.
For example, if a café wants to represent me, then they can promote me at their café and on their online pages. If I make one piece of art that will be exclusively represented by a gallery, then that commission will be different and more specific. As ownership is transferred, the subsequent owners should be able to reset the commission. We should also have the option of giving commissions to hundreds of representatives at one time with different percentages if need be.
The recent crypto crash
Lately, we have observed that NFTs and cryptocurrencies have been behaving like the stock market and other markets. They have been fluctuating.
I believe that it is time for a trend which discourages fluctuation of prices.
I have also seen YouTube videos where social influencers are encouraging us to be on the lookout for exponentially profitable ventures, because we have all seen this happen with the exponential increase of Bitcoin and Ethereum.
Let's see if #Valzubiriagenda trends
We can announce present and future art prices. The galleries won't do this (yet?) because they follow a more traditional approach to the business of art.
We have a choice of using incrementally or exponentially increasing prices. We still reserve the right to change things in the future, so everyone should know to follow the latest update.
If this trends, if you as an artist simply announces that you will write an artist memoir, or that you will include the future works in future art books, you might have more art traders, investors and collectors approaching you.
Get your pen, paper and calculator
Imagine yourself as an artist, where you are right now. Let's just say you still do not have a book about yourself and your art yet. Imagine now that you have a memoir out there. Don't you think it makes sense to charge more than what you are charging now? Writing and publishing books is just the beginning. I'm just standardizing this approach. The books also say to do other related projects. In my case, getting Dollman the Musical onstage is one idea. You will have other related projects, but the publication of memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs will help all of us.
You can also imagine that a law firm that has meeting rooms, with someone who wants to form a local #valzubiriagenda group, can have meetings. A local café can do the same. Local photographers for your art, writers, editors, book designers, proofreaders and others can join in.
I suggest have printed books to share. 15 copies of your memoir or art books will be better than an e-reader or laptop or your phone to show. These gadgets can be stolen, sabotaged, broken, have coffee spilled on them, etc. 15 printed books means simultaneously showing to 15 people. You can even give them away to potential resellers, investors, traders and collectors.
When it rains, it pours, as in the days of Noah
There's a saying, "When it rains, it pours." There is a negative interpretation and a positive interpretation.
Negative: When trouble comes, they cascade to even more.
Positive: When opportunity comes knocking, more follow suit. We can assume that if one gets our art because of #valzubiriagenda, more want to do it now, because of the rising prices, and FOMO - fear of missing out. What will they lose if they miss the boat?
As I have said earlier, if the #valzubiriagenda trends, if you announce a future memoir or art catalog, you might have an increase of investors, traders and art collectors who would want to check you out. You might encourage more sales. Just remember to write and publish that memoir and art catalog.
There's this saying, "As in the days of Noah." Imagine Noah, building his ark, with members of his own family, putting all his time and effort into it. Noah was a nice guy. I'm sure every once in a while a neighbor offered him coffee, or chai latte, or whatever refreshing drink they might have back then.
Here's the lesson to be learned. Just because they offered him some type of bubble tea drink, or coca cola, they still didn't make it to the ark. Rubbing shoulders with actors does not make you an actor. I have told my artist friends to write their memoirs. They told me that once they see me succeed, after all these many years of seeing my seemingly useless efforts, then they will write their memoirs and follow the road that I had paved for them.
Good luck to them, but if I were you, act now, get my art or make art. Support the 5-year old artist whose parent promised to release a comprehensive art catalog. If you get that 5-year old's art, and mine, I would be honored to be in the same art catalog that you will produce. I'm already successful at that point. You have gotten the mission just right.
I have already claimed to have written the most book-length artist memoirs in the world. Dethrone that claim. Barter. Use ghostwriters. Success to me means facing God one day and saying, I wrote my memoirs and left the world a legacy of books and art. I will not tell God, smiling and proudly, that I encouraged a run for my art by announcing a schedule of exponentially increasing prices that reached 9 figures. I'm sure God knows we had fun.

JOIN THIS GROUP

If you want to try out #valzubiriagenda, in any capacity, join this group. Let others know about this group as well.
If you are an artist, you can let everyone know here that you will produce your memoir, art catalogs, etc. It's okay if you don't know how to go about publishing yet, I will discuss this. Please be honorable enough to produce what you promise to produce.
If you want to meet fellow artists, investors, resellers, etc., join us here.
If you are a book writer, editor, proofreader; if you can photograph art pieces; if you are a book designer, etc., join us here. Let us know if you charge, barter for art, or both.
If you have your own tips and knowledge to share, join us here.
If you have underaged artists you are managing (parents, etc.) join us here.
Join this group if you want to sell works. Post your works. You web links. I'm sure I will.
You can announce meetings in your area. You might have meeting rooms, a café, restaurant, etc. where people can meet. In the future, you can have the regular show and tell, where books can be shown and shared.
​
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, Artist, Memoirist
Underaged artists are welcome here, so please be mindful of your language. We cannot post your adult-oriented art pieces, but you can direct us to a separate page or community. There will be limits to your posts, and there will be adult-oriented art that we cannot allow to be posted.
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, artist & memoirist

Friends, I did the first two nights from different sections. I was second row in 207 the first night, and then second row of 307 the second night. (I'll be doing third night in the 100s for a floor comparison and can update this later with a third experience.) I wanted to add some notes on my experience here in case it helps.
(Edited to add a few details.)
Yes, it's worth it. It is incredible. The shows are great, and it will be its own experience to see them here. The Sphere is like getting an entire second show visually on top of the music. They have put something really special together. No reason to be on the fence: if you can make it, you should.
Seat comparison. I don't think there is a bad seat in the Sphere, and everyone I talked to enjoyed it wherever they were (though I didn't talk to anyone with an obstructed view).
That said, there are some tradeoffs. Down on the floor seemed to be the die hard fans and best energy. Several people said they thought the overall view in the 300s was probably the best for seeing everything. I found the 300s a little bit less immersive and little more chill--a great night 2 seat for me. The 200s are a balance between the Sphere and the Band and best of both worlds. I definitely felt more "in it" in the 200s.
I do think that being towards a center section of the Sphere is more important than being down a level and closer, and more important than being a few rows closer inside of a section. On the wings it seems like the visuals would be less immersive because you have a stronger sense of where the wall is in your vision field.
I didn't find the 200s to be steep, but the 300s were a bit as you're getting in and out. It took a few minutes to adjust, but I had no issues after that. This does seem to be a bigger concern in the 400s, so consider moving down if you don't care for heights and if that will impact your experience.
I really liked seeing shows from different seats the last two nights and encourage that if it's an option for you. It's a different view and experience each time and keeps it fresh.
Visuals. The visuals are incredible and it is an amazing experience to be there and see it. It fills your vision and is like wearing a VR headset with 15k other fans. It feels at times like you are sitting in a space ship, or on a roller coaster. It's a ride-- Photos and video cannot capture it because of the sheer scale of it.
The opening visuals for the first song are chill, then they blow the doors off the place with the second song. Because of that, I think opening set songs will be a little more warm up, and the second song in the first set will bring the energy. The closing visuals appear to also be the same.
In between, they do repeat many of the visuals from night to night, but several of them are generic enough where they can be used for many different songs (though still fun to watch and impressive). Some of those are more "static" than the headline videos that you are seeing circulating, and it puts the emphasis back on the music for stretches.
There were some new visuals on Night 2, maybe 20% or so of them. We'll see in time as they continue to roll new ones out and mix and match what songs they play to what.
The visuals can be a little disorienting. This is because it's intense. Even when you know it's a screen, it is so big it tricks you. Night 1 I found myself needing to sit down for a minute. Two things that helped me: One, turn around and look back at the seating, especially where the screen ends at the top. That helped my brain remember where we were. Second, looking at it through my phone when I took a few videos also grounded me. Overall, this was minor for me, I bounced back in a minute or so, and I loved it.
Sound. I found it plenty loud, but saw some comments that it wasn't enough for some others liking. I think if you are acclimated to the outdoor tour amphitheater experience, that tends to be louder because they push volume out further outdoors. In the Sphere they don't need to do that. What you get in exchange is a more balanced sound. No complaints here.
They did seem to dial it in a bit and got more bass second night. I didn't notice it so much, but a few folks around me commented. Making some minor adjustments as they learn by playing the venue and getting fan feedback is to be expected, and I'm glad to see it.
Haptics. Night one there were a few songs where they turned on the seat haptics, but it did not feel sync'd to the music until D&S. Night 2 they were only used for drums and space, and somehow Mickey controls them or they are sync'd to certain of his kit. I thought it was very cool N2 and how I hope it goes. They are amazing for D&S and I highly recommend sitting for that and not treating it like a second intermission. The seats and the visuals make it a totally different experience.
Intermission. The bathroom lines really did get long. I guess that's always true at intermissions, but this felt longer than other venues, though they did keep it moving. This was the only minor complaint I had.
Dead Experience at the Venetian. This was cool to see and is easy to check out while you're around. The photo collection exhibit and Mickey Hart's artwork exhibits are both neat. You can do it all in 30-60 minutes. There was no line while I was there. They do sell tour posters, but were already selling out morning of Day 2.
Merch. The merch at the Dead Experience at the Venetian during the day is different than what they have at the Sphere during shows. There is overlap, but there were some of the same styles in different colors. So far, none of it is available online.
Posters. Yes, there is a different poster each night. They also have weekend posters (with all three nights on them) and full tour posters. Tour posters had a limited run in foil, and then regular matte posters.
Getting in and out of the Venue. This overall ran really smoothly. I am not staying at the Venetian, so the first night I took a cab from the south end of the strip for about $20. Some traffic getting in, but once I was dropped off it was really quick getting into general entrance. Second night I got dinner at Venetian and took their sky bridge. That was a longer line, but still got through in about 15 minutes.
So if you're planning dinner at the Venetian, I'd plan to be walking over by about 645. It was a fifteen minute walk, then a bit of line at security, but you'll get in with no stress and should have time to grab a drink. A 5pm reservation somewhere should give you plenty of time if you tell your server.
Shows get out around 11.30, and then it's either a walk back to Venetian or to the cab line. I was getting back to my hotel around midnight. If you started with dinner at 5 before the show, it's a long night.
Pace Yourself. Three days is a lot anywhere, but in Vegas you're on your feet during the day, it's hot, and the Sphere is an intense experience. It'll add up. Take it easy where you can.
Travel safe, and may the four winds blow you all safely home.

