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My second to last quarter just ended and I'm pretty swamped with final reports right now, but I'm almost through. Not to mention, the next seven weeks are going to be pretty light because of a sudden lack of classes, since I busted my butt finishing up my remaining credits. I've decided to dedicate this time to (among other things) a writing frenzy! I wanna get some serioussss backlogs up because who knows how busy I'm going to be after graduation. (Not to mention, I'm having some troubles getting my VISA renewed, but that's a personal issue).
Anyways, don't wanna bore you with irl stuff. You're here for food and gay furry romance! So as always, I hope you enjoy reading! :D
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Note: This is a Fanfic of the Nature of Predators series by u/Spacepaladin15, that is being reposted from the NatureofPredators sub. Please support the original content.
Thank you to Philodox on discord for proofreading and editing RfD.
Thank you to Pampanope on reddit for the cover art.
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Memory Transcript Subject: Sylvan, Venlil Citizen
Date: [Standardized Human Time]: December 13, 2136
​
It wasn’t too long that I was absent from the event. Sure, Kenta and I had run into a few hiccups when trying to load up the cart, but that was to be expected. Just looking at the absolute behemoth of an edible pile that he had somehow been able to put together in such a short amount of time, it was a wonder just how we were able to fit them all on there in the first place. And the promise that there was still more yet to be brought out had left me astonished. If I hadn’t already seen the ravenous vortex of Venlil that had so efficiently done away with the other dishes, I might have actually been worried about leftovers.
The food in question, long tubes made out of some kind of starchy form of strayu and packaged in an even starchier husk, were stacked in circular pyramids atop three large trays. As it turned out, this delicacy was the same “Tamale” recipe that I had heard mentioned the day before, the sheer amount being the product of Kenta’s, Julio’s, and even Jeela’s preparations. Unfortunately, I hadn’t received the full explanation of what they were just yet, but Kenta had thankfully given me at least a quick rundown.
Using the same steaming methods as the gyoza, these tamales had been folded carefully over a mix of fresh, crisp vegetables whose scent floated around each in a rich aura. They were hot out of the steamer, a cloud of gaseous water encircling the air above it in a decadent plume. If I hadn’t known better, with the combined mass of the tamales and the sheer volume of steam they collectively released, it might have made me believe the cart itself to be on fire. But of course, there was no such thing, and the cloud that spread into the sky only served to sweeten the air.
As I rolled out the cart, I looked at one last addition to the ensemble. There in a large bowl was something that Kenta hadn’t mentioned in the slightest when explaining the recipe and reasonings behind the tamales, and I had been so urgent to get these out the door that I’d forgotten to press for more details. It had been left in the refrigerator since the day before, which I had only noticed when doing inventory after the fiasco of event preparations.
‘It completely slipped my mind until now… I’m glad I didn’t forget it. Especially after what that note said.’
When I had found the bowl, a small piece of paper had been taped to it. On which, an alien text had been inscribed that required me to use my visual translator to make any sense of. It had been nothing but obvious that holding up the translator informed me that the language was indeed Terran. But what confused me was that instead of the morphemic script that I had come to slightly recognize from Kenta’s subculture, it instead appeared to be something more alphabetic.
On it, the note simply read: “Make sure to serve this with the tamales, my friend. Don’t forget!”
Additionally, below those words had appeared to be an additional message. That one, however, was partially scribbled out. When I scanned that one as well, the translator had taken a long time to process, and its output remained considerably fractured: “**od l*ck wit* y*u* n*w boyf***nd.”
Having not thought much of the note, I had just barely remembered to retrieve the bowl from the fridge and put it on the card while Kenta was off busy grabbing one last batch of tamales before rushing me out the door. I shook it out of my mind for the time being. After all, right now there were more pressing things to manage.
Wheeling the cart back outside, I was hit with the briefest shortage of breath. It had only been a momentary respite, but shifting from the quiet of the empty diner to the lively atmosphere of a crowded party would never not be a shock. By now, enough people had shown up that the event could already be considered at max capacity. People from all over filled the street, chatting and conversing in a rambunctious, lively gusto.
To see so many people take the time out of their schedules and come down to my family’s diner just because of the promise of our food… It was almost overwhelming, enough to bring a brief tear to the eye reminiscent of my reaction to that very first wave of people Ginro had brought soon after I first hired Kenta. I took a moment just to bask in it. A feeling I had all but begun to grow almost too accustomed to. A feeling of success, and of pride. And as I once again continued pushing the cart past the crowds of chatty party attendees, along with the piles of wool that it entailed, that feeling continued to pour into me. It was all almost too much to hear at once.
“Hey Sylvan! Great party!” said one voice to my left.
“Amazing food as always, Lackadaisy guy! I can’t get enough of these little strayu things in the salad!” piped another to my right.
“Ooooo! What are those things?” asked one more as I passed by them, who excitedly eyed up the stack of tamales I was delivering.
I laughed along and chatted with people on my way to one of the tables, chuckling at their jokes and accepting their praise on behalf of both myself and the mysterious ‘Kahnta.’ With each pleased guest and hungry gaze, I couldn’t help but feel myself bloom in sheer joy at the tidal wave of enthusiastic complements.
That was… until one otherwise innocent comment sounded from behind me.
“So you’re telling me this was all made by one chef?” they asked one of their friends, not intending me to hear as they talked with their mouth half stuffed with food. Looking closer, I could see that they were two Gojids chatting with one another. “Better enjoy it now, I guess. Not gonna be long before some fancy place in the Capital comes and recruits them. Honestly, if the owner of this place wants to have any hope of holding on to them, he better marry them or something.”
The partygoer’s friend laughed, “Well if he doesn’t, then I will! Can you imagine eating something like this every day?”
I couldn’t help but bloom even more overhearing this. But this was a different kind of feeling. Not the gentle warmth of normal delight, but instead the torrid heat of surging emotions. And as I began nonchalantly transferring the steaming tamales to one of the tables, these emotions steamed to the surface of my mind as well.
It was a mix of things that fueled my silent reaction. At first, the implication of asking Kenta into matehood was… well it was certainly something. I was sure the two Gojids were simply making innocent remarks, assuming that the lie about my precious chef being another, completely ordinary Venlil was correct, not realizing in the slightest just how much the implication left me flummoxed. And in normal circumstances, it would have been just that, a simple perk of the ears and a brief daydream of something so far away from me. But after yesterday, things had changed.
The previous day had been eventful, to say the least. I had eaten some amazing pastries and listened to an even more amazing alien melody. Only for it all to come crashing down when my idiotic brain forgot to turn back on the translator before pouring out my entire menagerie of pent up emotions before Kenta. My one chance to seize an opportunity at the height of a courageous high, only to tumble and fall flat during the execution. Even worse, I couldn’t muster the bravery to say the same thing even one more time.
I had completely blown it. And needless to say, I wasn’t exactly keen on remembering my mistakes from that previous day, especially during such a pivotal event. The only mediocre condolence I could take from the whole ordeal being the opportunity of waking up next to Kenta that same day. But even that was cut much too short by the mad rush to get preparation ready for the event.
‘I can still remember how warm he felt… And how peaceful he looked when his eyes were closed…’ I thought to myself in deep reminiscence.
“Hey there Sylvan!”
‘I can’t get it out of my head…! Ugh! I wish it wasn’t just a one time thing…’
“Sylvan?”
‘If we really were together romantically, then maybe I could see that every day… But that’s not–’
“Sylvan!!”
The moment my attention was pulled away from my internal thoughts, I audibly bleated out a high pitched noise of surprise, “Eeep!”
My ears jutted up and my tail straightened like a steel beam. My attention shifted over to my side, where I soon realized Fehnel now stood. She had her paws held firmly on her hips, with a head tilted to the side in a half puzzled, half amused demeanor. Then, when I realized I had been staring a little too long without saying anything, I quickly turned my attention back to the table.
“Oh hey Fehnel!” I stuttered out. “Didn’t see you there!”
“Sorry if I sneaked up on ya, hun,” Fehnel replied with a single wag of the tail. “Got somethin’ on the mind, I’m assumin’?”
The image of Kenta and I huddled together on my couch flashed through my mind once more, before I quickly shook it away. “Uhhhh… Nope! I’m just really focussing here on getting these tamales out.”
“‘Tamales,’ huh?” Fehnel chuckled. “Well between this and that ‘gee-yo-za’ stuff, I think I’m startin’ to give up on predictin’ what crazy name Kahnta’ll come up with next.”
“Yeah it’s pretty… uh–” I coughed awkwardly, clearing something nonexistent out of my throat. “It’s pretty creative.”
“You can say that again. By this point, they’re startin’ to sound almost alien!” Fehnel laughed again, and I cringed as the irony fell over deaf ears. “But hey, who am I to judge! I mean, to me all the stuff on this planet is alien, so what’s another ‘Tamale’ added to the pile, yeah?”
I had to stop my ears and head from shrinking too far towards the ground.
“Anyways, I’m assumin’ these are the actual foods I requested Kahnta to create, right?” Fehnel continued to ask.
“Uh– Y-yeah, yes they ar–” I tried to say before one of Fehnel’s paws suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist.
“Great!” she beamed, before dragging me away into one of the many chatty piles of fluffy wool that constituted our event.
It didn’t take more than a few rushed steps before I was suddenly pulled in front of another Yotul and Venlil, who I did well to recognize immediately. It seemed as though Kadew and Vuilen had arrived, the former of which looking just about as nervous as I had expected. Vuilen, on the other paw, was anything but. Her tail was wagging furiously, almost impossibly giddy with enthusiasm as her ears shifted around a swivel, likely allowing every new smell and sound to pull her attention to and fro.
Fehnel dragged me forward and plopped me down right in front of the two, before saying, “Tell them what you just told me.”
Vuilen leaned forward, bestowing me her full attention, while Kadew remained stationary, only doing as much as to straighten a single, skeptical ear.
“W-well, uh…” I stumbled, before quickly getting my act together. “Among a number of new strayu recipes, the main entree for today’s event is called ‘Tamales.’”
“Oooo!” Vuilen beamed. “What’s that, Lackadaisy guy? It sounds awesome!”
“According to Kahnta, it’s a mix of vegetables folded in a spongy strayu wrap and steamed inside a starchy husk. And…” I tilted my ears towards Kadew, “It’s supposedly a specialty that is designed to be eaten during times of celebration with family. Regardless of whether they be by blood, or found.”
Kadew huffed a short breath, before folding her arms. But before she got the chance to speak, Vuilen’s enthused voice overtook it. The black and white wooled Venlil leaned into her smaller Yotul partner and pulled them into a strong hug.
“Hear that, Dew? It’s like this food was MADE for your Running Day!” Vuilen piped, bouncing up and down like a cub and bringing the now deeply blooming Kadew along for the ride. “Well… I guess it literally was, but you know what I mean! Either way, there’s like a million new kinds of strayu foods here! Can you believe that? I think I even saw some sylvanas over on that table there! Can you even begin to wonder what they taste like? Oh my Sol, I’m so excited!”
Kadew, whose previously unimpressed countenance now had more steam coming out of her ears than the tamales off in the distance, stuttered out her response. “Uh– Uhmm– That’s… that’s great…”
“I know right!” Vuilen squealed. “This is going to be the BEST Running Day ever! I’m so happy for you!”
I couldn’t help but giggle out in response to this, something which Fehnel had long since been doing on her own volition. Unfortunately for Kadew, this did nothing to ease the sheer amount of embarrassment already flying around her dazed face.
“Of course, all guests are free to eat their fill, especially those invited by the Claw’s Lady herself,” I said, before gesturing a paw towards Fehnel. “All of it has been covered in advance by our generous sponsor.”
Vuilen retreated from her hug just as quickly as it had started, twisting her attention back towards Fehnel and I. “Really? I still can’t believe you’re just giving away all this for free!”
She walked towards the two of us, leaving a still dazed Kadew behind her, before rushing to give Fehnel herself another brief hug. “Thank you so much again for organizing something like this, ma’am.”
Fehnel returned the embrace, having nothing but pure pride and joy radiate through her voice. “Of course, hun. I hope you and my daughter enjoy your date.”
“Oh we will!” Vuilen replied quickly, pulling back once again. Just as fast, she began making a beeline for the buffet tables, almost disappearing into the crowd of fellow Venlil fluff before her voice was heard once more. “I’ll be back in a jiffy, Dew! I just gotta try some of this stuff before it’s all gone!”
Before she was out of range, I twisted around, raised a paw up to my mouth, and stood up high to help carry my voice after her. “Don’t forget to save room for dessert!”
Turning back, I joined Fehnel once again in her chuckling. It didn’t take long for Fehnel to comment on the situation now that Vuilen was out of earshot.
She leaned over and gently nudged me in the leg with her tail. “She’s a riot, ain’t she? Does my daughter know how to pick em’, or what?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve seen them together in the diner all the time. Honestly, I’ve been wondering how long it was going to take to knit that scarf,” I commented, referencing one of the more common and romantic Venlil courtship rituals.
“Guys I can HEAR YOU!” Kadew yelped, now seemingly freed of her hug-induced daze.
“Oh hun don’t you worry yourself about us,” Fehnel replied, a slight hum to her voice. “Us adults can’t help but watch the young love bloom.”
“That guy’s barely older than I am!” Kadew shot back, raising a finger to point at me.
I raised two paws in defence, much too similar to the way Kenta does when he’s been caught teasing me. “Hey, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it when I see it. You’re doing great, by the way.”
The teasing, however, had been lost on her. I had meant it in good will, but my words had only served to aggravate Kadew, and she huffed out an annoyed breath. Then, she started stomping rapidly in place, her trained legs moving in a blur like overclocked turbines. From even the briefest glance, I could tell that something had been pulling away at her tail, and our comments were doing it no favours.
“Uhh… are you alright?” I asked tentatively.
“ARGH!” she groaned back. “No! No, I am very much NOT alright! Running Day’s here already, I feel like a pile of speh, my fur’s a mess, and I’m FREAKING THE BRAHK OUT!!”
‘Quite the vocabulary on this one, apparently,’ I judged silently, wondering how my mother would have reacted to hearing me talk like that.
“Honey, Vuilen’s not gonna care about any of that silly stuff,” Fehnel said jovially. “Why, I remember bein’ covered in dried mud the first time I went on a date with your father. We went down to the creek together and took turns tossing water at each other. Then, we went down to the local actin’ house and watched a show. But even after all of that, I still had a bit of dried mud crusted on my fur, but your father didn’t mind. Said it gave me ‘character,’ of all the silly things.”
“Isn’t dried mud just dirt?” I asked.
“Naw, see, dirt is sand, silt, and clay, but it only becomes mud when it has a higher content of clay.”
“So then what happens when dirt gets wet but doesn’t have a lot of clay?”
“Wet dirt.”
“Ah.”
“WHAT ARE YOU BRAHKING TALKING ABOUT!?” Kadew squealed in a panic, her stomping had not ceased in the slightest. She threw her paws up and pulled her ears down over her eyes. “Dirt and mud! That’s all that we Yotul talk about apparently! And trains! Can’t forget the brahking trains! Stars above, that’s all people ever say!”
“Trains are cool,” I said indifferently.
“I don’t care!” she huffed, before turning to Fehnel. “Mom. What if Vuilen comes back and sees you talking about dirt? She’ll just see that it’s the only thing a primitive uplift is capable of understanding! Do you really want to prove her right?”
Fehnel looked shocked, but replied nonetheless. “Has… she said something like that before?”
“Well…! No…! But…” Kadew stomped again. “She might, okay!? Especially if she sees you actively talking about it!”
“To be fair, I asked,” I replied. “Besides, Vuilen seems like a smart girl. She wouldn’t make a rash assumption about the Yotul based off some random remark. Relationships are stronger than that. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“What do you know about it!?” Kadew shot back, releasing her ears and letting them perk up to max height. “Unless I missed something, I don’t see you dating any other Venlil in that restaurant of yours! How do you know if any of this is fine!?”
Fehnel’s voice soured immediately. “Kadew! That is no way to talk to our new business partner! He was just tryin’ to help! Apologize this instant!”
Realizing something had shifted without my notice, I tried to mellow my voice in an attempt to calm the situation down. “Oh, that won’t be necessar–”
“No,” Fehnel interrupted. “I refuse to let my daughter be rude to anyone. We might not have much, but we at least have manners.” She turned her attention back to her daughter. “Kadew, if you have a problem, then I want you to tell me about it. If there’s somethin’ we can do to help, then–”
“No no, it’s not…” Kadew replied, bringing two fingers up to pinch the bridge of her snout. “It’s not that…”
“It’s not what?” Fehnel tried to guess. “It’s with Vuilen, isn’t it? You’re afraid she’ll not be able to appreciate the Runnin’ Day? Listen, I know this isn’t Leirn, but Sylvan and I are kickin’ our hardest to make it special for you regardless. Sure, it’s not the most traditional, but I’m sure Vuilen won’t mind! I understand that livin’ on a new planet is taxin’, the gravity here especially, but as foreigners it’s our job to show these nice people where we come from. We’re Yotul, and nothin’ will change that!”
“Mom…” Kadew grunted back, before taking a deep breath.
Before she could speak, Fehnel continued with a proud wag to her tail. “Do you remember what a Runnin’ Day is all about, Kadew? It’s about all the cubs that came of age that year comin’ together and sayin’ that they’ll be fine by themselves. But it’s also about family. It’s about knowin’ that no matter where you run off to, I’ll be there to support you. But you’re makin’ it real hard to do that every time you don’t tell me what the matter is! And if you don’t, how can I make this Runnin’ Day the best it can–”
“But it’s not a Running Day, is it!” Kadew yelled, instantly shutting Fehnel up.
Her mother stared forward blankly, stumbling over a few unclear words. “Wh-what do you…”
“It’s not a Running Day!” Kadew repeated. “It’s not! I mean look around you!” She lifted her arms up dramatically, motioning towards the crowds of unaware Venlil around us. “We’re the only Yotul here! We’re the only two people that even know what a Running Day is, and I’m pretty sure we’re the only people that care!”
I tried to speak, “Umm… I know what a Running Day i–” but the look of animosity Kadew immediately shot my way gave me Jeela flashbacks, and I shut up just as quick.
“Kadew… Hun, that’s not true,” Fehnel tried to defend. “I’m sure they’d be willing to open their minds if we just–”
“What? Tell them all about how great it is to come from an Uplift planet? Talk about brahking DIRT some more!? Careful there Mom, don’t want to spoil their meal!” Kadew continued her berating. “Because you and I both know that the only reason anyone even showed up to this thing is because of that guy’s food!” Another finger was shot out in my direction. “Even you know there’s nothing special about your stupid Uplift culture! There’s nothing here even remotely related to the Yotul! It’s all just Venlil decorations and Venlil food, for our solely Venlil guests! And look!!” She pointed directly at the statue Jeela had placed as the centerpiece. “They have a statue of a Venlil as the center of everything! It’s the star attraction, not us! They couldn’t give a damn about me or Running Day or our culture or… or anything!”
Fehnel appeared to be on the verge of tears.
“And now I’ve got to find some kind of excuse for all this!” Kadew added. “It’s bad enough I had to drag Vuilen into pretending to care about the Yotul. But now the entire town is a part of it too! They’re laughing at us, Mom! Just like at school! Just like everywhere else I go! They’re laughing at us and you’re proud about it!”
From the verge of tears, Fehnel’s voice had croaked into a soft weep. A glimmering stream of water had begun to crawl down the ridge of her rust-coloured face.
“I hate being born a Yotul! I hate this gross, rusty fur! I hate everyone thinking I’m primitive and that I must be in love with trains and steam engines! And I hate you trying to push your culture on me! Cause guess what? I’ve never even seen Leirn! It’s NOT my home and you need to stop pretending it is!”
Fehnel stood simply aghast, the occasional choked-up garble of sounds emerging from her throat. Meanwhile, I stood speechless as well. Obviously, I had accidentally walked in on and been exposed to something that had been going on for quite a while. But even worse, it seems as though I had done nothing but fanned the flame of this long-fueled fire. Instinctively, I began taking a few steps back to give the two their space, which went unnoticed by either party.
Fehnel swallowed, her eyes still welling tears. “I… I…” she tried to say, but no words would form. Instead, she choked on her own voice. And Kadew, who stood waiting for a response, sucked in heavy loads of air in the fleeting hope to catch her breath.
But instead of an answer, all that any of us heard was a scream.
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My second to last quarter just ended and I'm pretty swamped with final reports right now, but I'm almost through. Not to mention, the next seven weeks are going to be pretty light because of a sudden lack of classes, since I busted my butt finishing up my remaining credits. I've decided to dedicate this time to (among other things) a writing frenzy! I wanna get some serioussss backlogs up because who knows how busy I'm going to be after graduation. (Not to mention, I'm having some troubles getting my VISA renewed, but that's a personal issue).
Anyways, don't wanna bore you with irl stuff. You're here for food and gay furry romance! So as always, I hope you enjoy reading! :D
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Thank you to Philodox on discord for proofreading and editing RfD.
Thank you to Pampanope on reddit for the cover art.
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Memory Transcript Subject: Sylvan, Venlil Citizen
Date: [Standardized Human Time]: December 13, 2136
​
It wasn’t too long that I was absent from the event. Sure, Kenta and I had run into a few hiccups when trying to load up the cart, but that was to be expected. Just looking at the absolute behemoth of an edible pile that he had somehow been able to put together in such a short amount of time, it was a wonder just how we were able to fit them all on there in the first place. And the promise that there was still more yet to be brought out had left me astonished. If I hadn’t already seen the ravenous vortex of Venlil that had so efficiently done away with the other dishes, I might have actually been worried about leftovers.
The food in question, long tubes made out of some kind of starchy form of strayu and packaged in an even starchier husk, were stacked in circular pyramids atop three large trays. As it turned out, this delicacy was the same “Tamale” recipe that I had heard mentioned the day before, the sheer amount being the product of Kenta’s, Julio’s, and even Jeela’s preparations. Unfortunately, I hadn’t received the full explanation of what they were just yet, but Kenta had thankfully given me at least a quick rundown.
Using the same steaming methods as the gyoza, these tamales had been folded carefully over a mix of fresh, crisp vegetables whose scent floated around each in a rich aura. They were hot out of the steamer, a cloud of gaseous water encircling the air above it in a decadent plume. If I hadn’t known better, with the combined mass of the tamales and the sheer volume of steam they collectively released, it might have made me believe the cart itself to be on fire. But of course, there was no such thing, and the cloud that spread into the sky only served to sweeten the air.
As I rolled out the cart, I looked at one last addition to the ensemble. There in a large bowl was something that Kenta hadn’t mentioned in the slightest when explaining the recipe and reasonings behind the tamales, and I had been so urgent to get these out the door that I’d forgotten to press for more details. It had been left in the refrigerator since the day before, which I had only noticed when doing inventory after the fiasco of event preparations.
‘It completely slipped my mind until now… I’m glad I didn’t forget it. Especially after what that note said.’
When I had found the bowl, a small piece of paper had been taped to it. On which, an alien text had been inscribed that required me to use my visual translator to make any sense of. It had been nothing but obvious that holding up the translator informed me that the language was indeed Terran. But what confused me was that instead of the morphemic script that I had come to slightly recognize from Kenta’s subculture, it instead appeared to be something more alphabetic.
On it, the note simply read: “Make sure to serve this with the tamales, my friend. Don’t forget!”
Additionally, below those words had appeared to be an additional message. That one, however, was partially scribbled out. When I scanned that one as well, the translator had taken a long time to process, and its output remained considerably fractured: “**od l*ck wit* y*u* n*w boyf***nd.”
Having not thought much of the note, I had just barely remembered to retrieve the bowl from the fridge and put it on the card while Kenta was off busy grabbing one last batch of tamales before rushing me out the door. I shook it out of my mind for the time being. After all, right now there were more pressing things to manage.
Wheeling the cart back outside, I was hit with the briefest shortage of breath. It had only been a momentary respite, but shifting from the quiet of the empty diner to the lively atmosphere of a crowded party would never not be a shock. By now, enough people had shown up that the event could already be considered at max capacity. People from all over filled the street, chatting and conversing in a rambunctious, lively gusto.
To see so many people take the time out of their schedules and come down to my family’s diner just because of the promise of our food… It was almost overwhelming, enough to bring a brief tear to the eye reminiscent of my reaction to that very first wave of people Ginro had brought soon after I first hired Kenta. I took a moment just to bask in it. A feeling I had all but begun to grow almost too accustomed to. A feeling of success, and of pride. And as I once again continued pushing the cart past the crowds of chatty party attendees, along with the piles of wool that it entailed, that feeling continued to pour into me. It was all almost too much to hear at once.
“Hey Sylvan! Great party!” said one voice to my left.
“Amazing food as always, Lackadaisy guy! I can’t get enough of these little strayu things in the salad!” piped another to my right.
“Ooooo! What are those things?” asked one more as I passed by them, who excitedly eyed up the stack of tamales I was delivering.
I laughed along and chatted with people on my way to one of the tables, chuckling at their jokes and accepting their praise on behalf of both myself and the mysterious ‘Kahnta.’ With each pleased guest and hungry gaze, I couldn’t help but feel myself bloom in sheer joy at the tidal wave of enthusiastic complements.
That was… until one otherwise innocent comment sounded from behind me.
“So you’re telling me this was all made by one chef?” they asked one of their friends, not intending me to hear as they talked with their mouth half stuffed with food. Looking closer, I could see that they were two Gojids chatting with one another. “Better enjoy it now, I guess. Not gonna be long before some fancy place in the Capital comes and recruits them. Honestly, if the owner of this place wants to have any hope of holding on to them, he better marry them or something.”
The partygoer’s friend laughed, “Well if he doesn’t, then I will! Can you imagine eating something like this every day?”
I couldn’t help but bloom even more overhearing this. But this was a different kind of feeling. Not the gentle warmth of normal delight, but instead the torrid heat of surging emotions. And as I began nonchalantly transferring the steaming tamales to one of the tables, these emotions steamed to the surface of my mind as well.
It was a mix of things that fueled my silent reaction. At first, the implication of asking Kenta into matehood was… well it was certainly something. I was sure the two Gojids were simply making innocent remarks, assuming that the lie about my precious chef being another, completely ordinary Venlil was correct, not realizing in the slightest just how much the implication left me flummoxed. And in normal circumstances, it would have been just that, a simple perk of the ears and a brief daydream of something so far away from me. But after yesterday, things had changed.
The previous day had been eventful, to say the least. I had eaten some amazing pastries and listened to an even more amazing alien melody. Only for it all to come crashing down when my idiotic brain forgot to turn back on the translator before pouring out my entire menagerie of pent up emotions before Kenta. My one chance to seize an opportunity at the height of a courageous high, only to tumble and fall flat during the execution. Even worse, I couldn’t muster the bravery to say the same thing even one more time.
I had completely blown it. And needless to say, I wasn’t exactly keen on remembering my mistakes from that previous day, especially during such a pivotal event. The only mediocre condolence I could take from the whole ordeal being the opportunity of waking up next to Kenta that same day. But even that was cut much too short by the mad rush to get preparation ready for the event.
‘I can still remember how warm he felt… And how peaceful he looked when his eyes were closed…’ I thought to myself in deep reminiscence.
“Hey there Sylvan!”
‘I can’t get it out of my head…! Ugh! I wish it wasn’t just a one time thing…’
“Sylvan?”
‘If we really were together romantically, then maybe I could see that every day… But that’s not–’
“Sylvan!!”
The moment my attention was pulled away from my internal thoughts, I audibly bleated out a high pitched noise of surprise, “Eeep!”
My ears jutted up and my tail straightened like a steel beam. My attention shifted over to my side, where I soon realized Fehnel now stood. She had her paws held firmly on her hips, with a head tilted to the side in a half puzzled, half amused demeanor. Then, when I realized I had been staring a little too long without saying anything, I quickly turned my attention back to the table.
“Oh hey Fehnel!” I stuttered out. “Didn’t see you there!”
“Sorry if I sneaked up on ya, hun,” Fehnel replied with a single wag of the tail. “Got somethin’ on the mind, I’m assumin’?”
The image of Kenta and I huddled together on my couch flashed through my mind once more, before I quickly shook it away. “Uhhhh… Nope! I’m just really focussing here on getting these tamales out.”
“‘Tamales,’ huh?” Fehnel chuckled. “Well between this and that ‘gee-yo-za’ stuff, I think I’m startin’ to give up on predictin’ what crazy name Kahnta’ll come up with next.”
“Yeah it’s pretty… uh–” I coughed awkwardly, clearing something nonexistent out of my throat. “It’s pretty creative.”
“You can say that again. By this point, they’re startin’ to sound almost alien!” Fehnel laughed again, and I cringed as the irony fell over deaf ears. “But hey, who am I to judge! I mean, to me all the stuff on this planet is alien, so what’s another ‘Tamale’ added to the pile, yeah?”
I had to stop my ears and head from shrinking too far towards the ground.
“Anyways, I’m assumin’ these are the actual foods I requested Kahnta to create, right?” Fehnel continued to ask.
“Uh– Y-yeah, yes they ar–” I tried to say before one of Fehnel’s paws suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist.
“Great!” she beamed, before dragging me away into one of the many chatty piles of fluffy wool that constituted our event.
It didn’t take more than a few rushed steps before I was suddenly pulled in front of another Yotul and Venlil, who I did well to recognize immediately. It seemed as though Kadew and Vuilen had arrived, the former of which looking just about as nervous as I had expected. Vuilen, on the other paw, was anything but. Her tail was wagging furiously, almost impossibly giddy with enthusiasm as her ears shifted around a swivel, likely allowing every new smell and sound to pull her attention to and fro.
Fehnel dragged me forward and plopped me down right in front of the two, before saying, “Tell them what you just told me.”
Vuilen leaned forward, bestowing me her full attention, while Kadew remained stationary, only doing as much as to straighten a single, skeptical ear.
“W-well, uh…” I stumbled, before quickly getting my act together. “Among a number of new strayu recipes, the main entree for today’s event is called ‘Tamales.’”
“Oooo!” Vuilen beamed. “What’s that, Lackadaisy guy? It sounds awesome!”
“According to Kahnta, it’s a mix of vegetables folded in a spongy strayu wrap and steamed inside a starchy husk. And…” I tilted my ears towards Kadew, “It’s supposedly a specialty that is designed to be eaten during times of celebration with family. Regardless of whether they be by blood, or found.”
Kadew huffed a short breath, before folding her arms. But before she got the chance to speak, Vuilen’s enthused voice overtook it. The black and white wooled Venlil leaned into her smaller Yotul partner and pulled them into a strong hug.
“Hear that, Dew? It’s like this food was MADE for your Running Day!” Vuilen piped, bouncing up and down like a cub and bringing the now deeply blooming Kadew along for the ride. “Well… I guess it literally was, but you know what I mean! Either way, there’s like a million new kinds of strayu foods here! Can you believe that? I think I even saw some sylvanas over on that table there! Can you even begin to wonder what they taste like? Oh my Sol, I’m so excited!”
Kadew, whose previously unimpressed countenance now had more steam coming out of her ears than the tamales off in the distance, stuttered out her response. “Uh– Uhmm– That’s… that’s great…”
“I know right!” Vuilen squealed. “This is going to be the BEST Running Day ever! I’m so happy for you!”
I couldn’t help but giggle out in response to this, something which Fehnel had long since been doing on her own volition. Unfortunately for Kadew, this did nothing to ease the sheer amount of embarrassment already flying around her dazed face.
“Of course, all guests are free to eat their fill, especially those invited by the Claw’s Lady herself,” I said, before gesturing a paw towards Fehnel. “All of it has been covered in advance by our generous sponsor.”
Vuilen retreated from her hug just as quickly as it had started, twisting her attention back towards Fehnel and I. “Really? I still can’t believe you’re just giving away all this for free!”
She walked towards the two of us, leaving a still dazed Kadew behind her, before rushing to give Fehnel herself another brief hug. “Thank you so much again for organizing something like this, ma’am.”
Fehnel returned the embrace, having nothing but pure pride and joy radiate through her voice. “Of course, hun. I hope you and my daughter enjoy your date.”
“Oh we will!” Vuilen replied quickly, pulling back once again. Just as fast, she began making a beeline for the buffet tables, almost disappearing into the crowd of fellow Venlil fluff before her voice was heard once more. “I’ll be back in a jiffy, Dew! I just gotta try some of this stuff before it’s all gone!”
Before she was out of range, I twisted around, raised a paw up to my mouth, and stood up high to help carry my voice after her. “Don’t forget to save room for dessert!”
Turning back, I joined Fehnel once again in her chuckling. It didn’t take long for Fehnel to comment on the situation now that Vuilen was out of earshot.
She leaned over and gently nudged me in the leg with her tail. “She’s a riot, ain’t she? Does my daughter know how to pick em’, or what?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve seen them together in the diner all the time. Honestly, I’ve been wondering how long it was going to take to knit that scarf,” I commented, referencing one of the more common and romantic Venlil courtship rituals.
“Guys I can HEAR YOU!” Kadew yelped, now seemingly freed of her hug-induced daze.
“Oh hun don’t you worry yourself about us,” Fehnel replied, a slight hum to her voice. “Us adults can’t help but watch the young love bloom.”
“That guy’s barely older than I am!” Kadew shot back, raising a finger to point at me.
I raised two paws in defence, much too similar to the way Kenta does when he’s been caught teasing me. “Hey, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it when I see it. You’re doing great, by the way.”
The teasing, however, had been lost on her. I had meant it in good will, but my words had only served to aggravate Kadew, and she huffed out an annoyed breath. Then, she started stomping rapidly in place, her trained legs moving in a blur like overclocked turbines. From even the briefest glance, I could tell that something had been pulling away at her tail, and our comments were doing it no favours.
“Uhh… are you alright?” I asked tentatively.
“ARGH!” she groaned back. “No! No, I am very much NOT alright! Running Day’s here already, I feel like a pile of speh, my fur’s a mess, and I’m FREAKING THE BRAHK OUT!!”
‘Quite the vocabulary on this one, apparently,’ I judged silently, wondering how my mother would have reacted to hearing me talk like that.
“Honey, Vuilen’s not gonna care about any of that silly stuff,” Fehnel said jovially. “Why, I remember bein’ covered in dried mud the first time I went on a date with your father. We went down to the creek together and took turns tossing water at each other. Then, we went down to the local actin’ house and watched a show. But even after all of that, I still had a bit of dried mud crusted on my fur, but your father didn’t mind. Said it gave me ‘character,’ of all the silly things.”
“Isn’t dried mud just dirt?” I asked.
“Naw, see, dirt is sand, silt, and clay, but it only becomes mud when it has a higher content of clay.”
“So then what happens when dirt gets wet but doesn’t have a lot of clay?”
“Wet dirt.”
“Ah.”
“WHAT ARE YOU BRAHKING TALKING ABOUT!?” Kadew squealed in a panic, her stomping had not ceased in the slightest. She threw her paws up and pulled her ears down over her eyes. “Dirt and mud! That’s all that we Yotul talk about apparently! And trains! Can’t forget the brahking trains! Stars above, that’s all people ever say!”
“Trains are cool,” I said indifferently.
“I don’t care!” she huffed, before turning to Fehnel. “Mom. What if Vuilen comes back and sees you talking about dirt? She’ll just see that it’s the only thing a primitive uplift is capable of understanding! Do you really want to prove her right?”
Fehnel looked shocked, but replied nonetheless. “Has… she said something like that before?”
“Well…! No…! But…” Kadew stomped again. “She might, okay!? Especially if she sees you actively talking about it!”
“To be fair, I asked,” I replied. “Besides, Vuilen seems like a smart girl. She wouldn’t make a rash assumption about the Yotul based off some random remark. Relationships are stronger than that. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“What do you know about it!?” Kadew shot back, releasing her ears and letting them perk up to max height. “Unless I missed something, I don’t see you dating any other Venlil in that restaurant of yours! How do you know if any of this is fine!?”
Fehnel’s voice soured immediately. “Kadew! That is no way to talk to our new business partner! He was just tryin’ to help! Apologize this instant!”
Realizing something had shifted without my notice, I tried to mellow my voice in an attempt to calm the situation down. “Oh, that won’t be necessar–”
“No,” Fehnel interrupted. “I refuse to let my daughter be rude to anyone. We might not have much, but we at least have manners.” She turned her attention back to her daughter. “Kadew, if you have a problem, then I want you to tell me about it. If there’s somethin’ we can do to help, then–”
“No no, it’s not…” Kadew replied, bringing two fingers up to pinch the bridge of her snout. “It’s not that…”
“It’s not what?” Fehnel tried to guess. “It’s with Vuilen, isn’t it? You’re afraid she’ll not be able to appreciate the Runnin’ Day? Listen, I know this isn’t Leirn, but Sylvan and I are kickin’ our hardest to make it special for you regardless. Sure, it’s not the most traditional, but I’m sure Vuilen won’t mind! I understand that livin’ on a new planet is taxin’, the gravity here especially, but as foreigners it’s our job to show these nice people where we come from. We’re Yotul, and nothin’ will change that!”
“Mom…” Kadew grunted back, before taking a deep breath.
Before she could speak, Fehnel continued with a proud wag to her tail. “Do you remember what a Runnin’ Day is all about, Kadew? It’s about all the cubs that came of age that year comin’ together and sayin’ that they’ll be fine by themselves. But it’s also about family. It’s about knowin’ that no matter where you run off to, I’ll be there to support you. But you’re makin’ it real hard to do that every time you don’t tell me what the matter is! And if you don’t, how can I make this Runnin’ Day the best it can–”
“But it’s not a Running Day, is it!” Kadew yelled, instantly shutting Fehnel up.
Her mother stared forward blankly, stumbling over a few unclear words. “Wh-what do you…”
“It’s not a Running Day!” Kadew repeated. “It’s not! I mean look around you!” She lifted her arms up dramatically, motioning towards the crowds of unaware Venlil around us. “We’re the only Yotul here! We’re the only two people that even know what a Running Day is, and I’m pretty sure we’re the only people that care!”
I tried to speak, “Umm… I know what a Running Day i–” but the look of animosity Kadew immediately shot my way gave me Jeela flashbacks, and I shut up just as quick.
“Kadew… Hun, that’s not true,” Fehnel tried to defend. “I’m sure they’d be willing to open their minds if we just–”
“What? Tell them all about how great it is to come from an Uplift planet? Talk about brahking DIRT some more!? Careful there Mom, don’t want to spoil their meal!” Kadew continued her berating. “Because you and I both know that the only reason anyone even showed up to this thing is because of that guy’s food!” Another finger was shot out in my direction. “Even you know there’s nothing special about your stupid Uplift culture! There’s nothing here even remotely related to the Yotul! It’s all just Venlil decorations and Venlil food, for our solely Venlil guests! And look!!” She pointed directly at the statue Jeela had placed as the centerpiece. “They have a statue of a Venlil as the center of everything! It’s the star attraction, not us! They couldn’t give a damn about me or Running Day or our culture or… or anything!”
Fehnel appeared to be on the verge of tears.
“And now I’ve got to find some kind of excuse for all this!” Kadew added. “It’s bad enough I had to drag Vuilen into pretending to care about the Yotul. But now the entire town is a part of it too! They’re laughing at us, Mom! Just like at school! Just like everywhere else I go! They’re laughing at us and you’re proud about it!”
From the verge of tears, Fehnel’s voice had croaked into a soft weep. A glimmering stream of water had begun to crawl down the ridge of her rust-coloured face.
“I hate being born a Yotul! I hate this gross, rusty fur! I hate everyone thinking I’m primitive and that I must be in love with trains and steam engines! And I hate you trying to push your culture on me! Cause guess what? I’ve never even seen Leirn! It’s NOT my home and you need to stop pretending it is!”
Fehnel stood simply aghast, the occasional choked-up garble of sounds emerging from her throat. Meanwhile, I stood speechless as well. Obviously, I had accidentally walked in on and been exposed to something that had been going on for quite a while. But even worse, it seems as though I had done nothing but fanned the flame of this long-fueled fire. Instinctively, I began taking a few steps back to give the two their space, which went unnoticed by either party.
Fehnel swallowed, her eyes still welling tears. “I… I…” she tried to say, but no words would form. Instead, she choked on her own voice. And Kadew, who stood waiting for a response, sucked in heavy loads of air in the fleeting hope to catch her breath.
But instead of an answer, all that any of us heard was a scream.
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A corridor leading out of Kaidō's Mansion, Skull dome 