For some back story, me (21f) and my partner (24m) we’ll call B have been dating for 2 years, our relationship has been great up until about a month or 2 ago. See I go to school in a different city so for about 8 months we do long distance, B a while ago decided to go back to school. He applied for school in our home city and where I go, he got into both and I was over the moon for him. Realistically if he decided he wanted to go to school in our home city we would not be able to move forward in our relationship for another 5 to 7 years as where we live is very very expensive. I would be done school in 2 years but we really would not be able to live together until we have very stable well paying jobs, on the hand if he went to school where I go we would be able to move in together within the next year or so. Not only that we wouldn’t have to do long distance and we would be able to move forward. I really don’t wanna do another two years of long distance and I want to move forward in our relationship, it felt like a step back if he chose school in our home city as by the time we are able to move in together we would have been together for 8 years. A month before he had to make the decision I brought up how I felt and at the time he said everything was okay and he got it.
For the whole month he was acting odd but because our communication is limited to facetimes I didn’t think much of it. When the time to make the decision came, he waited till the last day possible, didn’t communicate how he was feeling or what he was leaning towards. Eventually after some tears and arguing he ended up deciding on where I go to school. He did tell me I was shitty for tell him my opinion and he couldn’t get past the fact I see life without him. I still feel like I wasn’t in the wrong as I wanted to be completely honest with him and I communicated my needs (not doing long distance for another 2 years.) i must say before this he was very much leaning towards the school I go to like 85/15, I didn’t think what I said would have changed that. I did apologize on multiple occasions, Anyways we were fine for a day or two and then out of the blue he calls me one morning and dumps me, I was so heart broken and spent the whole morning sobbing, he called me later that night and basically takes it back and said it was a mistake and after some back and forth I forgave him.
Since our initial convo I’ve felt a lot change, he doesn’t say I love you anymore, he doesn’t call me as often (I’m back in the city for summer so we aren’t long distance rn), he hasn’t called me pretty, he doesn’t seem excited to see me or make plans with me. It’s been almost a month and I brought it up to him the other day, it turned into a fight because he’s still healing, I told him it’s not fair that I don’t feel loved in our relationship, I’m going through some other legal issues rn and I really need him to be supportive and loving. He said no matter what he does is not good enough which is really not true, I love him and I just want to feel love back, I try to do everything I can to make him feel loved. We eventually talked it through, I know he suffers from mental health problems and he’s just going through stuff. I honestly don’t know how much more I can take, I miss the man I fell in love with. I just want to feel loved again.
Is it worth staying and fighting for or should I end it?
(Sorry for any formatting issues I don’t post on Reddit and I’m using my phone.)

recently I signed up for a aupair forum not really thinking too much of it, but after hearing from quite a few families I found a family i really like and I agreed to do an interview. I know it’s just an interview but now it’s all I can think of, I am so thrilled to be getting interest from so many families and am certain this is the right next step for me.
I haven’t told my boyfriend at all. We’ve been together for two years and have a really good relationship, I just feel we’re not growing together, my life just feels so stagnant right now. His brother (20) and the brothers girlfriend (20) moved into our spare room recently and it’s out a lot of strain on me. I am the only one with a vehicle and a license so i am responsible for anything which involves travel, i cook for everyone and have to be the one to manage chores and household responsibilities because if i dont constantly remind everyone that shit needs to get done it just won’t.
We’ve had discussions about this in the past and he knows how i’ve been feeling in our relationship, and he tries so hard but i’m just not happy anymore, and i feel the effort to fix the strain on me only ever lasts a week then it goes back to the same, me being the only one responsible in the house. honestly I don’t think I was ready for a long term relationship yet, and i definitely wasn’t ready to have to parent his adult brother, but i just kept saying yes to things and now here i am.
before even signing up for the aupair program, I have had plans to move out of our apartment june first, and now i feel like it’ll be a double whammy on him, “hey babe, im moving back with my parents and also fleeing the country entirely in a few months”. I just feel so bad making these plans behind his back and i need to know if i should tell him now to avoid blindsiding him, or wait until Ive started my move to tell him my plans, if he’ll even care by then.
I’ve started feeling guilty for keeping so much from him, and often find myself about to give him updates about the aupair thing before realizing he doesn’t know and i’m not ready to tell him yet. I obviously know it’s going to hurt us both either way, but i do love him and want to do this the most right way i can without it crushing him. how and when should i go about this?

So I (30f) and my best friend for years (26M) let's call him John. So John and I have been best friends for many many years, about 3 years ago he moved about 2 hours away from me. We still talked every day or played video games together every night, that was our thing. Well about 6 months ago he started dating this girl (25f) let's call her Mary. Well Mary has a 1 yr old daughter, after only 2 months he moved her into his house. That didn't bother me I tried to be Mary's friend I sent Christmas gifts for her and her daughter, we had no issues until about a month ago. John stopped calling me or answering my calls or getting on Xbox or anything. For context I have never let anyone come in between our friendship ever, well Mary was ok with us being friends until I lost my job and could no longer send money to help them with bills or gifts, I used to even order instacart with groceries for them and baby food and anything else they needed. For context they do both work, I was just trying to help them out since I used to make more than enough to pay my bills and have some extra, now my boyfriend is the one paying the bills and we can't afford to do a lot of extra stuff. Back to John and Mary...... One day I just stopped getting phone calls, messages or video calls and he would ignore my calls and messages in return. I finally got a call about 3 weeks ago and I said "oh wow haven't heard from you, are you guys ok? How is Mary and the baby doing? I hope all is well" he responded with "yeah Mary went to the store so I can call you" Inside my head I'm thinking in my best Charlotte impression "I beg your finest pardon?" Then he had the audacity to ask me for money. I am only a friend as long as I'm doing for them, as soon as I couldn't afford to help them I'm a no body. Might I add they both currently work full time each. I was only helping because I am that kind of friend. I stopped hearing from them again for weeks, I'm guessing he could only talk to me with her not around. Anyway, fast forward to May 5th 2024, it is my 30th birthday. I didn't do anything that day but I the following weekend I had family over and we had hamburgers and played music and enjoyed each other's company. I heard nothing from John or Mary. I waited to see if I would at least get a text. I didn't ask anyone for anything but I figured I could at least get a text saying happy birthday. I didn't think that was too much to ask it takes 5 seconds and it would have meant a lot to me. Well I still haven't heard anything from either of them. So I sent John a text saying all I asked was to be acknowledged for one day, he didn't have to get me anything all I wanted was a text or a call just saying happy birthday. He read the message and did not reply. In fact he messaged my boyfriend let's call him Tom (31M) he told Tom that I was bothering him and that Mary was getting suspicious and thought him and I were sleeping together behind her back since I was no longer paying her bills for her there had to be something going on behind her back. First of all, it was ok when I was buying stuff for them and her daughter but now that I can't all of a sudden I'm sleeping with him. She had no issues with our friendship when I was sending money. So I sent John one last message and told him if he wanted to be with her that's fine whatever but I will no longer send them money or associate with her in any way shape or form. I am not an ATM and I will not be used as such. John had never asked me for money at any point in our friendship I helped because I wanted to. But, I told him if I didn't matter to him enough to send a two word text then I must not matter enough to receive my money and I would have nothing to do with them until they get their priorities straight. I have heard nothing from them but John has messaged Tom many times asking if I would answer my phone so he could ask me for help. No, nope, nata, no sir, not, nothing and not going to happen. I put my foot down and I've stood by it. Tom tells me I'm being petty and should talk to him and see if John and I can work things out. I told him I would work things out with John if he stopped asking for money and allowing Mary to come in between our friendship. I don't know if I'm just being overly petty or if I'm not being petty enough haha. Please reddit help me out, am I over reacting just because he didn't message me on my birthday or should I cave and help them again?

Here I am at 90 days. I never knew how sick I'd become from PMO. More often by the day I'll notice a fragrance of a smell, or a feeling that I had 10 years ago when I lived on the coast .... the other day I noticed the stars in the sky for the first time in I don't know how long. I felt them in my heart. I am not trying to be poetic. But to be human is to have some of that in you.
You know, I've read here and there about people thinking if one makes it to 90 days of sobriety, that's it, you're free. Or at least free enough. I really don't feel that way, even if ... let's be honest, even though I want to.
I've had this neurological problem with the left side of my body for years now. It's slowly going away. Slowly. Not gone. Memory has improved. Critical thinking, too, but I didn't realize how basic my cognitive skills were until recently. Pride has kept me from paying too close attention, but I'm dumber than I think I am. Stamina and strength have improved. I can go on runs now without being gassed. I've also noticed I am doing harder things, like taking cold showers. They don't hurt as bad as they used to. I'm not on my guard 24/7. I'm feeling pains inside my soul or in my heart now, that before I couldn't bear. And these pains are part of what it is to live in this world. Some people don't like me, it's okay. I have bigger problems than that, and well, I think I can take some actions that are for my better with respect to them. I'm not really there yet though. Sometimes I just shut it all out still, not even via PMO.
Some of this is from doing those things little by little, or throwing myself into them. Some is from decisions. For instance, I have a son now. I think as his father, would I want to walk in on him wanking to some pixels? For year after year? Hurting himself, getting lonely or at least lonesome, his hair getting thinner, aging prematurely, disrespecting himself, losing his personality, blaming others ... And the answer is no. I wouldn't. And I'm a kid. I'm God's kid. So why should I want to disappoint Him like that, unless I have a really low opinion of God and myself?
Well, I'm at 90 days. I can say I definitely feel more sober, but there's a catch to that. I felt sober 90 days ago, too. I thought I was far more sober than I really was. Temptation has sprung up the past week or so. It took my breath away the other morning. I've also been waking up with erections, which hasn't happened in over 10 yeras. Yeah, I did a lot of high-speed internet porn. That stuff is really damaging, more damaging than I've admitted or could admit right now. But I should admit it, because it's true. Anyway, I know that as time goes by, I become more sexually sensitive. I need some work on my will.
Do you know, I learned this not too long ago, that the will has nothing to do with emotions? It's not an emotion. Some of you know that. I didn't. I always thought, grit your teeth, steel yourself, get through it on sheer will alone. But I can do things with m y will despite my feelings. And so I see that what happens with will, is that someone does something, and in extreme cases against his emotions. So someone will grit their teeth because it hurts, or they don't want to do it, and the emotions try to trick the person into thinking they are his decision. But no matter how much my emotions hurt, the will is not emotional at all. It's intellectual. And that's a power I didn't know I had, one that can't be touched by emotions.
Well, I don't have all day, but being at 90 days, this is on average where people get their head out of enough of the muck that they realize (on average, mind you) that they don't want to be involved in this destructive lifestyle anymore. And I am glad right now that I can't do PMO given my circumstances. I really can't, and I'm protected from that, too. Because I'm still too weak to feel like a man about it.
A big problem of porn has been one of admitting the truth. That porn makes me feel great (while at the same time sick, and the sickness lasts while the pleasure fades). But at the time it feels great. And I wasn't separating the pain and pleasure. I couldn't really tell the difference. But some poisons taste sweet. If I saw melted Jolly Ranchers but knew there was cyanide i nit, I would refuse to drink it, no matter how sweet it was. But somehow that didn't extend in my mind to PMO. I guess I'm still really sick, since I'm not seeing it as good as I should and could.
So porn has made me feel really pleased when I consumed it. But that's the nature of the drug. That's what drugs do. They feel good, but they ruin your life little by little. They take away your personality. You change. You stop being who you were when you were a little kid. You can't be the man or woman you're spuposed to be. You get wrinkled, pieces not lit up that should be, you're scattered and can't feel with the heart you'd have had if you didn't do that. Well, if I didn't do that. Talk about myself. But porn felt pleasing, and incredibly so. And yet it was a poison. But as a drug, it's predictable that it would feel that way.
So it's been a response to too much pleasure, while also admitting that ther'es a poison in PMO that has been destroying me mentally, psychologically, spiritually, and even biologically. PMO isn't just a private matter, one that you're elastic enough you can bounce back from right away. It changes a person. I've seen it in my ex brother-in-law. I've seen it in the disastrous marriage between a coworker and her husband. And I'm starting to see how it's ruined so much of mysef, and poisoned my relationships.
How am I going to understand another person or give him or her empathy, when I'm all drained inside? How am I going to treat a woman like a person, when I'm sizing her up as a sexual piece of meat (rejecting her if she's ugly, distracted by beauty like a hungry dog). How cna I make friends?
I've realized I don't really have any frieds anymore. That I'm more negative than I'd like to be (part of that is there's so much bullcrap in the worl that I wasn't noticing, but the other part is I'm finding stuff to get mad about like it's a compulsion). That I haven't been respecting myself, shown by how I've been dressing but also how I treat myself, don't take my side in an argument ... and this all gets so very confusing when I'm continually buzzed on PMO or mad or irritable, and can't fairly appraise someone else's argument without rushing to emotionally attack them or defend myself.
It makes me ugly.
At 90 days. I do'nt feel so great, but it's better than I was before. Doldrums. Flatlining, yeah. But the other day i was thinking about some adventurous stuff. I haven't had thoughts about having fun in life in many years. Even if I don't feel so much that way now, I did only a couple days ago. Flashes of light in the darkness is better than darkness. It's har dto remember how bad it was 90 days ago. But I truly am feeling better objectively. Not what I'd like to be feeling, but it's better. If I don't get better, what's bad now will just get worse, and I don't want that. So I'll keep going, even though there are strong desires not to.
You know, there are tihngs I have very strong inclinations toward that are not good for me? Can you believe that? I never really thought about that until recently. I've been pretty judgy towards others for their inclinations, but not to myself. Pride. Well, there are some things I really don't like to do that are really good for me. Praying, cold showers, doing hard things, getting my work and studies done. I feel better after all those, and worse after video gaming or binging on food. ANd alwaysworse after PMO, I am gladder not having done that in awhile. But there's a lot that I feel a pull toward that is really bad for me. It's so strange admitting that my instincts are off. That if I go on desire and emotion, I'm not objective. Lost compass.

This is my in-depth notes while watching the full length dfv meme video compilation by roaring pika this morning.
https://x.com/roaringpika/status/1791834694704591155?s=46
It’s an hour long and way easier to understand all together like this.
These notes come from watching every ppshow this week and taking my favorite bits of tinfoil from the community into one fairly simple look into the story dfv is telling us without getting too deep on possible tinfoil, it’s just laid out plain and simple here.
Tldr; this is a very long post. I think it starts with dfv’s final yolo update (fine I’ll do it myself) and how he’s been feeling for the first 30 minutes of the memes and then in the last half it switches to, fine I’ll do it again and then full of straight confirmation foil that we’ve been right about the bear trap, bbby, Teddy, and baby all along. Then he says we’re all good, be zen and says goodbye for now.
Here goes:
Fine I’ll do it myself, Cat heartbeat, Wolverine mad. (I think this marks his Final yolo update and of course doubled as the hype to start this week off with a bang.)
I think the first half of the movies are all about the first squeeze and how he was both dfv and kitty, how they were talking trash about him, how we found out about the baskets “you move I move” the battle scenes were all about price action up and down, everything was green and red, and the running memes are about the stock running up and sad memes are when the stock goes down.
About 30 minutes in someone asks, “where you been”, he says “waiting”, what about getting caught? “All part of the plan.”
Then there’s usual suspects movie with the goofy meme “I’ll fuckin do it again”.
——
Then Jake texting Keith, is this about our Jake with bbby and the story pp had about the gay bar at the first pulte event? So funny with the guy with 600 memes and basically joking that he became a full blown psycho.
Tell me where the freaks at pump up music. Psyched on us after the meet up?
Guy looks out the window, then the Teddy in a chair (might have just been a response to Cramer being a smartass). Then Hank (Jim Carrey) starts to lose it as the stock price keeps going down, his alter ego comes out.
Truman show, he’s trying to escape, they say “he’ll turn back he’s too afraid”. They hit him with everything they’ve got but he knows it’s all fake. He says, “is that the best you can do??”
Fury is a game where every boss fight feels like the final boss. They taunt you, they demand you get back in your prison cell, they pound you into a pulp and they even make you doubt the righteousness of your own quest towards freedom. But the soundtrack man, it keeps egging you on. To whoop some ass! PP theme music.
The Bullet one talking about time, cause and effect, “don’t try to understand it, just feel it”. “Instinct, got it.”
Morpheus teaching neo it’s all fake. Just before that scene he says, “you think that’s air you’re breathing?” … “Again!”
Alice says “But I don’t want to go among mad people.” The cat replies, “Most everyone’s mad here. You may have noticed I’m not all there myself.” Neo waking up again in the 4th movie.
Alice going down a rabbit hole into wonderland.. psychedelic music and dancing.
Next scene guy running and falls over, music says “I lost myself.”
Shawshank, they find the tunnel he made. In 2021 Kitty escaped prison. All they found of him was some Reddit posts, tweets, and an old live stream. Investing is the study of pressure and time. That’s all it takes really, pressure and time. That and a keen goddamn activist.
A man will do anything to keep his mind busy in prison. Turns out kittys favorite activity was handing out memes, a handful at a time (the dirt for the tunnel). Kitty did as he was told, buffed that financial education to a high mirror shine. (I think he’s been getting ready for something big and these memes are just a countdown.)
Bruce Willis. No, THIS is the Kansas City shuffle. (An advanced form of confidence trick where the mark is aware of being involved in a swindle and believes that he or she can outsmart the swindler; however, this is all part of the trick, and by attempting to retaliate, the mark unwittingly assists the con artist.) Hedge funds are the mark and dfv/rc are playing a con, the bear trap?
Pay attention to what I say, I choose my words carefully and I never repeat myself. The cat looks at the camera.
Michael from the office - It’s Britney bitch. And I am back. Cut to Britney Spears - I must confess I still believe. When I’m not with you I lose my mind. Give me a sign (like how we’re always asking for a sign?? (with the alien g from signs all red like a gme logo giving birth). Hit me BABY one more time!
Goosebumps all the papers fly out of the briefcase right when we get like 200 new dockets clawing back money from 90 days before bbby bk. Bear beware… you’re in for a scare…
Then it’s Abbi from Broad city dancing all over the place and she’s obsessed with bed bath and beyond in the show. There’s also the scene where the other girl is dancing behind a colored blanket with the same logo as HBC and then the next scene she’s tied up. Then they’re dancing again.. and naked then then only in shorts. Naked shorts?
We’ll never survive unless we’re a little crazy. The modern investor unleashes the animal within to take on the big city - that’s gotta be us apes?
What kind of person are you? The kind that sees signs, sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Is it possible that there are no coincidences? The kid holds up a baby monitor. They find a crop circle and it’s two GameStop logos turned in different directions (maybe rc turned GameStop around) and then another one with a long line and a baby gme logo (is gme about to have a baby?!)
Why make something disposable like an investment thesis when you can make something that lasts forever, like a GameStop meme? (It says “Reality” at the bottom of this clip, lol)
Jack Nicholson in the shining (music playing it’s just a matter of time before I lose my mind it’s also a place in ready player one where they have to take the leap not taken, the leap of faith, a kiss). “Make a lot of memes today?” Lol
Can’t stop what’s coming. Kicks some ass.
I got both hands off the wheel, the cops are coming. I listen to the music with no fear, you can hear it too if you’re sincere. Cuz I’m a punk rocker yes I am. (song: punkrocker by the teddybears)
Rock ain’t about doing things prefect! Who can tell me what it’s really about? Sticking it to the man! If you wanna rock, you gotta break the rules.
Two cars racing, one plays chicken with a truck and then cut to bojack horseman talking on stage right before they almost crash (stalking horse? Looks just like he horse from 1, 2 switch that GameStop tweeted the minute the stalking horse deadline was up.)
Now you may only see a pile of boring forms and numbers, but I see a story (us going through the dd and maybe holly etlin talking about there’s a story here but it’s not mine to tell)
Listen to this song, it’ll change your life.
(Song is don’t fear the reaper - so don’t be afraid of death, funny because of the cowbell, maybe cowbell is involved in the tinfoil but at the end of the song lyrics not shown in the clip they say: don't be afraid, Come on, baby (and she had no fear) And she ran to him (then they started to fly) They looked backward and said goodbye)
Big Lebowski dude is investigating and finds the drawing of Jackie tree horn and it’s just a guy with a raging erection with the name cohen at the top of the paper. (I think this means rc is ready to fuck)
Jason borne is telling the run Lola run chick he can’t run with her, he has to be careful because people are after him. He says I gotta figure it out. She says well then figure it out. They drive into a parking garage through the wrong way (where it should say exit it says exit strategy and he enters through the exit, parks and walks away, as in “what’s an exit strategy”)
Then it looks like maybe him and rc just waiting and dealing with some bs.
Then there’s the Backstage roaring cat perhaps. The girl says ima stick beside him.
Not sure about everyone shooting each other but someone said maybe because he wrote it and manifested it?
Then the dress one “this is art, get it?” Was apparently two minutes after hey Ross and some others were talking about that dress on a space call.
I’m a United States gamestop memer. Aren’t those the guys that go crazy and come back with an arsenal of memes and blast everybody? Sometimes. Price action keeps coming and coming… and then it’s GameStop earnings week! (6/5 aftermarket)
Always sunny scene maybe like a peek into how crazy he’s been feeling not being able to talk to anyone for three years?
He can’t speak or he’ll get in trouble.
Alladin scene (alladin name of trading algo. He also says next time I’ll use a nom de plume - pen name) all I gotta do is jump! (The theme of taking a leap of faith again)
Dreyfus billionaire family (no idea but she’s dancing having a great time)
You can’t handle the truth (code red has to do with a worm/virus, maybe they’re about to unleash something that destroys several companies that are short? And it’s pretty funny)
Beavis and butthead sex for dummies (to me it says rc and dfv are ready to fuck but also cex means centralized exchanges which are also for dummies)
Oceans 11, (theme is a heist. We’re all looking at each other like what’s about to happen and then the last guy is just looking at boobs, seems to describe a group like us lol)
Bernard from westworld can’t see the bear thesis (because in the movie he’s programmed not to but irl it’s because there isn’t a thesis!)
“That’s not a thesis,” pulls out huge knife, “that’s a thesis.”
The gme galaxy on the cat collar says deepfuckingvalue so I think he’s saying it’s still deep value and we often made memes about the black hole of gme absorbing the rest of the market into it so maybe that’s it.
Whats in the box? What’s in the box??? (What’s the plan??? RC not telegraphing his plans)
Guy looks at all the memes - she asks “is it not good?” “It is miraculous.” (That’s us loving every second of this. Thank you dfv.)
And so.. you just RAN. Forest gump runnin’ (gme gonna just keep runnin’)
you go backwards but then you go forwards again… you go backwards… then he walks out of the woods.. (are we out of the woods now? Done going backwards?)
We’ll see. The Zen philosophy story - kid breaks leg, oh that’s bad, can’t go to war, oh now it’s good etc - (I think he’s saying to be zen, we’re gonna win, but this message goes deeper:
We don’t always know what is good or bad. Breaking your leg isn’t good or bad, those are just judgements in our mind. We don’t know what the future holds. Almost anything can be a good thing or a bad thing, all we can do is accept life and how things play out without judgement.)
We’ll see.
Then the boy is saying bye to ET, the music says I’ve really enjoyed my stay, but I must be movin on. (DFV going silent again until this all plays out.)
He’s saying “we fuckin won fellas! Be zen, and we’ll see this all play out soon enough.”
I think the heavy use of good movies and music and video games may also be hinting at gamestops nft marketplace May reopen to sell those 3 things as NFTs by partnering with blockbuster and some musicians.
LFG 🚀 I’ll see you regards on the moon.