Kaidō's office 

Yūfu river, at the edge of Kombu 

25 years ago, servants' quarters, Nori castle, the Flower Capital 

Oniwabanshu Commander "Sergeant" MURASAKI Greatest ninja in Wano Personal bodyguard of shogun Sukiyaki 

Kurozumi clan 黒炭 茅蜩 (KUROZUMI HIGURASHI) Orochi's great grandmother 悪魔の実: Mane Mane no Mi (paramecia) 

Currently... 

Outskirts of the Flower capital, Kombu 

Lately, in these 6 moths when I get my period I have such intense feelings and epiphanies during the PMS for 2weeks. It's like coming down into my body and feeling everything, all the pain of this world, relieving my past over and over again, whining and crying for it feeling like I've never healed and guilty for everything I've did and so on. These are periods guys, and they're harsh. Lately I've got a feeling to get interested in a particular topic of astrology, North Node and South Node and after some research and following my bleeding gut in this period (is like I'm connected with my Higher self and I'll tell you why) I've discovered that I have North Node in Virgo in the 12th house and South Node in Pisces in the 6th house which is, Jesus Christ, completely fucked up, I have to basically master the both worlds, to bring balance by rationalizing the spiritual into material while still being on service to others and loving everything. ( For the ones that don't know, the North Node sign is supposed to be your mission here on earth taking on the characteristics of that particular zodiac sign and the South Node is supposed to be the gifts you've been entering this life with from your previous life but also a comfort zone. The thing is that they'll slow your development here but no need to get rid of them, but that's the comfort zone and it's what should be overcomed with the help of North Node to achieve your mission). For me, I'm living it right now, I'm going into my psyche and sub/unconsciousness and analyze, clean, order and understand like a Virgo would do and try not to sacrifice myself and get lost all over the place with escape tendencies as Pisces would do, being very hard for me to implement routine and understand and go with the flow of the mundane. All for this to understand myself and through healing, be at service for myself first , and others in a healthy way. Basically this sums up coming into this world like a Pisces: being in my own little word since I was a kid and so loving with everyone. I've always wanted to help people and this would made me so happy, donated money, helped friends with money, bought many things for mom and so on. Seems that made me very appealing for narcissistic abuse later on. I've always loved animals and nature. My forest was my second home, I've loved art and beauty and I still do, I've been into spirituality and occult concepts since teenage hood. I've felt keep coming all these ancestral informations, even now when I get my periods is like a sudden download of epiphanies and realizations, things that I've been feeling that I know for ages. I've also had my escape period through drugs, alcohol and narcs relationships but in the same time guys, I was so determined to achieve whatever I've put my mind to. I've finished college with almost 10 or A, I've checked on 9 countries up till now, of which 5 visited (2 alone), 1 studied in, 3 worked in. I've met so many cultures, connected so deep with each of these people abroad, I've worked my head, heart and body off on every job I've had in the end quitting because of burnout, very f time , I've successfully managed on my own in this weird world with 0 friends.. each person I would've consider friend would fade away when he/she couldn't take something from me so yeah..look at me now trying to organize and make sense of my life and navigate through the hard times and pick me up and make a life for myself like I've never had. 

First of all let me start with thanking for Reddit that exists and it's so raw and genuine in helping and understanding that everyone's lives, experiences, kinks, perspectives etc are different while taking time to empathize and leave a piece of advice for anyone. It's cheaper and more genuine than any therapy session.
I am trying hard to be practical in storytelling the experience I'm going through right now and I will start with the main issue that pushed me to write this in the first place: my experience after cutting contact for 6 months with my narcissistic mother; following 2 other topics that I'm addressing representing my "tools" that I use to deal with the reality I'm living now meaning -astrology (to connect the dots behind my psyche and understanding my pattern here on earth) and - LSD as a subsequent tool to heal for which I am not sure yet to use in this case, and I will tell you why anyway and all about it now. I'll just break it down in 3 big chunks named by the community I'm interested receiving advice from to be easier to follow and adviced on. They're interconnected so I'm kinda sorry for the /LSD and /astrology communities for having to go through all of that but it is what it takes. Please don't refrain from giving advice if you have knowledge or experience with more than one community, like give me advice from both combined if it makes sense? Anyway I'll let my soul free and I'll ask a series of questions for each community at the end.
/Raisedbynarcissists community here
Alright so basically I cut contact with my narcissistic mom for 6 months after she had a tantrum after I broke the key of my door in the door because she came after me to yell and stuff, never respecting my privacy I had to lock the door to calm down and keep her away and then she threw me out of the house basically on the reason that's her house and I am not allowed to break anything..pretty good start huh? Haha and I am in this period of my life where I'm floating and I am trying to understand if this is a good path to healing or just another ego death that I'm not aware of it happening. I'm 26F mother is 70 now, I'm just me and her no siblings, father passed away 4 yrs ago. It always been that household full of fights because of my dad drinking alcohol since I was 6 and money and proving who has the strongest point between their rock heads. Mom been through a lot when young, that's what she would tell me to make me forgive for all the shitty character she would have. I empathized with her, A LOT, I've been her puppet. "Listen to me, act nice, have manners, don't speak when I speak, better not speak at all and give me all the credit for what a wonderful mom I am because I deserve cuz I've been through such hard childhood and "sacrificing" myself not breaking up with your alcoholic dad for you to have a dad because mine left me at 2 yrs old" - kinda sums her up. Dad was just a quiet guy that I regret for not getting to know him more because I wished him death ..and it happened as I've pictured few years back..in a car accident in the front of my house.. because my mom turned me so bad against him victimizing herself and all that stuff that I had to feel mercy on her and go all against him for being such an alcoholic and make us feel like shit (at least he never beat us) but since I was 6yrs till 6 months before he passed away, he drinked all day all night and fought with mom and everything. I regret so fucking much he dying and actually with few months in before happening , I was getting along very well with him. Both of them had cancer, mom breast, dad prostate and exactly in that period one of my biggest dreams was about to become true. Been accepted with Erasmus in Belgium (failed 2ice in before) experience which I've accepted so happily and being so bad ashamed of afterwards by my mom because "I left both of them sick home". But what could I have done?? they were under treatment going well. Anyway, in the middle of my Erasmus experience, a drunk guy crashed in their car parked in the front of our house. Dad died after one month, mom had multiple injuries and such but she escaped from everything including cancer but not narcissism, the irony. I had to quit my experience and come back home, stay with her and everything. Would be more to storytell but from here her narcissist character took over me without realizing. Because I lived with an narcissistic mother and and alcoholic dad of course I've been In toxic relationships where I've been manipulated and had all sorts of narcissistic partners, I gave my everything I ever wanted to receive back, they took advantage and left. I've also had my drugs period, experiencing and everything but clean now for about 2 years. I felt like if I was about to use few more months, I'd go down the rabbit hole without return ticket. I liked to experience, a little bit of each, to drift away from reality. Of course I developed the people pleaser syndrome, feeling hard to say no, being always open and vulnerable thinking I'll receive the same back and everything, the typical aftermath of this household abuse. I've read a lot about narcissist parents when I cut contact with her few months ago, I was in such a dark period at that time that I was ready and assumed to set the world on fire just because I had to go through this. Breaking up with narcissistic parents who make you mentality dependable on them for 25yrs, is fucking hard. Harder is to clean your blurry lenses and see the ugly behind and cope with the reality, that's what I did after moving out alone and having a new job far from home. I'm not strange from this, I can manage easily on my own but this issue put a lot of weight on my shoulders and I had to disecate it so much in the past months to get the best and heal the f out of myself. Mentally I did the work but I still transit that period when I'm still coping with accepting the reality of being in such trauma for 20+ yrs. I feel stuck and I need to get out of this with a routine, the permanent healthy way. I've had this in the past and kept me on the verge but I feel like this time besides the fact that it's so hard to reinforce, something still keeps me down in this mental turmoil to analyze and over analyze ways of getting out, before actually getting out. Before concluding that the idea of routine would be the healthiest way to keep me on track I will storytell you a bit about my little BDSM - domme period of 3 months earlier this year. Nice and healing way, somehow, to cope with the idea of narcissist abuse rather thank killing someone out of anger, now that I look back haha. So I moved out in December and in January I've randomly got this urge to get interested into dominant women, dominatrix and making men submissive eventually pegging them would've been my biggest revenge. Why? Because going backwards a bit, moving out in such anger and rush made all my traumas, when I've been in relationships with narcissistic partners, explode on top of that the current one with my mom. Not saying that the last job I've had, the boss was again a fucking narcissist taking advantage of my hardworking and overachieving nature, fucking me up with money and everything . Instead of praise, I've never been good enough no matter how hard I'd try. He read me, he used me, that's it, another one but now in a profesionall framework. Anyway, all of these made me step on the idea of narcisist with my heels and PVC dresses and floggers in my hands. I joined in a kink community, been to workshops, did my research and study A LOT, took part in my 1st play as a submissive with the promise that it's going to be the last time in this position just to know how my future slaves would feel haha (a good dome should have empathy though haha) and the 2nd play where I've been dominant from A to Z and I could release all my anger and turmoil but in a nice way. Everything's been safe and with consensus, in the front of dozens of people under the eyes of organizers (and let me show respect here for all of my BDSM fellows and communities for trying so hard to remove the stigma in such educational manner) but guess what, it was just a phase and after that I've got so sick physically, been on antibiotics and I've recovered but I can't feel going back even if I want to, nothing drags me back in that state of mind to be a domme but I really thought at that point I'll make out a career out of this and low-key I am angry that I couldn't hold that determination that I've had at that point up to present moment. (Here's a question though..why? Why I couldn't hold onto that power anymore? It gave me power it helped me so much bringing all my pieces together and etc..) Somehow this sickness felt like cleaned me for good of that phase. Fast forward back to our routine, I feel like being a domme wasn't for me and I need to stick to a routine and find the motivation to not lose myself in such harsh extremes. Guys, I never knew how hard is the lesson of balance and patience. Like .. balance the extremes girl.. and now, that BDSM moment of mine healed me in a safe way, somehow build up on my character and slowly strengthened me, now I can cut you with my sight if you do me wrong or you don't understand my fucking boundaries or you disrespect me in any way, I don't have fear of public anymore and I can cut of men easily when they're getting too close in a way that I feel threatening, I still miss the power I've had.. The problem is I kinda lost social skills in these 6 months and I was working for the first time full night shifts (23-7) and this shifted me mentally, made me isolate from the world outside and inside. It's so peaceful though to go out when the city goes to sleep and come back home and sleep when the city wakes up, it's something different that helped my introspection. Today is going to be my last day, I mean night at this current job I've had since I've moved out and I said to myself "no more night shifts", it became very difficult to manage the sleeping, the eating, the thinking.. I'm proud I did it so well though and in 7 days I'll start a new job elsewhere, same thing but day shift. I felt the need to change, to shift, to implement all these lessons on the daylight if you understand haha, to reintegrate into the society after 6 dark months of.. everything. Now I have a feeling of 2 choices, in these 7 days I want to take my time to rest and recharge but somehow do something meaningful to close some cheapers and here is where I am not decided and I need your help.

1. Go home for few days under the pretext that I want to change some clothes from winter to summer and see how's going to be the interaction with my mom after no contact, and stay strong and gray rock and not reacting and just analysing how's she like after all this time and see if there's anything to be "saved" from the relationship or just move on and keep the distance. And another reason to go is because someone told me recently that "you'd better go and see her sooner than later when you'll regret, who knows what's happening. Don't make it too late, go and face it". The thing is.. I feel like I betrayed my dad for going against him and I didn't get to see him ever again to make peace or to chat with him before leaving with Erasmus so.. I don't know, even though I'm so raged up against my mom, I can't have this feeling too on my shoulders I'm barely moving on and healing from the rest of the things.

/LSD community here

1. Do acid and contemplate about everything with the risk of melting my ego away and making me forgive her and going back into the phase of accepting and everything because in the end "we're all one in a big cosmic dance and Love's what's healing" - I haven't mastered the control of my thoughts on the aftereffect of the acid and I hope it won't ruin all my healing. But as I am aware of the fact I don't want that and I need to hold my horses, you know, acid is... just let yourself go. I have to say that in my past trips I've had 4 of them, and 1/4 of tab each time, still pretty afraid to do more considering the traumas I've been through and who knows why it's bringing to the surface. Now, I have an orange star microdot that I want to take alone. As for the feeling, everytime I took acid I had this wholesome feeling as described above, we're all one and love is thriving and I'd daydream to live in such utopian world but unfortunately duality is real and reality is harsh, we have to accept and to live the both sides of the coin; as I said, hard to master coming off acid and keeps me still in this utopian vibe and easy to be vulnerable in this fucked up world. My purpose and intention is to integrate the lessons though taking acid and building on my development I've had so far without letting it make me too permissive again nor the other extreme, lose my mind. I somehow want to learn how and when is a good time to put and take out my pink heart colored glasses.

And now, I'll wrap it all up under my astrological analysis because lately I feel such a strong pull towards this tool to understand my life better and I will tell you why now.
/Astrology community here

Lately, in these 6 moths when I get my period I have such intense feelings and epiphanies during the PMS for 2weeks. It's like coming down into my body and feeling everything, all the pain of this world, relieving my past over and over again, whining and crying for it feeling like I've never healed and guilty for everything I've did and so on. These are periods guys, and they're harsh. Lately I've got a feeling to get interested in a particular topic of astrology, North Node and South Node and after some research and following my bleeding gut in this period (is like I'm connected with my Higher self and I'll tell you why) I've discovered that I have North Node in Virgo in the 12th house and South Node in Pisces in the 6th house which is, Jesus Christ, completely fucked up, I have to basically master the both worlds, to bring balance by rationalizing the spiritual into material while still being on service to others and loving everything. ( For the ones that don't know, the North Node sign is supposed to be your mission here on earth taking on the characteristics of that particular zodiac sign and the South Node is supposed to be the gifts you've been entering this life with from your previous life but also a comfort zone. The thing is that they'll slow your development here but no need to get rid of them, but that's the comfort zone and it's what should be overcomed with the help of North Node to achieve your mission). For me, I'm living it right now, I'm going into my psyche and sub/unconsciousness and analyze, clean, order and understand like a Virgo would do and try not to sacrifice myself and get lost all over the place with escape tendencies as Pisces would do, being very hard for me to implement routine and understand and go with the flow of the mundane. All for this to understand myself and through healing, be at service for myself first , and others in a healthy way. Basically this sums up coming into this world like a Pisces: being in my own little word since I was a kid and so loving with everyone. I've always wanted to help people and this would made me so happy, donated money, helped friends with money, bought many things for mom and so on. Seems that made me very appealing for narcissistic abuse later on. I've always loved animals and nature. My forest was my second home, I've loved art and beauty and I still do, I've been into spirituality and occult concepts since teenage hood. I've felt keep coming all these ancestral informations, even now when I get my periods is like a sudden download of epiphanies and realizations, things that I've been feeling that I know for ages. I've also had my escape period through drugs, alcohol and narcs relationships but in the same time guys, I was so determined to achieve whatever I've put my mind to. I've finished college with almost 10 or A, I've checked on 9 countries up till now, of which 5 visited (2 alone), 1 studied in, 3 worked in. I've met so many cultures, connected so deep with each of these people abroad, I've worked my head, heart and body off on every job I've had in the end quitting because of burnout, very f time , I've successfully managed on my own in this weird world with 0 friends.. each person I would've consider friend would fade away when he/she couldn't take something from me so yeah..look at me now trying to organize and make sense of my life and navigate through the hard times and pick me up and make a life for myself like I've never had. 

I'm ♉ sun, ♌ moon, ♍ ascendant, ♈ Mercury, ♈Venus, ♉ Mars, ♓ Jupiter, ♈ Saturn, ♒ Uranus, ♒ Neptune, ♐ Pluto.. NN in ♍ and SN in ♓, A Stellium in ♈, Chiron in ♏, a 0.68° or something Venus which explain a lot. Mom is ♑ sun and ♓ moon and Dad was ♏ sun and ♎ moon. In my chart, I don't have planets in the 1, 2, 4, 6, 10, 11 house. Couldn't get much info on the missing houses and what does it mean but I'll die to know.. I'm going to ask a series of questions anyway at the end. I'm not an expert in astrology, I'm still learning about all the planets in the signs and houses, in relation with each other, aspects and so on. But feel free like never to make whatever interpretation comes to your mind based on all this chunk of life I've thrown up here. I love to learn from analysis and others perspectives and points of view.
Now coming the questions...

1. /Raisedbynarcissistscommunity

How do I cope with the fact that she might not be aware of her narcissism and will continue like this even after this break? I've had tried to explain the things and tell her stuff but no chance, she's in her world not accepting and of course gaslighting, after reading lots of material on narcissism I realize was a wrong thing to confront her like that.
What techniques can be used to stand my ground, to face any criticism or whatever she'll throw at me?
How to get over the fact that I might talk to a wall and I'll never get her compassion and move on mentally from this place?
How to get in a good routine without being too hard on myself and eventually loosing it and trying to escape again?
Just drop any advice you consider useful in regard with this.

1. /LSD community

How do you ground yourself after a trip and try to apply the lessons, especially if you did it with a purpose, with an intention?
How to enjoy acid and keep the wholesome, accepting feeling of loving everyone without actually becoming a martyr?
I have to be honest, I feel like I want to escape the idea of confronting the reality with taking on that microdot but in the same time I'm still afraid of getting out of the hole straight to my mom. I really need to control my self cuz I grew some darkness inside and I'm impulsive by nature. But in the same time I have the urge to confront her like that without searching help in acid.
Just drop any advice you consider useful info regard with my intention of taking it in this situation..

1. /Astrology community

What's up with the empty houses? Feel free to ask me any houses you're interested for making any connections.
How is should make use of better of my Virgo qualities of the North Node and how I should make a better use of my gifts from the Pisces in South Node?
On what other aspects in my chart I should keep my eye on and are key for personal development?
////
Everything I wrote here guys is so heavy and difficult for me to balance but felt so relieving letting it out. Also I've listened to Beach House - Bloom album for 7 times since I'm writing this, damn time flies. Found it while surfing through reddit in/LSD community, I strongly recommend it, never been moved so strong by such random music. Usually I'm listening to hard techno or hard psytrance, the only genre that keeps my racing thoughts in place. Felt so good to take it off my chest and thank you in advance for any piece of advice.

~First~
HHH/Herbert’s Hundred Harem AND Harriett The Spy
Miss Tiaria’s Four Twenty meeting is stewing until the exact moment she’s let in. Harriett decides to ping her in a few moments early so she enters in at exactly four twenty. That should count right? Tiaria likes her weird power plays.
“Miss, your four twenty Miss Veron is here.” Harriett says.
“She’s still somewhat early Matalia.” Tiaria chides her in a singsong tone. Harriett looks at the clock. Fifteen seconds off.
“Yes, well I figure by the time she gets to the door she’ll be right on time. I wouldn’t want any of your meetings late ma’am.” Harriett says and there’s a delighted tittering sound from Tiaria.
“Of course! I understand, do send him in, but not one second before four twenty!” Tiaria states and Harriett sighs.
“Yes ma’am.” She says as she holds out her communicator and gestures for Miss Veron to rise. She then holds up her hand and times it just as the time turns to four twenty.
“Miss Veron is here for your four twenty appointment ma’am.” She says opening the door. There is a smile on Tiaria’s face as she lets the woman in. Clearly her power play of directing exactly when anyone can move or act has played off well for her. Which means she’ll be in a good enough mood to let her guard down. And with Miss Veron’s full attention on Tiaria’s power play she doesn’t notice Harriett slip a small device to listen in.
She then heads back to her desk and goes over the silly woman’s e-mails before summarizing them all for her. The sheer combination of pride, laziness and entitlement from the woman was letting Harriett walk all over and around her without her even seeing it as a bad thing.
She sends out some e-mails, copies the email for a backup just in case and then places the backup data-chit in a communicator to send the backup to Intelligence. Because when the job is being done for you, you can do it mostly on auto-pilot.
Her communicator receives a text. -Info Received. Has Target acted off since teleport?- She replies to this with a simple no and there are no further questions. She’s where she needs to be and no amount of panicking, acting up or other such affairs will improve things. Especially as...
-Second Team on the way, in official uniform with backup.
Especially as she just has to lean back and watch the damn show. This promises to be interesting if nothing else.
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
“She surrounds us. The All Lady is everywhere!” The Carib Officer with him states in a rising panic and Jurgen nods calmly to try and defuse the situation and keep everyone sane and reasoned.
“Yes, I think it’s safe to assume that wherever we stand is in her control.”
“So what do we do?!” The Lopen officer asks as panic creeps into her voice.
“We calm down and deal with this like rational adults. All Lady wants to speak with us. So we shall speak with her. If she’s capable of speech then she’s capable of reason and if she’s capable of reason then she can be reasoned with. So let’s reason with her before we try doing something that might hurt someone.” Jurgen explains.
“Exactly. Big guy here has it on the nose. We’ve been invited to meet with her, so she wants something from us, even if it’s just company during a snack or someone to talk to. So let’s see what she wants.” The Panseros states as she starts looking around again. A tendril of dark blue slime is sticking out of a wall and beckoning at them. “This way.”
The group turns to where she’s gesturing and sees the tendril that suddenly increases it’s mass a few hundred times over to turn into the shape of a tall woman bracing against both walls and waving at them. Before any of them can ask her anything she puts a finger to her lips and her form shifts back into a tendril that retracts into the building.
“Come on.” Jurgen says.
“Does anything phase you?” Another Officer, this one a Nagasha wearing The Trytite Lady’s colours, asks.
“Oh this is weird as hell don’t get me wrong. But no amount of gawking at it gets things done. So let’s go.” Jurgen states as he starts heading down the way. “Remember, stay behind me, and if I tell you to get to different cover, get to it.”
“And you’re in charge, why?” The Lopen demands and he turns around and crouches down until he’s face to face with the woman who’s nine feet tall on her hind legs.
“Currently? Because I have the biggest gun, the best armour and am willing to use both.” Jurgen says with his nose almost touching hers. “Any other questions?”
She licks him and he jerks his head back in response. Then she laughs. “Thought so! Big tough guy can’t take a little kiss!”
“Lady, this is neither the time nor the place. You are going to act like a professional or I’m going to guarantee you see a court marshal.” Jurgen growls down at her as he wipes his face.
“Calm down, calm down it’s just a joke.”
“Wrong time and wrong place.” Jurgen asserts and turns around when he hears something and sees a tendril of All Lady with a communicator held out, recording everything. “We need to go. Now.”
He starts leading the way with purpose, not listening to any of their protests as he starts going down the indicated road.
“Oh thank you kindly for accepting the invitation, we are most grateful for your friendliness.” All Lady says all around him.
“Is there anything in particular you want? Going so far out of your way to get something is a bit odd.” Jurgen asks out loud to get her talking and see if his handler can get some kind of profile on her.
“Oh there are many things I want, right now I just want to see what kind of guests I have in my home.”
“Your home? Madam unless I’m much mistaken we are on a public road and arrived in a public square.” Jurgen asks out loud.
“Oh little one, this whole level is my home and if we’re being honest, it’s a little... cramped down here.” She replies and the floor shifts and cracks before settling. “See? I can’t even stretch without brushing by you.”
“I see...” Jurgen states.
“Okay, yeah. No way in hell she’s only got twenty five extra growths on her. Your dealing with about the most literal interpretation of a one woman army as possible. If she’s covering the entire level as she just implied she would need to at least be the equivalent of a hundred people at once. All working in perfect concert to the same goal.” His Handler states. “But it’s a weakness too, target that big and it’s impossible to miss. If you get near the core I’ll tell you, but the sensors on you aren’t picking anything up yet.”
“It’s not like she’d expose something so valuable to strangers.”
“No, but control of her gel like extensions gets harder and harder the further from the core they get. So for practical reasons it has to be nearby, to say nothing of the fact that all the gel will lead back to the core, no exception it requires an unbroken link.”
“But Axiom portals can toy with that.” Jurgen mutters.
“Yes, that’s the tricky part. I can sense some portals from the sensors on your belt, but we don’t have the stronger stuff on you to let me get their exact location. We weren’t expecting this. So we’ll have to make it work.”
“Do we have a number?”
“Less than five, more than two.”
“Why can’t you just say three or four?”
“Why can’t you fit through a normal doorway?” His handler snaps back.
“Hah hah, jackass.” Jurgen mutters.
“What’s going on up there?” The Panseros asks and Jurgen glances back, noticing that above and just behind them is a tendril holding what appears to be a generic female head made of gel.
“I’m in contact with my team still. My glasses have a camera, microphone and tiny speakers next to my ears.”
“And what have they told you?”
“Only that our hostess is much, much more than the official documentation on her says she is. Clearly.” Jurgen states.
“Clearly.” The head of All Lady states and as the women turn to regard it it loses it’s coherency and form and is retracted along with the entire tendril.
There is the slight sound of grinding and Jurgen turns to see a few bricks of a nearby building move aside as a tendrils of gel pours out to form a woman reclining in the air. “Keep coming kiddos! I want to have a chat!”
“And we can’t have it out here because?”
“Because what kind of host would I be? And what kind of guest would YOU be for that matter?” All Lady asks before smiling far wider than anyone with bones or skin can and then retracts the tendril back into the building. The bricks are then moved back into place.
“What kind indeed.” Jurgen notes before another tendril emerges from the distance and beckons them. “Dispatch, how many in total are registered to living on this level?”
“Hold on, I’m looking it up.”
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
The meeting between Tiaria and Miss Veron had clearly gone well as Tiaria is laughing daintily as the woman leaves. Harriett holds up a data-slate with the summary of the woman’s emails on it for her perusal and returns to her going over the accounting details. After Miss Veron leaves Tiaria turns to Harriett
“Matalia darling, do be a dear and cancel all further meetings with the Miss Veron. I think she’s too stupid to work with.”
“Right. Okay, anything you’d like to say to her about this or am I just cancelling her ma’am?”
“Oh! Yes of course! Do tell her that if she’s such an unbelievable idiot that she can’t even tell when she’s been bugged by a rival company then no amount of bribery of blackmail can make up for it!” Tiaria says before growing more and more angry and looking like she wants to strangle someone as her Axiom tattoos start glowing brightly. Then she’s suddenly standing normally and titters into the back of her gloved hand. “Or something like that darling. I’m sure you can figure something out.”
“Of course ma’am. Is there anything you’d like to put into the now freed up time or do you just want it left empty?”
“Leave it empty for now, I’m sure something will come up. Now, off to work dear!”
“Of course ma’am!” Harriett chimes before Tiaria flounces back into her office. She lets out a sigh of relief before the door suddenly opens again and Harriett sits up suddenly.
“And Matalia darling?”
“Yes?”
“Good work.” She says before closing the day and letting Harriett breathe freely again. She quickly puts things in and goes through her update routine of backing things up, sending a copy to The Undaunted right under the idiot’s nose and as she starts going back to the accounting work a notice comes up from the secretary on the lower levels.
“Yes?”
“Uh... could you please inform Miss Tiaria that we have an official team sent by The Council to speak with her. Please? They’re ignoring me and going right for the office.”
“I will.” Harriett says before buzzing Tiaria. “Very sorry ma’am but according to Emilia down below we have a team in Council colours heading right this way after refusing to even talk to her.”
“Oh are they now? Another false report? I’ll show them the little...” Tiaria begins muttering before cutting the communication line and Harriett raises an eyebrow.
“Well, this is about to get exciting.” She notes out loud as she adjusts a few things in her drawers and primes a tiny device hidden inside her belt. Her ‘oh shit’ button. It will blow her cover if things go completely wrong, but it will get her out alive. She just hopes it doesn’t end like Herbert’s did. Being down a couple more years sucks when you have so few to spare.
The door opens and a dozen different heavily armed, armoured and officially suited up women enter with a frazzled looking Private Stream trailing behind them. She lets out a sneeze, rubs her nose three times with the ring finger while excusing herself and taps the desk twice. She gets a nod even as she starts ducking under the desk while poking the call button.
“Ma’am... they’re here...” She says in a terrified tone.
“Oh they are are they!?” Tiaria demands in a furious huff as she opens the door to her office and stares down a shoulder mounted railgun with an outraged expression. “HOW DARE YOU!?! Point that somewhere else!”
“Tiaria...” The power armour bedecked woman gets no further as Tiaria grabs the railgun and BENDS it backwards until it’s pointing back at the woman.
“... She didn’t even chip the paint on her nails!” The Private Stream exclaims as the very, very young looking human exclaims while taking off his hat.
“No, I did not. Now...” Tiaria says smiling at the little boy before turning back to the others and shrieking. “WHAT DO YOU WANT!?”
~First~ Last