First time mom here. I want to preface with my husband is great. I’m a SAHM and he provides for us. He still comes home and cooks dinner and helps around the house even after a long day at the office. Even when he works in excess of 100 hours a week.. His dad, step mom, and siblings are also amazing and successful people. I feel like I won the lottery with that aspect of my life.
That being said… my family is non existent. No dad. My siblings and I really don’t talk either other than the occasional “mom’s in trouble again” “happy birthday” or sometimes Christmas call... I think we all just tried to survive in our own ways. Unless on a whim extended family (cousins, nieces, etc) like to pretend they are involved in my life somehow.. my mom is a total lunatic... not an exaggeration. My life growing up was psychologically and sometimes physically abusive…There is way too much to unpack here…
Fast forward to current day… I didn’t want my mom at the hospital… I didn’t even want her to know where I was yet she showed up for the birth and went ballistic that they wouldn’t let her in the room at my request.
She got into it with my husband’s family who were invited to the hospital in the waiting room. She tells people that she loves her grandson and children and makes a huge show of it.. She’s shown random strangers pictures of my son. She’s shared my address with strangers on the internet claiming to be celebrities that are “interested” in her. She’s pulled said photos off of Social Media or gotten them from other family members who just don’t seem to understand why I’ve cut her out of my life..
I do as much as I can to stop all interaction but she pretends like she’s some big factor in our lives too strangers and extended family I don’t even talk to… it drives me insane… After my baby was born, my husband’s family came to help clean, cook, watch the baby so I could shower… my mom found out and randomly showed up to my house to harass me about them being around “her” grandchild and that’s they have no right to help me… she said she hopes something happens to the baby so I learn a lesson along with a slew of insults aimed directly at me.
All that being said, I’m having a really hard time with being a first time mom not knowing what to do or how to be a good mom having no real examples other than what I read and research on my own… it’s been so hard. I’m so jealous of other women that have their mother’s to ask questions or get advice- or any female family members.. On top of the fact my mom has somehow made an unwelcome reinstatement into my life despite my best efforts to forget she exists. My brother is a police officer and has shielded us from the worst of it and helped me take steps to restrict her ability to be around us yet she finds ways…
Again my husband’s family is great.. but his step mom is just not my mom and honestly I don’t think she could even begin to comprehend the baggage.. his family asks all the time how my family is… I just repeat that I don’t really talk to them.. I can tell they don’t understand.. they are so successful and perfect and I’m so embarrassed. It hurts. It’s a reminder of everything that should be.
Most days I’m fine. I’m a loner. I’ve never had friends or anyone other than my husband.. so I’m finding navigating motherhood more of a challenge than I thought it would be… I’ve been through years of therapy for PTSD.. I thought I was ok… but having my son has just brought up a level of loss I never thought possible… I guess I just want to know.. has anyone else been able to make it through something like this.. Do your kids love you.. Were you able to be a good parent even though you felt empty and afraid? Is it possible without familial support? All I want for my son is to see the type of family my husband had… I never want him to know the type of life I had. How do I do that? I have no idea what I’m doing.

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.

Hey guys, I would love to hear opinions on what I got going on right now. This doesn't have to do with my ex but actually a different girl I was talking to shortly after my relationship had ended. I'll just jump straight into it. It's gonna be bit long, but for those of you who stick it out, I greatly appreciate it.
So, 6 months ago in November my ex broke up with me. It was a 3 1/2 yr relationship. About 3 weeks after the breakup, I decided to ask out a girl who was in my class at the time. I genuinely actually liked her as a person prior to the breakup. She would just come hang/study with me every day before class, and I genuinely enjoyed being around her. I had no intentions of getting into anything with her but one time thought to myself that if I wasn't in a relationship I would totally ask her out and want to get to know her on a more personal level.
Well, low and behold, I was dumped and now actually had the opportunity to ask her out. Idk what I was thinking at time that made it seem like a good idea to go straight into dating after coming out of a 3 1/2 yr relationship 💀. But she said yes to going on a date. I told her we should wait till after finals, which she agreed to (we were in the last 2 weeks of the semester at that point, and the workload was crazy).
In this time, though, I was still in a lot of pain from my breakup and hurting. My ex was constantly on my mind. I was very emotionally unavailable to this new girl. I think to the point where she probably started having doubts by the time we finished the semester. I tried planning 1 date with her, and it didn't end up happening. It was around Xmas though and she had a lot of family stuff going on, which I understood. After Xmas passed, she messaged me apologizing for how busy she was and said we'd figure something out. I told her that was cool and just to let me know when she had time in her schedule. She said that was cool but never reached out about specifically about a date. But in this time her and I would message each other on instagram. We gamed online a little as well.
Once February hit and we hadn't gone on a date, I finally realized okay this is not going anywhere, and I was still deep in my healing process. Reality hit and I could see how not good the situation was that I was in. I never had told her about my breakup either. So by mid-February, I had lowered the amount of interaction to almost little to none hoping it would die out (terrible idea, I should have just communicated to her properly like an adult). But she would still send me stuff on Instagram, so I assumed okay is she still interested? So I messaged her and asked if she was still interested in going on a date, which she said yes to. I told her, though, that I wanted to talk to her over a call to talk about something important. I was going to be straight up to her about my breakup, which I felt was very important for her to know about if she were to invest anymore time into me. I didn't want to talk about it over text, though. She said she was busy atm so I told her it was okay and to let me know when she had some free time to talk. She said okay and I left it at that. I refused to take anything further without having that talk with her. She never reached out about the call but sent a reel here and there. I stopped replying to her and it finally just died out. I told myself I needed to just focus on me.
Fast forward to now. It's been 6 months after my breakup. I haven't had any contact whatsoever with my ex and could care less about anything that has to do with her, her life and what she does is none of my concern or business. I also haven't messaged the other girl since February. I've been committed to heavy personal growth and have detached and healed properly from my breakup. I've been working on my unadressed traumaus, attachment style, and anxiety by doing countless hours of workbooks, courses, and watching videos addressing my mental health and teaching me important skills that are required for a healthy relationship. I now feel like I am truly ready for another relationship.
Looking back on the situation I had started with the other girl, I feel so bad. I had no business asking her out at the time. I was completely in the wrong doing it. I was emotionally unavailable to her and probably came off like I didn't care much. She probably felt lots of mixed feelings cause of my mixed emotions and lack of effort/interest. And quiet frankly I don't blame her at all for how she was acting. I would be acting the same way in her position, having to deal with someone like me at the time.
Since then, I have run into her in person a few times, and we had decent short interactions. I would love to try again with her but properly. I just don't know if it's worth it. I already had put her through a rollercoaster, and we weren't even in a relationship. If I were to start up something again with her, I would want to have an actual conversation with her, apologize, and be straight up front about everything before moving anything forward just to clear things up (if she would even be open to the idea).
So I guess my question now would be, should I reach out to see if something can work? Or should I just leave it be? I don't care about being rejected, I'm just more afraid of disturbing her or making her upset or uncomfortable by reaching out. What's your guys' honest opinion and what would you do in this situation?
Thanks again for those who took the time read through all that. I greatly appreciate it :)