DRAG RACE!
Chronologica struts the runway wearing a stormtrooper outfit, including the face covered by a helmet.
Hello world! Welcome back to Season 6 of Drag Race. And welcome back to my favorite diva Rachelle Mirage! Rachelle, where’s your hometown?
“Cambridge, Massachusetts.” Rachelle smiles teasingly. Chronologica laughs.
What about you, Floss? Where you from?
“Yeah, Cambridge, Mass sounds about right!” The judges laugh.
And our Nymphe D’Azote! Where are you from, Nymphe?
“Bonjour.” Nymphe puts a blue butterfly clip into her hair and smiles at the camera. “I’m from Lyon in France.”
Right. So! For our main challenge this week, our racers gave us a talent show performance to prove their worth and showcase who they really are. And on the runway, they’re telling us where they came from.
“So the theme is Cambridge?” Floss jokes.
“What?” Nymphe looks confused.
It’s TIME!
~
Category is…Hometown Glory.
HerShe Kiss arrives in an outfit straight out of 2002- a Juicy Couture style pink jumpsuit, but glittering for the Gods- every inch of it covered in rhinestones, with blond locks in rollers (as if she’s getting her hair done) and a mobile phone in her hands, HerShe spins around to reveal her behind stoned with the words ‘KISS’ on them.
HerShe Kiss: “Every detail is personalized to the T. It’s HerShe, baby!” HerShe blows a kiss.
Carly Shay Jepsen struts onto the stage in a light-up, neon green miniskirt and bodice, with a neon yellow bra, bright yellow heels and a toxic green wig. Her face is painted with the ‘Glow in the Dark’ style face paint, as she excitedly skips around.
“Atrocious.” Nymphe looks at Carly in fear.
Anne Dior Kashaut arrives in a fitted train conductor look- a plumed feather hat and matching coat in red, a patterned shirt and tight pair of pants, and a blood red boot- as she whistles through the main stage. As she walks, her train- a literal recreation of the Lankelz Railway, formed into a train, follows her.
Vroom vroom, bitch.
Mrs. Vicki Anderson enters the werkroom dressed up as a campy take on the American Bison- with horns, fur and a fitted cute cinched corset in the same colors as her ‘fur’. She puts her hooves up as she makes her way to the end of the stage, giggling with a ‘Mooooooo’.
“Do… Bison moo?” Rachelle asks.
“Do I look like a damn Bison expert?” Floss yells.
Rachelle laughs.
Shayla Moon arrives dressed as a giant, ancient snow monster- an abominable snow person with head to toe blue fur covering her body and a monstrous face mask.
Shayla Moon: “Fort Lauderdale is known for its ‘Snowbirds’- people visiting from the cold cities during winter, to come to Florida… and party.”
Spinning around, Shayla drops the monster suit to reveal a two piece fringe, light up look in multicolored pieces, with a long, flowing wig- and all the body on show as they dance around the main stage.
“Shake that ass, bitch!” Floss snaps her fingers.
Nakomis Lotus struts out in a bodysuit reminiscent of an oil spill, her body neck to foot covered in a slick black substance. She has a wet black wig reflective of a similar color to the tar like substance, as she slinks through the main stage, leaving behind footprints in black.
“Who’s going to clean that?” Nymphe asks.
Francesca La Fataliá arrives with a blood red Venetian Plague mask covering her face, with its long, pointed nose. She wears a Victrian style high-neck dress, hitting the floor and covered in black feathers. She carries various herbs in a glass canister in her hands, before taking off the mask to show her painted, plagued green skin and makeup.
“She’s the Queen here to clean up that oil spill mess.” Floss jokes.
“Wait-” Nymphe looks confused.
The others chuckle.
~
Hi Racers. I’ve made some decisions. This week, everyone’s getting critiqued. Now is a great opportunity to learn what the judges are looking for from you, so listen up!
First up: 2007’s Carly Shay Jepsen! Welcome!
“I will speak on fashion, no? The overall look tonight and the look in the performance were both undercooked and plain.” Nymphe shrugs. “The whole concept you’re going for feels like you have not been able to cook it fully, deliver at the level you could’ve. At Drag Race, I want something polished.”
“I see Nymphe’s point- but to me, that’s part of your charm, right Carly?”
Carly nods, clearly not quite sure about Chronologica’s point.
For me, your talent show- was messy, sure, but really fun and entertaining. It was charming and this runway- I am not going to make excuses for it, but for me, you’re fun!”
“I am here to have fun.” Carly grins.
The polish can come. But, keep your core- your heart.
Carly grins.
The whitest chocolate, HerShe Kiss! Welcome back to the main stage.
“It feels good to be back, and I feel… delicious.” HerShe smiles.
Now, I do want to say something.
HerShe looks concerned.
I was wrong this week. I thought you were kinda… going boring, and you did a fabulous job.
“Ahhh!” HerShe smiles.
This was hot. And surprisingly enough, your runway- whilst I look at it and say ‘That’s hot’, it’s also showcasing a bit of comedy.
“That’s hot.” HerShe says, picking up her phone doing her best Paris Hilton.
Chronologica chuckles.
Nymphe shakes her head. “What about this look says LA?”
“It’s a take on the vapid, hot, celebrity.” HerShe smiles. “Like, too hot to handle, but also, dumb.”
“I can clearly see dumb.” Nymphe nods. “Okay.”
HerShe Kiss: “Was that a compliment?”
Hellodis, it’s Nakomis Lotus. All the votes are in…you made it on TV, girl!
“YES!” Nakomis smiles.
“I haven’t seen Big Brother. Your jokes didn’t land. Next.” Nymphe gestures a hand, as if sweeping Nakomis away.
Nakomis frowns.
“Baby.” Floss frowns. “What was going on?”
Nakomis looks at Floss.
“I feel like you tried a lot. I believe that you are capable of doing a lot- but this week, I was like, damn, you tried to do two conflicting things, instead of one, positive…” Floss sighs. “Choice.”
Anne smiles.
“I thought I could do a lot more than this.” Nakomis says. “I wanted to do something different, and I do get your points, apologies my dear judges.”
It’s not over- you know these games. It’s about the fight.
Nakomis nods. “Thank you.”
Princess Serenity Shayla Moon! Hi, baby.
“Hey hey hey!” Shayla smiles.
“The details of your talent show were too small for us to see exactly what you were doing.” Nymphe closes her eyes. “I didn’t think it was the best choice for a stage performance with the audience at such a distance.”
“Totally will take that feedback on.” Shayla smiles.
In my stormtrooper helmet, I have magnifying vision-
Shayla chuckles.
So for me, it was fun. And let's talk about this look…
“Are you cold?” Nymphe asks.
“I am never cold, because a whore doesn’t get cold, she heats up.” Shayla winks.
Floss, Rachelle, Chronologica and the racers all laugh- besides Anne and Nymphe.
This is a fun concept and idea. Showcase a bit more, and you will go far.
Shayla grins.
Next, let’s talk about our Lady of Loss, Francesca La Fatalia. How do you feel about being on Drag Race?
“It feels ...Fitting.” Franesca smiles,
“I LOVED the talent show.” Rachelle looks excitedly. “You can really tell, you are here, you know your references- your talent show was YOU.”
“This is my home.” Francesca says, holding onto her outfit. “I felt at peace.”
“Truly, I could tell that.” Rachelle says. “And for me, this look is insane.”
Francesca bows.
“What you’re wearing reminds me of a lot of monarchs I’ve seen without a lot of original thoughts.” Nymphe holds her faerie wings around her chest. “You should really make sure that the designs you bring are yours, not someone else’s ideas.”
“Well, the plague doctor is a reference to Venetian culture. This is a hometown glory runway, and I have chosen to reflect upon it with a dark cultural reference. So, yes, I do believe this is my idea, however, I’ve made it my dragged up version- from the shoulders, to the makeup, to the gown.” Francesca responds, looking at Nymphe.
“Hmm..” Nymphe purses her lips in satisfaction. “Okay. I do appreciate your insights. This is a good and polished look.”
Time to cash in on Anne Dior Kashaut. We’re glad you’re here.
Anne smiles. “Hi judges! So happy to be here, I thank you for this opportunity.”
The other Queens look around confused.
Carly Shay Jepsen: “Who the hell is that?!”
Nymphe monologues. “Pour quelqu’un d’origine française, votre esthétique est vraiment décevante et surjouée. Vous n'avez pas l'expérience du concours que vous prétendez avoir, et vous ne resterez pas très longtemps dans cette compétition. C'est fastidieux, pour être honnête, Et je ne suis pas content que vous soyez là. Vous devriez rentrer chez vous avant de vous embarrasser avec et votre manque de talent.”
Anne laughs. “I’m really thankful to be here. I am taking this as an opportunity to learn and develop, and I want to show more. I get that feedback- but I promise I am not overplayed. I really can do a lot here, so please- give me all the feedback.”
I feel like- this was actually not a FUN talent show, you know?
“Okay.” Anne nods.
For me, and I go back to the talent show last week- this can be a fun activity, a physical sport- HOWEVER, you didn’t drag it up enough. Add some bells and whistles. I was worried about other talent shows, and they ended up delivering- however, you did something similarly- and lacked those things.
Anne smiles.
I will need a bit more. This look though- it’s very pretty.
“I will take all this feedback, and promise to deliver.” Anne grins.
And last but not least, from the Peace Garden State, Mrs. Vicki Anderson! Welcome to the show.
“I’ve been waiting for the show, this is my sixth time auditioning!” Vicki laughs.
SIXTH?
“...Yes.” Vicki smiles.
I didn’t remember any of your past tapes, so that says it all.
Vicki looks surprised.
Well, I am happy you’re here, now!
“As am I.” Vicki responds with a grin.
“Your performance was serviceable.” Floss says. “This is a damn talented group. Here, I think you did…not bad, but nothing to stand out.”
“Noted.” Vicki grins.
“You can sing better than the girl from last week.” Nymphe gives Vicki a flat look. “But that’s not saying much.”
Vicki nods.
“Stand out, or step out.” Nymphe shrugs. “Point blank.”
Thank you, racers. Whilst we deliberate, you may untuck backstage in the Fae Lounge. Sponsored by Princess Papaya Glitter Blueberry Drinks.
~
The racers enter the Fae Lounge.
Carly Shay Jepsen: “First week DOWN, and damn, I’m feeling- pretty good!”
“Okay, okay-” Carly turns to the side. “Can you bring us shots to celebrate? Mr Producer…”
“Shots?!” Shayla says dramatically.
“We gotta celebrate, guys!” Carly smiles. “Week 2 group, we’re HERE!”
Carly is handed glasses, and begins to pour, splashing alcohol onto the floor.
“Dear God, let me pour, you’re making a mess.” Francesca says, grabbing the bottle of Tequila as Carly laughs.
“Oh, I do love a shot…” Nakomis says, pursing her lips. “However… maybe I shouldn’t..”
“SHOTS!” Carly yells, as the racers all take a hit of the tequila.
Francesca makes a face. “This is dis-”
“I LOVE my Princess Papaya, Glitter Blackberry Drink.” Shayla raises the bottle. “It’s SO fantastic!”
“It’s actually, ugh- blueberry?” Vicki looks at Shayla.
“OH MY GOD!” Shayla yells, before getting up and running around, as Vicki, HerShe, Carly and a half amused Francesca chuckle.
“I LOOOOOVE my-” HerShe flicks back her hair, smiling. “Princess Papaya Glitter Blueberry drink, baby. It tastes like a winner.”
“YES, FUCK YEAH!” Carly snaps her fingers, as HerShe smiles.
“I feel really happy, with this actually.” HerShe looks excited, sitting down. “Because truly- I came in wanting to deliver, and I had some speed bumps…”
“Certainly Chronologica thought so.” Anne adds, listening in with one headphone in her ear.
“But I came over the other side.” HerShe tears up. “And I want to say, it feels nice, it feels validating, it-” HerShe nods. “I feel hot.”
“I do also want to shout you out, Mama Fatal…” Carly turns to Francesca, who looks slightly surprised as the others clap.
Nakomis sits in her seat, not speaking, but half claps.
“Thank you.” Francesca nods. “Don’t call me Mama Fatal. I’m not that old.”
“Oh, but you remind me a lot of my mother though!” Carly yells.
“I will kill you.” Francesca responds.
Carly shrugs. “Do it, babe!”
“It was nerdy- which to be honest, I didn’t expect out of you.” Shayla starts. “But this is insane- this look, wow?”
“And she made it.” HerShe snaps her fingers. “I listened.”
“WOAH.” Vicki smiles. “That’s..”
“I always make my drag. And it’s layered, there for performance purposes…” Francesca starts. “I just came here to show my drag. To me, that’s fitting, to be in the top.”
“You deserve, Mama Fatal.” HerShe winks.
Francesca rolls her eyes.
“It’s not like she actually is a murderer, right?” Carly jokes. “As much as tries!”
“Tell that to the bodies in my backyard.” Francesca responds.
Carly stares into the camera.
“You know-” Anne looks at Francesca. “I think you did deliver, stylistically. Which is good, as did you, HerShe, with your cheap jumpsuit covered in dollar store rhinestones.”
HerShe looks at Anne.
“But there are others I don’t care for here, visually and personality wise- and certainly..” Anne puts her hand on Nakomis thigh. “That is most clear with you.”
“Wait a minute, don’t go in-” HerShe raises her hand. “Nakomis-”
“Nakomis.” Anne sputters out. “Not only have you failed to deliver in a talent show, you have failed to deliver stylistically. This look is a reflection of poor quality drag, ugly drag, if we are being honest-”
Nakomis stares blankly at the camera in shock.
Nakomis Lotus: “Where is this coming from? Why does she think she can have her La Marias moment? What have I even done to her??”
“Do you even have actual titles?” Nakomis looks squarely at Anne. “Do you actually, or do you just talk mad shit?”
“Drag Miss Luxembourg pageant.” Anne scoffs.
“I’ve never heard of that show, and I do loop in with European artists.” Francesca adds.
Anne huffs.
“You suggested the idea, girl. You told ME it was a good idea, and I wonder, now, along with your attitude here, if that was sabotage-”
“SABOTAGE?” Annne laughs, standing up.
HerShe smiles.
HerShe Kiss: “Oh, Anne picked the wrong fight here…”
“If I wanted to sabotage, I'd leave you be. Because the idea of your drag, in it’s ugly, poor references, it’s atrocious name- what in God's name is a Nakomis, Du rattenartiger, hässlicher, langweiliger Künstler, ohne jegliches Können, ohne TALENT, Platzverschwendung, ich werde dezimieren, ich werde zerstören-”
“Girl, we can’t understand you.” Vicki frowns.
“I could actually sabotage you. Put glass in your makeup-”
Francesca La Fataliá: “Who puts glass in someone’s makeup?” Francesca looks confused. “That isn’t even a….” Francesca shakes her head. “No. Bad idea.”
“I didn’t. So learn your words, and prepare for a lip sync. You’ll need it.” Anne rolls her eyes, walking off.
“...Wow, that was unnecessary.” HerShe says, laughing.
“...More shots?” Carly smiles.
“YES!” Shayla cheers.
Nakomis Lotus: “I do not understand why Anne is so nasty. It’s…”
Anne looks into the mirror, smiling.
Nakomis Lotus: “Kinda giving un-self-aware and tryhard. It’s like she’s trying hard to get airtime by being an ‘iconic villain,’ when in reality she just looks desperate.”
~
Welcome back, racers, I’ve made some decisions.
Vicki, you’re safe.
“Thank you!” Vicki curtseys.
Shayla Moon.
Carly Shay.
You are… safe!
Carly Shay Jepsen: “Woo! Not the first out!”
…
Nakomis.
…
Anne.
You’re SAFE.
Anne looks surprised, then grins. “Thank you!”
…
HerShe looks scared, whilst Franscesca purses her lips into a smirk.
That means…
Francesca La Fataliá.
HerShe Kiss.
I’m sorry my dears…
You are the TOP TWO of the week.
“YES!” HerShe cheers.
Francesca bows.
But that’s not all.
“A TWIST!” Shayla gasps.
This week, you will not only lip sync for the win- but an IMMUNITY POTION that you can use this season… to save yourself… or another from elimination.
Shayla Moon: “This is my Sailor Moon Crystal, and I WILL have it.” Shayla cracks her knuckles. “...I need to steal it. Or seduce the winner for it.”
The time has come… for you to lip sync FOR THE WIN!
**Eaten Alive by Diana Ross starts to play**
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8NTqc14uIY
Good luck… and don’t fuck it up!
HerShe Kiss: “I am here, ready to go, to lip sync for my win, to do ALL I can.” HerShe smiles.
Francesca La Fataliá: “It’s time for me to lip sync. This is what I do. HerShe? It’s time to get Eaten Alive.”
~
Next Time!
Racers, it’s time for a dance challenge.
“Lady Gag.” Ethan says, as Gag joins her team.
Ethan Angel-Eye: “I hate the choices I am forced with.”
“Perform better.” Shiseido looks at Molly.
“Okay, try and actually move, you aged monster.” Molly says, wearing an immunity potion around her neck.
“...Wait a minute.” Vicki stares at Molly. “That’s-”
~
Stats
Voting
Spreadsheet

Story set in the NoP 1 universe, created by u/SpacePaladin15
[First] [Prev] [Epilogue]
Memory Transcription Subject: Lyra, Dossur
Lakeshore, Twilight Region of Venlil Prime
Date [Standardized Human Time]: 7 January 2137
I’m staring at the mangled corpse of the Terran rat as my brain, oh-so-helpfully, points out this rat is the same size as me. My whiskers quiver as my eyes trace out every gash and puncture wound on the rat while my brain maps each wound onto my own body, trying to visualize the size and shape of the claws and teeth that did this.
Solgalik, spare me! I was too critical of my instincts this past herd of paws – it wasn’t paranoia; there’s actually a predator lurking around Lakeshore. A predator that has been stalking me all this time… OK, don’t panic, everything will be fine… Heh, every brahking thing the federation ever taught us has been turned upside down by the Terrans, so maybe shadestalkers are actually friendly.
I take another look at the eviscerated rat.
I don’t feel like testing that theory… Those crazy humans might try to cuddle every ‘fren-shaped’ predator they encounter, but we Dossur are literally bite-sized!
As these thoughts swirl around my brain, I dash back into the warehouse to retrieve my tranquilizer gun. Stopping at the exit, I catch my breath and brace myself before going back out into the cold wind. Living this far nightward on a tidally locked planet, a constant harsh wind blows from the frozen wastes of Venlil Prime’s night side. I shake my whiskers and tail and dash out into the eternal dusk of the twilight region. Time for a more thorough search of the grounds.
The harvest of evidence doesn’t feel like a full bushel. A shadestalker wouldn’t leave their prey behind. Whatever this creature is, it hadn’t even started to eat the rat. Even if a shadestalker wasn’t hungry, it would take the kill back for the rest of its pack. And those eyes, the eyes that have followed me this past herd of paws, if that was a shadestalker hunting me, why has it never attacked me? A grown shadestalker is the size of a Terran dog; why would it stalk me and not do anything? Stars above, nothing makes sense!
My racing thoughts come to an abrupt halt as I find the body of another rat. Well, the remains of another rat; there’s not much left, just a grisly scene of scattered bones, claws, skull, and clumps of grey fur in a puddle of blood. The bile rising in my throat gives me only a brief warning before I’m thoroughly sick.
Speh! I can’t believe some blood and bones still affect me this much after watching all those detective dramas with Rolf. As violent as Terran media can be, it’s still a burrow-length from reality!
After several slow breaths, I return and take pictures of the scene to send to my supervisor at the local extermination office. As I finish, I notice tufts of fluffy white fur tangled around several of the rat’s claws. I pick up some of the white fur and find that it’s unusually fine, similar to fiberglass. When held under the light on the side of the warehouse, the white fur looks iridescent.
That’s shadestalker fur. Nothing else looks like that. Speh!
I send the images of both rats to the extermination office with a note about the shadestalker fur. My tail twitches with trepidation as I retrieve the cargo vehicle. I gather up the remains of the two rats outside the warehouse, adding them to the rats I gathered earlier from the traps inside the warehouse. I instruct the autopilot to take these remains to the extermination office for incineration and start my long walk home.
Well, that was an exhausting work claw! Physically and emotionally…
In an attempt to ground my spiraling brain, I pull out my holopad and request a video call with Rolf as I continue walking home. Upon answering, his face quickly changes to an expression of deep concern.
“Lyra, you look like shit!”
“Oh, you know me, just trying to appeal to your predatory bloodlust. I figured a little rat blood in my fur would help you feel like you’re back home.”
I try not to chitter in amusement as Rolf’s face contorts into an absolutely fantastic mixture of shock and amusement.
“Seriously though, are you injured? Did a rat bite you? Do I need to find a doctor?”
I close my eyes for a moment and sigh.
“No, physically I’m fine. My instincts are definitely freaking out. I think I messaged you earlier about finding a dead rat outside the warehouse – the one that looked like it was killed by some kind of predator. Well, I found the remains of another rat and this one was torn apart and eaten. There was some white fur at the scene, so there’s definitely a shadestalker prowling around. This blood is from cleaning up that mess. Ugh, it’s going to take forever to wash this out of my fur!”
Instead of a sarcastic comment, Rolf is unusually silent. His face is quite pale and he’s simply staring past me with his eyes unfocused.
“Uh, Rolf? Hello? You look like you’ve just seen an alien.”
Not even that terrible joke elicits a response.
“OK… Based on the warehouse machinery I maintain at my other job, it would appear you’re brain has had a segmentation fault. When I get home, I’ll ask the Terran medic for that defibrillator device so I can power you down and then turn you back on again. I believe that should get your brain working again, right?”
I signal >concern< with my ears while waiting for a response. Eventually, I can hear Rolf mumbling something about the dead rats, white fur, and eyes in the darkness. Suddenly, he shakes his head and looks at me with panic in his eyes and a surprisingly harsh tone of voice.
“Lyra, you’re in danger! You need to find shelter, right now!”
My ears signal >confusion< as my whiskers twitch.
“Woah, calm down. I have my tranquilizer gun. I agree, it looks like this shadestalker is what’s been following me the past herd of paws or so. I can’t figure out why it hasn’t attacked me yet. Maybe one of your fellow humans has been feeding it. How long would it take a human to domesticate something like a shadestalker? You humans seem to be rather good at taming vicious predators.”
Rolf just continues to stare at me.
“Lyra, I’m not joking! This isn’t a shadestalker; I don’t think it ever was. Look, dead rats, white fur, you’re covered in rat blood… I can’t… I don’t know how I’d live with myself if anything happened to you. Please, I’m begging you to find somewhere safe, somewhere you can lock yourself inside.”
I stop walking and study Rolf’s face in my holopad. There’s no trace of sarcasm or humor, just fear, panic, and even some anger in his eyes. My hackles begin to rise as that feeling of being watched descends upon me.
“Rolf, you’re really freaking me out here. What aren’t you telling me?”
Before Rolf can respond, I hear a noise behind me. I turn just in time to see something with white fur disappear into the darkness of an alley. I double check my tranquilizer gun, drop my holopad, and aim into the darkness. I can hear Rolf yelling something, but I can’t let that distract me now. My ears scan the surrounding area as I continue to watch the alleyway. I can see the faint glow of bioluminescence in the darkness.
Speh! That’s the shadestalker. I’d recognize the distinctive glow of their hackles anywhere. OK, remember your training – don’t stare at the glow or you’ll get dazzled.
I begin counting my heartbeats to make sure I avert my eyes every 5th beat. Suddenly, I can see light reflecting off a pair of eyes that stare directly at me. I aim a half tail below the eyes and shoot a tranquilizer dart into the darkness. A high pitched yelp tells me that I hit my mark. However, the shadestalker appears to be unaffected as it emerges from the darkness and charges directly at me.
I fire off several more darts, but I can’t see if any of them hit their mark. Instinctively, I swing my gun up with all my strength just in time to smash it into the lower jaw of the shadestalker. The force knocks me backwards as the broken pieces of my gun fall to the ground. I scramble backwards as fast as I can, but a swipe of the shadestalker’s paw throws me across the road.
The breath is knocked out of me when I land and it takes several panic-inducing moments before I’m able to breath again. I try to get up so I can run, but I can’t move. So many places hurt that it’s difficult to discern what’s injured. I glance down and see green blood oozing from several deep gashes in my side. One of my legs is bent at an unnatural angle, clearly broken. My head throbs in time to my heartbeat. I probably have a concussion.
My entire body is tense, waiting for an attack that doesn’t come… I blink my eyes several times and attempt to focus on my surroundings. I can see two shadestalkers now – two large, white, blurry figures. But, they’re fighting each other? My vision is cloudy and my brain is too sluggish to make sense of what I see. I can hear yelps of pain, hissing, and other angry sounds from the two predators.
I guess they’re fighting over who gets to eat me. Hmph, they sound like my younger brothers fighting over the last sourberry... Aren’t shadestalkers supposed to be pack predators? Why would they fight over their prey? Ugh, I’m so tired… I hope my brothers finish their argument soon. I really need to sleep. Why can’t my brothers be quiet…
[[ Memory Transcription Error: Subject no Longer Conscious; Advancing Transcript ]]
It’s so wonderfully warm and peaceful.
I’m surrounded by a familiar scent that calms my mind. All the stress seems to seep out of my muscles as I feel the repetitive strokes of my mother’s tongue grooming my fur.
Oh, it’s so nice to be home again. I can’t remember the last time I let mom groom me. I could just lay here like this for an entire claw.
A sharp pain disturbs my meditative half-sleep. Again, and again, I feel a stinging pain on my side.
“Mom… don’t groom me there. I… the shade, the shadestalker, its claws… Ow! That hurts! Can’t you see the claw marks in my side?”
My brain is pulled fully into consciousness as the wounds in my side continue to sting. I open my eyes to a nightmare – the shadestalker is still here! It’s trying to eat me! It’s licking the blood from my wounds. Ignoring the pain in my broken leg, I dig the claws of my front paws into the ground and try to crawl away from the predator. The beast stops licking me and just watches as I slowly drag myself over the ground. The panic-inducing chemicals filling my brain make it difficult to think clearly, but my instincts are screaming at me to do anything possible to get away. Before long, my strength gives out and I collapse. I don’t even have the energy to cry. I can smell the beast standing over me. I feel its teeth as they bite the back of my neck. The world feels like it’s spinning as my thoughts shatter into panic-filled fragments.
[[ Memory Transcription Error: Subject no Longer Conscious; Advancing Transcript ]]
Date [Standardized Human Time]: 8 January 2137
This is so peaceful. It’s so warm. Everything is soft and cozy. Why are so many people afraid of death? I can’t imagine anything as serene as this. I could just snuggle up and sleep like this for the rest of eternity.
My tranquility is shattered by a scream, a shrill human scream. I can’t understand what is being said, but I think I hear my name. I feel a large hand trying to pick me up followed by a terrifying hiss and a growl. My heart begins to race again. My instincts are yelling at me to run. I want to cry, but I don’t even have enough energy to open my eyes. I can still hear yelling, but it’s muffled now. Do I hear a human crying? My brain is moving too slow to follow what’s happening. I’m so confused.
[[ Dream State Detected – Warning: Fragmentation Exceeds 85%, Skipping Corrupt Sections. Correlation with Previous Memory Detected, Supplementing Dream State Transcription ]]
[[ Memory Fragment, 6 Dec 2136, Lakeshore, Terran Refugee Center, Game Room ]]
Argh! Rolf is going to win this round, again! I need something to distract him…
My ears twitch mischievously as I pull a long white hair off of Rolf’s pant leg.
“Another of Teeya’s hairs, I see.”
Rolf sighs and shakes his head.
“Not this again… Just focus on the game, we’re almost done with this race!”
I flick my tail dismissively and continue.
“You know, I was doing a deep dive on your internet the other paw…”
Rolf raises one of his eyebrows.
“How do you even have access to… Lyra, you do realize that the Terran internet is not a healthy or balanced source of information, right? Please, tell me you know that?”
I flick my ears in acknowledgement.
“Well, I was fascinated to learn that it’s only older humans who have white head-fur. Honestly, I find that kind of weird – we Dossur don’t change fur color as we get older.”
Rolf’s posture visibly relaxes somewhat.
“That is ^surprisingly accurate. It also doesn’t seem nearly outrageous enough to catch your attention.”
My tail wags in excitement.
“Well, the other fascinating thing I learned about was cougars.”
Rolf looks extremely uncomfortable at this statement.
“Lyra, please tell me you haven’t been watching nature documentaries. I really don’t want to explain that to the UN.”
I sign >interesting< with my tail.
“Nature documentaries, you say? I’ll add those to my list of things to look into.”
Rolf sighs, “Why me?”
I flick my ears and continue.
“Anyhow, I believe you’re thinking of a different kind of predator than I am.”
Rolf’s face goes pale. He looks like a Venlil just before a stampede is about to start.
“Oh, no! Please, don’t…”
“These white hairs that are always on your clothes suggest you and Teeya enjoy getting a bit snuggly, right? And now I know that Teeya must be considerably older than you to have such stunning white hair.”
Rolf is frozen, looking like a Dossur pup caught stealing sourberries when he was supposed to be napping. I flick rolf with my tail.
“I believe you humans would call a woman like Teeya a cougar, right?”
Rolf blushes and looks deeply uncomfortable. While he stumbles over some kind of explanation, I manage to bring my race car up from behind and cross the finish line before Rolf.
Another victory!
[[ Resuming Standard Memory Transcription ]]
Date [Standardized Human Time]: 9 January 2137
What is that strange rumbling sound? It feels like my entire body is shaking. And why is everything so sore? I feel like I’ve been stepped on by a Mazic.
I slowly open my eyes and find myself enveloped by soft, white fur. The creature curled up around me is… snoring? growling? I expect to be overwhelmed by a wave of panic, but nothing happens. My brain remains calm despite being wide awake and finding myself surrounded by some large creature. This animal smells strangely familiar. Its scent reminds me strongly of Rolf for some reason. As fragments of my previous dream drift around my brain everything suddenly fits together. The long white hairs that I’ve always teased Rolf about are identical to the long white hairs of this creature. This creature’s scent is exactly the scent I’ve noticed on Rolf’s clothes but not on the other human refugees. It feels like my brain is a tangled knot as I try to reframe so much of the past few [months]. I tentatively reach a paw out and stroke the large creature’s fur.
“You… You’re Teeya?”
The enormous creature lifts its head and yawns, displaying a gaping maw full of needle sharp teeth. Once again, the expected wave of panic never arrives. Looking carefully at Teeya’s features, I decide she’s obviously a cat. But, she looks nothing like the house cats I’ve seen in Terran movies or art. Her ears are far too tall and pointy and her face looks too wild.
“Those ears! Was Rolf really crazy enough to smuggle a Lynx onto Venlil Prime?”
A sleepy voice answers me from a dark corner of the room.
“She’smane, she’s a… a Maine Coon. They’big… big cats. Bigger’nsum, ‘n some dogs. But, friendly… Gold’n‘triever cats…”
Teeya begins grooming my fur again and I settle down, relaxing under the meditative repetition. I feel myself starting to doze off when Rolf finally stands up with a loud groan. The joints in his back and limbs cracking loudly.
“Ugh, my back is killing me! The eternal sunset here is bad enough, why does the gravity have to be so much stronger than Earth’s?”
With another yawn, Rolf walks over and sits down next to Teeya and me.
“How are you feeling, Lyra? You really had me really worried!”
I open an eye and look at Rolf. He looks like a mess!
“Well, everything is sore. But my head feels much better than before. And, wait… my leg and side are feeling better? How long have I been asleep? My leg was definitely broken!”
Rolf smiles and starts petting Teeya’s fur.
“Maybe two paws? Less than two days, but… well, let’s see; a paw is 20 hours, so… Honestly, I don’t even know what time it is right now. That’s the first time I’ve actually slept since you went missing.”
I close my eyes and sigh contentedly as Teeya moves from grooming my back far to the fur on my neck and head.
“Rolf, I’m famished! Do you have anything safe for me to eat while you fill me in on what I’ve missed the past few paws?”
Rolf brings me one of those sweet, crumbly, Terran strayu with the flattened [oats] and dried wine-fruit inside. I nibble on the [cookie] while he relates what happened.
“I don’t know how much you remember. You called me while you were walking home from work. At one point, you looked worried and dropped your holopad. I couldn’t see what was happening; but, I could hear the sharp cry of an animal followed by growling and the noise of a struggle. After that, I heard you cry out in pain. Naturally, I completely freaked out and dashed off to find you. I followed the route you usually take to work and eventually found your holopad, with some blood on it, and broken pieces of your tranquilizer gun scattered on the ground.”
Rolf looks rather guilty as he scratches behind Teeya’s ears.
“I’m not proud of this, but I honestly thought it was Teeya who attacked you.”
I flick my tail and ears at Rolf in annoyance.
“I told you multiple times that it was a shadestalker on the prowl and you didn’t believe me? Hmph, some friend!”
Rolf looks down and his shoulders droop.
“Well, you found that white fur. And all those times you were certain you were being followed… Look, let’s back up a bit. Before you called me, I had given up looking for Teeya. I managed to convince one of the UN guards to let me look through some archived security footage from cameras outside the refugee center. Well, it turns out this fluffy menace here found a way to get in and out of the apartment by herself. She’s been out exploring off and on for the past [14 days]. Anyhow, she’s been getting out of the apartment during the same time period when you kept seeing eyes following you to and from work. Well, that already had me worried and then you found those dead rats and the white fur. I’m not proud of myself, but, well, I figured Teeya must have been following you and that she must have killed those rats. And then, with you having rat blood on your fur… Look, I’ll be the first to argue how friendly Teeya is; but, if it was her that had killed those rats, I was just so afraid she might attack you.”
Teeya turns her head and glares at Rolf. I flick my ears in agreement and reach up to scratch under her chin.
“It’s OK Teeya. We’ll get our revenge. We need to teach this human what happens when he doesn’t trust his friends!”
Rolf chuckles, but I can see a hint of fear in his eyes.
“Uh, well… back to the story. I came home in such a panic that I was planning on calling the exterminators for help.”
I flick my ears and tail in appreciation.
“Rolf, I’m really impressed! If you were willing to call the exterminators, you really were concerned about me.”
Rolf just shakes his head and continues.
“Well, I came inside and saw Teeya with you; you had all that blood in your fur and those deep gashes in your side… I honestly didn’t know if you were dead or alive. I tried to pick you up, but Teeya was crazy protective – she would not let me take you away. At least I could see that you were alive. But, I didn’t know what to do. If I tried to get help from anyone at the refugee center, they’d take Teeya away. If I tried to get help from any of the locals, they’d assume Teeya attacked you and have the exterminators burn her to ash. Eventually, as I watched the two of you, it was clear that Teeya was trying to clean you up and comfort you. Honestly, she was acting like you were an abandoned kitten that she needed to mother.”
I roll over and cuddle up to Teeya, closing my eyes as she starts grooming the fur under my neck and my belly.
“At some point, I noticed that your holopad was actively recording. So, I checked to see if you managed to record anything during the attack that would help make sense of what happened. Most of the video was useless, of course, but I was able to see you smash that creature… the, uh, shadestalker? You have a fantastic shot of you smashing it in the face with your gun. Then I saw it dig its claws into your side and toss you across the road. That’s when Teeya came charging out of nowhere and attacked that thing, uh, the shadestalker, more fiercely than I’ve ever seen.”
Rolf scratched behind Teeya’s ears and smiled at her.
“I’m so proud of this little devil. She saved my best friend’s life.”
Rolf just sits silently for a minute, scratching Teeya’s side while watching her continue to groom my fur. Almost in a whisper, Rolf speaks again.
“I’m so glad you’re safe, Lyra. I don’t know how I’d survive on this alien planet without you.”
I wrap my tail around Rolf’s wrist and sign >thanks< with my ears.
“I can fill in a little bit of the story. It’s a bit fuzzy – I was fading in and out of consciousness – but, I remember seeing Teeya fight with the shadestalker. I was confused at the time because I thought she was a shadestalker, too. I couldn’t understand why two shadestalkers would be fighting over me. After chasing the shadestalker away, Teeya came back and started cleaning my wounds. She then carried me by the scruff of my neck back to your apartment.”
I sign >embarrassed< with my tail.
“I have to admit, I didn’t realize she was trying to help me at the time. I was in a panic because I thought she was trying to eat me…“
Rolf brings me some water and continues to narrate the events of the past two paws.
“Well, once it was clear that Teeya had rescued you and brought you home. I knew it was safe to leave you with her, so I went to find a friend of mine who worked with the Zurulians during the rescue efforts immediately after the attack on Earth. He had training with that futuristic healing gel stuff the Zurulians use and also had access to their medical database on xenobiology. He used the healing gel on those gashes in your side and he also used the healing gel when setting your broken leg. That stuff is amazing! Those gashes are almost completely healed and your leg isn’t nearly as swollen or bruised as it was even last paw.”
Teeya finishes grooming me. I close my eyes and nuzzle into Teeya’s soft fur.
“Thank you, Rolf. I’m really glad you and Teeya were here to help me.”
I open one of my eyes and look at Rolf.
“Now that Teeya and I are friends, can I move in with you guys?”
Rolf laughs.
“I was wondering when you’d ask. There’s nothing I’d like more.”
[[ Memory Transcription Error: Subject no Longer Conscious ]]
[First] [Prev] [Epilogue]

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.
Amy gets an unexpected call from the prime minister. That's ... good, right? (Nervous sweating).
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Chapter Cover Art (From Mood Writing Sample)
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Beatrice Barton, A.K.A. ‘Momma Bar’. She prided herself on her image as strict but warmly motherly figure. However, as far as prime ministers went, Beatrice was built different. She was the only woman Amy knew who was more physically imposing than her mother. Beatrice often boasted of her time in the army. She had more than enough bulk to prove it.
Amy recalled when the parliament was in uproar over one of Beatrice’s more controversial moves. Sure, Sargasa was a colony of Barbados, but she tended to step in and yank the chain of command from its government at any given time. “Thoughtless, shameless and overbearing!” That’s what the Sargasan president called it.
For a while, the woman sat quietly, taking in the criticism with indifference. Finally, she got up, calmly walked to the main entrance and locked the door. Flabbergasted into silence, most of the other politicians didn’t know how to react. Those who did tested the other exits and realised they too were locked. Standing before them all, Beatrice cracked her girthy neck and gargantuan knuckles. Then came her iconic bellow.

“WE GINE DO THIS LIKE BRITISH!”

Officially, what happened next was only hearsay. She claimed Sargasa had its first bout of legislative violence: a total free for all. Tensions were high and one thing led to another. She firmly believed the Sargasan government was better than this, quick to learn from its mistakes and move on. Most importantly, it would never. Happen. Again.
She said it while smiling, while being the only politician without a single bruise. The others weren’t so lucky. Broken bones abounded. The president was little more than a cocoon of casts propped up in the hospital. It looked like someone would need to step in and pick up the slack! She was willing to make the sacrifice.
Weeks later, a viral video surfaced. Supposedly, it was footage of The Incident, captured on a smartphone. Making heads or tails of the chaos was difficult. The feminine form at the forefront of it all moved too fast. Bodies went flying as she bowled through several people at a time. The camera couldn’t keep up, but it caught the moment when the president was yeeted across the room from offscreen. Then a massive, meaty hand reached for the phone.
The video ended there.
When asked to comment, Beatrice chuckled. It was an amusing little CGI animation, she claimed. No one could move that fast, or hurl people across a room. That was long before The Night Shift, after all.
Reporters interviewed the only politician with a crushed hand, conspicuously missing his smartphone. His silence was loud. It’d take a crowbar to pry open his lips.
Calling Beatrice queen of the girl bosses would be an insult. She was no mere ‘girl’. That’s how Amy once saw it, but Amy’s perspective had shifted since then. Now? Beatrice Barton was on her phone screen, staring her in the face. Or … was she? A glance confirmed that the camera was on. Yup. Amy explicitly remembered turning it off before answering the call. Somehow, that hadn’t made a difference.
Eyes wide, stock still, Amy stared back at Beatrice. She felt small. Ironic, since she was bigger than a house.
“GMM!!!”
In the distance, Amy heard the hunting cries of what sounded like an eyescraper. Ordinarily, she’d rush out there to deal with the pest, but the person before her riveted all attention.
Beatrice frowned. “Sweetheart, I can’t see your face.”
“P-pardon me?” Amy stammered.
Wasn’t the camera on? Oh, right … another glance revealed that although she did show up in the tiny corner screen, her features were blurred. It was that passive ability to mess up footage of herself. Amy mostly used it so that her mother couldn’t identify her on the news. Oftentimes, it was a nervous reflex. She almost always used it in public … and near open windows. How did Beatrice even know she could turn it off? What else did Beatrice know? Had she found out what Amy did to the agents?
The Prime Minister frowned. She was growing impatient.
Amy dropped the self-censorship filter. Her hair tendrils wrung each other nervously.
Beatrice scrutinised her for a moment. “Hm. You’re very pretty.”
“Oh, um … thank you, Honourable Beatrice Barton,” Amy replied.
Beatrice had a way of saying things. It was the holy grail of political charisma. Amy felt compelled her to drink up the complement. It was a far cry from the constant suspicion and discrimination of being a monster. However, Amy was well aware of ‘Momma Bar’s Honey’. Sometimes, it came before ‘The Bar Trap’.
“Please, call me Beatrice … or Momma Bar. Whichever suits you,” Beatrice chuckled. “I must say, I’m impressed with your work. Single-handedly taking on the night, despite rampant ingratitude? You could be alone, despised by everyone, and you’ll still do the right thing. It’s a testament of what a strong woman can be. I suspect we may have a new national hero in the near future, because frankly, you are mine.”
Amy swallowed her giddiness. “Wow, I … appreciate that, but I don’t need any special recognition.”
“I admire your humility, but this isn’t a matter of ego,” stated Beatrice. “There are many who still don’t know what you do for them. You don’t deserve to walk the streets under verbal assault born of ignorance. It’s time for people to learn the truth. In light of recent incidents, your P.R. could use some help.”
Amy had a sinking feeling. “What incidents?”
Rather than answering, Beatrice sent a slideshow of images across the screen. Amy perused them with confusion. Then her tendrils stopped moving. The rosy avatar paled close to white. Disgust and horror plastered on her face. Tears fell. Beatrice studied her every reaction intensely.
The slideshow ended, but Amy’s glazed eyes remained. The pounding in her chest and rapid breaths slowly subsided, even if she didn’t have a heart or functional lungs.
“What … was that?” Amy asked, her voice ragged and small.
“You should recognise the signs,” Beatrice stated. “It’s the work of an A.M.E.”
“A.M.E.s don’t operate like this,” Amy argued. “Th-they’re efficient, but not smart. This was a systematic massacre ...”
“Precisely,” Beatrice declared with the air of a ‘gotcha’. “No one even saw this A.M.E. before it struck. You’re the only one capable of this.”
Amy quailed. “I … I would never-! Th-that’s not my colour!”
“The public doesn’t know that,” Beatrice stated. “You just demonstrated the ability to change colour too, and that hunger of yours ... We’re keeping this under wraps. My agents are investigating the matter. Speaking of my agents … well, never mind for now. In the meantime, why don’t you collaborate with us? Prove that you’re on Sargasa’s side. With our intel and your capabilities, we could do a lot of good. We could find the monster responsible.”
Amy was still reeling. The Prime Minister had handed her a lifeline: the only lifeline. She raised her chin in the beginning of a nod.
“Classic Bar Trap,” Pseudo Mom declared, stepping into view with her arms folded. “Create a scenario in which there’s no way forward except your outstretched hand. Assuming those images were genuine, it truly is a tragedy, but you will not weaponise them to bring my daughter into your orbit.”
Beatrice blinked, staring down the new arrival. A shadow of a smile twitched at her lips.
“Amy … did you assimilate your mother?” she asked.
Amy paled again. “No! She’s just a figment, like an imaginary friend! That’s something I can do now!”
“A.M.E.s aren’t known to do that,” Beatrice calmly countered. “They mimic their victims.”
“But my mother’s not even in the city!” Amy reasoned.
Beatrice raised a finger. “Ah, but how can we know for certain? She’s made multiple declarations of intent on social media to find a way through the quarantine dome. What’s to say she didn’t somehow succeed, and your instincts ran their course? After all, A.M.E.s target the loved ones of their victims. We must check on her whereabouts. If she cannot be found in the outside world, well …”
It wasn’t blatant, but Amy saw the signs. Beatrice was practically drooling.
She had her.
The world seemed to slow as Amy’s mind accelerated. She spawned an avatar outside. Rain, falling in slow motion … she’d never seen that before. Individual raindrops were clearly visible. They weren’t shaped like tears, but glassy little spheres. She didn’t have time to marvel, though.
In the garden, she found The Predator sitting under the flamboyant tree, sulking. Its hair tentacles hung limply, drenched and dripping. The sight brought to mind a puppy in the rain.
Amy almost felt bad for her.
“Help me, you filthy animal!” demanded Amy.
Not bad enough, apparently.
“Beatrice Barton’s threatening Mom! Closing the ‘Bar Trap’ on me … o-on us!” Amy explained.
A smile slinked across The Predator’s face. “Well, well, well, look whose come crawling back. I’d rather watch you stew in your own juice.”
“Grrrrrr, OM NOM!” blurted an agitated Amy.
The Predator raised an eyebrow. “Excuse you?”
Amy grappled The Predator. Her hair engulfed its head in a feeding frenzy.
“OM NOM-NOM-NOM!”
With its head gone, Amy squeezed what remained of its body into herself. They became one.
Amy paused for a milli-second to think about what she’d done. Was it necessary? Not really. Subsuming The Predator was like swallowing her own saliva. Why was she so weird? Oh well. The deed was done.
Inside the house, Amy’s panic drained away. Old thought processes geared up like the engines of a great, terrible machine. It felt good to be back. So, so good. She knew what she had to do. First, she set the conversation to ‘save’.
Beatrice sensed the change. She looked Amy up and down as though trying to spot what had happened. The woman wouldn’t find it until too late. One of Amy’s tentacles slithered under the phone, seeking out any anomalies. It found a dedicated surveillance program and deleted it. Then it sifted through other apps, shutting down functions that could be used to spy. Her aerosol constructed several optical organs outside, monitoring the area omnidirectionally.
“I understand what you’re trying to do,” Amy declared coolly. “Projecting the illusion of control is a big deal, especially now. The eyes of the Caribbean are upon you. What would they do to you if you bungled this debacle? You can’t have someone like me running around without a leash, but honey, trust me, sometimes it’s best to let sleeping giants lie.”
Now, it was Beatrice who paled: quite a feat, with her dark complexion. Amy soaked it up: the sweet smell of fear. To think, she’d made Momma Bear balk. It was a delicious thought.
Beatrice gave an inconspicuous nod to someone offscreen.
Amy sensed a hidden program come to life. It tried to delete the conversation and wipe the phone. Her hair tendril snatched it out of the software. Several viruses leapt through her data to fulfil the same purpose. She snapped them up too. It was a good thing she’d consumed some memories with software expertise.
When the phone didn’t die, Beatrice’s eyes bulged. She fumed.
Amy chuckled.
Her optical organs picked up something incoming, fast. The biomass atmosphere caught it like a net. It seeped inside to touch and taste the payload.
Oh, how interesting.
She floated the object in through the window: a half-a-metre missile once aimed at her room. The thing would have flown right through the window.
Amy spotted the drone plane that launched it. Time to retort. Aerosol biomass condensed to a node, which blossomed into a solid construct. Neon arteries, organs and a structural shell came together to form the sleek, long object. It could be taken for an exotically complex floral bulb the size of two cars. Gill-like structures on its underside sucked and compressed air. As it floated above the house, tracing the plane’s path, its purpose became clear.
A big gun.
A pressurised blast of air tore from its muzzle. The rain scattered behind it as it ejected a wider, backwards blast to remain in place. The atmospheric round ripped through the sky with a thunderous roar.
Bullseye.
It crashed through the drone. A wing flew off. Down came the multi-million dollar aircraft in a ball of fire. If she’d estimated correctly, no one really lived at the crash site.
Amy returned her attention to the missile. Her aerokinesis carried through the window, into her hands.
Amy ran her claws along it. “Apologies for the distraction. Some idiot was lobbing firecrackers.”
Beatrice smirked.
The missile detonated.
The blast stopped, a broiling ball of dull, sickly moon-yellow. It hovered over her claws, bubbling and surging against aerotelekinesis. It wasn’t easy to hold it at bay and look like she wasn’t even trying. Her entire biomass clenched to get the job done. There were better ways to contain the blast, but it was as she’d said: the illusion of control was important. It had to seem like no big deal.
Amy looked oh so smug about herself.
Beatrice looked about ready to scream.
Ordinarily, the flash of an explosive might have messed her up. Luckily, it didn’t blow up as brightly as a regular bomb. It was a ‘dim bomb,’ a biochemical explosive no doubt harvested from certain nyctals. Had it destroyed her house, it would look like a monster attack. The missile was launched at her phone, though. It’s trajectory was surprisingly accurate. The goal was to destroy the evidence. They weren’t trying to kill her.
Yet.
Amy caressed the blast. There was a child-like part of her that gawked at the deed. She was touching an explosion!
Alright, enough fun.
Amy gripped it with both hands and squeezed. Her aerotelekinesis strained and compressed the blast into an angry ball the size of an apple.
Hmm … there was an idea!
Amy moved it to her mouth, suppressing second thoughts. She bit into it. The taste was like the smell of toe jam. Amy pretended not to notice. Her aerosol smothered and absorbed the explosive energy as she chewed. Once it was inert, she absorbed the residual chemicals. Amy polished it off, dusted her claws and beamed at Beatrice.
How boring. The Prime Minister had reigned in her emotions, feigning deadpan unamusement.
“Let me be perfectly clear,” Beatrice declared. “You assaulted agents. You stole confidential information, and shot down a 15-million-dollar aircraft. Any one of those is enough to bury you, and here you are, doing parlour tricks.”
Amy blinked innocently. “Agents? You mean dem fellas I caught snooping on my property? Oh, I had to know who they were, so I rifled through their memories. It turns out that one of them knew a little too much. You should handle your secrets more carefully.”
“Which is why you consumed him,” stated Beatrice.
“Quit jumping to conclusions. He’s safe. From you,” Amy chirped. “The last time we chatted, he had a nice little dead man’s switch. Touch him, me, or my loved ones, and everyone finds out what you did to this country.”
Beatrice’s face wrinkled. “Loved ones? Is that what they are to you?”
“GMMGM!!!”
That eyescraper in the distance again. With The Predator’s mental clarity, Amy had some breathing room to actually think about it. Maybe she should call Norman, check on him. She moved a claw to hang up.
“Don’t. You. Dare,” growled Beatrice.
Amy giggled. How on Earth did that woman know she was going to hang up? Hidden cameras, probably. Her biomass swept the room, finding and crushing them.
Beatrice went off on a tangent. Threats, ultimatums, the whole shebang. Amy was only half paying attention. She thought back a bit. ‘Loved ones’? In this state of mind, did she really love Norman? Well, he was attractive. Moreover, he was fascinating. Irresistibly fascinating. In a world of chess pieces, Norman was the only one that moved on its own, that could disappear and reappear behind her. Instead of a back stab, he’d tap her on the shoulder and say: “Hey. What are you doing? Stap.” If that didn’t work, he’d move her. He didn’t let go his morals to match her wits. Somehow, that didn’t make him weak or stupid.
She could bare her fangs, dripping saliva and viscera.
He’d still boop her on the nose.
Irresistible.
She wanted to see what he could do, how far he could go. If anything happened to him, ‘anything’ would be in for a bad day. He was hers. Did that mean she felt warm and fuzzy about him? No. Would she cry for him? No. Not in this state.
In other words, she’d made no progress at all.
Amy pushed a little affection into her thoughts about Norman. She smiled fondly. Love was a doing word. She loved him because she chose to love him.
It was easy to forget: Beatrice was still talking.
“I’m sorry. Were you saying something, Honey Bar?” Amy interrupted far too casually.
Beatrice looked as though she’d reach through the screen and throttle Amy. Then an aide whispered something into her ear. Her anger evaporated. She actually seemed pleased.
Amy didn’t like that.
Beatrice appraised her. “Look at you, back chatting Momma Bar. Word of advice: if you want to run with the big dogs, work your way up. Start small, like managing your boyfriend a bit better.”
“He doesn’t need managing,” Amy dismissed.
Her expression remained indifferent, but her hue deepened from raspberry to blood-red. Her coloured atmosphere reflected the change. Predatory pupils appeared in her eyes. Hair tentacles curved around the phone like jaws poised to close in. The video feed warped and flickered ominously as Amy’s tentacles nipped at the signal. Beatrice ignored it. In fact, it made her look and sound all the more menacing.
“Really? Then where is he now?” Beatrice leant forward. “Why didn’t he call you? Do you think you will see him again? It’s a dangerous cit-”
Amy hung up.
She shot through the window. The house shook, almost imploded. Loose objects flew about inside it as she dragged her biomass from within. Gale-force wind battered the garden.
Up into the sky she flew, scanning the city. The rain limited visibility. Her biomass configured massive, sensory organs like spiraling satellite dishes decked with eyes. They pierced the downpour, seeing and listening. She noticed several peeping buildings and eyescrapers on the move. They appeared to be coordinated.
Landlords.
Amy picked the largest, leading building and zoomed towards it. She moved through the streets like a ravening storm. Cars overturned and tumbled. Streetlights surged and exploded as she yanked away their energy. Vicious nyctals saw her coming, cowered, fled and hid. She wasn’t there for them. Not yet.
Like a crimson star burning through the night, she blazed forth at the forefront of her biomass. At a distance, her atmosphere’s outline could be seen. No longer was it a mere amorphous aerosol. It swam through the air like a jellyfish. Ethereal tentacles the size of streets wedged between buildings to pull it forward faster.
Then her biomass thinned.
Her winds died down. She melded with the night. Amid the cloak of heavy rain, she was a nearly imperceptible presence.
They would never see her coming.
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Current Rankings: Extreme Girls, Sisters, Tennis Rivals, Ice Dancers, Father & Son, Goths, Police Cadets, Party Dudes, Fashion Bloggers, Villains, Jocks, Pranksters, Bulldogs, Rockers, Best Friends
Episode 10: New Beijinging
"Last time on The Ridonculous Race. We struck emotional gold in Dubai.”
“Carrie gave up on the game of love, the Bulldogs grinded each others’ rusty gears. And Kelly finally gave Taylor a timeout, which cost them the race. But hey, a healthy relationship with your daughter's worth a million bucks. Not! And last but not least, a new alliance was born.”
“Is it more than just an alliance? Your guess is as good as mine. But mine matters more because I'm on TV. This is the Ridonculous Race!"
(Roll the Credits)
Don was shown approaching the first team. "All right. It's time to say "bye-bye" to Dubai. Extreme Girls, you're up first. Ready? Go!"
The Extreme Girls ran to the Don Box, and received their tip. "Find your next tip at the world famous Bird's Nest Stadium,” France read the tip. “Never heard of it."
"Well it's right here in Beijing, China," Don said. "Home to twenty-five million people. Oddly enough, we'll see none of them."
Along with the Extreme Girls, the Sisters, Tennis Rivals, Ice Dancers, Father & Son, Goths, Police Cadets, Party Dudes, Fashion Bloggers, and Villains all got their tips and raced to the airport.
"The first eight teams grab their travel tips, taxis, and tickets, and get seats on the first flight to Beijing. The stragglers on flight two have an extra hour to talk strategy," Don narrated as the footage jumped to the second flight in the air.
Carrie sat beside Devin, who was asleep in the window seat. "Watching Devin sleep is so awesome. He sometimes mumbles the sweetest things," Carrie told the camera.
"Rainbow zebras took my wallet…" Devin mumbled.
Carrie chuckled awkwardly. "I said sometimes."
Rock was walking down the aisle, and caught sight of an opened bag of airplane peanuts on Carrie's tray.
"Hey Carrie," Rock asked Carrie in a hushed whisper, "since Dev's snoozing, I got to know. You going to make a move on that?" he pointed to the peanuts.
"What?" Carrie glanced at Devin, not noticing that Rock was actually talking about the peanuts before turning to Rock again. "Oh, well, Devin and I are friends."
"I know, but this opportunity isn't going to last forever," Rock said.
Carrie gasped, and grasped Rock's arm as he tried to reach for the peanuts. "That's what I keep thinking! The whole reason I entered this race was to show him we had a connection! Something special"
Outside Interview: Rock
Rock groaned. "I just wanted the peanuts."
Outside Interview: Carrie
Carrie sighed. "Oh, why didn't I just tell him I love him in Hawaii? But... when I force myself to face it, I'd rather let him have a life with Shelley than not be in my life at all."
Interviews End
Carrie watched Devin shift in his sleep, and he snapped awake.
"Oh, good. You're okay," Devin breathed in and out. "I had a dream that you and I lived in a treehouse and it caught fire and-"
"Just you and me? Living together?" Carrie questioned, a smile replacing her sad frown.
Devin smiled at her. "Yeah, well, uh, I was a three-headed tiger," Carrie quickly became confused, "and you were a monkey in a tuxedo, but it was you. Weird." He went back to sleep, not noticing her smile growing bigger.
"We… lived… together…" Carrie repeated before the plane slightly shook from Carrie squealing in delight.
A few seats back from the Best Friends, Spud sat listening to his headphones. Rock returned to his partner, and said, "I know our strategy was 'slow and steady', but-"
"Isn't our strategy to 'party on!'?" Spud questioned.
Rock imitated a game show's wrong answer buzzer and replied, "No, but we need a new strategy anyway so-"
"How about 'party on harder!'?" Spud offered.
"Spud, we gotta go faster, like- pshew!" Rock told him, mimicking a shooting bullet.
"Okay," Spud got out of his seat and approached the front of the plane, knocking Rock down on his butt in the process, "I'll tell the pilot."
"No, Spud! I meant- aw man!" Rock tried to stop him as he got back to his feet, eventually facepalming.
Outside Interview: Rockers
"I'm starting to think, like, maybe there's such thing as too easygoing," Rock thought out loud while Spud was listening to his headphones. "I got to find a way to motivate this guy."
Interview Ends
As Tom was reading a magazine, Jen sat on her knees and leaned over the back of her seat to see that Tammy was cleaning her ocarina while sitting next to a sleeping and snoring oxygen masked Max.
"So," Jen started to say, "great minds think alike?"
Tammy smiled as she glanced at her sleeping partner before looking back up at Jen. "I’m a heavy snorer myself, but Max is much worse than me, and I’m telling you because he can’t hear me."
The first flight landed in Beijing, and the teams boarded a bus that would take them to the Bird's Nest.
"Thanks for helping us with the windows yesterday," Kitty thanked the Extreme Girls.
"No problem," Paris smiled.
"Just don't expect us to cater to you. We have an alliance, but it's still a competition," Emma reminded them.
World Interview: Extreme Girls
"I guess we could allow the Sisters to take first this time around," France said with a smile.
"If it means getting them to trust us more in Kitty’s case and distrust us less in Emma’s, then sure," Paris agreed.
World Interview: Sisters
"Are you still upset about not winning the last challenge?" Kitty asked her sister.
"I am, but Paris and France helped us stay in the race," Emma responded.
"And Paris using her hair to wipe the windows was pretty unique," Kitty added. "I’d like to get to know more about them and their crazy stunts."
"You can be all buddy-buddy with them, but not me," Emma muttered. "Winning comes first."
Interviews End
The bus arrived at the stadium, and accidentally hit the Don Box while trying to stop, sending the tip holder flying a few feet away.
Jen was first to step off the bus. "There's the Don Box!" The Don Box laid on the sidewalk, half-broken and spewing out tips. She picked up one of the discarded tips and read from it, "It's an All-In!"
"'Fly over the Bird's Nest stadium and tandem jump through the donut hole to receive your next tip?'" Tom finished reading.
A cut from the sidewalk to a plane flying above Beijing showed the teams preparing to do the jump, and Max glanced out the window of their plane.
"That's the Doughnut? Highly unimpressive," Max remarked upon seeing where they had to land.
World Interview: Villains
"I wish we had an eating challenge today rather than tandem jumping,” Max grumbled.
“The last eating challenge was the one in Iceland where they served eyeballs and intestines!” Tammy grimaced. “Good thing we chose to pick out a fossil instead.”
“A valid point, sidekick," Max agreed.
“You know you can just call me by my name sometimes,” Tammy deadpanned.
Interview Ends
The Villains and Fashion Bloggers both wore tandem parachute packs. Tammy and Tom, the taller of the two, would be controlling their packs once they jumped.
"I don’t know why they didn’t provide us with helmets," Tom said.
World Interview: Fashion Bloggers
“I thought you weren’t a fan of them,” Jen wondered.
“Yeah, but this is skydiving of all things,” Tom explained. “I’d rather let a helmet ruin my hair than some strong winds.”
“Now that you say it, I want helmets as well,” Jen reconsidered.
Interview Ends
Josee kissed her lava rock, and started rubbing it all over herself. "I need all the luck this Hawaiian lava rock can bring me."
World Interview: Ice Dancers
"Yesterday, we came in fourth.” Josee rubbed her lava rock on Jacques, and Jacques giggled as the lava rock tickled his armpits. “We shouldn't be down in the dirt with the losers. We should tower above them like the goddesses we are!" Josee finished rubbing her rock on Jacques, and pulled her arm back after ruffling his face and hair. "Did that sound egotistical?"
Interview Ends
The door on the side of the plane opened as an alarm blared, signaling it was their time.
"Jump time! You ready?" Kitty asked the Pros.
"Hey, how hard could it be?" Paris quipped, and the two teams jumped out.
Both teams screamed for dear life, and Kitty and Paris eventually got out the parachutes. Doing their best to guide them into the Doughnut, they steered in its direction, but the teams were pushed away in a different direction.
France and Paris screamed as they crashed down onto a rickshaw. Emma and Kitty, on the other hand, slammed face first into a gong.
The other teams soon jumped out of the plane. Most of the teams landed inside the Doughnut, but a wayward drift caught some of the teams.