[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]

Season 10 “Days of Fury” - Episode 2 “Visiting Omen”

He had hoped for a boring day. Boring days are good at work, and Santos was already expecting to not have many of them for a while.
The first couple of days were boring, as usual- Blackriver is a small town, and the worst that had happened was Nila and Kessa making a few wellness checks after worried calls from neighbors. A couple of people in denial, a few ashamed at their own violent outbursts and a stern warning to Tamm about painting others’ properties without asking first.
This morning, however, began with an all-hands meeting. There were no meeting rooms in the office, so they made do in the general workspace room, they all stood there at the center while Keya looked them over.
“We have received a report from a neighboring city about a convoy of protestors making its way to Blackriver” she describes without tone. At this point nobody bothers interrupting.
“This convoy is comprised of approximately four hundred and seventy eight individuals of multiple species, primarily human and venlil but with operationally relevant representations of the entire spectrum of size and mobility types” her paws are behind her back, her ears focused directly ahead, her eyes centered to keep the entire team on the core of her focus “They have crossed multiple cities already, generally engaging in verbal sparring with any figure of authority, parading signs and banners denouncing all manners of authorities as well as occasionally engaging in physical altercations with officers.”
“They are also known to engage in vandalism. Though primarily aimed at exterminator and police precincts as well as public offices, they have already caused considerable collateral to others they have identified as ‘collaborators’” there’s a single heartbeat of waiting for breath before she continues “They have, however, not shown to be an incredibly organized group or one with a clear goal and objective. The convoy appears to contain only extremely emotionally charged people with no clear overarching goal.”
“We are incapable of dealing with the situation should they turn aggressive, as such we will be simply maintaining watch and relocating the populace should they become a problem.” Then, she picks up her holopad and passes it to Lunek beside her “They can only follow one path with the entire convoy, the central street, therefore I have divided it into four sectors. One of each will be assigned to a sector.”
First her ears turn to the first target “Lunek, sector one at the entrance. As the most approachable member of the precinct your task is to give an initial image of harmlessness. Do not engage first, do not take initiative against them. Ensure the members of the herd in the area are warned of their approach. If they become aggressive, retreat and focus on the escape of the herd.”
She tilts her head a little bit, turning her ears the other way “Marik, sector two. Mostly the commercial area, your task is ostensive protection to lower the chances of them initiating aggression. Whereas protection of the herd is first priority your second priority is ensuring Tenve’s Hardware Store as well as Sunbreeze Meals and Watchful Café remain capable of providing anyone whose residences become damaged.” suddenly, she turns her head entirely to face Marik “Ostensive protection means dissuasion, ensure that they know they are not under threat and as long as those specific areas are not engaged, do not provoke”
Next in her line of fire is Santos “As our human officer you will be in sector three, nearby the precinct. They are liable to become most agitated in this area and your presence may serve to calm them. You are not to engage, if deemed necessary the precinct’s materials are considered expendable, do not attempt to stop them”
“Sector four, the exit of town, will be with me to ensure that they have fully left Blackriver and will not attempt to turn back” then she tilts her ears again “Aren, you will gear up with a CCG and remain out of view range, your task will be quick emergency response should the need arise.” she then points her tail at the last three officers “Vess, your task will be to inform the herd and ensure a clear path for the convoy while Nila and Kessa will gather all of our medical supplies and set a staging area out of the convoy’s range. Organize ambulance assistance from Striped Hill and Everrain”
Then, she turns her ears around to focus each one in turn “As any attempt at aggression will end only in negative consequences, and in order to reduce the apparent levels of threat you will be unarmed. The estimated time of arrival is a third of a claw, ready yourselves and be at your post in time. Dismissed.”
“Not sure if I like or I don’t that we had the cold bastard right now” Aren says, as soon as Keya had left the room “Maybe we should move in closer when the convoy gets to sector four?”
“Probably a good idea to be nearby” Santos adds with a sigh “They might take umbrage with her demeanor, hopefully they won’t be set off too hard.”
And with silent signs of agreement all of the officers of Blackriver depart for preparations. The first ones to leave the precinct are the ones in charge of support, the two girls set off early to find someone willing to permit usage of their lawn as a possible impromptu field hospital and a little while later Aren leaves with a heavy CCG.
Slowly, the clock ticks to the appointed claw… And soon enough, Lunek can see in the distance the incoming omen of people. At first a distant line in the horizon, slowly the dark mark on the road coalesces into distinct shapes, the shapes of hundreds of vehicles slowly rolling down the road.
When the first few get close to the initial buildings of the main street, the entire convoy slows down. Their process of preparation is seemingly laborious, each vehicle houses multiple people at a time, smaller cars full to the brim, flatbeds with more people on their cargo space than can safely be contained, even buses conscripted for the effort. They carry with them signs, flags, a multitude of symbols as they dismount their vehicles and start spreading out to fill the street.
They seem to naturally form two distinct yet highly mixed groups, at its most distinctive is the pack of humans who keep a good distance from each other. But they are not alone in this group as takkan, mazic, yotul, zurulian and even drilvar form this central group. But flowing around them, not avoiding their presence but never infringing in their space is the grey mass of venlil, packed tight together, and mixed in there adding color to the monochromatic flux are krakotl, tilfish, sulean, iftali, sivkit and even a seemingly very confused duerten.
And at the very core of the moving group are their vehicles, which gently start rolling forward again as the group starts moving. Lunek simply waits, silently, by the side of the road, his ears attentively swiveling from one side to the other, expression having given way to function. Before the first of the convoy even arrives close he turns to the side, making a pointing sign with his tail. A woman who had been watching from her yard flicks her right ear and runs back inside.
He continues to wait, scanning around at all times for the presence of… Anything. The street is empty of locals when the first visitors start to alight. The convoy is loud, their symbols carry a loudness of colors and their vehicles make as much noise as they can to draw attention, but those who walk seem content in allowing their tools to speak for them, for now. Lunek tries to make sense of the banners and signs, but the messages are disparate as the group- Some speak of injustices against their people, some speak of anger at invaders, some speak of betrayal.
“Fuck off, fireman!” comes the harsh bark of a human, causing Lunek to flinch. But flinch is all he does, he simply starts walking alongside the moving convoy.
The exterminator’s attention is drawn to the details of the few people he can distinguish amongst the mass. Something tickles at his pattern-recognition but he cannot quite ascertain what for a while, until a lightly limping mazic makes her way to the edge of the mass “Want to finish the job?!” she trumpets, her form towering over his.
“I’m just observing, ma’am.” Though the tremor of his voice is noticeable, he remains stoic. But her proximity makes him notice something about her body, marks in her wrists, neck and feet. Though mazic have powerful wrists and knuckles upon which they support the front half of their weight, her left wrist seems completely incapable of it, giving her a limp particular to a three-point walk. “To make sure there’s no impediment on your path” he notices the leathery skin around her left wrist is deeply blackened.
“Oh, ‘no impediment’ is that it? So everyone that lives here is an impediment?!” her voice booms.
“Ma’am” still, he does not yield nor does he break his pace following the convoy “We have not done anything other than inform our people of your presence…” for a half second all he hears is the sound of his own heart “We can’t do anything else.”
Those words, then, sealed his fate. The first shout to echo in his direction was a yotul howling “Yeah you’re useless!” and soon the avalanche came in multiple voices and languages “Can’t do shit!” “You’re just here to hurt people!” “Useless crap!” “Idiot!” and many more.
With every step and twitch the very average exterminator puts all of his focus on just being there. He lets himself cower a little bit, against the barrage it is difficult not to, but he continues to accompany. A few curious coats step out from their houses to watch, but the front of the convoy seems far too focused on the sole exterminator in view to bother anyone else.
A few steps ahead, an older venlil with a cane has moved the closest to the convoy as any watcher has up to now. Seeing her proximity to the increasingly rowdy crowd causes Lunek to speed up, quickly approaching her “Leva-”
But his words are stalled when she puts a paw on his shoulder, she gently puts her head against his for just a second “You’re doing good pup, keep at it” she mutters to him before breaking contact and turning around to walk back inside. He can spy her grandchildren looking on through the door. Lunek looks back at the still-shouting moving convoy, takes a deep breath, and continues to accompany them forward. A small pawful of them, however, seem to have fallen silent.
Once having reached the limit of his assigned zone, however, Lunek stops. He watches the convoy move forward, past the houses, now noisier than before. The initial hollering at him had turned into disjointed screams at some indistinct foe- Though the herd had been noticed of a foe, it was yet unaware of who, or what, said foe was. So for now it howled at the ineptitude of… Someone. And as the last of the convoy passes beyond the imaginary line of his duty, Lunek lets out a deep sigh and allows himself to sit down on the ground.
He stays there for a moment, without thought, simply letting the tension, confusion and fear permeate his body until a gentle paw touches his arm. He doesn’t need to look to identify it, he lets his lover use her strength to prop him up, raising him to his feet “Keina you shouldn’t-”
“Neighbor’s looking over Tiss” his wife wraps her arms and tail around him “I’m not leaving you alone.” she stays like that for a second, before breaking off “Do you need to go after them?”
“No”
Marik stalks through the sidewalk, moving with energy. His speed outpaces the movement of the convoy, his paws twitch to grasp at something that isn’t there and a deep and intense motion makes his short fur stand on end. He had let the convoy’s head move in front of him, simply standing still as he assessed as many as he could in the mass, and now he had begun to move towards the front again.
As he stalked forward he focused his sight on every member of the convoy that seemed of interest. A human whose clothes seemed suspiciously loose, a venlil whose movements were far too stiff, a gojid who kept his claws behind his back. He stared at each like they were his quarry, analyzing every piece of movement they made for threats, and yet aside from the challenge in the human’s gaze he saw no danger arise.
Tenve had closed his shop, so as the convoy moved forward Marik simply continued to follow along, scanning the crowd for threats. But the next point of interest arrives, and he rushes ahead placing himself in front of the only restaurant of the town. Sunbreeze Meals wasn’t a very common sort of restaurant, Blackriver did not have enough visitors for a normal restaurant to be profitable and was small enough most people had their meals at home, it most often served takeout for those farmers who’d spend so long in the field they would return home without the energy to feed themselves.
Sparing a look inside at the only five tables, Marik couldn’t keep a small thought away from his mind. How most who got their meals from Sunbreeze these days did so because they enjoyed the cooking rather than their need of work, ever since the sunspeck population has been brought under control and the maintenance of the fields had become much smaller. He feels the presence long before he can recognize what led him to feel it and turns to stare at a group of six that approach the entrance: Two humans, a tilfish, two gojids and a takkan had broken off from the convoy and approached the restaurant.
He traces his color band over each in turn, and they all bristle at his stare. One of the humans hesitates before continuing to walk inside, and Marik simply remains by the door with his arms crossed, left ear twisted as far back as he could to listen to the inside.
“What have you got here?”
“W-we mostly ha-have ready ma-made meals to go or- or- Or you can look over the menu”
“There’s no need to stutter, y’know”
“So-sorry-”
“Really, after everything y’all are still with this predator crap?”
The chimes on the door echo for the second time in sequence as Marik makes his way inside. The tilfish had started to lean over the counter while the other five had arrayed themselves behind her. They all turn their attention to him as he enters, including the venlil manning the counter. Marik keeps his gaze directly on the tilfish for a few uncomfortable seconds, before looking at the man behind the counter and making a simple sign with his tail, a short vertical bob with the tip and a slow horizontal swipe. It’s meaning simple: >Safe<.
After a few seconds someone else appears from the kitchen. The tall venlil carries a large stack of plastic boxes in his arms, all of them seemingly designed to attach to themselves so as to be carried with ease. He puts them down with a resounding crash on the counter, and opens up his voice with ice “Farmer’s Pots, good meal when you’re working and can’t go home.” With each word the owner of the restaurant and main cook comes closer and closer to the tilfish, until the last “Ten credits each.”
Nobody moves for a couple of seconds, and then one of the humans steps closer and brings a holopad over to the credit reader. There’s a noise indicating payment, and then the owner raises his head and tilts it to focus his favored eye and both of his ears at the man who paid “Now,” he shifts register in his voice and the language he speaks in “fuck off” he finishes.
With no small amount of surprise the group of six retrieve the stack of packaged meals, carefully walking out and back into the convoy. Marik stays behind for a moment “Didn’t know you spoke human”
“Pup’s enamored with their languages. Of course, first greek words he learns is swearing.”
Outside, Marik stalks further ahead to the next point of interest. He moves faster than the convoy, and has time to move in front of it. For a few meters the street is still clear as he arrives to find a group of people standing in front of the Watchful. Standing there were all of its employees, and even all of its regulars, twenty people total standing there as if they were having the most normal day. If not for their raised ears tracking every noise coming from down the street and their swaying tails swinging about like angry beasts.