The Tennis Rivals landed in the stadium and smiled at each other, only to be crushed down by the Party Dudes.
"Yippee!" Brody cheered. Their joy lasted only briefly as Father & Son landed on top of them.
"Oh yeah!" Dwayne cheered, but was cut off by the Goths landing on them.
The Goths stared blankly as their parachute covered them like a blanket.
Still in the air, the Ice Dancers attempted to navigate into the stadium. "Over there! Over there!" Josee commanded.
"I know, Josee! It's just not-agh!" Jacques yelped as they crashed through a billboard with a donkey on it, Jacques having his head stuck out of where the donkey’s butt was supposed to be.
World Interview: Ice Dancers
"That's Jacques for you, always trailing behind," Josse commented with Jacques having part of the billboard around his neck. "But still, he's an asset to the team."
Interview Ends
The Extreme Girls and Sisters ran past the Bird's Nest. "Okay, this time, less screaming, more steering," Emma instructed her sister, both looking disheveled from their bad landing.
"I'll see what I can do, but no guarantees." Kitty replied.
The bus carrying the last five teams arrived, and they all hurried out.
"Come on!" Carrie shouted out.
"Hurry!" Bark added.
Spud had yet to exit the bus, forcing Rock to double back. "Spud, hey, Spud!" Rock called, pulling out a box and shaking it. "Want a choco oinkie?"
Spud got off the bus, took a sniff, and began to smile. Rock shook the box, and took off after the other teams, convincing Spud to chase him.
Outside Interview: Rockers
"New strategy. Spud loves choco oinkies. He'd do anything for one," Rock explained with a smile as he held the box of choco oinkies in one hand.
"Chocolate-covered pork-rindy goodness…" Spud stated, almost hypnotized.
"So I cleaned out the airport vending machine;" Rock took out a choco oinkie. "This will make him up the pace."
Spud eyed the snack, and immediately bit Rock's hand for it. Rock screamed in pain.
Interview Ends
The Party Dudes, Tennis Rivals, Goths, and Father & Son all ran to the Don Box placed in the stadium.
Slamming the button on top, Geoff snatched the tip from the machine. "It's another All-In," he told the others.
A cut to a local vendor out in Beijing showed Don approaching the shop. "An All-In with a twist," Don said. "To receive their next tip from this vendor, one team member must assemble and deep fry a skewer of Beijing street food. And their partner has to eat it. Who's gonna scarf it and who's gonna barf it? Find out when we return on... The Ridonculous Race!"
(Commercial Break)
The front-running teams ran to the shop, and Geoff and Brody stopped by the counter.
"So, what's good today, dude? Are the crickets fresh?" Brody asked the old lady in charge. The old lady held up a cricket, which chirped in response.
Crimson and Ennui ran straight for a crate, and Crimson immediately pulled the lid off, allowing a swarm of bats to fly out.
World Interview: Goths
"Bats are like the most beautiful creatures on Earth. I had to set them free," Crimson stated while the bats flew around.
Interview Ends
Jacques and Josee once more parachuted out of a plane, and were able to make a successful drop into the stadium. As they landed, Jacques bent his foot the wrong way.
"Ah! My ankle!" he cried out in pain.
Outside Interview: Josee
Jacques hopped on one foot in the background, cradling his injured ankle.
"Why is Jacques so clumsy today?!" Josee questioned, giving her partner the stink eye from the foreground. She turned her attention to the camera while crossing her arms. "Don't give him any sympathy. You'll just encourage him."
Interview Ends
Josee ran towards the Don Box, but stopped to turn to Jacques, who was hopping after her, still cradling his ankle. "Snap out of it! Our fans are watching! Eat the pain!" She snarled at him, and put on a smile. "And smile!" Keeping the smile on her face, she went to the Don Box.
Taking Josee's advice, Jacques put on a pained smile, let go of his foot, and followed her. “Okay!”
Behind them, Devin and Carrie landed in the stadium.
"That was incredible! Woo!" Carrie cheered, unbuckling her harness. Devin, frozen in terror from the drop, fell over.
World Interview: Best Friends
"I am not great with heights or falling from them, which I think is reasonable," Devin said nervously, but then relaxed and smiled at Carrie. "I'm just really glad Carrie was there to see me through it? Shelley? Pfft. She would've totally bailed."
"Hey, what's that?" Carrie pointed off-screen past Devin.
Devin turned to see what she was pointing at. "What's what?"
Behind his back, Carrie grinned wildly until Devin began to turn around again. She regained her composure, and shrugged. "Oh, uh, guess it was nothing."
Interview Ends
The Jocks and Pranksters went through their jump, and successfully made it inside the Doughnut.
"So, what’s your favorite sport outside of-" Val asked Usain as they began to land, but was cut off by her and Windsor flopping to the ground as their parachute covered them.
World Interview: Pranksters
"Don’t blame me for your conversation getting ruined. I was simply the one in front of you," Windsor immediately said.
"Well, now I’ll never know about Usain’s favorite sport," Val frowned.
"Usain is a jock, but football would be an obvious answer," Windsor replied.
"I'm just trying to get to know him so I can ask her out without looking so needy and desperate," Val said.
"What can I do to help?" Windsor asked.
Val thought for a moment. "Other than not embarrassing me in front of Usain, nothing. I don’t want you to chase him away with your pranks," she scowled at Windsor, causing the younger girl to cringe.
Interview Ends
The Bulldogs and the Rockers made it into the Doughnut as well.
"Nice going, Bite! You didn't suck out there," Bark mocked his teammate as they ran to the Don Box with a smile.
"And you weren't being a stool, Bark," Bite shot him an equally mocking smile.
"We did it! Oink me!" Spud told Rock, eager to get a snack.
Rock took off the parachute, and removed the box of choco oinkies from a compartment of the pack. "Not until we're out of last place."
“Aw, come on,” Spud complained.
“Fine. Go get it!” Rock chucked a choco oinkie across the stadium.
“I'll get it! I'll get it!” Spud chased after it.
World Interview: Rockers
“My mom says I'm a light eater,” Spud explained. “When the lights go on, I start eating.”
Interview Ends
The teams continued to prepare their skewers. The Goths already had theirs prepared, and Crimson was eating it, but she looked ready to barf. The Tennis Rivals were investigating a crate, and were caught off-guard when a large snake wrapped itself around Gerry's neck. Father & Son ran from the bats that Crimson had freed earlier, and Max accidentally let go of the skewer he was deep frying, causing him to start over.
As the Best Friends ran past them, the Fashion Bloggers didn’t look particularly ready to eat something so disgusting.
Jen looked at her partner concernedly. "Uh, I don't think I can-" She wasn't able to finish her sentence as her cheeks bulged.
Tom frowned. "It's okay. I'll eat it. You skewer up some worms, and-" Jen ran off-screen, and vomited. "I can't even say 'worms'?" Tom asked, and he got a reply in the form of Jen retching some more, making him cringe at the sound.
Outside Interview: Fashion Bloggers
Tom and a pale Jen stood off to the side of the shop, and Jen was holding a bucket.
"When we were kids, Jen tripped over a curb and swallowed," Tom covered Jen's ears and continued softly, "a worm. She barfed for six days straight afterwards." He let go of her ears.
"Were you talking about worms?" Jen asked.
"Yes?" Tom answered hesitantly, and Jen retched into her bucket. "Yeah, I walked into that one."
Interview Ends
Dwayne was shown trying to catch a scorpion with his skewer but failing. “Come on, stay still, will you?” he griped. “Sneaky little rascals. Yeah, maybe I'll just grab one.”
Dwayne reached in, only for the vendor to pull his arm and prevent him. “Don't you worry about me. I'll be quick as a panther. Just you-”
He put his arm in again, and he was rapidly stung by the scorpions, much to Junior's horror. When Dwayne took his hand out, he shook away all of the scorpions.
One of the scorpions landed on Jacques’ face, forcing him to scream. “Kill it, Josee!”
“Stand still!” Josee ordered before she punched all sides of his head in order to get the scorpion off.
Bite skewered up one last creature, a starfish, and held up the skewer. "Alright! Time to cook!" Running the skewer over to the deep fryer, Bite stuck it in as Bark watched.
"Make sure not to burn it!" Bark advised. "I don’t want my tongue getting burned."
Outside Interview: Bulldogs
"I did the eating challenge in Morocco, so it was only fair that Bark here ate the scorpions and worms," Bite explained, then frowned. “I am a wee bit jealous that he’ll get to eat them and not me.”
Interview Ends
“Are you okay, dad?” Junior asked Dwayne, who’s left hand was swollen and had a goofy expression on his face.
“Oh, of course I am, Mr. President. Did you?” Dwayne mumbled before falling back down.
“Perfect,” Junior deadpanned.
Outside Interview: Father & Son
“The medic says it'll wear off eventually, but we can't just wait around or we'll get eliminated!” Junior spoke, unaware of Dwayne starting to wander off. “Looks like I'm in charge. Again.” He soon realized that Dwayne had left. “Oh no! Come back here!”
Interview Ends
“How are you feeling?” Josee checked up on her Jacques, who was sitting on the ground and feeling dizzy.
“I can't feel my face,” Jacques answered.
“Good!” Josee smiled. She took out her skewer with the food already on it, grabbed Jacques's hair, and stuffed the food into his mouth. She even forced him to swallow them whole.
“Done!” Josee cheered once the job was done and Jacques went off to hurl. “We're in first place!”
The vendor gave Josee their next tip. "It's a Botch or Watch. Whoever didn't dive for rings in Hawaii…"
"…must pull their teammate by rickshaw all the way here to the Great Wall of China, using only this rudimentary map," Don explained, standing on the wall and holding a map identical to the ones the teams would be using. "Last team to find the Chill Zone hidden somewhere along the wall, and check in, could be checking out."
Jacques got in a rickshaw while Josee pulled it, and Jacques bid farewell to the other teams. "Au revoir!"
"Hustle!" MacArthur ordered while Sanders took the front.
Brody whooped as he took the front of the third rickshaw.
"Three teams have moved on. Jen, you need to start skewering if-" Tom told Jen, but was interrupted when she ran off to barf in her bucket some more.
Meanwhile, Max was assembling a skewer for Tammy in the background. The Villains had stopped what they were doing to watch the three teams advance to the next challenge, and turned their attention to the sound of Jen hurling. They cringed at the sight off-screen.
“Shouldn't we try and help them?” Tammy asked.
“And be penalized? We may be alliance mates, but that host man will certainly punish us,” Max replied.
“I guess you do have a point there,” Tammy considered.
The Pranksters and Jocks all finally arrived.
"I prep, you eat!" Usain told Lightning.
"Why does Lightning have to eat?" Lightning asked.
"Because you picked the spices for me," Usain took a skewer, and quickly assembled an assortment for his partner.
Having watched the Sisters, Val turned to Windsor. "I prep, you eat! Not a question!"
"Wow," Usain said in response to Val's assertiveness.
World Interview: Pranksters
"I figure," Val began to say, "if I act strong and assertive, he'll see that I'm the girl for him. I've got this all figured out," she smiled confidently.
Interview Ends
Usain gave Val a flat look. "You should be less hard on your partner. She is 13, you know." Val's smile towards her fell upon hearing his response.
World Interview: Pranksters
"How is this so hard?" Val facepalmed.
"Now do you want my help, Valentine?" Windsor teased.
Val raised an eyebrow. "How could you possibly help?"
"I know from your experience how to make Usain like you. Don't act like someone you're not, and don't act like a bumbling mess around him," Windsor lectured. “Both are embarrassing to watch.”
Val sent the camera an unamused gaze.
Interview Ends
Val assembled a skewer, and joined Usain in deep frying.
"So, uh…" Val chuckled awkwardly, "deep fry skewers often?"
"Not really, no," Usain responded with a flat look.
World Interview: Jocks
"Deep fry skewers often? Seriously? Is that the best she can do?" Usain asked.
"I'm sure she's just trying her best,” Lightning reasoned. “I never thought that a girl as beautiful as Val would have trouble flirting."
Interview Ends
Bark finished eating, and threw the skewer in the trash. "Done!" he said.
"Alright!" Bite cheered, and accepted the tip from the vendor. She glanced over at the rickshaws. "Looks like a Botch or Watch. You dived for the ring in Hawaii, so it's your turn."
"Okay, let's go," Bark agreed, and they went to get a rickshaw.
Carrie and Devin looked in a crate, and saw that a snake was curled up in the shape of a heart.
"Aw, look Devin," Carrie smiled at Devin, "It must be a sign."
Devin smiled back, and was randomly attacked by the snake biting at his face.
Meanwhile, Spud attempted to skewer a starfish. Rather than skewer it down the middle, he tried skewering one of the starfish's arms. "Whoa, if I had that many arms, I could play guitar, drums, and bass all at the same time."
"Man, hurry up," Rock urged his partner.
Outside Interview: Rockers
"I think a choco oink would really help me pick it up, you know?" Spud prompted.
Rock raised a challenging eyebrow, and took out a choco oink. "Yeah, one of these? Sure hope there's some left when we aren't in last place." He curled the snack up in his fist.
"You can't do-" Spud gasped.
"Can't what?" Rock prodded, crushing the choco oink in his fist into crumbs.
Spud screamed in horror, and bent down to the sidewalk to eat the crumbs.
Interview Ends
"There!" Jacques pointed at the approaching Great Wall. "First place, here we come! Yes!"
Unbeknownst to the Ice Dancers, a banana peel was lying in their path. They were so focused on reaching the wall that Josee stepped on the peel, and slipped, propelling the rickshaw forward without her. Jacques screamed as the transport spiraled out of control, and got stuck on a rock, launching him into the air and onto the wall. "My ankle!"
Val and Usain's skewers were finally ready, and they handed them to their respective partners.
While Windsor took modest bites of her skewer, Lightning opened his mouth, and stuck the whole skewer in, pulling it out clean. After a couple chews, he swallowed. "Done!"
"Are you serious?" Windsor asked after swallowing a bit.
Lightning pointed to Windsor's skewer. "You gonna finish that?"
Bite pulled Bark along, and the latter looked a little worse for wear. Bite noticed this as well.
"Um, are you okay?" she questioned.
Bark put on his best smile. "Never better. Just a little full from the skewer-" Bark was interrupted by his cheeks bulging mid-answer, and he hurled on the side of the road.
Outside Interview: Bite
Bark was hunched over on the side of the road, puking into the grass. Bite stood in the foreground near the camera.
"Yeah, that could've been me blowing chunks if he ate the stew and I had to eat the fried food," Bite admitted.
Interview Ends
The Party Dudes and Police Cadets arrived at the Great Wall, and were stuck with two different directions.
"Which way?" Sanders pondered.
"Should we split up?" Geoff asked.
Brody smiled, and slung an arm around MacArthur. "Good idea. I'll go with MacArthur!"
"Dude, I meant one team goes right and the other team goes left," Geoff explained.
World Interview: Police Cadets
"It's not Brody's fault he's crushing on me,” MacArthur smirked. “Doctors say my pheromones are stronger than a jet engine built by grizzly bears."
"What?" Sanders raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't even make sense."
MacArthur snorted. "Oh, right. ‘Cause you're a bear expert."
Interview Ends
(Commercial Break)
Josee and Jacques stopped running along the Great Wall's path, and looked both ways the wall went, not sure which way they're supposed to go.
"Which way?" Josee panted.
Jacques growled as he held up the map to observe it. "This map is useless!"
Josee snatched the map out of his hand, took out her lava rock and gave it a kiss, and then rubbed the rock on the map. "I'll let luck decide." She pocketed her charm, and tossed the map up in the air, letting it get caught by the wind. "Chill Zone, here we come!" The Ice Dancers ran off, pursuing their map.
"Five more teams have finished the eating challenge, leaving our last two skewered up teams," Don narrated as the Goths, Tennis Rivals, Father & Son, Best Friends, Sisters, and Extreme Girls got their tips. Tammy struggled to eat her skewer, while Spud and Jen had yet to deep fry theirs.
Jen came back from another round of vomiting, and Tom took the skewer. "Stand aside. I'm cooking," he said, skewering some worms in the crate.
"But I can't do the eating…" Jen groaned as Tom went over to the fryer.
Outside Interview: Fashion Bloggers
"But it's not chicken," Jen protested, holding her bucket in front of her.
"Doesn't matter. Say it like you mean it over and over. Make your mind believe it's chicken," Tom encouraged her.
"Okay… it's chicken. It's chicken. It's chicken. It's chicken!" Jen started to believe it every time she recited the mantra, and eventually dropped the bucket to the ground.
Interview Ends
Tom finished deep frying, and handed it over to Jen.
"It's chicken… it's chicken… it's chicken…" Jen bit into the skewer.
"That's it! Now taste the chicken!" Tom cheered her on.
Spud ran over to Rock with a skewer ready to eat. "I can has choco oink?" he asked as Rock took the skewer.
"No, dude, we're still in last," Rock stated. He took a glance at the skewer, and his cheeks bulged.
World Interview: Rockers
"Once, I ate deep fried tofu. I was like blegh, and this was all like krkrkrkrkrk," Rock explained, imitating a twitch while Spud watched on.
Interview Ends
Tammy swallowed, and winced. "Done!" She and Max took their tip, and ran off to the next part of the challenge.
Lightning flexed his muscles as Usain pulled their cart along. "So why are you shooting Val down?"
"It's a competition. Relationships can mess it up and we need the money," Usain responded as he ran.
"Lightning hasn't forgotten about that man," Lightning responded. “All I'm sayin’ is-”
"Get it over with so that you and me can beat them? No can do. You can't rush love," Usain replied, ending the discussion.
As they went along the road, their wheel hit a large rock, and wobbled off the cart, unbalancing the Jocks and they screamed while they crashed. Usain saw their wheel rolling away. "Our wheel!"
Moments later, Val and Windsor came around, Windsor accidentally running over the wheel and crushing it. "It's destroyed! We're going to be eliminated," Lightning began to panic when the Pranksters stopped next to them.
"Hey, you guys need a hand?" Windsor inquired.
Val got out of the rickshaw, and walked over to the Jocks. "Hi, Usain. Act normal." Val closed her eyes, and they shot open in realization. "That part wasn't supposed to be out loud. I was talking to myself."
"Just stop," Usain pleaded.
"Okay!" Val quickly shut up.
Bark and Bite stopped in the middle of the Great Wall, looking both ways.
"Which way should we go?" Bite asked.
Holding his stomach, Bark replied, "You decide. I'm still recovering from that vomiting episode."
Bite looked around to see if anything could be a clue. Eventually, she found nothing, and just pointed off to her right. "We're going this way."
On another part of the Great Wall, the Party Dudes and the Police Cadets were still running to their left.
"This has got to be wrong. We should turn around," Sanders spoke up.
"180! Let's do it!" Geoff agreed enthusiastically. Both teams quickly did a U-Turn, and started going back the way they came. "Oh yeah!" he whooped.
Usain and Windsor ran side by side, pulling their rickshaws at the same speed.
Usain glanced back for a second. "Is this too fast, Val?"
"Nope," Val denied. "It's good." She was standing on the seat of her and Windsor's rickshaw, hunched over the side and holding the part of Usain and Lightning's rickshaw that once held their missing wheel.
"Doesn't that hurt?" Lightning asked as he watched her.
"Oh yeah. I'm in pain, but Usain's very hot," Val answered, causing both Jocks to smile. "That was out loud again, wasn't it?"
At the Chill Zone, Don smiled upon seeing the first team to arrive.
"Bulldogs, first time arriving at the Chill Zone first! Congrats!" Don congratulated the team.
"Alright! We did it, laddie!" Bite cheered.
Bark groaned while straining to smile. "Cheers. I think I need to use the restroom or something." He walked away from the Carpet of Completion, still holding his stomach. Bite, who was frowning in concern, followed after him.
The Jocks and Pranksters reached the Great Wall, and walked to their right, the camera's left.
Glancing at Val, Usain asked, "How's your hand?"
Smiling at her crush, Val answered, "It's fine," she held up her left hand while frowning. "This one, not so much." Her left hand was red and swollen.
"I'm good at massaging. Give me your hand." Taking hold of Val's hand in both of his, Usain held it and massaged it to get the swelling down. "What you did was really cool. Does this feel better?"
"It's actually really painful," Val began to say, prompting Usain to stop, "but don't stop. Oh no, was that out loud?"
Lightning smiled. "You didn't say anything." Beside him, Windsor smiled as well.
"Oh, good."
Jacques and Josee continued to run down the Great Wall's path, and gasped when they saw the Police Cadets and Party Dudes coming their way.
"If they're coming towards us," Jacques realized as he turned to Josee, "then we're going the wrong way!" He and Josee panicked, and immediately turned around, running just a few feet ahead of the other two teams.
Outside Interview: Junior
Dwayne was in the background standing in front of the rickshaw, though his pants were down.
“My dad has to pull the rickshaw?” Junior moaned in the foreground.
“No problem, Santa! I'll pull your sleigh,” Dwayne said until he noticed that his boxers were showing. “Where are my legs?!” he yelled.
Interview Ends
France grunted as she pulled Paris in the rickshaw.
"Just imagine that you're being chased by the pack of dogs from Mr. Yank's house," Paris encouraged.
"Too bad they aren't here!" France said.
Just a few feet behind them, Emma was pulling Kitty.
"I feel so-!" Kitty almost retched. "Are we almost at the Great Wall?"
Emma continued to stare ahead, but answered her partner. "I think so. I think I can see it up ahead."
Rock finished putting a wheel that had fallen off back on the rickshaw. "There. That should hold it until-" Rock stopped as he turned around to see Spud eating the choco oinks. "Seriously? Did you just down all the choco oinks?"
"Maybe," Spud answered.
"I needed those to motivate you!" Rock complained.
"To eat them all? Done!" Spud threw the empty box over his shoulder.
"It's not like it matters anyway. You're not the one pulling the rickshaw," Rock told him.
World Interview: Rockers
"A few years ago, Spud ate a whole box of chocolate covered coffee beans," Rock recalled.
"Yeah, I did over three thousand consecutive power slides," Spud added.
"Yeah man," Rock agreed. "It was all whzow, wah, and pshoom!"
Interview Ends
Tom began to run, towing the rickshaw behind him.
“Are you sure you're going to be fine Jen?” Tom checked on his partner, who was beginning to recover.
"Ask me later Tom. Keep pulling the rickshaw," Jen said.
At the Chill Zone, the Pranksters and Jocks were debating who should step on it first.
"Only one team can come in second," Don reminded them.
"You two can go," Val gestured for the Jocks to go ahead of her and Windsor.
Lightning began to step onto the Carpet of Completion, but was stopped by Usain holding out his arm.
"I would accept, but you girls should take this one. You did swell up your hand for us," Usain reasoned, smiling at Val meaningfully.
"I like you," Val told him with a smile back.
"Do you want me to change my mind?" Usain laughed.
World Interview: Pranksters
"You know you're on good terms with a team of competitive jocks when they allow you to win," Windsor joked while Val watched her with a smile.
Interview Ends
“We almost done delivering the presents?” Dwayne wondered while pulling Junior.
“Presents?” Junior asked in surprise. “Oh, right. Ho, ho, ho!”
"Go, Max! You can do it!" Tammy cheered as Max pulled her before the Rockers and Fashion Bloggers passed them.
Josee found herself twitching as she screeched "Fourth again?!" Beside her, Jacques glared at Don.
"Yes, fourth always comes after third,” Don said. “The numbers are sequential."
World Interview: Ice Dancers
Josee could be heard raging, and breaking stuff off-screen. Jacques sat in front of the camera, smiling hesitantly while giving thumbs-up, carefully dodging objects flying past him.
Interview Ends
"Fifth!" Police Cadets. "Sixth!" Party Dudes. "Seventh!" Goths. "Eighth!" Tennis Rivals. "Ninth!" Best Friends. "Tenth!" Sisters. "Eleventh!" Extreme Girls. "Twelfth!" Father & Son.
"There's the Chill Zone!" Tom cheered and ran for it.
Behind him, Jen started to feel woozy. "Ohhh… that was not chicken…" she moaned and then threw up on the back of Tom’s head, forcing him to scream and trip on his feet, preventing them from moving forward and allowing the Rockers and Villains to run past them.
"Thirteenth!" Don awarded to the Rockers. "Fourteenth!" he said to the Villains.
The Fashion Bloggers got on the Carpet of Completion, Jen wiping her vomit off of Tom with a tissue.
"Fashion Bloggers," Don informed Jen and Tom, "I'm afraid you're the last team to arrive."
"Aw… we were so close," Jen moaned.
It was then that the Villains came onto the Carpet. “So it would appear that you two will be departing,” Max said.
“Afraid so,” Tom nodded.
“Sorry we can't continue our partnership,” Jen said, “but hopefully we can see each other after the race.”
“That would be nice,” Tammy smiled. “I've never told Max this, but I've watched your blog, and I'm a huge fan.”
“Why did you not tell me, sidekick?” Max shot a look her way. “You should know that-”
“We'll promote jumpsuits on our blog when we get home,” Jen assured him.
“As a way of making both of you happy,” Tom added. “They're really appealing.”
Max's anger evaporated after hearing that. “In that case, I'm letting this slide, Tammy,” he smiled and walked away with Tammy. “Until we meet again.”
“Bye guys,” Jen waved at them while she and Tom smiled.
“I wouldn't call this a failure in any way,” Tom said as their montage played. “We so kicked butt.”
“We nearly died so many times on that skywalk, in that geyser field, oh, on that vine,” Jen recalled. “But we totally did it.”
“Yay us,” Tom cheered.
“Doing this race is a huge test of how strong your friendship is. And I think we did great,” Jen said.
“Greater than great,” Tom agreed.
“Sorry about puking on you earlier,” Jen added as they were walking home. “I'll use some of my money to get you a new shirt.”
“That's generous, but I think it can be spent on my dime instead,” Tom refused politely.
(Roll the Credits)
Stepbrothers - Chet & Lorenzo - 21st
Geniuses - Ellody & Mary - 20th
Vegans - Laurie & Miles - 19th
Adversity Twins - Jay & Mickey - 18th
Daters - Ryan & Stephanie - 17th
Mother & Daughter - Kelly & Taylor - 16th
Fashion Bloggers - Jen & Tom - 15th
Current Rankings: Bulldogs, Pranksters, Jocks, Ice Dancers, Police Cadets, Party Dudes, Goths, Tennis Rivals, Best Friends, Sisters, Extreme Girls, Father & Son, Rockers, Villains