One of them simply points his tail at the other side of the street as Marik comes closer, and the hunter doesn’t need a second command to understand the meaning. They have this, he has a less practical but just as important duty. He crosses the street quickly before the convoy starts coming closer, and heads towards the park.
As the regulars of the Watchful had feared, it took little time until a large group had broken off from the convoy. With the town on alert about the convoy they had found themselves bereft of prey and now this group had set out to find some, anyone who might be willing, or not, to listen to their grievances. And what is clearly a place designed for people to congregate looked most appetizing.
Marik shadowed the group as they moved through the park, but they were accompanied by nothing but silence. It wasn’t until they ran into the centerpiece of the park that he took initiative, stepping ahead of the group and simply… Standing there a distance away from the tree of many scions, between it and the group.
“What’s so important over there, fireman?” it was a venlil who asked, but his usage of an english word was not lost on Marik.
“A place you will respect” the exterminator has his arms crossed, the one good portion of his gaze set on the man who asked “This is a grave.”
Though the group that now prowled was large, those who heard were taken aback. One such, however, approaches closer. He was a venlil whose fur shifted between a soft, brownish color and a dirty white “A tradition of the tenets right? One of those family trees?” The man would have been distinctive in any other group due to his missing patches of fur around neck, wrists, even portions around his head. But such signs of long term damage were common in the convoy.
Interest. They had shown true interest, or at least one of them had. “No, but similar… The forgotten tree is a grave for the forgotten.” He felt like these people, at least the ones before him, could probably understand the meaning of this place “It is of no tradition. Someone, a long time ago, wanted to honor someone who was gone but whose name was not meant to be remembered. Someone who had disappeared in the system… So they borrowed on another’s tradition, and added a scion to this tree, with something in their memory. Others have done so similarly, until it became… A grave for the forgotten”
“Didn’t think you’d be worried about this kind of place” it’s a human that speaks up this time
“Our duty is to protect this town, what you think-” but Marik’s words are interrupted by that same venlil who had asked before. His demeanor suddenly shifts, his ears perk up and his entire body shifts forward for a moment. He hesitates, for a second everyone’s focus is on him, and then he runs towards the tree.
Marik follows behind, stopping just by the man’s side as he finds himself at the base of the tree. The man makes a direct line to somewhere, something he had found from the distance, as if it had called him. He finds a thick and heavy branch that had been bent down by the weight of its scions and memories, near its base and speaking of a memory left behind long ago is a braid of fur made of three colors, a dirty white, a soft brown and a dark grey, bound by the braids are two beads.
The man raises up a paw, but does not touch it. As if cradling it, he recites the words engraved in one of the beads “I will cross every star to return home” others have come closer to listen to the man’s hoarse voice “There will always be a home for you” he reads of the second one. The names on the beads have been scratched out. The man falls on his knees “S-she kept her promise and… I couldn’t keep mine…”
Marik steps back as he watches two others come closer to comfort the man. He looks as a few others approach with more caution, looking up at the tree with a bit more reverence than they had before. Then, he turns around and starts heading back towards the main street.
Gazing out as the convoy gains a new flux, some leave it as it passes to move towards the park while others leave the park to rejoin the convoy, Marik simply stays there at the side of the street looking as stern as he could. Though the noise of the convoy remains great, here in this portion it seems to die down a little. A thought crosses his mind as he turns an ear as far back as he can, a thought he can’t help but voice “I wonder how many are looking at their own graves…”
As the convoy progresses, Santos simply stands by the front of the precinct, hands in his pockets. He watches the convoy arrive, heart beating fast, constrained hands the only reason he hasn't started shaking quite yet. He starts tapping his right foot as he watches the first few people cross by without noticing what this place is yet, everyone knows where the precinct is, so aside from the words printed on the sign by the entrance there is no other marker of what this building’s purpose might be.
Of course, it is impossible for nobody to notice. The entire convoy seems to stop as soon as a zurulian riding on the shoulders of a human points a claw at the building and says something. A large group breaks away at the command, all of them holding disparate signs and messages. They turn on the building with enough roars that whatever they are attempting to transmit is lost on him.
Santos is thankful his hearing isn’t nearly as good as his coworkers’, as the cacophony is already overwhelming him. He changes stances slightly, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms. This prompts a small group to turn their looks at him, the focus easily identifiable with the humans in their midst, focus which made the hair in the back of Santos’ neck stand on end. Living in this place had refined his sense of danger, but he didn’t need that to realize what could happen.
It was a group of five that approached, four humans and a venlil. “Didn’t think they’d be letting humans live out here in the boonies” said one of his kin.
Santos just shrugs “Got hired to work here. Honestly, rural folk get a needlessly bad reputation, most of the time they just don’t care as long as you’re not bothering them”
“Really? In my-”
Santos interrupts the man “Cut it out” there are many ways in which humans make themselves obvious, many of which are their eyes. Santos did understand the fear of them and why it was primal, it was not the fear of the eyes but the fear of attention, it was knowing you were under the scrutiny and judgment of another that set off that emotion. It was rarely the eyes that showed this attention for most species, but for humans it was, and the man’s clear gaze on his badge made the entire situation clear to him “Stop beating around the bush and say it already.”
Someone else is who speaks. The tall woman starts not with words, however, but by spitting on Santos’ uniform “You fucking traitor” her voice is both fierce and cold at the same time. A very emotional coldness.
“There we go” he sighs “Just… Move on. We’re not getting anything out of this conversation”
“Why?” It was the venlil in the group that started this time “These people hate you, they hate you for what you are! Why do you work for them?!”
Santos rubs his eyes and sighs “Because someone has to. Change only happens when you make it happen, simple as that”
“Change?!” another one of the humans howls “Do you think those people can change?! You know the truth, those fuckers have never done anything good!”
“You know, if you had read your history books…” Santos stares at the one who had just had their outburst “You’d remember that we once thought the very same about the police” there’s the sound of glass breaking, but he doesn’t reaction “And a lot of us still do”
The human staring him down shifts their gaze slightly at the broken window of the precinct, then back at Santos “A broken window is easy to fix” he shrugs “As I was saying. Same shit.” he crosses his arms again “There’s a role those people play, a role that needs to be played because it’s important. Different name, different problems, still the same shit. Gotta fix this, I’m doing my part” he then stares at the venlil in the group “You do yours. Simple as that.”
“Role?!” the venlil of the group steps closer “What role could they possibly have?! They only exist to hurt people!”
Santos steps back, and raises his eyes a little bit. Of course, the classics had shown themselves in this instance. With as many humans as there are in the crowd there were now quite a few objects in the air, most clearly aimed at the precinct behind him. Though given the failed arc of some of them it was clearly not just the humans indulging in such a tried and true method.
“I used to be a wildlife preserve ranger” Santos then focuses his gaze on the aggravated venlil “This is a frontier town, if you walk in the brushes with shorts you’ll walk out with your ankles numb. The athai out there are rather harmless, but they keep the sunspecks under control.” He takes another step back “Since coming here I’ve been pest control, had to catch an exotic animal set loose, investigated a murder, helped stop a child from taking her own life, stopped large scale fights, helped a dozen people avoid being arrested for self defense and helped break a fucking siege”
Santos cracks his knuckles “There’s roles. Jobs that need done and there is one fucking organization doing it all. That is a problem.” Then, he sighs and takes a few more steps to the side, offering indifference from this point on “There’s nothing I can say that would make you calm down.” he says one final time “Just make sure not to injure yourselves in the process, alright?” His words seemed to be enough to make the small group cease trying to interact, as the convoy had begun moving again. Though the one human who had called him a traitor gets one final parting shot at the precinct “Where the hell did you get an egg in this planet…” Santos says with a raised eyebrow as the projectile impacts the front door.
Keya stands by a large sign, the same one that welcomes you into Blackriver on one side and sees you out at the other, the official limit of the town. Her arms behind her back, her attention directly towards the front of the convoy as they march. Something gains the whole of her attention, the car in the front. Someone draws her focus, a human with a megaphone on top of the car. The man shouts words of encouragement at the people behind him with the megaphone before turning to his holopad, then he bends over downwards to discuss something with the driver.
She simply remains there, waiting for the convoy to pass. But instead of moving on out of the city, here the convoy stops completely. Keya observes as the further end of the convoy starts to slowly compact upon itself, and her ears pick up something “Alright everyone, start getting ready, next town over is more than a claw away, make sure you’ve left nothing behind” the words were not meant for her, nor for anyone too far. They come from the same man she had seen standing on top of the car, but he had now climbed down and was talking with a group of multiple species.
It is clear they have some degree of leadership, though the convoy does not stop cleanly nor does it begin to organize with alacrity they do respond to the group’s organization. So Keya keeps her focus on them as they point, wave and talk between themselves, others and devices. But at least one of them has noticed her attention, a gangly and light-skinned human with fire-red hair, the man that was atop the car. He starts walking in her direction, before turning around for one final set of commands as he walks backwards “And make sure the guys at the back got all the crap! We’re here to be heard, not to trash the city!” he says before turning back again to head towards her. A venlil with pure white fur erupts from inside the car he was riding, quickly dashing to his side as they notice where he was going.
In a few moments both have come up to her, the human looking down at her with the venlil bristles at his side “Saw anything interesting, fireman?”
“What are you doing here?”
“What? Isn’t it obvious?!” it was the venlil that roared a response “You saw all of it! You know what they’ve done to us! What they’ve done to everyone! And you still work for those brahking monsters! It’s like you’re thankful they made you a cripple!”
The human puts a hand on the venlil’s shoulder, calming her demeanor just a little bit “We’re here because honestly, we’re all too tired of being fucking ignored is what. So what the fuck are you gonna do?!”
“I have put the wrong emphasis” Keya says with her lack of tone. She can see the human shiver just a little bit “My task is to ensure the safety of this town. Your convoy is a danger. We have eight field-capable officers, we cannot ensure the safety of the residents against a group like yours. People will take actions for reasons, you have broadcast your reasons clearly. You have chosen this place for a reason which I cannot ascertain.”
She makes sure her ears are trained towards both the human and the venlil, an action which causes the venlil to cower behind her partner “We do not house government agencies. This is a farming town of little note. The local precinct is a simple precinct, we have no regulatory or command authority. The town population is approximately double that of the number of your convoy. We have no individuals of appreciable social or political reach. There is nothing in Blackriver of interest to people attempting to change government policy, nor have there been actions taken here that I can identify as being cause for retaliatory actions within the context of your message.”
“I must ensure this does not happen again and the only way of doing so is minimizing our attractivity as targets. A logical assumption of your choice of quarry would be a town with the presence of politicians, a large city with constant news coverage, cities housing important government agencies or those containing the Regional Firebases”
“So I ask again. What are you doing here?”
The two remain silent for a few seconds, before the human turns around with a mouth noise “Whatever, I don’t need to explain myself to someone that won’t listen. Come on!” he starts to stalk back towards the car, but stops once he notices his venlil companion wasn’t moving.
The snow-white venlil has their focus on Keya, who offers a simple low forward swipe of her tail, a sign to proceed. Still, the venlil seems frozen in place until the human comes back and grabs hold of their paw with a gentle touch. At which point both finally return to the convoy.
Keya remains at the side of the road, watching as the convoy readies itself again to leave. People get back inside cars, they hop on the back of trucks and load themselves into buses. She continues to watch as the convoy takes its time riding out, making their way out of the town.
Once it is finally gone, multiple footsteps sound behind her. When she turns around she meets her officers, having returned from their assigned positions “They have left. I expect your reports of what happened in each sector by the end of your shifts” she states plainly, before looking at Santos “They did not appear to have a specific reason for targeting Blackriver.” The question remains unspoken.
The human officer just shrugs “Sometimes, you don’t know what you’re doing. We’re just a little town, I doubt they even know what exactly they’re angry about.” He looks at the tail end of the convoy as it leaves “Town was probably just a place they felt safe going to.”
“D-do you think we might get more like that” Lunek says, at the back of the group.
“Who knows…” Santos sighs “But if human history applies anywhere here… This is just a sign of worse things to come”
[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]
And thus the omen passes by. Feelings, emotions of all sorts, without a plan or a reason other than just their own rage and distress.
Did any of these even know what they were doing? And how much worse can it be when they do?

I was born In a violent place, I'm trans and my country is dangerous, I suffer there a lot, rape, and domestic violence, all my life. I came to the Netherlands to work and change my life, the company put me in an accommodation with 250 people from different cultures, and on my birthday after months alone and without friends and family, I bought this Xbox S, to play something and use my free time, the internet was to slow and was taking to a long time to download my warframe, I play this game from 2016 until now. 12 hours to download, so I bought wine just relaxed, and waited, I was there outside sitting in one of the trees taking some sum and drinking alone, I never drink too much, and this guy came and started to talk, my English is shit but was ok, he asked me some wine and I give, after some minutes I started to feel like in the clouds my body was not working good, I tried to get up but no strong in the leg and arms, I was feeling like I can't move and in jail inside myself, he took me to the woods and rape me I was feeling nothing, I couldn't do anything, I have no idea how long time this take, I just wanted to this stop, and I have some blackout, was dark when I was able to move and I finally got strong to move and I came to the room, I was in shame and guilty of myself, I was confused I sleep in the floor for 2 days and after that, I go to the police, they asked proves, video or photos, (wtf??) nobody helps me, I tried to work as nothing had happened and every time I looked to people I feel like they know that and I was feeling dirty, I started to use drugs to go work and try to get better alone, nobody will help me, I get that, here I'm a nobody, so in some moment I was not able to work (1 month later ) I put sick and I never come back to work, I made everything to run from that place, I find a room In other city and I just move in that same day, here, I found some silence and loniless, until this Bulgarian old guy started to bother me with small things, I cant wash my clothes always because he complain with the owner saying is too much, I can not cook because if I forgot just 1 seed of rice fall he complain saying I leave all kitchen dirty, I can not even pass in front his door he complain about noises. I feel like doesn't matter where I go, everything will be the same, I don't have money to rent another place, I eat instant pasta for weeks, and I try to be invisible, but is impossible, I found a doctor but, she says I have to move on, I have 37 and I'm old to continue to cry, I have a rabbit now, but, I have no help, no family, friends, I feel like Netherlands hate me so much, and this ongs I tried to get help, they say here is not my place and I'm not Dutch and I should back to my country, I have no place to go back and no strong to forward, drugs yeah I'm still using just to not feel more pain, now I look everything in my life and I think I just want to die and give up from all this shit. Maybe I should, I have nobody anyway, if I die nobody will missing, and maybe the next life can be better. IDK maybe I have no hope anymore. I'm tired of this place but I can't go because the agency still pays me, but just enough to rent, insurance, and food. I'm stuck in hell. Dutch people are the most fake and ignorant people I ever met in the world, if you are an immigrant, they will be polite and put you down with beautiful words. They care only about taking you out of the way. 😔