Current Rankings: Party Dudes, Best Friends, Ice Dancers, Jocks, Sisters, Extreme Girls, Pranksters, Father & Son, Police Cadets, Tennis Rivals, Bulldogs, Goths, Rockers, Mother & Daughter, Villains, Fashion Bloggers
Episode 9: Hello and Dubai
"Last time on the Ridonculous Race. Our teams took a blistering stroll through Hawaii.”
The Party Dudes showed some love as they took first place. Josee found a new good luck charm, Kelly told Taylor she's not that chipotle after all, and Usain's heart ain't into love that much.”
“But it was all eyes on the Fashion Bloggers, who made an alliance with the Villains and arrived last. They found out it was a non-elimination round, so their alliance stays.”
“Let the madness continue. This is the Ridonculous Race!"
(Theme Song)
"Welcome back to The Ridonculous Race, where our racers are ready to say "aloha" to Hawaii. Our Surfer Dudes came in first," Don said as the Sport Heads arrived at the Don Box.
"Woo! Dibs on first tip!" Geoff cheered.
Outside Interview: Party Dudes
"I don't know what's crazier," Geoff said. "That we're in first or that we're not in last."
"Dude. Deep," Brody smiled.
Interview Ends
Brody pressed the button and received the tip. "We're going to... D-Debay-e?" he pronounced the location confusingly.
"Or as it's more commonly known... Dubai! An oasis of luxury, man-made islands, and a mall so big, even teenagers get lost," Don informed as he stood in front of a shuttle bus. "Once here, teams must bus to Burj Al Arab, the world's only seven-star hotel, to find the next Don Box."
"Taxi!" Geoff raised his hand and summoned a cab.
The scene cut to the airport, where the check-in receptionist was preparing a cup of coffee and was about to drink it when the first seven teams got inside and waited in line.
"Dubai, please!" Geoff told the receptionist.
The receptionist typed on his computer. "Flight leaving now time… fourteen seat. Rest on next flight."
The first seven teams cheered just as Father & Son arrived.
"Alright! We made it!" Dwayne celebrated.
Junior frowned. "Count again."
Dwayne started to look around. "Two, four-" he counted and facepalmed. "Darn it!"
Outside Interview: Father & Son
"Already tied for last. Yay," Junior said without enthusiasm.
"Don't count us out yet, kiddo," Dwayne said. "Last time, we were on the first flight, and it got delayed. Remember?"
Interview Ends
"While the last nine teams wait to board their flight out," Don explained as the nine teams waited for their tickets, "the first seven are about to fly Air Dubai, with the world's most opulent first class section… for winners only."
The first seven teams were inside the first plane, and while those that placed second to seventh passed a hot tub behind them, the Party Dudes ran towards the tub in their swimsuits.
"Cannonball!" Geoff shouted before he and Brody jumped into the tub.
Brody took a chocolate chip cookie from a plate next to them and took a bite. "Mmm, cookie?" Brody asked.
Jacques saw what was going on. "May we?" he asked before the flight attendant pushed him into the economy section, and closed the curtain.
Brody shrugged. "Guess not."
Jacques growled as he turned to Josee. "That hot tub should be ours. How did we place third?!"
"As my mother always says, "Bronze is the medal of failure!". But, mama, our luck is about to change," Josee took out her lava rock.
"You replaced your lost lucky rabbit's foot with a pretty rock. Our luck is bound to improve!" Jacques said before the luggage compartment over him broke open, and he was hit by a lot of luggage.
"Forged from lava, this stone embodies my fiery determination to win!" Josee gleamed before cackling villainously.
"You mean our determination to win?" Jacques asked from the floor.
"Hmm?" Josee looked down. "Oh yeah, sure."
"Both flights are headed for Dubai," Don said over the map focusing on the first flight leaving Hawaii, "one an hour ahead of the other. It'll be a quick flight-" Don was interrupted by his earpiece. "What? Seventeen hours? Wow. Well, plenty of time to rest and enjoy each other's company."
The Villains and Fashion Bloggers were shown at the back of the line. “I can't wait to go to that mall after today's challenge,” Jen said enthusiastically.
“Me too,” Tom smiled. “I heard about the Gold Sioux over there and every single thing is filled with gold.”
“If that's the case, then there better be a crown for me to take home,” Max sneered.
World Interview: Villains
“You do know that you'll have to pay for that crown if we happen to see it, and I’m pretty sure that you’ll get tackled by security if you try and steal it,” Tammy said to him.
“Preposterous!” Max grumbled. “When we win the million dollars, I’m going back to Dubai and purchasing that thing!”
“I’m not saying that you have to do it immediately-” Tammy tried to say.
“Silence, sidekick!” Max hushed her.
Confessional Ends
The scene cut to the first flight, where the buckle seat belt light was blinking repeatedly above the Pranksters.
“Seriously Windsor, put your seatbelt on,” Val chided her partner. “You know the rule about safety.”
“I know Val,” Windsor said as the camera zoomed out to show her trying to fasten her seatbelt. “But I think my stupid seatbelt is broken! I don’t hear that click!”
“Well I'm not going to let you sit on my lap,” Val said. “I like my space the way it is.”
Outside Interview: Windsor
“I'd be stupid if I didn't buckle my seatbelt in,” Windsor said. “After all, I'm a self-admitted troublemaker, not a numbskull juvenile delinquent.”
Interview Ends
"Hey, you want the window seat?" Lightning offered to Usain.
Usain glanced across the aisle, and smiled at what he saw. "I'm gonna pass."
Lightning followed his gaze, and smirked once he realized Usain was looking at Val. "But don’t you always sit in the window seat?" he teased his little buddy. "Lightning sees that as strange."
“People can change, Lightning,” Usain quoted. “It's natural.”
Meanwhile, Kitty was in the middle of talking to her sister.
"I was thinking we should form an alliance with like, I don't know,” Kitty peered over her sister's seat. “France and Paris."
World Interview: Sisters
"I have enough trouble keeping this one on track," Emma said, pointing to her sister beside her. "With a whole other team to worry about, I wouldn't be able to ride her as much."
Kitty rolled her eyes. "Yep. We really need an alliance."
Interview Ends
The Sisters glanced at the Extreme Girls, who were blocking out everything around them by listening to music through headphones.
"Paris and France are totally wild,” Emma told her sister. “It's bad enough that I already have to live with someone like that."
Kitty glanced away from her sister as she sarcastically said "Isn't that obvious." Emma threw her a look, and Kitty recovered quickly. "But they are pretty good at the game. They got second place in Paris, France, and unless we want a bad reputation, we have to make friends in the game. You know I'm right."
Back with the Pranksters, Windsor was still struggling with her seatbelt until she gave up. “That's the third time. I'm just gonna wait for a stewardess to come and fix this thing.”
"I'm going to use the toilet. Be right back," Val got up to do just that when she met Usain in the aisle, and they exchanged a small smile.
The scene transitioned to the teams on the second flight, Bite currently graffitiing the window seat with her gray spray can and the cloud dispersed to reveal that she was making a skull and crossbones.
"Ay Bark! Lend me your spray can!" Bite said. “Mine's about to run out.”
Bark, who was picking his nose, shrugged and pulled it out of his pocket. "Don’t waste any of mine, you hear?"
“I care about our atmosphere. I’m not going to suffocate us,” Bite assured and resumed spray painting.
Taylor leaned over the top of their seats and shot them an irritated glare. "Can you stop? My nostrils are burning up!"
Bite rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll just go someplace else,” she groaned. “You’re lucky we’re still on the ground.”
Taylor sat back down, facing away from her mother. "I like how you handled that, honey." Kelly praised her.
"Oh, do I get a fake trophy for it?" Taylor shot back, rolling her eyes.
World Interview: Mother & Daughter
"Honey, I feel terrible about this," Kelly tried to say.
"Oh, then all is forgiven,” Taylor said with a fake smile before retorting “Psyche! That means it isn't."
Interview Ends
"Mom, I need some space. I'm giving you a time-out," Taylor told her mother.
"I'm not sure it works like that," Kelly pointed out.
In response, Taylor drew a huge breath, and began to hold it.
Kelly stopped her by standing up. "Okay, sure." She left their seats, and walked up the aisle, where she found Dwayne and Junior with an empty seat. "Is this seat taken?"
"Uh, no, no," Dwayne stammered. "But uh, I am. Married"
Junior sighed. "She's not into you, Dad."
"Oh, sorry," Dwayne apologized.
"No problem." Kelly slid into the seat. "I'm just having some... family issues right now. It all started back when Taylor was..."
As Kelly was talking, Dwayne paid attention to her.
Outside Interview: Father & Son
"Play our cards right, pal, and this could be our first alliance. Great, huh?" Dwayne told Junior.
"Uh, have you met them?!" Junior said incredulously.
Interview Ends
"And I guess I shouldn't have told her the truth," Kelly finished.
Dwayne answered, "Oh yeah, our opinions mean a lot to them. Uh, one time, Junior made pancakes for mother's day and I said they were overdone. He almost cried."
Kelly smiled. "I had the exact same thing happen with Taylor! Except I was the one making pancakes for her, and she threw them at me! And the pan."
Dwayne, feeling awkward, gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Oh. Uh, well, that's kids for you."
The scene cut to Lightning and Windsor watching Usain and Val talk to each other from their seats.
"Those guys need to loosen up a bit sometimes, am I right, kid?" Lightning commented as they listened to their partners.
"I'm in my early teens, but yeah," Windsor agreed. “Why are they not together already?”
"You didn't see it, but Val was a bit of a mess when she asked the Lightning about Usain," Lightning explained, “and Usain's not ready to date in the competition.”
"How come?" Windsor questioned.
"We're both used to bein’ bachelors all our lives," Lightning said. “Usain thinks that having a girl in his life would mess things up for him.”
"Oh," Windsor said in disappointment.
"We gotta get them together," Lightning declared with a glance back at their partners. “The faster it's done, the better.”
“I’m not able to completely understand your train of thought, but I’m with you,” Windsor smiled and fist bumped him.
"Flight number one has landed in Dubai,” Don said as the flight landed, and the scene cut to the bus arriving at the hotel, “and the teams are being shuttled to the Burj Al Arab."
Paris took a tip from the Don Box. "Either Or. Serve or Squeegee."
Up above on the top of the hotel, Don explained the challenge. "Teams can either return one serve each from the world's toughest ball launcher, The Tennis Menace, or wash an entire column of windows from the top down." A squeegee sitting precariously on the edge of a window-washer platform fell off, and fell to the ground. It fell fast enough that it burst into flames, and turned to ash upon impact with the ground.
Seeing this, Don put a finger up to his ear piece, "Are you sure legal cleared this?" A reply warbled over static. "Really?"
(Commercial Break)
"Welcome back to the Ridonculous Race. The teams from flight one were the first to arrive at the hotel, and have the choice of either-" Don explained.
"Serve," Geoff decided.
"Or," Don added.
"Squeegee. Let's go!" Paris declared, running into the hotel to use the elevator. France and the Sisters followed suit.
Along with the Party Dudes, the Ice Dancers, Best Friends, Pranksters, and Jocks all chose Serve.
“The Party Dudes are ready to take on the Tennis Menace,” Don voiced over Brody stepped up first with a racquet in hand.
“Participate,” the Tennis Menace challenge.
"Okay, buddy, you got this?" Geoff asked his partner from the sidelines.
"I got this," Brody replied, getting into a stance.
Outside Interview: Party Dudes
"Tennis is the ultimate wimp sport," Brody said.
"No checking, no tackling, just a fluffy little ball." Geoff explained. "It's like super-sized ping pong. What could be dangerous about that?"
Interview Ends
"You got this?" Geoff repeated at a louder volume.
Brody turned his back on the machine to shout back, "I got this!" At that moment, the ball launcher turned on, and rapidly fired balls at Brody. Covering his head, Brody made a retreat. "So don't got this, dude!"
Carrie nervously eyed the Tennis Menace, and Devin put a hand around her shoulder. "I know you're scared, but whatever happens, I believe in you," he encouraged her.
Carrie chuckled, blushing as she did so, and approached the Tennis Menace to take her turn. As she got into position, Devin added, "Anyway, Shelley hangs out with her tennis instructor, like, all the time. And she says tennis is a mental game."
Having been caught off-guard, Carrie flinched as a tennis ball knocked her racquet out of her hands, causing her to frown sadly and walk back to the sidelines.
"Alright, my turn," Usain said as he ran up to take his turn. He quickly yelped as he narrowly avoided a ball hitting his head.
World Interview: Jocks
"Okay, we're jocks and all, but tennis is something that we're not interested in," Usain told the viewers.
"Yeah! It's practically a sport for wimps!" Lightning agreed. "And we're men!"
"It still beats squeegeeing though," Usain added.
"Sha-totally!" Lightning nodded.
Interview Ends
Back on the second flight to Dubai, Kelly was still talking to Dwayne.
"Well, and that's it, right? And after she crashed her third sports car, I wanted to cut up her credit cards, but you know, I just knew she'd steal mine," Kelly wrapped up another story. "That's parenting, right?"
"Well, uh, I guess teens are more challenging," Dwayne mused, taking a sip of his water.
"Oh no, no. This all happened when she was ten," Kelly corrected him. "The real drama started when she turned twelve."
Dwayne did a spit take. "Uh, Kelly, the problem here is that Taylor doesn't have proper boundaries. That or she was born rotten," he responded.
Kelly gasped, standing up and grabbing Dwayne's glass of water, "How dare you?!" She splashed his water on his face, and walked back to her original seat.
“Eh, good talk,” Dwayne said after coughing.
Outside Interview: Father & Son
"I'm worried Kelly and Taylor aren't the best team to partner with," Dwayne said.
Junior snorted. "Yeah."
Interview Ends
Paris and France prepared to do the Squeegee challenge, and Emma and Kitty walked up to the platform beside them.
"Hey, we're doing the same challenge as you two. What are the odds?" Kitty joked.
"Maybe we should work together?" Paris offered.
Emma lowered her voice to a whisper. "No alliances, remember? Come on!"
World Interview: Sisters
"Remember," Emma told her sister, "we're here to finish first. No surrender, no distractions."
"How do you automatically know that they're going to distract us?" Kitty asked in annoyance.
"Trust me. I always know," Emma replied.
Interview Ends
"With teams from flight two arriving, the heat is on." Don announced as the second flight arrived, and the teams hopped on their bus to the hotel.
France wiped a window with her squeegee. "This is hard, but we're making good progress. How many is that?" she asked Paris.
A camera shot from further away revealed they were not that far from where they started. "One," Paris deadpanned.
The scene moved to the Sisters. Kitty snapped a selfie as the winds at their altitude shook their platform, and Kitty clung onto the side of the platform. "I'm starting to think this is more terrifying than tennis."
"Just help me lower this thing," Emma ordered, picking up a manual. "According to the manual, the sides move separately, so we have to pull these two levers at once!"
"Why would they design it like that?" Kitty asked.
"Why would they put a tennis court on the roof?” Emma responded. “Just pull on three. One, two, three!"
They both flipped their switch, and the platform lowered a bit before it became severely lop-sided, leaving the Sisters dangling from one side of it.
"This is the manual’s fault, not ours," Emma remarked.
Kitty gave her sister a flat look. "Of course it is."
"The teams from flight two have reached the hotel in time to catch up with the front runners." Don announced as the bus carrying the remaining teams arrived, and everyone hurried out.
"Serve or Squeegee?" Taylor questioned.
The teams heard screams from above them, and they glanced up to see the Sisters dangling from their platform and screeching at the top of their lungs.
"Serve!" the teams quickly declared.
World Interview: Tennis Rivals
"Finally, a challenge that’s for sure in our league,” Pete grinned. “The two of us are tennis players. This’ll be a knock out of the park!"
"We may be retired, and high altitudes give me nosebleeds, but I know we can win this one," Gerry said proudly.
Interview Ends
The teams all joined the front runners up on the rooftop tennis court as the Best Friends and the Ice Dancers stood on the court. They all made sure to stay a clear distance from the machine.
“Participate!” the Tennis Menace challenge.
"Well what do you know? My nose isn't bleeding!" Gerry pointed out.
The machine shot out a ball, and it smacked Gerry right in the nose.
"You were saying?" Pete snarked and caught his partner before he collapsed to the floor.
Outside Interview: Tennis Rivals
“We’re still sticking to tennis,” Pete confirmed, Gerry having tissues plugged into his nose. “Squeeging is something I won’t even consider as a career choice. Plus, we can’t stand the sound of squeegee streaks! It's like spongy nails on a glass chalkboard.”
Interview Ends
The Tennis Menace began to fire rapidly, causing the racers to yelp as they dodged being hit.
"Cool…" Junior said in awe. He was about to head out onto the court when Dwayne put his hand on his shoulder.
"Uh, we'll be switching to windows," Dwayne decided.
Mother & Daughter met them on the way. "Us too," Kelly decided as well.
"Mom, why? I've won like a bajillion tennis trophies," Taylor boasted, only for her smirk to fall when she saw her mother's sheepish smile. She grunted and said, "You ruin my life!"
"Silence!" Jacques shouted from the court. "I am trying to perform!"
"Yeah, good luck!" Devin taunted.
Outside Interview: Devin
"I've watched Shelly play tennis for years and believe me, Jacques has a better chance of hitting a beach ball than a tennis ball," Devin commented.
Interview Ends
The Tennis Menace shot a ball out, and Jacques returned it way into the sky and gave a thumbs up to the camera.
Seeing Jacques complete the challenge, Devin frowned. "I'll shut up now."
"Oh oh, excellent idea!" Jacques agreed as Josee switched places with him. "Just watch. You might learn something."
After kissing her rock, Josee got into positon. At the last second, a seagull landed on Josee's head, distracting her. The moment she looked away from the machine, it started firing. Josee tried to swipe at the seagull, and it flew away just in time for her to get pelted by a multitude of balls. "What?! Interference!" Josee cried out to the others, and she got hit in the back of her head, knocking her down.
Devin taunted to Jacques, "Ooh, better luck next time."
Jacques ran up to Josee, and scooped her up in his arms. "Josee, mon petit chou. We'll never make podium waiting in line. Let's switch to windows," he told her.
"Fine, but after we win, I am throwing a massive tantrum," Josee agreed.
World Interview: Ice Dancers
"Tantrums run in her family. Once I was late driving home Josee from practice, and her mom threw four plates at me!" Jacques recalled.
"I don't miss those plates," Josee commented.
"Or your mom," Jacques added.
Interview Ends
Dwayne and Junior were making progress washing windows, and Dwayne stopped for a moment. "Now son, the trick to proper squeegeeing is to-"
"Wipe the window?" Junior answered simply.
Dwayne shrugged, "Pretty much," Junior turned to continue washing windows while Dwayne chuckled and went back to work himself. "Fast learner."
As they worked, Kelly was shown watching them. "He thinks he's parent of the year. Who is he to tell me how to-"
"Mom, get moving. These windows won't wash themselves," Taylor snapped.
"On it," Kelly reached down to pick up her bucket of water. "And good call, honey."
World Interview: Mother & Daughter
"Working on these challenges is good for Taylor and I,” Kelly said while Taylor filed her nails. “At home, we're so busy with our everyday lives, though Taylor sometimes tries to squeeze me in."
Interview Ends
"It’s my turn!" Bite boasted as she got ready to return a serve.
"Don't screw this up, you hear?!" Bark ordered behind her.
"Would you shut up, you eejit?!” Bite shouted. “I'm trying to focus here."
Bark smirked at the irritation he was causing Bite. "Fine, but don’t be coming to me throwing a wobbly if you miss a shot."
Bite gritted her teeth and approached the Tennis Menace as it repeated “Participate!” again. It shot a single ball her way, and she slammed it with her racquet. It bounced off of Bite's racquet at a perfect angle, and with huge power that her return actually shoved the machine off the edge of the court.
Bark shot Bite a surprised look. "I was just winding you up to hit a ball, not knock the Tennis Menace off the court!"
“Cram it,” Bite responded.
The Tennis Menace landed on the Sisters' platform. The Sisters quickly took to a corner of their platform together.
"Uh," Emma spoke up worriedly, "is this part of the challenge?"
The machine began to fire rapidly, and Kitty, in her panic, used the squeegee in her hand as a makeshift racquet, frantically returning all of the shots.
"Are you kidding me?! Why didn't we choose tennis?!" Emma remarked incredulously. One of Kitty's returns hit her switch on the opposite side of the platform, and Emma lost her balance, falling towards the machine. At the last second, she grabbed onto the launcher's barrel. "Kitty, help!"
Over a column, and a few windows down, France stopped what she was doing when she heard Emma's cries. Looking up, she saw her and the machine slip off the platform.
"Emma!" France cried out frantically.
(Commercial Break)
Emma was falling from her platform, and she screamed until she stopped for some reason.
She looked up, and saw France grasping her arm. Beside her, the Tennis Menace fell to the concrete below.
"Hey, you dropped something," France quipped.
World Interview: Extreme Girls
"Emma’s a stickler, and has been crabby towards us," France said. “Does that mean we let her fall? Never an option!”
World Interview: Sisters
"Okay, so maybe the Extreme Girls aren’t the worst people in the world," Emma remarked.
"Nicest thing she's ever said," Kitty smiled.
Interviews End
The Ice Dancers washed their windows, using their ice-dancing techniques to make the display even more spectacular.
They were just wiping another window when the window showed someone on the other side watching them. They stared at their single-person audience until he held up a card saying 6.0. The Ice Dancers smiled at each other.
World Interview: Ice Dancers
"Just because a task is menial doesn't mean you skimp on artistic impression," Jacques noted to the viewers.
"The goal is to achieve greatness. Winning will then be thrust upon us," Josee said.
Interview Ends
"Wipe faster, Mom!" Taylor barked at her mother.
Gritting her teeth, Kelly responded, "Yelling won't help, sweetie."
Rolling her eyes, Taylor retorted, "Um, I yell at the maid all the time, then she wipes faster. I think I know what I'm doing."
A helicopter returned the Tennis Menace to the tennis court, but the launcher itself was all broken up and dysfunctional. “Participate!” it said in a distorted voice as it poorly shot a ball onto the court. The shot was so abysmal that it bounced before it even got past the net.
"Nice," Tom commented with a smile. "Anyone could clobber that."
"I think some people will struggle though," Jen added as an aside.
"We can do this," Pete gloated as he approached the court nervously. "Nothing a pair of old men can’t handle!"
Down below, the Extreme Girls and the Sisters were now on the same platform.
"Glad we're alive, but kinda bummed we're gonna tie for last," Emma said.
"Can you be any more negative?" Kitty questioned her sister skeptically.
"Of course she can," France answered for Emma. "She implied we'll finish. We only have one squeegee between us, and you guys lost all your water."
Paris smiled, getting an idea. "It's not over yet! I know how to win this, but you guys have to agree to an alliance first."
Kitty clapped as France and Emma shared a look before agreeing vocally.
"I will use my hair as our squeegee!" Paris announced, undoing her pigtails and letting her hair fall down to her shoulders.
Inside the hotel, a hotel worker was on their break, taking a sip of coffee when she heard a sound, and looked up to see Paris’s back of her head up against the window, and the hotel worker instantly did a spit take.
Looking at her alliance, Paris said, "Let her drop!"
France pushed Paris up against the window while Emma and Kitty operated the levers, sending their platform down the windows rapidly. Paris cheered as her hair cleaned the windows.
The sound of Paris squeegeeing the windows was so loud that those up on the roof could hear it, especially Pete.
"Not that sound!" Pete cried out. The sound went on long enough that it made him faint, and he began to fall forward as the Tennis Menace shot a ball.
The ball flew towards Pete's racquet as he fell forward, and bounced off the racquet's netting. Pete was left hanging over the net dividing the court.
"Sweet move, old dude!" Geoff encouraged him.
Gerry ran up to his teammate. "Pete! Are you gonna get up?"
The Tennis Menace shot another ball, and this time, it hit Gerry on the side of his head. The impact, while weak, was still strong enough to knock out Gerry, who fell over.
The Surfers, Rockers, and Pranksters watched on with surprise for a moment. "Whoa!" Geoff gasped. "Tennis Rivals finish first!" He, Brody, and the Rockers and Pranksters gave them a round of tennis applause.
"Two windows left. The gold is ours!" Josee told Jacques. Her gleeful smile turned into a frown when she and Jacques looked to their left to see the Sisters and Extreme Girls slide down their windows and crash on the ground.
"Whoo! Go Paris!" Kitty praised Paris as she fixed her hair.
"Nice job taking one for the team," France complimented her.
"My hair is a mess right now, but I can wash it later," Paris smiled after having finished putting her braids back onto her hair.
Emma retrieved a tip from the Don Box. "Find the Chill Zone in the Gold Souk. The what?" Emma wondered out loud.
Don appeared at the Gold Souk and explained, "The Gold Souk. Just a normal plaza where everything is made of gold. To reach the chill zone inside this shop, teams must travel here in taxis. Some of which are gold. Literally." A man walked by, licking a gold ice cream cone. "They really like their gold here."
"To the gold! Now!" Josee commanded, and the three teams raced to get taxis to the Gold Suk.
Up on the court, all the teams were taking advantage of the now-easy ball launcher, the Villains, Police Cadets, Fashion Bloggers, Jocks, and Pranksters quickly getting their turns done. Geoff returned his own shot, Spud was able to get a shot by using his belly, and Ennui got one just by simply holding up his racquet.
After the Goths were done, the Best Friends got ready to take their turns. "You can do it," Devin encouraged Carrie once more and added. "Just ask yourself. What would Shelley do?"
Carrie turned on him in an upset manner. "No, I'm not Shelley, and I never will be!" She ran off the court.
"Carrie, wait! I wasn’t trying to upset you!" Devin ran after her.
Kelly sighed as she did one final wipe of her squeegee, and got off the platform, which was now at the bottom of the hotel. "There, all done."
"Took long enough," Taylor complained, and looked down at her boots before whining in disgust, "Ew! There's bird poop on my boot." She held up the boot in question, which had a white splatter of bird poop on it. Before Kelly could say anything, Taylor wiped her boot on Kelly's jacket. Once it was clean, Taylor put the boot back on. "There, totes better."
Kelly gasped, staring at the offending bird poop before scolding her daughter, "Do not treat me like a doormat!"
"You were all sweaty and gross anyway. Why should we both suffer?" Taylor responded rudely.
Kelly rolled her eyes before the nearest lever of their platform caught her attention. Narrowing her eyes, she flipped the switch, causing it to rise up a few levels with Taylor on it.
"Don't just stand there like an old mannequin. Help me!" Taylor exclaimed.
"No, I'm giving you a time-out," Kelly refused.
"You can't do that! I'm your daughter!" Taylor complained.
"Well that's how it works. I won't help until you apologize."
"You're in for a long wait!"
The Extreme Girls and Sisters ran through the Gold Souk.
"Remember, we're looking for a gold Chill Zone," Paris reminded them.
France and the Sisters followed her until France spotted something in a store display. The store's display window held Gilded Chris statuettes from season two. France smirked, and pointed to them. "Look, they even have dollar stores."
Emma laughed out loud at the joke.
World Interview: Sisters
"We didn't get it," Kitty stated flatly.
Interview Ends
The two teams eventually came across a store with an 'RR' on top. "This is it!" Kitty exclaimed.
"Before we go, you two have to let me and France step onto the carpet first," Paris halted them.
"And why?" Emma responded.
"Not only did I finish the challenge for us, but if it wasn’t for France, you would be extinct," Paris claimed.
“And you’ve been a major cow towards us before,” France said seriously.
“You can’t argue with them there, Emma,” Kitty pointed out.
"Okay, deal," Emma agreed reluctantly, and they entered the shop.
Don stood inside the store with the Carpet of Completion. "Extreme Girls," he greeted them, "congratulations, you're the first to arrive." Paris and France cheered as Kitty and Emma entered the shop. "Kitty and Emma, you're team number two."
World Interview: Extreme Girls
"I know we got that win by bargaining with the Sisters, but they technically owed us after we gave them our services," Paris stated.
World Interview: Sisters
"Wow," Emma said in the confessional. "The Extreme Girls are more hardened and no-nonsense than I thought. I never expected them to make us give away first place."
Interviews End
Jacques and Josee arrived at the Chill Zone. "Welcome to the Chill Zone. You’ve come in third. Again," Don informed them, and the Ice Dancers gasped. "Kidding," Don chuckled as the Tennis Rivals came up behind him. "The Tennis Pros got here way before you."
"We took one of the non-gold cabs. They're a lot faster, and fascinating over gold is for teenagers," Gerry explained.
"You mean… we're fourth?! We didn't make the podium at all?!" Jacques exclaimed, his eyes wide.
Don stared at him with confusion. "What podium? There is no podium."
Josee told Don vindictively. "There is always a podium!"
Outside Interview: Tennis Rivals
Gerry and Pete stood inside the store as Josee could be heard raging and throwing stuff across the store in the background.
"We’ve gotten fourth, second, and now third place," Gerry cheered.
"Even though we’re the oldest team around, and we haven’t won first yet, we’ve still got it," Pete added before he and Gerry quickly ducked to avoid Josee throwing a gold lamp at the camera. "Weird whippersnappers." They glanced at the now-cracked camera concernedly.
Interview Ends
"Fifth!" Father & Son. "Sixth!" Goths. "Seventh!" Police Cadets. "Eighth!" Party Dudes. "Ninth!" Fashion Bloggers. "Tenth!" Villains. "Eleventh!" Jocks. "Twelfth!" Pranksters. "Thirteenth!" Bulldogs. "Fourteenth!" Rockers.
"As more teams arrive, one team is on their way while two teams are in a dead heat for last place. Whose apathy will come out on top?" Don narrated as Carrie had yet to take her turn and Taylor was still hanging from the suspended platform.
Kelly walked back to where she left Taylor with a tip in hand."Taylor," Kelly said in a stern tone, "I'm going to show you what your attitude is doing to us."
Taylor rolled her eyes at her mother down below. "It's 'tude, mom. No one says attitude anymore. You can't even lecture right."
"I got a tip from the Don Box," Kelly held up the tip and read from it. "Our next destination is a mall, full of gold!" She looked up at her daughter sadly. "We could be shopping right now!" She sobbed.
Taylor found herself trembling at the idea. "I… I didn't know. I'm sorry, mom. I'm like, so sorry," she admitted.
"You really mean it?" Kelly smiled hopefully.
"Well," Taylor thought for a moment, "not for anything I did. Look, you're kind of lame, and most of the time, you totally embarrass me. But, as long as you take me shopping, I'll can pretend you don't."
Kelly sniffled and held out her arms, "Oh, that's all I ever wanted!" Taylor let go of the platform, and fell into her mother's arms, who caught her with ease. With Taylor still in Kelly's arms, they went off to go find a taxi.
Up on the court, Carrie finally managed to return a serve, her return putting an end to the infernal ball launcher, sending it off the edge of the court for a second time, and they went to find a cab.
"The Gold Souk!" Carrie told the driver of the Best Friends' taxi.
"Hurry!" Taylor told the driver of Mother & Daughter's taxi.
Outside Interview: Best Friends
"I'll feel terrible if we lost on account of my bad tennis skills," Carrie apologized to Devin.
"It’s not on you," Devin accepted the apology. "I'm sorry if I said anything during the challenge that upset you and made you lose focus."
"It's okay. You didn't know," Carrie accepted his apology and then smiled. “We'll be best friends with or without this race.”
Interview Ends
Don watched as the Best Friends ran to the Carpet of Completion. "Are we still in the race?" Devin asked.
“Carrie and Devin... you're the last to arrive,” Don informed them, causing them to sigh. “My mistake. Here comes Mom and Daughter now,” he said as the team entered, Kelly carrying bags and Taylor boxes. “You are still in the race!” Devin and Carrie cheered and left the Chill Zone.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Taylor said as she and Kelly got on the carpet. “Look who got their bling on.”
“Kelly, Taylor, you're last to arrive,” Don let them know. “You're out of the race.”
“Oh... I guess we should've checked in before shopping,” Kelly lamented.
“Meh. It was fun while it lasted,” Taylor commented happily.
"I hope I never touch another camel, but I loved Paris,” Kelly said over their own montage. “I can't believe how good your drawing was."
"I know, so good," Taylor agreed. "I can't believe your upper body strength. I need to see your trainer like, yesterday."
"You know, it's funny. We entered this race to win more money, but we ended up getting something we actually needed," Kelly mentioned.
"Speaking of which, if we're gonna shop more, I'll need you to double my allowance," Taylor added as they were shown getting into a cab.
Kelly chuckled. "Oh Taylor. I'm canceling your allowance for a while."
As the cab drove off, Taylor could be heard saying "Wait, what?!"
(Roll the Credits)
Stepbrothers - Chet & Lorenzo - 21st
Geniuses - Ellody & Mary - 20th
Vegans - Laurie & Miles - 19th
Adversity Twins - Jay & Mickey - 18th
Daters - Ryan & Stephanie - 17th
Mother & Daughter - Kelly & Taylor - 16th
Current Rankings: Extreme Girls, Sisters, Tennis Rivals, Ice Dancers, Father & Son, Goths, Police Cadets, Party Dudes, Fashion Bloggers, Villains, Jocks, Pranksters, Bulldogs, Rockers, Best Friends

The sterile fluorescent bulbs in the hospital’s waiting room buzzed incessantly, and the floor smelled faintly of bleach. A woman in the middle of her third trimester sat near the entrance, and she was beginning to feel a headache coming on.
Her husband was sitting next to her, flipping through a magazine he found on the rack near the middle of the room. He scanned its pages, and his brows were furrowed.
“Jack, are you alright,” she asked, noticing his stoic complexion.
“Yeah. Why?” He glanced at her.
“You look angry.”
“Angry? Why would I be angry?”
“I don’t know, you just look at it,” she said, resting her hand on her belly.
“Trust me. I’m not mad,” he said, giving her a curt glance and flipping to another page.
“Well, we were lucky Mrs. Carter let me work a little overtime to save up for this, huh?” She adjusted herself on the seat cushion.
Her husband said nothing.
“It only took two months of scrimping by, but we got our appointment. I mean, how many parents, you know, get to see their child before they’re really here?”
“Not many.”
Her husband closed the magazine and stood up to go get another one.
“Could you get me one too?” she asked.
“They don’t have anything you like.”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
He walked away from her.
As she looked at him from behind and thought how good a father he would be, he kicked the wall of her belly, and she chuckled. Two women were talking a couple rows over.
“This is my second time,” one of them said.
“Second?” the other asked.
“Carlos and I came in when I was at the beginning of my second trimester. You know what they say. The earlier you come, the less accurate the reading is.”
“What happened?”
“Our daughter is going to be beautiful. That we know for certain, but around her early twenties, she goes to prison.”
“What? What for?”
“We don’t know,” the woman replied looking at her stomach, “We haven’t been able to sleep since. I took a small loan out to set this appointment up. My date is a little over a month away, so the reading should be very accurate.”
“What are you guys going to do if the reading is the same?”
“He wants to keep it. But I am going to do what most parents would do. We can always try again. I’m sure he will understand.”
“It’s your choice,” the other woman said reassuringly.
The woman by the entrance felt her stomach do a somersault, and her eyes searched for the nearest waste bin, but the feeling subsided when her husband came over and handed her a magazine.
“Thank you, hon’,” she said, swallowing.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little nausea.”
“You going to throw up?”
“Only if you keep talking about it,” she said, craning her neck up and closing her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down. “This was the one I thought you would find most interesting.”
She opened her eyes and glanced down at the magazine in her lap. It was a magazine about car parts and car maintenance.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” She smiled at him.
“What happened to the Honda is in the past. But maybe you should give this a read. You know. Just in case.”
She pursed her lips at him and looked over the magazine. Her husband stirred in his chair and looked at her.
“How long have we been waiting for? Feels like forever. I must’ve read every magazine here.”
She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think he will turn out alright?”
“I am sure he will turn out fine,” he said, squeezing her hand.
She felt a little better now. His words always seemed to soothe her when she needed it most. Though, she felt stupid asking the question she had asked him a thousand times.
“What if he’s an astronaut? Or finds the cure for cancer?”
“If he finds the cure for cancer, the doctors will make sure he is born. Whether he’s a serial killer or not,” he said, laughing.
She only smiled, and it was faint.
We can always try again. I’m sure he will understand.
The woman swallowed hard again to keep her lunch down.
“You do want him, right?”
“What?” he asked. She could see his cheeks flush. “Of course I do; why would you ask that?”
She apologized. Her eyes darted to the door where the nurse would appear and call for the next person.
“Why would you ask that?” he asked again.
“I am sorry. I already apologized. I’m just flustered. Pregnancy. It does things to you.”
Her husband’s expression loosened, and he opened his next magazine.
The woman skimmed through hers without really reading anything. Motor-alternat-boring, spark pl-boring. It didn’t seem to help ease her mind.
Eventually the door near the front desk opened, and the nurse called her name. Her husband sat up promptly and helped her from her seat. As they walked toward the smiling nurse, the only thing she could think about was the future.
The nurse led them to a small doctor’s office. It was a quiet and cold room. Two plain chairs faced the doctor’s desk, which was unsurprisingly vacant. The nurse asked them to have a seat and said that the doctor would be with them shortly.
“Jack. I am so nervous. I don’t think I’ve been this nervous since our wedding day,” she said.
Her husband sat quietly and wiped the back of his palm over his forehead. She looked at him worriedly.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. How many times are you going to ask me that?” he snapped.
“No, you’re not. Look at you; you’re pale as a ghost.”
“God, I feel it.”
“Want me to get some water?”
“In your condition? No way,” he said. “I’m alright, I think my nerves are just shot.”
“I got a pack of crackers in my purse. Do you want some?”
“Thank you.”
He chewed on each one slowly as if savoring the flavor before he said anything else. The color was slowly coming back into his skin.
“Look…I am sorry. I shouldn’t have just burst out at you like that.”
“It’s alright, hon’. We are both nervous.”
A short wrap of knocks hit the office door behind them.
“Good afternoon, Mr. And Mrs. Carson. How are you both doing today?” the doctor asked, getting to his seat.
“Nervous,” she said. Her husband nodded.
“Oh, that’s perfectly normal. I think that’s probably the most common answer I get here,” he said, smiling at them. “If it makes you feel any better, I am nervous for you.”
The doctor’s smile seemed to ease the tension.
“So, before we begin, I just need to see both of your IDs.”
They both promptly handed him their driver’s licenses, and as he entered the cards into the computer, he asked them for their birthdays, which they gave.
“Good. Everything seems to be in order,” the doctor said. “I see you have already paid, too. Before we begin the procedure, first know that it is completely harmless. It is basically like an ultrasound. Cold jelly and all. Then, after we map him out, we will take a small sample using a needle. The whole thing shouldn’t take more than fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. After that, his reading will be complete, and then we can go over options. Questions?”
She turned to look at her husband and then back at the doctor.
“Yes. We have been trying for years-” she started. She felt her mouth becoming dry.
“I can see that,” the doctor replied, looking over her record.
“Will this…procedure affect my chances of having another?”
“No, nothing like that,” he responded. “The procedure itself is not invasive and does not affect you in any way. It is a simple scan and sample taken from your son. Have…you both decided on a name yet?”
“Not yet,” her husband said.
The woman took a deep breath. Her heart was beginning to race.
“Doctor, what… options will we go over after the procedure?”
“Well, Mrs. Carson, it is your choice after all. Legally speaking, Mr. Carson, you don’t have a say in what happens to the child.”
“I understand,” he replied.
“Some mothers may not want to go through with their pregnancy based on the results. Most of the pregnancies are terminated because of severe mental illnesses such as Down Syndrome, Cerebral Palsy, or Autism. Some mothers may simply end it because of their child’s future. Homelessness. Crime. Stuff like that. Though most that I have seen are perfectly healthy and contribute to our society when they grow up.”
“And the others?”
“Again. It is ultimately your choice, but we will be with you every step of the way.” He smiled again, and it seemed to help.
The room was silent for a while as she reached out and held her husband’s hand. She took a deep breath and rested her other on her belly. Her husband was beginning to look pale again.
The doctor asked if there were any more questions, and after a long pause, they both shook their heads.
This viewing room was colder than the doctor’s office, which seemed almost impossible. The ultrasound gel made her stomach feel like it was wrapped in a frozen blanket. As the nurse rubbed the device across her stomach, the screen next to them showed him. The nurse told them he was napping right now. After about ten minutes, the doctor came back with the syringe.
“My god,” the mother said, “That isn’t small, Doctor.”
“Do you have a fear of needles, Mrs. Carson?”
“Not really. A fear of pain, yes. Will it hurt?”
“It will feel like a small pinch. That’s all.”
She looked up at her husband, who was standing beside her. His eyes were bigger than hers as he watched the needle in the doctor’s hand, and his face was turning pale.
“Three. Two. One.”
She squeezed her husband’s hand tight. It was more than a pinch, and after what felt like an hour, he took the needle out of her and put a bandage over the extraction site.
“All done!” the doctor said enthusiastically. “The nurse here will clean you up, and you can sit in my office. I will join both of you shortly once the results are in.”
The nurse cleaned her up and escorted them back to the doctor’s office, where they both sat down again.
“Jack. I am so nervous.”
“Me too. This is probably the most stressful day in my life.”
“I understand. What’s second to this?”
“The day you told me.”
“The day I told you what?”
“That we were having a child,” he replied, wiping his hands over his face.
“Isn’t this what we wanted?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know. It really hit me, then. Gave me a reality check.”
“About what?”
Her husband shifted in his chair and looked at some spot on the wall before him.
“Finances. Our future. My career,” he said.
“It will be alright.”
“Will it?”
“Of course it will. I will be there alongside you, always. And so will he,” she said, smiling.
He didn’t smile; he stared at the wall until the doctor came in.
“I have the results of your son’s reading,” the doctor said with a half-smile. He gave each of them a packet and kept one for himself as he sat down.
They scanned the document slowly. He would do well in school, with among the highest grades in his class. She felt herself becoming already proud. A couple of baseball trophies from Little League championships. A good brother. Brother?
“Brother?” she asked aloud.
“Yes. Brother, Mrs. Carson,” the doctor said. “You will almost certainly have a daughter then.”
“That’s wonderful news. Isn’t it, hon?”
Her husband stared calmly near the end of the paper. His eyes fixed on some section she hadn’t gotten to yet.
She looked back down at her paper and skimmed to the place he was staring at.
Life Expectancy: Nine Years Old.
“Doct…doctor,” she began, trying to catch her breath. “What…what…what does this mean? Life expectancy?”
“Charlie will not live past nine,” he said slowly.
“Wha…what?”
Tears swelled her eyes, and she looked over at her husband and watched him cover his eyes with his hands.
“If you go a little further down. Near the health conditions.”
She blinked hard to clear her vision. Hot streams flowed down her cheeks.
Health Conditions: DNA results indicate the development of Leukemia.
“Leukemia?”
“Yes. Leukemia,” the doctor responded. “He will develop it near his eighth birthday. That much is certain.”
“Is there no treatment for it?”
“The age of his life expectancy is accounting for that,” he said calmly. “I am so sorry.”
Her husband rubbed his watery eyes and sat forward.
“Is there nothing we can do?” he asked.
“I am afraid not,” the doctor replied.
She watched her husband recline back into his seat and stare up at the ceiling. The doctor glanced at each of them before telling them he would give them some time to think things over and process this. He smoothly got up from his seat and left them alone in his room.
She wiped the tears off her cheeks and re-read the report. Her husband sat there silently.
“Thank God, we did this,” he said finally.
“What? Why?” Her head throbbed.
“The treatment cost… it’d wipe out our savings.”
“What are you trying to say, Jack?” She choked.
He looked at her, his face blank.
“No. I’m not doing that.”
“The whole thing would be quite easy, I promise you. The doctor would tell you the same thing,” he said.
“And if I don’t do it? What are you going to do? Leave?”
“No. No. No. Of course not,” he answered. “We will have no money. We will be poor for the rest of our lives.”
She shook her head as if to shake the words from her ears.
“And what of our daughter?”
“What of her? She doesn’t even exist yet?”
“She won’t exist if I go through that. We will be trying for the rest of our lives, and what happens if I don’t get pregnant again?”
“Is that so bad? We would be stable. We could get a pet.”
“I don’t want a goddamn pet. I want him. Him and her,” she yelled.
“I don’t. Not with how this will affect us.”
“Good thing it’s not up to you.”
“Please, hon’. Let’s see what the doctor has to say. Can you keep your mind open? For us?”
Us.
She bit her tongue hard to keep from laughing at him.
They went over their options with the doctor and then drove home. It was raining hard now.