Hi everybody, it's my first post on reddit ever, I hope I can get some feedback about my problem/dilemma. I'm 23 years old, student. A little less than two months ago, I started getting first a sense of tension and some pain in my left leg, mostly the back of the calf and quad. During the next 7 days, doing regular everyday things and some exercises, the pain started getting worse and worse plus the back of my quad and calf (and lateral part of foot) started going numb, so I decided to go to a doctor, while barely being able to walk or sit in a car. The doctor did a physical exam, told me it's probably an L5/S1 herniation and recommended I get an MRI. He gave me meloxicam to drink once a day, which didn't help much. After that day, maybe because I exerted myself going to the doctor, the pain became almost unbearable, sleeping was barely possible and I would wake up because of the pain, going to the bathroom was hard as well, showering or basically anything else caused quite a bit of pain because I couldn't stand on my left leg. I spent the next 10-14 days in bed in one single position in which the pain was bearable, that is on my back with my legs bent in the knees and with my feet on the floor. Couldn't go out of my apartment for that whole time, because moving meant a whole lot of pain, almost unbearable, and I am not exaggerating. The most I tried to do was some very light exercises I got from a friend who had almost the same problem and got the operation (microdiscectomy), but his symptoms were more severe. After that time I finally became well enough and went to get an MRI scan. Basically the three bottom disks are degenerated with critical spinal stenosis especially on the L4/L5 and L5/S1 level. I also have a cyst, which doctors think is benign and haven't really paid much attention to it as far as I've noticed.
The radiologist who read the MRI scan said that it would be wise to consult with a neurosurgeon since the stenosis is severe, but if I didn't want to through with the procedure we could try with PT and decompression therapy.
The third doctor I went to, neurologist, after a physical exam and reading the description of my MRI scan said that I should so the operation without delay because I could lose my legs. At that point I was already feeling better, but have been walking using crutches.
In the next 2-3 days I went to a neurosurgeon. He looked at my MRI scan and said multiple times I should go through with the procedure, even though I was constantly saying I'm feeling a lot better already.
I thought that was it, I need to get it over with and be done with it so I started with preoperative preparation (blood work, internal medicine, anesthesiologist and everything else that's needed). Now I am just waiting for the surgery, which I am guessing should happen sometimes in the next 7-10 days.
Right now, after all that time has passed, I feel much much better, I have basically no pain while sitting and laying down, but still have some pain while walking (mostly in the back of the calf, it gets worse if I press my hand on it). My left leg is a little bit weaker than the right, again mostly concerning the calf, it is much harder to raise myself to my toes using my left leg, but in the beginning it was absolutely impossible to even stand on the toes of the left leg.
Through all this time I have continued with exercises and keep implementing more, focusing on core and back muscles and stretching. All of these exercises are with little to no pain, except some stretching exercises, they still hurt.
My question is, even though I understand every case is different - is there anybody that had a similar experience or could offer any advice as to whether I should go through with the procedure (microdiscectomy) or just continue exercising since I am already much better and cancel the operation?
I'm sorry for such a long post, but I felt like I needed to explain my condition in order to expect any answer.
Huge thanks to everyone who took the time to read and answer, it's much appreciated.

This might be quite long I apologise in advance. But I need advice and guidance.
We met via a dating app in October last year. It was a strange feeling from the first few messages, it was like I already knew him and it wasn’t boring small talk you normally get when you talk to someone from a dating app. The more we talked the more we realised how similar we were, our interests are exactly the same, we are obsessed with the same band, same sense of humour, same beliefs, we are exactly the same age with his birthday being 6 days later than mine, he lives in the city I have always wanted to move to eventually. Everything just seemed perfect, like far too perfect and it freaked me out a bit. The connection and chemistry was obvious. He rang me Boxing Day randomly and told me he had never felt like this before or had a connection like this before, I said I felt exactly the same. This was all before we had even met in person. We carried on talking and planned to meet up on a couple of occasions but plans fell through a couple of times due to bad weather and not being able to travel the 2 hour drive or due to work commitments. This was frustrating to us both and due to that things seemed to fizzle out and due to poor communication and ego, we just stopped talking, through no one’s fault, it just seemed to happen. This was January.
For 3 months I was always finding myself thinking about him, constantly in the back of my mind. I was still so curious about the connection and frustrated at how things had gone. I always thought about reaching out but I didn’t. Then a few weeks ago without even thinking I messaged him, not sure if I would get a response or not. An hour or so later he did reply. I told him I had been thinking about him a lot, apologised for my part in the communication break down, and wasn’t assuming his situation but if he ever wanted to meet up for that drink we talked about I would like that. He apologised for his part in it too but said the timing wasn’t great as he was now seeing someone. He said he was excited to explore our connection back then but just couldn’t now. I felt devastated but of course respected that and just told him I would have beat myself up for not reaching out and not finding out. I wished him all the best and thought that would be the last of it and it wasn’t meant to be like I thought.
The next day he then messaged me saying he was glad I reached out but also not. I told him I didn’t really know how to take that and what did he mean? He then just said ‘I’ll ring you later’. He did ring me and we talked for about an hour. He said ever since I messaged his head was spinning and he couldn’t understand why he was so conflicted about someone he hadn’t even met, he hoped speaking to me on the phone would make him realise it was just silly and there was actually no connection. It turns out this had the complete opposite effect and he realised how great the chemistry was and how easy it was to talk to each other. We talked it out and why things ended the way it did, we put it down just to each other not wanting to chase and protect our egos. I said I wish I could go back and change it but unfortunately what’s done is done. At the end of the call he said we had to stop because we were just torturing each other. I was gutted, I didn’t want to put the phone down. But we agreed not to talk.
It didn’t last long and over the next few days he was messaging saying he couldn’t stop thinking about me and everything I had said and we talked about. I said I felt the same but I made it very clear to him I wasn’t going to get involved with him romantically whilst he was in a relationship. He wasn’t asking me to, he knew that was wrong but it just felt easier to talk to me about it. It was clear we were both very very confused why we couldn’t stop thinking about each other, especially when we couldn’t have each other. It was back and forth for over a week. He said it was getting up both down because we used to have a laugh when we first started talking last year, and we starting falling into that again but I realised I was getting attached to him and it was dangerous. I then put my foot down and said this wasn’t getting us anywhere, I wished him all the best but to stop myself getting further into this and hurt, whilst he was in a relationship we shouldn’t talk.
He ignored that and asked to meet up with me, he said maybe talking and finally meeting would help us resolve it. I was very hesitant, I knew he had a girlfriend and it was crossing a line. But I was there in his city that weekend and I think if I didn’t actually meet him I would regret it if I didn’t find out what this was like in person. We both agreed it was purely in a non romantic way. So we did finally meet. I think I fell in love instantly. He was exactly the same in person and as was the chemistry, there was eye contact, we talked for a couple of hours about all sorts of things. Realised we had more in common. We both said it felt like we already knew each other and like we were catching up, we didn’t feel nervous or awkward. It felt so different to anyone I have met before. We kept it purely planktonic and nothing physical happened. I could tell we both knew it very easily could but we knew that’s not what we were there for and we wouldn’t allow it happen. He then went on to tell me he feels he has rushed into his relationship with his girlfriend far too quickly, they’d only been together 2 months, they argue a lot but have a holiday booked at the end of the month and he had to figure stuff out. I respected that and told him to take his time and I wasn’t going to comment on his new relationship. I also wasn’t going to become the other woman. He didn’t want that either and didn’t want to hurt me. We again agreed we shouldn’t talk whilst he’s in this situation. He dropped me off and said ‘I just have to walk away now’. It was very bittersweet, it’s like I had just had the perfect first date with the perfect guy, but of course it wasn’t like that at all due to the circumstances. It was amazing to finally meet him and I couldn’t believe he had been there in front of me. But it also felt unnecessary and cruel because we couldn’t do anything about it.
Only 24 hours later he was typing a message to me but said nothing. Without thinking I asked him if he was okay but didn’t hear from him for a couple of days. He apologised and said he was drunk and was going to say something stupid but stopped himself. He said it’s all he can think about and he didn’t know what to do, he was stressed out. He said it’s harder now because we know we would be good together. It was back and forth again for days, it’s like we couldn’t let each other go. But I being put in a very difficult situation and just wanting to say ‘YOU CLEARLY AREN’T HAPPY WITH HER AND WE ARE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER’ but obviously that is totally unfair and I refused to tell him my biased opinion. I then again told him I think us talking whilst he is in this current situation is unfair on us both and we should leave each other alone. All I wanted to do was talk to him but we couldn’t. I said I was obviously gutted but wished him happiness, maybe this was just the right person wrong time. He then said he knew it wasn’t the last time we would hear from each other, we are too similar to not be in each others lives, he promised me we would see our favourite band together one day, that he would be worth the wait if we get to go for that drink again under different circumstances. He just had a lot to figure out and it wasn’t something he could take lightly, he couldn’t start something with us on the back of something else as he would have a cocktail of emotions and doesn’t want to jeopardise what we could have. I had reminded of something he said when we first starting talking originally, I had jokingly said ‘where have you been all my life?’, his response was he was ‘figuring out exactly what he didn’t want to know how much he wanted this’, he said that was exactly how he felt then and still kind of does, it’s just more complicated now. He said he will always answer if I want to talk. I agreed. We sent a couple more messages. I then told him I wasn’t going to reply anymore and said speak to you when I speak to you and said if anything ever changes then please don’t let this go to waste. He said he understood. That was the end of it.
It’s been a week since, and it’s been awful. I’m devastated, like I am going through an actual break up. Crying, low mood, angry, numb. I have never felt so exhausted, like the whole thing has physically drained me. I’m constantly thinking about him, even when I don’t directly think about him, he’s always there. Wondering what he’s going to do. If he ever will reach out again. Thinking about the what ifs and what should be. I feel like he’s thinking about me too. I’m freaked out by the whole thing. I hardly know him, but at the same time I felt like I’ve known him years and he is my person? Maybe we are just supposed to be friends but how can two people be made for each other like this but it be so complicated? I feel like he is going to have a very big impact on my life and my future, I just don’t know what to do with that right now. Im annoyed that if we had met up the first time things could of been different. I have never felt like this before. I suppose I just need some advice to get through this and if anyone has been in similar situations. Is there anyway to just accept this and make it easier? I know no contact is the best thing for us right now. I’m just struggling with the whole concept. It’s very new to me. I’m only 25, I’m young and don’t want to wait around for him, but something is telling me I should and right now nobody else is an option, which seems crazy but I can’t help it. I’m so attached.