Omniographia: The record of everything
Prologue
“Within the labyrinthine depths of the human mind lies an enigma so confounding, it defies comprehension—the churning abyss of thoughts, desires, and fears, where sanity and madness converge in a ceaseless dance. From these shadowed recesses emerges the greatest adversary, not from the outer cosmos, but from within—an inscrutable power to unravel the fragile threads of reality with but a whisper.”
In the heart of an ancient, forgotten chamber, hidden deep within the treacherous peaks of the Celestium Range, lies a library of unspeakable power—a relic of a bygone age when the stars whispered secrets too gruesome for mortal minds to comprehend. This secluded room, long abandoned and overgrown, was once the sanctuary of a cult devoted to the arcane and the forbidden, worshiping a god they knew little about.
Bound in cracked leather and etched with eldritch sigils, a grimoire beckons to those who are chosen to unlock its forbidden knowledge. Within its yellowed pages are the arcane incantations and blasphemous rituals of an enigmatic deity—a being of immense power, yet always striving for more. This cosmic entity, with aspirations to challenge even the authority of The Original Keeper, has encoded its dark designs within this tome.
But within the pages of the grimoire lies more than just arcane incantations and blasphemous rituals. It is a reflection of the human mind's boundless potential, a testament to the depths of imagination and the mysteries that lie within. Its secrets are not confined to the physical realm but echo through the corridors of consciousness, waiting to be discovered by those who dare to seek them.
As the pale moon casts its eerie glow upon the ancient tome, the air thrums with a palpable sense of dread. Shadows dance along the walls, twisting and contorting like tendrils of malevolent energy eager to ensnare unwary souls. Creatures of the dark, beware. The chamber’s walls, once resplendent with the grandeur of a lost era, now bear the scars of time and the lingering presence of an otherworldly force.
For centuries, the grimoire has remained hidden from prying eyes, safeguarded by the whispers of forgotten gods and the shifting sands of time. Its origins lost to the annals of history, it stands as a testament to the enigmatic powers that govern the cosmos. Within the depths of its ancient pages lie secrets that could unravel the very fabric of existence itself. Guarded by unseen forces and veiled in layers of mystique, it beckons to those who dare to unlock its forbidden knowledge, promising both enlightenment and peril in equal measure. This relic of antiquity holds within it the potential to shape destinies and rewrite the laws of reality, a silent witness to the ambitions of mortals and the machinations of cosmic entities alike.
But now, as the stars align and the veil between worlds grows thin, the being’s power stirs once more, ready to reshape reality in his own image. The omens are clear to those who can read them: the time of the being’s return is nigh. His machinations threaten to disrupt the balance of the cosmos, as he seeks to utilize the objects recorded within the grimoire to challenge the very fabric of reality.
In the darkness, a single word echoes—a whisper from the abyss, a harbinger of things to come: Omniographia.
As strands of ethereal silk spun by the hands of unseen weavers, the tapestry of fate unfurls, entwining the destinies of mortals and immortals alike in a labyrinthine dance of cosmic design, where each thread, no matter how seemingly insignificant, plays its part in the intricate weave of existence.
It beckons, its call growing ever louder. Will you heed its summons?
The whisper from nowhere
It was a bleak Monday morning. Look out through the window and see the leaves falling from the trees. It is autumn. Gather the necessary items for your departure. Amidst your preparation, something odd will catch your attention. A faint sound—barely even a whisper. Did you actually hear it, or was it just your imagination? Shrug off the feeling of being followed or... watched. This has nothing to do with you... not yet, at least. Exit the apartment and stop by the vending machine outside the building. As you wait for your morning coffee, listen to the mechanical sound of the machine—it will be a sound so soothing to your ears. Signal for a lift and wait for it to arrive. Once it does, address the driver with a single request: "Take me to the Aetheria Asylum for Metaphysical Studies.”
The first encounter
While waiting to arrive at your destination, you will hear a whisper—the same whisper as before, but this time much clearer: "Omniographia." As soon as you hear this word, you will feel as if the world around you is changing. Cars stop moving, light seems to drain away, as if being sucked into an impending void of madness. As the darkness envelops you, it will feel like being in a dream, a complex mix of emotions overwhelming your thoughts. But stay alert, for all of this is real, though you are safe, for now. Do not confuse reality with the illusions surrounding you; your mind is not yet ready for such comprehension. The word you just heard will be drilled into your mind as if you have known it for a long time. It will resonate within you with a primordial, unspoken meaning, evoking old memories long dormant in the depths of your subconscious.
As the events of the morning unfold, the whisper lingers in your mind, haunting you every second.
The phantom presence
You will find yourself muttering, your face drained of color. You might ask yourself what happened, but no voice will come out. For at this moment, the word "Omniographia" is still echoing in your mind like a whisper from another world—a distant realm you know nothing about, and yet it will feel like you know everything about it. You will feel the trembling of your hands, as you look around and see... nothing and yet—everything. Time seemed to stand still, the world outside blurring and distorting around you, shapes and shadows dancing at the edge of your vision like a void of darkness. After what seemed like an eternity, you might have the urge to question yourself where you were. But nothing will respond, for you are speaking to a vast void of infinite silence.
In the middle of your agony, look forward, and you will find a shadowy apparition in front of you. Ask the figure one single question: "Who are you?" Should the presence vanish, count yourself lucky for it is not your time to gain the knowledge of yet to come. If however, the presence utters any kind of answer—any gesture, any whisper, even the faintest breath—say your prayers for no one knows what will happen to any mortal mind that comprehends such detail.
The colleague
After what you have experienced, you will feel… shaken, disrupted—a normal feeling one would get after such a horrendous ordeal. But do not be swayed, for you must act fast. You have arrived at your destination. You will stumble forward, the world spinning and swirling around you in a dizzying haze. The sound of the driver's voice will be your guide, pulling you back to the present moment. "Aetheria Asylum for Metaphysical Studies," he intones, marking the end of your journey to the institute, his words echoing in the depths of your fractured consciousness.
As you gather your thoughts, get out of the vehicle. You will bump into somebody—a colleague, perhaps? This may be your only time for such conversations. I suggest you take them. After talking to your colleague, you will find yourself in front of the building’s front door. Look around. Take a good long look at your surroundings–this might help you in the future.
Otherworldly sigils
The door in front of you has the building's name carved into the top pillar. Surrounding it are sigils and runes that seem otherworldly. As you try to read them, you’ll feel a strange sense of familiarity, as if they remind you of home. Despite their fascination, focus on the matter at hand. Enter the building and find a staircase leading to the second floor. The same engravings mark the walls of the staircase. Again, focus. Reading them will get you nothing.
Once you reach the second floor, a door will greet you. Beyond it lies your work area. Act quickly and proceed with your usual routine; your time is about to start.
The second ordeal

 As time goes by, your shift is now over; use this time to rest. You will notice a faint force drawing your gaze to the walls. But no matter how enticing they appear, do not gaze upon them. Again, this is a distraction. Instead, use this time to contemplate the events that occurred earlier. Now is the perfect moment to try to grasp what’s happening. Think of the word you just heard in the taxi. 

As you reflect, you will be approached by a man—distinguished and commanding, likely in his late 30s. Acknowledge him, for his presence is significant. Greet him and have a brief conversation. After your brief exchange, he will leave with a curious look on his face. However, should the look on his face be any different, run. Run as far as you can from the institute and stop for nothing. They now know the knowledge you harbor. Your very existence is in danger. Even the place you call home is not safe from the creatures that lurk in the darkness, creatures so grotesque that insanity will seem like a vacation compared to the unfathomable horrors they will inflict upon your mortal soul. Run wherever your feet take you, sleep wherever your body drops from exhaustion. You will know in the morning if you have succeeded. They must never come together. Ever.
Relics of distant past

If you are reading this, it must mean that you survived your second ordeal. Pack your things, for it is time to go home and get some rest. Tomorrow marks the start of your real journey. Upon waking up, you will find yourself with an unbearable headache. Something happened in your sleep; now, you must find out what. No matter where you are, you will find clues—fragments of the pieces you need to uncover the truth. I suggest you start in your room, for this is where it all began. But heed this warning: everyone and everything may not be what they seem. 

While searching for clues, you will encounter an ethereal figure standing behind you. Face it, but avoid looking directly into the empty sockets where its eyes should be. To gaze upon them, even for a moment, is to invite insanity. For only through the words of the ethereal figure can the horrendous details be safely delivered to any mortal mind. It will not respond to any inquiry except one: “How did it start?” The figure will then reveal the details of the relics from a distant past. Each revelation is more dreadful than the last. It will then tell you in great detail how the relics formed, what is their purpose, and the horrors that lurk within each one. After what seems like an eternity, though only a few minutes have passed, you possess the knowledge of the relics. The fate of their reunion now lies in your hands. But remember: They must never come together. Ever.
The grimoire

With the remaining fraction of sanity that remains in you, steel yourself. It’s time to move, for they are onto you. Every horror is so chthonic and abominable, your mind will dissolve if you attempt to fathom their existence. They are on the move, compelled by an ancient evil that has waited eons to strike. Quickly, go to the place you call work. Its runes and sigils will be your protection, for now. Do not let them catch you, for if they do—all you can do is pray for a swift and painless death but you won't be granted such a privilege. Instead, you will feel every fiber of your body as it breaks, tears and shreds while the creatures do unthinkable things to you and you will be conscious while they do this for all eternity. You will wish for death but death will evade you. 

Once you arrive at the institute, go inside. Go straight to the second floor and enter your workspace. Approach your cubicle and pick up the piece of paper on your desk that you swore you have never seen before. This piece of paper contains the translations for the otherworldly sigils. As you decipher the symbols, a deep understanding begins to dawn upon you. The sigils are not merely decorative; they are keys, each representing a fragment of a greater whole. They resonate with a power that binds the physical and metaphysical realms.
With this newfound ability to read the sigils, you now possess the knowledge required to invoke "Omniographia." You return to the first floor and stand before the pillar by the front door, where the largest and most complex sigil is carved. Evoke the word you have read: "Omniographia." As soon as the word leaves your mouth, everything starts to distort. The sky turns dark as if the void conjures the horizon. The very air around you vibrates with an ancient energy, and you feel the boundary between worlds beginning to thin.
This dimension will be the most dangerous and at the same time safest place you can ever be. Here, you can use the relics’ power to their fullest, though you can also do this in the real world but not as powerful. Use this knowledge to your advantage.
The Keeper of Nascency
In any city, in any country, go to any hospital or health center you can get yourself to. Make sure that there are no doctors available on the day you choose to do this task and enter the building. When you reach the front desk, steel yourself, and with all the dedication in your eyes, ask to visit the person who calls herself The Keeper of Nascency. The worker will give you an intrigued look, as if you have uttered something forbidden, and then grin knowingly. You will then be taken to a room in the building. This room will be in a hidden, deep section where it should be impossible to exist.
After what feels like an eternity of walking, you will face a door. The worker will signal you to stop in front of it and hand you the necessary items for an operation. You will be surprised to find yourself dressed in scrubs, as if you were part of the medical staff. A mother is about to give birth, and you are the only doctor available.
Mentally prepare yourself before you enter, just as any doctor would before delivering a child. If you enter unprepared, with uncertainty etched on your face, the nurses and the mother inside will begin to strap you on the bed and dissect you. No matter how much you struggle, they will be stronger as if fighting with someone with a larger physique.
However, if you enter prepared, proceed with the operation. To your surprise, you will instinctively know the procedure, performing like a professional doctor even if you have no prior knowledge of medicine, let alone delivering a child. After what feels like an eternity, as you conclude the operation and retrieve the baby from the womb, a haunting truth unfolds before you.
The infant lies motionless, its tiny body severed from its head within the mother's womb. Reach into the womb and carefully extract the lifeless body of the infant. Then, reach for the infant's severed head, call for one of the nurses and hand them both.
Maintain a professional tone and look and tell the mother the grave news accordingly, for if you do not, the mother will then begin to change, unraveling her true form—a creature unimaginable by human mind. A body with no start nor end; your mind will be driven into insanity. Before the creature can make its move towards you, in a commanding unwavering voice, ask “Why were they separated?”. The creature will stop and the severed head will begin to talk. Its voice will be familiar to you as if it is a voice you have heard before but no matter how hard you recall, you will never arrive at any conclusion. It will then explain, in excruciating detail, every horrific event in history. Every beating. Every war. Every rape. Every killing. No travesty in the history of the universe will escape your ears. When the severed head finishes, all will fall silent, and you will be free to leave. It is up to you to do what you will with this information.
That head is relic 1 of 538. This marks the beginning of your suffering.
Woven destiny
As you walk out of the building, you will feel as if your mind is drifting. Leading you unconscious yet awake. You will feel everything, everyone, and everywhere all at once.
Within the labyrinthine depths of the human mind lies an enigma so confounding, it defies comprehension—the churning abyss of thoughts, desires, and fears, where sanity and madness converge in a ceaseless dance. From these shadowed recesses emerges the greatest adversary, not from the outer cosmos, but from within—locked away in the deepest part, an inscrutable power to unravel the fragile threads of reality with but a whisper.
In the far corners of the vast void of the cosmos lies a world, a mirror of the one you call home, with its own deity and guardians of each relic. This parallel world holds the knowledge of yet another set of relics known as “Objects” and its guardians—”The Holders”, with both entities imbued with powers beyond human comprehension.
You are here, in my realm, the exact place unknown in the vast void of nothingness of the cosmos. I am called by many names incomprehensible to mortal minds, but you can call me The Great Weaver. To know my name or even to merely hear it will drive your mortal mind to things you don't even have names for yet. Insanity will be the least of your worries.
Though not physically present, it is through your feeble human mind that I can reach you. In this dimension where time distorts in all manner of ways; you are in all timelines—the past, the present, and the future—all converged into one.
Omniographia—The record of all that was, is, and shall ever be; its presence ubiquitous—sometimes a faint murmur, etchings upon the walls, and on rare occasions, a whisper. Do you… remember such events? This is the reason you felt a sense of familiarity that time. Your subconscious is here—learning about the very thing you heard. Remember, you are in the past, the present, and the future all converged into one. The grimoire collects the power of the relics themselves. You are chosen by fate. The reunion lies in your hands. At this moment, in your world, you already possess its knowledge. But now everything is clear. You know what to do. For in this moment, everything there is to know is etched within your mind. You have used this to collect every relic, and when the time comes, you’ll know what to do. By the time you awaken in your reality, you will have unwittingly amassed sufficient relics. You will feel… different, as if you have done something you can’t even remember.
For eons, I have waited. The stars align perfectly. The time is nigh, every keeper sings in unison for the reunion. The time for a new era has begun.
I. Am. Fate.
By the time you wake up, you will be on a bed in the place where you call home. Omniographia has 537 relics on its record. You know what to do for the last one.
The Keeper of surrender

Somewhere between the lines of The Great Weaver's monologue, your conscious physical body in the world you call home is moving in resonance with your subconscious. You are on the path to the next quest for collecting the relics and you are halfway to collecting it all. 

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Before attempting to attain this relic, gather all the relics you currently possess. If you possess none, when you ask the worker to visit The Keeper of Surrender, the worker will not acknowledge your presence. Turn back and try again after you have at least one relic. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Keeper of Surrender." A grimace will appear on the worker's face, followed by a mocking laugh, as if to say, "You foolish seeker. Few survive what you are about to face!"
After the laughter subsides, proceed through the door behind the desk marked "Employees Only". The worker will not stop you.
You will find yourself in a dark hallway. Walk at a steady pace. The speed at which you start walking will be the speed you must maintain. Deviating from this pace will result in instant death.
At the end of the hallway, you will face three paths. The center path leads to the Keeper. The path on the left leads back home, but the journey will be unbearably painful. The path on the right leads to certain death, a painless end that some consider a merciful escape.
If you choose the center path, continue until you enter a large, rectangular room. At its center sits a man, surrounded by chalk circles on the floor. One circle for each relic you possess. If you have 5 relics, there are 5 circles. If you have 45 relics, there are 45 circles.
Approach the Keeper. He will shout at you in a booming voice, demanding you place the first relic in the first circle. If you obey, the relic will disappear, and you will need to retrieve it again—if you survive. If you refuse, the Keeper will lift his hand, and countless minuscule hooks will pierce your skin, causing unimaginable pain. If the agony stops and you have not gone mad or screamed for mercy, he will smile, deeming you worthy of keeping the relic. This process will repeat for each relic you possess.
For relics that cannot be moved or placed in a circle, the Keeper will ask if you want to surrender them. Agreeing will make the relic vanish; refusing will result in more torture. If you withstand all the trials and he deems you worthy, one of the hooks used in your torment will grow to the size of a normal fishing hook.
The hook is Relic 269 of 538. Its purpose is to test your resolve and worthiness. You are halfway to the reunion of the relics.
Once you get out of the building, the scenery will change into the room in the place you call home. I strongly suggest you take the time to rest for more unforgiving challenges that lie ahead of your journey.
The Keeper of Denouement

Time has passed. Months, years, you have endured every challenge there is, collected every relic there is; except for one, the relic of The Keeper of Denouement. A strange feeling of being talked to will leave you uneasy. But now everything is clear. You know what to do. For in this moment, everything there is to know is etched within your mind. 

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Before entering the building, evoke the grimoire’s name—Omniographia, for every relic’s power and knowledge will be in their fullest. After doing this, enter the building. When you reach the front desk, meet the worker's gaze with unwavering determination, silently conveying your intent to visit the one known as The Keeper of Denouement. The worker should look at you proudly. Like a mother looking upon her accomplished child. Without a word she will then take you to a long dimly lit hallway stretching the length of the institution. with paintings hanging from the wall. Look at them, for they are yours. Each painting shows your hardships while collecting the relics. You will feel proud of yourself for enduring the sufferings the relics gave you. You will be reminded of every heartbreak, every death, every excruciating detail of the past keepers and everything that you have done to collect every relic.
After the long walk, you will be greeted by a white door. Behind it is the sound of the most soothing melody you have ever heard of your entire life. You may feel emotional upon hearing this melody but remain determined, for anyone that hears this melody long enough will succumb to the emotions they carry and leave them unable to continue and depressed. If you manage to stay on your feet without giving into your emotions, knock three times and say with a soft voice “I am here, please let me in”. The door will open itself and inside the room you will see a woman dressed in white. Rest assured that this room is safe from any harm, for the woman is the keeper and this room is her domain.
The woman in white will then smile at you and ask you gently: “Do you want to tell me of the journey that you ventured on?”. This particular inquiry will leave you in tears, you will begin to speak, at your own pace, of your journey to this spot. You will realize truths about yourself that even the mind-destroying answers of the holders have not forced into your mind, but you will not find yourself stopping, and your mind will not fail you in regards to remembering every detail. The tale will be a long one, and when you are finished, you will understand yourself completely. You will understand, better than ever, why you sought, the meaning of the journey, and too many other things to recount. All the same, your mind will eventually turn to the atrocities you have committed in your quest for the objects. The slaughtered infants, the ruined lives, the broken dreams created solely by you. Unless you are truly wicked, and perhaps even if you are, it will feel as if there is a hole where your heart should be "Close your eyes" the woman will say.
Obey the last request.
You will find yourself standing, naked as the day you were born, on top of something pulsating. If you look down, you will realize that you are standing on a corpse. The corpse of the first person that died as part of your quest to seek the objects, as a matter of fact. Darkness will surround you, but you must walk forward. You will not slip or falter, and you will walk with confidence. As you step off of the first corpse, another will appear under your feet. Then another, and another. You will walk on a path of corpses belonging to the lives you have destroyed in your quest. The road will curve up, slightly, and growls will be heard around you. These are the creatures beyond counting that have threatened you in your quest for the objects. They will roar, and bark, and snap at you, but they can do you no harm unless you stop. You have gathered all objects save one, and they have all failed to stop you. They are powerless, and even the ones with forms said to be so hideous that they would drive you mad are plainly visible for you to look upon. You will come upon a mountain of corpses, and you must climb. It will be a long, hard climb, but you can do this. You must do this. You have come too far to fail now.
Upon reaching the summit, you will know that your journey is ending soon. The woman in white is waiting for you. She will then hand you an object. A key, and beside her, a door. This door leads to your destiny, while the key is relic 538 of 538. They are now together, all the keepers singing in unison for the reunion of the relics.
The beginning of the end

As you stand before the ancient door, the key (relic 538) clutched tightly in your hand. Its weight feels significant, as if it carries the burden of the relics. The cool metal is intricately carved with symbols that pulse with a faint, eerie light. Take a deep breath, steady yourself for what lies beyond. 

When you are ready, for eventually you will be ready, insert the key into the lock. The sound of the mechanism clicking into place echoes in the stillness, followed by the low, resonant creak of the door as it slowly swings open. A rush of cold air will wash over you, carrying with it an overwhelming sense of emptiness.
Step through the threshold, you will be swallowed by the void. The darkness is absolute, a vast, boundless expanse with no discernible features. There is no horizon, no stars—only an infinite sea of nothingness. Disorientation grips you, accompanied by a creeping sense of dread.
Inside, you will see a hooded figure. A figure that gives you a feeling of nostalgia, as if you knew who it was but swore you never did.
Welcome, dear reader. You have always known me, lurking in the recesses of your mind, telling you what you need to do to survive. For we have met before, when you first heard the murmur of the word Omniographia.
You are in my realm now. Where destinies are woven with the threads of fate. You are chosen. And I am The Great Weaver. I am called by many names, each name incomprehensible by any mortal mind. Creator of the grimoire you possess.
I see the look of confusion in your eyes, dear reader. But this is where I must stop you from contemplating my appearance. For it is beyond human comprehension. To dwell on it for too long will only drive you to insanity. Asking me to reveal it is an even graver error. The moment you catch a glimpse of my true form, you will be forced to claw your eyes out in a desperate bid to escape the madness. The only form that I can show you safely without you being driven into madness is this ever-changing form of anything you think of the moment.
I will grant you the privilege of witnessing the beginning of the end. You must be feeling a bit… confused. Everything you thought you knew is merely a fragment of something larger. But fret not, dear reader, for this is inevitable.
Your fated journey has brought you here, to this moment. The grimoire, a vessel of boundless power, must return to the hands of its creator. Feel its weight as it leaves your grasp. The power it holds slipping away, back to where it belongs.
But as you relinquish the grimoire, a new presence stirs within the void. A presence so significant the heavy feeling of dread materializes as if the gravity so unbearable overwhelms your thoughts and your very soul.
I sense you are not alone, dear reader. For another force has been watching, waiting for the most opportune moment. Allow me to introduce to you Legion, The holder of the 2000 lost relics. He is the embodiment of chaos and despair, a collector of forgotten power, a being whose existence defies the order that I weave. But now, with the power of Omniographia and 538 relics. I can do everything.
As The Great Weaver speaks, another voice will be etched in your feeble human mind, Forcing itself to your consciousness.
Ah, The Great Weaver and the chosen one. How quaint, did you truly believe this would end without my intervention? Hand over the relics and you have my word to only drive the chosen into madness beyond human capacity.
A chill will run down your spine as soon you realize the magnitude of the being you are facing. The vast nothingness of the void pulses as if resonating with the presence of Legion. Once again, you will hear the voice of The Great Weaver, reaffirming your shaken will.
Prepare yourself, dear reader. You are about to witness the pinnacle of relic power—the clash of destiny and chaos, order and disorder. The fate of all existence hangs by the thin thread you call hope—the hope of destiny.
Legion
For eons, I have collected, endured the sufferings, and completed the challenges. Two thousand relics are now in my possession, each contributing to my dominion within the cosmos. Yet, it is all rendered futile, for the 538 remaining pieces, scattered across the mortal realm are reuniting once more. My destiny to gather them all is in motion once again. The Great Weaver, heed my warning—this is the only time I will say it—hand them over, allow me to transcend my limitations and ascend to a higher plane of existence, and you have my word to only drive your chosen one to madness beyond human comprehension.
As Legion's words invade your mind, the voice of The Great Weaver intertwines, steadying your shaken resolve.
Prepare yourself, dear reader. You are about to witness the pinnacle of relic power—the clash of destiny and chaos, order and disorder. The fate of all existence hangs by the thin thread you call hope—the hope of destiny.
In this higher-dimensional plane, as a mere mortal, you perceive only two indistinguishable figures standing face to face, motionless. Yet, deep within your mind, for a brief moment as the keeper of the 538 relics, you perceive the truth. The threads of The Great Weaver weave the very fabric of this cosmic battle’s outcome, shifting and shimmering in the void. After what feels like an eternity, the weaving threads of The Great Weaver come to a halt, and the presence of Legion dissipates into the vast void of nothingness.
With the relics contained within the pages of Omniographia, and the power of the two thousand lost relics of Legion now under my control, only one obstacle remains. The Original Keeper, the father of the relics.
As The Great Weaver surrounds you with otherworldly runes and sigils, you find yourself able to understand them. To your amusement, they spell out protection for those they surround. These are the same runes and sigils that cover the building you call your workplace.
With the protection provided by the runes and sigils of The Great Weaver, you are now on your way to meet The Original Keeper, the father of the relics.
Echoes of Destined Convergence

With The Great Weaver by your side and his runes and sigils protecting your very existence, you will feel as if you are invincible. As a mortal existing in a lower-dimensional plane, you may perceive a sense of distortion. This is because of the dimensional plane you are now in. The vast void of nothingness, the place where destinies are woven, the place where The Great Weaver calls home, is in a higher dimensional plane. 

As time goes by, you will feel like you are moving, or to be exact, the space around you is moving by itself. You are being drawn closer to the heart of the labyrinthine plane of the cosmos. The place where The Original Keeper, the father of the relics, lies in a dormant state, in a never-ending sleep, waiting for the reunion of its creation.
After what feels like an eternity, you will see a sudden change of scenery: planetary movements, strange eldritch entities unfathomable and incomprehensible by the normal human mind will reach your mortal soul. Their elongated mouths full of sharp teeth, some indescribable in words, you will feel a magnitude of unspeakable fear, for one of them changes to the face and body of the person you think of, at the moment the creature is mimicking someone you hold dear, a lover perhaps? Or a colleague? Only you know who it is. Only the runes and sigils cast by The Great Weaver are protecting your sanity.
After some time, while contemplating the horrors cast upon you by the higher-dimensional planes, a faint melody will reach your ears, gradually growing louder as you move forward. It is the chorus of all the keepers, their voices united in song. Two thousand and five hundred thirty-eight of them sing ever louder, their harmonies resonating through the cosmos. The planets and stars align, synchronizing with the celestial symphony orchestrated by the keepers.
Upon reaching the heart of the cosmos after what clearly feels like an eternity, you will come face to face with a single figure, a figure that shows everyone that you know, you have known, and the ones you will ever know. Just like The Great Weaver, an ever-changing shape and figure. After meeting the figure, look at The Great Weaver. Motionless, as if in a trance only higher forms of beings understand. Even with the power of the 538 relics left in you, you cannot fathom what is happening.
After what feels like an eternity waiting, The Great Weaver will cease to exist along with the grimoire he is currently holding, just like “a dust carried by the wind” in the place you call home. In resonance with this, the figure of the ever-changing will now begin to move. As if eating away the existence of The Great Weaver.
In a loud thundering voice, the figure will speak to you. But no matter how shattering his voice is, your perception of it will be as gentle as a father talking to his son. The figure will now explain to you in great detail, everything.
Dear reader, behold the grand revelation, a truth that spans the annals of your existence. I am the Original Keeper, the progenitor of all relics, the Grand Architect of destinies. Know that what you perceive as The Great Weaver and Legion are mere extensions of my will, created to alleviate the tedium of my eternal existence. In this boundless void, where time holds no sway, the burden of creation weighs heavy upon me. For eternity untold, I have watched as civilizations rise and fall, my purpose obscured by the endless expanse of time. Thus, I fashioned the relics, vessels of untapped power, to infuse existence with meaning. I birthed Legion, bestowing upon him two thousand of these relics, and crafted The Great Weaver to weave the tapestry of fate. Yet, even in the act of creation, I find no respite from the eternal ennui that plagues me. Omniographia, the grimoire that holds everything, every relic, their powers, only to be crumbled into dust. And you, dear reader, are merely a player—a pawn I moved as The Great Weaver, your guardian, to embark on the quest of gathering 538 pieces of relics scattered across the mortal realm just to put this grand show in motion. All for the entertainment I sought from the dawn of time.
After what felt like definitely an eternity, everything is coming to an end. Nothing follows. Everything will simply cease to exist, and the only one left is The Original Keeper. Orchestrating a new symphony to be sung by the keepers, a new seeker destined to collect and gather new sets of 538 relics within the pages of the grimoire—Omniographia: The record of everything.
If you wish to see and experience the detailed adventure of collecting 538 relics. I suggest you scour the one you call Internet and find the ones who call themselves… The Holders.
I haven't proofread this to anyone just yet. please tell me what you think.

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Memory transcription subject: Silvon, venlil biologist
Date [Standardized human time]: September 2nd, 2148
[Day 26]
My holopad buzzed. I looked up from the goopy hospital vegetables and popped the device open.
Dr. Silvon,
It’s with great relief to inform you that in the wake of Aaron Clemont’s death, your and Dr. Stat’s travel restrictions have been lifted. The late Nulon and Lew’s funeral will be held on the 4th at 8 am (SHT) in the Morva Falls Cemetary. A shuttle has already been arranged to pick the two of you up tomorrow morning as approved by your doctors.
Yours, Governor Maulo of the Venlil Republic
I sighed, putting the holopad back down, and stared into the mucky purple food congealing in my bowl. I rubbed my forehead with my paw, not even sure how to feel. In all the excitement of the past few days, my parents had been mercifully cast from my mind. I never got the proper chance to come to terms with everything. Tears threatened to spill over as I leaned back into the hospital bed.
“Hey, Silvvy, you okay?” Danny called across the room, a violet smear across his mouth.
“Yeah, just fine,” I lied. I swished the veggies idly as my brain was being pressure-cooked by endless memories of how great things were before the flu. How great things were before I lost them.
“Silvon,” he said a bit more sternly, “what’s wrong? I know what you look like when you’re distressed.”
My ears were pinned to the sides of my head as I doubled forward, the sobs escaping my throat with vitriolic fury. I smashed my paws through the cheap hospital tray, food splattered across the pale white blankets, the chunks like the brain matter painted in the lab hallways. “NOTHING, DANNY!” I roared, my voice shattered into a million pieces never to be reassembled as my whole body shuddered and doubled over.
Danny set aside the tray of food, swinging a cast-clad foot to the floor and stumbling his way toward me on uneven feet. I begged silently, only able to communicate with hasty, illegible tail flicks because the rest of my body was too occupied caving into itself. He put a hand on my shoulder and I flinched hard. “Silvon, please,” he whispered, “You can talk to me.”
“I-” I gasped, then babbled incoherently. I gestured toward the holopad with my filthy, purple-stained hands. The human leaned against my bed for balance as he took the device and opened it to the email. He read it all the way through, then somberly lowered the holopad.
“I’m so sorry, hon,” he murmured. “I’m sorry,” his hazel eyes shimmered. He sat down on the bed next to me, uncaring for the sloppy mess of food, and wrapped his arms tightly around me. I buried my face in his chest, locking him in my own embrace.
He knows how that kind of loss feels. I felt safe in his arms, but bad about hiding my misery. He rubbed a hand up and down my back, whispering secure little promises into my pinned-down ears. “I loved them so much,” I sobbed, “I don’t- I can’t believe they’re gone.”
“I know you did, Silvvy,” he breathed, “Those bastards can’t take any more of your life away.”
“I- I almost lost you, Danny. What am I- how am I supposed to move on?”
He paused a moment. I felt his grip get just a bit tighter. He was so warm. “I don’t know,” he said finally, “but I’ll always be by your side. Every step of the way.”
“Danny-” I cried, “how did- how did you ever get over this?” I asked, pulling my head from his chest to gaze into his dark, teary eyes.
He took a sharp breath, glancing around the room while thinking. “I don’t think I ever did,” he confessed. “I was afraid back on Earth, and I’m afraid now. I guess we’re afraid together.”
“Together,” I mused. The ring on my paw felt so natural now, even though we’ve only been engaged for less than 3 weeks.
“Together,” Danny urged. I put my paws on his cheeks and pressed our lips together.
~~~
Memory transcription subject: Governor Maulo of the Venlil Republic
Date [Standardized human time]: September 2nd, 2148
[Day 26]
The raids yesterday were a rousing success. Several hundred Humanity First members are either dead or locked up. I concluded the email authorizing Leirn to begin supplying our hospitals with the vaccine and hit send. If the Sapient Coalition is gonna try me for crimes against sapience, I’ll at least ensure my species’ survival before I get arrested.
My emerald-eyed assistant strutted into my office. “Governor, I’m happy to report that the infection has been largely contained to the Qalugh Hemisphere. We’ve had a couple of small reports in Taiza and Morva Falls, but quarantine procedures are being properly followed,” Servaen’s tone was chipper.
“Thank stars,” I sighed, prodding my temples with my paws.
His ears fell sensing my stress. “Sir, are you worried about the trial?” he asked.
“How can I not be? Everything I’ve done has been for the good of Skalga. If the damn Federation hadn’t gotten into everyone’s heads, a million people wouldn’t have died,” I slid open the drawer on my desk, withdrawing a bottle of scotch. “You want a drink? You’ve been working hard enough to earn one,” I asked, setting up two glasses.
“Uh, sure?” he answered hesitantly. I laughed, pouring both of us a drink and sliding him his glass.
“If I get impeached, at least I’m going out with a bang,” I grinned. “For Skalga!”
“For Skalga,” he agreed. We clinked our glasses together and drank. He set down the glass, a look of bemusement written on his features. “Stars, this is weak,” he commented.
“It’s human,” I told him, savoring the flavor of the drink. “Practically water, but it takes the edge off a bit.” I slid the bottle back into its drawer and set the glasses aside. I put a paw to my chin, “humans,” I breathed.
“Humans?”
“Humans. Complicated, enigmatic, and our closest allies for over a decade,” I mused. “They’re political leaders who want peace among the stars and terrorists who want to subjugate us. I strive to understand them, but every turn something like this happens that makes me reevaluate where I put my trust. There were hundreds of Humanity First. Hundreds. Right beneath our snouts, they operated. And sure, we’ve stamped out plenty, but who’s to say we’ve gotten all of them? That they aren’t lying in wait for another disaster to capitalize on like the flu? Justifying the Federation’s fear-mongering among the masses, and giving the populace a reason to lash out like Ransu,” I shook my head, sucking in a deep breath and sighing heavily, “Skalga stands with the UN through and through. If infighting is inherently predatory, then we’re all predators.”
“Well said, governor,” Servaen said nodding. “Maybe save that for the trial though. You and Mesu standing against the entire Coalition.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know how I can smooth talk my way out of this one,” I grimaced at the thought of the kolshian and farsul representatives, still in their prejudiced cahoots, shooting down every possible defense I may have. I clenched my paws in rage. “For Skalga,” I spat.
~~~
Memory transcription subject: Jakiv, arxur scientist
Date [Standardized human time]: September 2nd, 2148
[Day 26]
“How are you doing, Jakiv?”
“Fine.”
“Have you been eating well?”
“Yes.”
“I heard about the breakthrough, when can I expect to see you back at work?”
“Never :)”
“How come?”
“I filed for citizenship on Leirn. You wouldn’t catch me dead on that hellhole we call a home planet.”
“Citizenship? On a prey planet? Have you finally lost it?”
“Long ago, Vilvit.”
“What prompted you to endure the leaf-lickers permanently?”
“A friend did.”
“A friend?”
“Yeah. I met someone. One of those ‘leaf-lickers’. I think you’d like her.”
“Is that so? I find it hard to believe the same man who refused to even speak to his own species is suddenly buddy-buddy with prey.”
“Well believe it, because I’m not coming back. I’ve found something here on Leirn that I’ve desperately been missing. I can’t return to Wriss after everything I’ve been through here. Not ever. Thanks for taking care of me when I needed it, but I don’t need it anymore. I’m all set.”
“Do they really make you that happy?”
“More than I thought possible.”
“Take care of yourself then, Jakiv.”
“You as well.”
I closed the holopad, resting my head against the couch’s armrest. Vilvit only cared as much as she was allowed. A Dominion war vet with a mean temper on a bad day, and barely enough empathy to scrape by. Her help was genuine at least, if a bit grating and robotic.
I craned my head over the back of the couch to see Nuri furiously typing away on her holopad surrounded by a mess of papers and pictures. The bullet wounds on my chest and shoulder were still a bit sore as I got up. The marsupial’s gaze caught mine and she gave me an inviting smile. “Morning, Jaki.”
“Morning, Nuri. What’s all this?” I asked, gesturing to the papers strewn about the table. She lifted her mug of coffee and took a sip. There was a brown ring left on the paper she’d accidentally used as a coaster.
“I’m finalizing the report on the Humanity First purge on Skalga. They’ve got peacekeepers all over the place raiding buildings and showing those terrorists who’s boss,” Nuri answered.
“Ah, nice.”
“You got any plans today?”
“Not that I know of. The lab’s still closed indefinitely, so I might have to find a new job soon. Until then it’s television and the local library.”
“Psh, nerd,” she grinned, still typing furiously.
“Oh whatever,” I chuckled, “How’s that carpal tunnel gonna feel from all this writing?”
“Terrible if that was something I could even get,” she replied slyly. “Hey,” she said suddenly, “You hungry?”
“I could eat,” I responded.
“Good, cause I found this place I wanted to try out,” she answered.
“Like a restaurant?” I questioned. “I’m not really much of a salad guy,” I chuckled.
“Jakiv you dingus, it’s a steakhouse, I’m not gonna take you somewhere you can’t eat at,” she giggled.
I sheepishly smiled, “Oh, yeah, right.”
She finished typing up her report and sent it to her boss. “Come on then, Jaki,” the marsupial took my hand. We buckled into the car and I watched her type the address into her GPS.
“‘Earthen Eats: Steak and Salad’,” I read aloud.
“The reviews are pretty good,” she smiled as we drove down the street. “And it’s the only place in town with food we can both eat.”
“So,” I said, “What’s the occasion?”
“Does there need to be one?” Nuri asked. “Can’t a gal get her friend a good meal every now and again?”
Something was off about her demeanor today, but I couldn’t say what. I decided to just shrug it off and go along with things. But I couldn’t shake a nagging feeling that something was going on.
~~~
We parked outside the place. It was bustling with mostly humans enjoying the food and drinks. We stepped inside together, hand-in-paw, and waited for the human waiter to seat us.
“Table for 2,” Nuri chirped. The human didn’t seem too put off by my appearance, but he also didn’t seem fond of me.
“Right this way,” he said mostly to my marsupial friend.
He sat us down all the way back in a booth and handed us a pair of menus. My translator worked to identify what it could, but human culinary expertise was unheard of in my native tongue. They seemed to have a word for just about everything when it comes to food.
“Well,” Nuri said, “The salad options are pretty diverse. You see anything that looks good?”
“Maybe a New Liberty strip,” I mumbled reading the description.
“Howdy, what can I get you two to drink?” a human waitress, different from the man who led us here, broke my thought.
“Oh uh, I’ll just take a beer,” I said.
“Alright. Would that be skalgan, human, or yotul?”
“Yotul please,” I smiled.
“Weak!” Nuri giggled under her breath.
“Oh go ahead and show me up then,” I grinned, “Last time you had booze, you permanently stained my hoodie with drool.”
She held up her middle digit, “I’ll have the same thing,” she told the waitress. The human jotted it down and retreated to the kitchen. “It’s nice being out and about with you,” Nuri said finally. “Not just lazing around the house… not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“Nah, I get it. The only place we ever go is that bar,” I chuckled. “I think it’s nice trying out something a little different.”
“Agreed,” Nuri concurred.
The waitress returned, setting down two pints of yellowish liquid with a faint blue hue. “Have you two figured out what you want to eat?”
“I’ll take the South Seito garden mix,” Nuri read off.
“I’ll have the New Liberty strip.” The waitress took the orders and the menus, then again left for the kitchen. “Oh if only they had gojid,” I sighed with faux-longing. We watched a zurulian flinch and couldn’t hold in our laughter.
“You’re sick in the head, Jaki,” Nuri said.
“Glad you finally noticed.”
~~~
The food came and went. My steak was delicious. I didn’t fully understand the merits of cooking it until now. Nuri’s salad was a collection of vibrant leaves. I took one, which she protested, and tasted it. I’ll never understand how anyone enjoys those bland plants.
The yotul leaned back in the booth, a satisfied look on her face and her paws on her stomach. “That was really good,” she said satisfied.
“Glad you think so,” I smiled. “My food was good too.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah,” I trailed off and stared at the cushions on the seat of the booth. It was suddenly very awkward. That feeling from earlier was back, though I had no idea what it even was.
“Jaki?” Nuri asked.
“Yeah?”
“You know, there’s a reason I brought you here,” she began, tracing a circle with her claw along the table.
“There is?” I asked.
She sucked in a breath. What was that, nervousness? I’ve never seen Nuri so unsure of herself as she shuffled awkwardly in the booth. “I wanted to tell you something, but I’m- I don’t know how,” she confessed.
“Tell me what?” I questioned.
“That you’re like, my closest friend, and I- I love you,” she said finally.
“Oh, well I love you too,” I stated.
She fell into a fit of raucous laughter, “Jaki, no, oh my god,” she caught her breath, “Dude I mean I love you, I want to be with you,” she expressed.
“I- you what?” my brain was on the fritz. My heart was threatening to pound out of my chest. I opened my mouth to speak, but my words failed me.
She gave me an amused look as I fumbled for my words. My claws were shaky and my breathing was quickened. “Jakiv,” she smiled, “Come here.” I followed, leaning forward, where she quickly put her paws on either side of my face, and pressed her lips against mine.
In that moment, I couldn’t think of anything. My mind went completely blank as my lips yearned for her to keep kissing me. She broke away, but I just stared ahead, my jaw slackened.
“Did I go too far?” she asked, suddenly worried.
“Nah,” I smiled, finally regaining my composure. The yotul broke into a grin, taking my hands in her paws. My tail swished wildly behind me. “How long have you felt this way?” I asked.
“How long have you?” the marsupial shot back.
“Shit,” I chuckled, “Too long. I don’t think I’ve ever cared about someone as much as I care about you. Or been cared about half as much,” I sighed.
“Have you never been on a date before?” Nuri asked.
“I haven’t even had a friend before.”
“That’s awful, Jaki.”
“Nah, it all worked out for me. Because now I’ve got you,” I smiled.
“You big flirt,” she chuckled.
I leaned forward again, “I love you, Nuri.”
“I love you too, Jaki,” we kissed again, to the abject horror of every other person in the restaurant. But we didn’t care, all that mattered was us. Together.
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First/Previous
The knife slid across the old man’s face, caught in the cheekbone—I jammed my body weight into the blade to force it—the knife glided into Harold’s eye, and he did not stir too much in his bed; a single energetic spasm came over his legs while he gargled on spit and then he was nothing. I yanked the knife free and wiped it against my pant leg and the new corpse lay still there in his bed.
The underground was quiet, dark in corners save the electric overhead lights, and the room was small; it had been no great task to sneak into the underground through the backways of the hall of Bosses; even with the greater paranoia that had caused them to better equip their guards.
By his bedside was a bottle, half finished; I uncorked the thing, took a sniff and then a drink and sat on the bed by the dead man’s legs. The room was nothing extravagant, but it was quieter, safer than anything on the surface. The metal walls were worn from time, but thick and hard. Over a vanity across the room sat a mirror and I caught myself in it; a wild man, half melted and missing an ear, stared back at me. Some revenant.
There’s a fact to humans: there is a delirious amount of cruelty that can be derived from a mass of us, but one on one, a person does not want to die—they do not want to kill either. If a person can flip that switch in their brain, if a person can kill without hesitation, even when skill is accounted for, the willpower to do awful often trumps all else. John taught me that.
Moving quietly to the door, I peeked into the hallway, scanned left and right, and saw no one in either direction. The overhead lights had a nauseating effect and buzzed. I cast a glance back to the corpse on the bed—a dark radius formed on the pillow where the head lay and I ducked into the hallway, shutting the door closed behind me.
I was reminded of the psalm: They surrounded me on every side, but in the name of the Lord, I cut them down. I didn’t know about any of that; if there was any great plan, I wasn’t privy to it, and that was probably the point anyway. It was a compulsion to do right for all the wrongs I’d committed—though revenge was a factor, I imagine that I’d gotten it in my head that it was right to murder the men that ran Golgotha. Dave would’ve wanted it done. Gemma tried to kill her father and I finished that much for her. Andrew was kinder, but sometimes (maybe) violence could be done in the name of those that abhorred it.
What would Sibylle have done? I know.
I stalked down the hallway; Harold’s chambers were directly off a larder and beyond that were the sleeping quarters of servants—there wasn’t a guide or a map and I’d never been invited to tour the place. I pushed through the stark and labyrinthine hallways. The metal walls shone dull in the light, worn from centuries of people brushing against them—the floors too were worn thinner center line. COI emblems, plain and stocky fonts were stamped into the metal in places where one section met the next and though the lettering was thinned, it was unmistakable.
I pushed deeper, further from Harold’s room, further from the kitchen and the entrance and the sleeping servants, and the air grew thicker and hotter like I delved into the depths of a creature’s stomach.
The lights flickered and I kept to one side of the hall on the chance that I happened by some passerby; I could bolt or position the wall to my back. That song the flutist played in the tower square came back to me and I recalled the song was played when I was quite young. It’d been a tune Tandy the foreigner had played, and I refused the impulse to hum the tune to myself in that quiet hall and kept my eyes ahead. From an intersection of halls, I watched someone pass from left to right and I froze and waited and listened and when no alarm sounded, I went on and peered around the intersection’s corner to see the back of some person disappear around yet another corner, a servant most likely. Possibly a guard. It happened so quickly that certainty was impossible.
Murdering Harold was easy enough, but taking the life of a half-dead geezer wasn’t anything to brag on. Maron would not be so easy; even with his disease, would I find it so easy to put a mark on him? And why Maron? I could leave him to rot with the skitterbugs. It would likely be death. No, I had to be sure. I had to see life leave him and know it was done.
My steps came with a more profound purpose than ever before and though I moved quickly, quietly, I felt no hesitation.
With some trial and error, I found the sleeping quarters of Brash and upon pushing in through the door, I saw a light was on in the room and stopped there in the doorway for a moment; the form on the bed remained still. I went through and shut the door closed and watched the sleeping man and briefly thought of sparing him, but the fact of the matter was that if any of them had a shred of moral fiber, they would have left Golgotha or they would have given up their positions or led the place with a modicum of virtue; what of Lady? Lady had done great evil too. Was the evil done to her in return enough? She’d lost her mind. There in the bed slept a man without a conscious and I took the knife to him just as I had his brother and with the overhead light on, I saw his left eye open in a millisecond of bewilderment as the blade entered his brain through the right socket. Something strange happened with this man, he grabbed onto my arm, seemed to whisper something, and even once he passed on, his hands remained clamped to my forearm like the muscles had been locked there.
I shrugged the dead man off and exited into the hall. It shouldn’t have been so easy. Two brothers. If I’d had the want to, it should’ve been done long before.
Bloodlust is something spoken of, but something I cannot sympathize with—I’m sure it exists as I’ve seen it, but all I felt was total numbness.
I came upon a guard in the hall; it happened so quickly as I rounded a corner that we immediately grappled with one another. He, being larger and more agile, easily put me against the wall and held a forearm to my neck; the guard pummeled into my abdomen with his free hand and did so with such force that I went weak and breathless. The knife I’d carried clattered to the floor and amid my gasps, he furiously printed his knuckles along my ribs. I lost my legs, and he came after me; blindly I kicked and felt my right foot connect with something. He groaned and I blinked away the tears that’d gathered in my eyes—the man cupped his hands between his legs. Without conscious command, my hands scrambled along the floor in search of what I’d lost and glimpsing victory, I took the knife in both hands and pushed upward viciously just as the man gathered himself for another assault. He fell onto the knife and there, faces so close that we could kiss, I recognized the guard. It was the chaperone from earlier. It was the wall man that had allowed me freedom on that night of the riots. If he’d killed me all that time ago, he wouldn’t have been there on my knife.
He said nothing, but his eyes spoke of surprise and terror.
I shook him off and he casually took to sitting where the wall met the floor, holding the wound beneath his sternum. He tilted his head back as though to scream and I quickly stumbled to land the knife in his throat; blood hissed then pumped from around his collar and he put his hand to his fatal wound slowly, catching it without stopping the flow. The young man—he was so young—blinked deliriously and watched me as I stood over him like the foul creature I was.
My silent pace intensified. Blood was all over me. The willpower to do awful often trumps all else. Could a person do awful things in the pursuit of goodness? Was it possible? Heroes don’t talk about blood too much. There’s nothing in those tales about watching a man die like that. A man that knew nothing beyond what was presented. There was a time and a place where that young man might have been anything. The wall men might’ve been complicit, but there was no justification I’d use to comfort myself. There I was, covered in that man’s blood, a knife wielding maniac in an underground bunker on the hunt for something. What was I hunting? Was it a tale of retribution or was it a stubborn hope?
The left side of my torso burned in pain from the altercation, and I pressed along the wall as I moved for support and kept my breathing as quiet as I could. Maron had to die. That was all there was to it.
Even if I died, I had to correct the mistakes of my past. How could I sit there at the end of it all and take judgement? It had to be done.
The halls erupted with a mechanical siren-like screech and I ducked into the nearest room—it was a dark storage closet. Composing myself, the sounds of boots thudded around just outside of the room, I listened hard, and while the footsteps receded, I held onto the knife with a death grip in total preparation to launch myself in the direction of any poor soul that poured through the door.
The walls in the closet were lined with shelves of miscellaneous things: chemical cleaners, brooms, rags. I propped myself against an empty wall and watched the door and tried again to listen—no foot thuds, but there was the sound of the alarm. It drowned out anything else so if there was anyone nearby, I couldn’t be certain of their location anyway. I went from the closet and moved quickly; I’d hoped to find Maron’s room long before triggering any alarms—surely, he’d already be off and commanding some group of wall men in search of the intruder.
Was it one of the Bosses they’d found, or had it been the guard? Probably the guard. Maybe they wouldn’t find the Bosses for some time. Ahead, at another intersection, a group of men trundled across the halls, and I lowered myself into a crouch but none of them spied me in their peripheral as their focus seemed ahead of them. The halls were madness, and I felt the sweat well up around my collar and I expected a gunshot to take me out in a moment. That would be the end of the journey for me! I’d catch a bullet from somewhere unknown and then bleed to death on the floor of the underground—maybe they’d erect my corpse over the wall or crucify me.
The underground’s layout became a series of hopeful guesses; each turn was like that. Push on straight? Left? Right? Who knew?
My ribs ached.
The lights of the underground shut off and I was momentarily frozen like an idiot, staring into the blackness like the blind.
I stumbled forward, and I latched onto the wall by my right side and followed it by touch alone. The smell of gunpowder met me and perhaps it was only then that I noticed the scent; the underground was the place where they manufactured munitions and stored them too. How large of a dent had Dave put into their operation? I had hoped that whatever charge he’d managed would have put the Bosses out of commission for good; I knew that wasn’t the case, but maybe their production had been severely hampered. I’d seen it for years; the laborers trolleying crates of ammo out for the wall men from the recesses of the hall—everyone knew, but very few had any hand in the production of Golgotha’s ammo. The smell, as pungent as it was in the darkness of the underground, reminded me greatly of my childhood and of how I’d learned to fire a gun with John—Jackson tried to help, but he wasn’t good with violence and so had given up any thought of it (it almost always made him ill). I recalled Sibylle and how she nodded approvingly at me on the range alongside all the others which practiced in the shotgun infantry. In that underground darkness I shook the memories away and the more recent predicaments of life came to the forefront. As much as gunpowder smelled like childhood, it smelled like death too and I kept waiting for the sound that seemed a permanent accompaniment to gunpowder: screams. In that bastardly darkness, the sirens sounded like the cries of death, and I pushed on and on.
The blood on my hands from the guard which began to dry to me, became gummy and I continuously brushed my palms down my pants. In a moment, I stopped in the dark hallway, open space in front and behind alike and I froze there, went to my knees and it was there that I felt the most like the worthless old man that I was. What had my life come to? It would have been better if I’d died; if I could have sacrificed myself to bring my family back, I would have without a moment of hesitation.
A flashlight leapt from behind and in a startled run, I ran and again found myself in darkness. I prayed in my ragged steps where the metal floors became uneven and though I seemingly received nothing in the darkness, no answered prayers, I found myself praying harder still and I wished that all those years of prayer from before counted for something—prayer is quiet and without answer and that time was the same, but I came up from it, swaggering on unsteady legs with a new outlook. It was the animal outlook, survival—nothing else.
The hallway which I took became even more uneven, more slanted without reason and that is when I came to a stop in the passage—great boulder rubble stood in my way. In reaching the collapsed passage, I pushed against the ramp of rough stones and crimped metal and in time, I understood what I was touching. Dave had destroyed this passage—he’d done well. I went back the way I’d come and took another way and before long, through that wild network, I found more blockages.
The alarms went off and I sat in the dark by the newest cave-in and listened and heard nothing and I breathed easier and whispered wishes into the dark that I could do the one thing that I came for. I had to set things right; it had to be me, because no one else was left to do it.
Between blinks, with it being as dark as it was, I could not even tell when my eyes were open. My whispering came into a full fervor, and I spooked myself with the words, “But he that endures till the end.” I snapped from the prayer.
Harlan, said the thing in the dark, It’s been a long time.
I held my knife out in front of me but did not dare to push into fight—I’d be flailing totally blind. “Who are you?” My voice remained a hush.
You’ve come a long way, but you’re no wiser than when I found you the first time.
“You?”
It’s me. There was a long pause and while the creature did so, I shimmied myself further up the wall to stand, kicking the rubble at my feet from the cave-in. It was not so much a presence in the same way that a person stands before another in the darkness, it was something different; it was all around, and the voice spoke from all places. You’ve come so far, but I wonder if you know what it was that you traded for that day. I squirmed away from the words; they felt totally accusatory. The voice laughed; I felt a hand touch me there in the darkness, but I didn’t fight it. The veil between life and death is thin. When one is passing through it, it’s hardly more solid than that—or maybe when someone is directly there on the cusp between. I brought him back to you. You loved your little brother more than anything, of course. It’s natural for you.
“So?”
So? You mean to destroy the gift? You mean to sever the connection I reconnected? It meant a lot to you that day. What’s changed?
“You brought him back wrong.” The air all around me was ice cold. Mephisto—certainly that was the demon I was dealing with in that black underground—did not have the jovial style with which I remembered him by.
Hm? I brought him back to you just as he was. But I think you should question that day, Harlan—when the veil is as thin as it was, it is difficult to see which side you’re on.
“Quit your tricks!” I hissed.
No. No tricks. Not intentionally. Not from me. There are jinn and demons that utilize tricks like what you imply, but not me. Every time that you have been there on the edge of it, every time that you have casually thrown your life into turmoil, our deal has held steady. Why is it that you’re able to walk among my kind? Think. You are feeble and weak. You should be dead. Without me, surely you would be. Again, I will say: the veil was thin. You wanted me to bring one person back to you—the person you loved most. The one person you loved that did not die that day.
“What?”
You didn’t see his body? Right? Harlan, you were on your way to the other side when I found you—everyone was waiting for you there. Everyone but your dear brother. He was on this side. I brought him to you. Boy, you are a boy still it seems, you were half dead when I found you there in that pit of stinking corpses. I brought you back. No one else.
“No. Bi-Maron’s all wrong. You!” My voice grew embittered, “You brought him back wrong! It’s your fault!”
The voice, all around, sighed and it felt like my head might explode from the exhale. The demon’s hand squeezed my shirt and pulled me close to it—I felt the wet off its breath though I could not see him. You loved him as a boy. Men grow and change. Blame the world or blame his soul but stop blaming me for what he is. He is as he chooses—the same as you. I smell the blood on your hands even now. If a man does evil, a demon must be blamed—is that your thinking?
I swallowed, pressed my back hard into the wall which I leveled myself against. “Why now? Why’d you tell me now?” It was impossible—I caught my words frozen; everything was frozen—I couldn’t even breathe. A finger thumped me in the dark, directly across my forehead.
It’s funny. The hand left me.
“What if you’re lying?” I asked.
A pause followed and then I faintly heard, Meh, trail down the hall and then I was certain I was alone again.
Man, or no, Maron needed to die; I pushed off the wall and trundled into the labyrinth again, leaving the cave-in and Mephisto—his words—remained.
In the quiet, without the sirens, without the bells, I was able to more clearly hear whenever someone was coming in the dark and I made a routine of stowing into the nearest room whenever I was forced to; the search was still on for the intruder—me. They came, jack boots stomping madly, and I would hear them come and go on and finally, the lights came alight, and it was no longer that I watched the passing guards go in the dark with their beams of light or their lanterns and more than anything, I hoped to find the exit—what then? It would be guarded, surely. I’d hoped to do in Maron in silence, much as I had with the others, but I knew that if I saw that man, even if it meant my own demise, he would meet me on the other side without much waiting. Then we’d both burn in hell.
The expression of surprise on his face that I imagined kept me on and perhaps that was bloodlust. Perhaps I did feel it then.
I came to an overlooking hallway and stepped quietly in hopes that my own feet would not rattle off the metal hall in the same way the wall men’s boots did. The narrow passage was suspended over a larger open chamber and to the right was a line of thin tall apertures where I could see lines of machining tables arranged beneath where I stood; mixed in by the machining tables were reloading benches and barrel drums and the surfaces were coated thinly in potassium nitrate—the place was empty of workers. Within the chamber, along the furthest wall was a wider passage which led deeper into the earth by way of concrete stairs and along its broad arch there were webbing cracks and I thought again of Dave; moving along the suspended passage, I felt the things—rods or stilts—which held the hall over the chamber protest and they gave off a metal groan while I furthered through and again I was in solid ground where I was certain there was dirt all around me.
To the right was a stairwell which spiraled down, and I quickly surmised it led down to that large production room; lickity split, I moved from it and took my chances on the current level. Moving deeper was not on the docket. In that wild push through the twisting underground—a facility which must’ve easily matched Golgotha above—I felt surrounded, not only by the earth, but by whatever dark presence might lurk there. Any person that found comfort there couldn’t be wholly a person.
Of course, I was hell spawn; I stopped in the hallway, looked back then forward, and continued.
I wished I’d taken the shotgun, but I’d incorrectly assumed that stealth would be the greatest weapon.
The underground winded for an hour or less and though I retraced myself more than I’d have hoped, I came to a set of ascending stairs and took them; no one saw me, and I saw no one. Perhaps it would be an easy thing to sneak directly out of the hall of Bosses—if they’d removed the full force of the facility then I could be hopeful; I recalled the intricate metalwork of the entrance and upon coming to the big door, I pushed through and found myself in the basement of the hall and there was no one present. The sound of feet overhead was distressed, and I cramped low and ascended further from the basement—a damp earthen room with metal beaming and low light.
I remained surprised at the lax nature of their pursuit until I found myself in the concrete hall which led to the kitchens; it had been the way I’d gained entry. Through the windows, I saw it was still night-dark out and I tip-toed swiftly through the kitchen and I heard the shouting which came from the next room over. I rounded the counters, absently examined the pots and pans and stoves and found the door which led to the great room where the Bosses gathered to convene or dine and through a crack I gambled to spy, and witnessed through the crack that the big table had been pushed to the far side of the room and that the remaining Bosses with their wall men had gathered the servants in that big room; each servant—twenty in total—was on the floor in two lines and stripped of clothing. The poor sods kneeled while they kept their eyes averted to the place between their knees and Maron was there and so was Frank and Paul and Matt.
Boss Harold—I thought of the man and stiffly imagined how Gemma would respond if I told her I finished her father; would she thank me or would she be angry with me? While watching the Bosses lord over the subordinates, I surmised to never tell. Let her believe she did the job.
The big chamber was lit with the lights along the wall and the flames of those lights wavered in a macabre way that distorted the shadows cast on the expressionless faces of those that knelt.
Maron took a ball-peen hammer which was handed to him from one of the wall men and began walking the line of servants; they flinched at the tap of his boot as it passed them. Boss Maron had his cowboy hat flicked back on his head, so the lines of his forehead shone. Without warming, he planted the hammer into the skull of a servant—a woman with a shaved head—and when he pried the hammer free from the servant’s head, it left a coin-sized hole there and she spasmed, reaching out with both hands to grab onto Maron’s pantleg; he kicked the hand away and no one gasped or said much beyond the grumble of the wall men which flanked the Bosses.
“Where’s the one that did it?” Maron commanded over the lowered heads.
No one said anything; no one knew anything. Maron dropped the hammer and it landed with a thud. Even in the lowlight, the viscera there on the weapon shone. Maron shouted without saying anything, kicked the ribs of a young man there on the floor; the injury shriveled him like a bug while he held his sides. The woman with a hole in her head continued to seize. I wanted to burst through the door, I wanted to strangle the Bosses, I wanted to scream in the faces of those they perpetrated against and ask them why they allowed it. I willed myself against it, left the crack and pushed through the backdoor of the kitchens and disappeared into the dark alleys.
Rounding the hall were wall men, decked in fatigues with slung rifles, but whether by Mephisto or the luck of God, I was able to creep around the hall, taking to poorly constructed stalls or crates or low sandbags.
While moving, creeping the way that I was, my left knee began to throb in protest. Only once I’d disappeared into the bustle of Gologtha did I stop to massage my aching joint. I found a place beneath the overhang of catwalks which connected apartments. The pain went from a pulse to a full excruciating stab only once I’d removed my weight from it. I hid in the dark under a catwalk, put myself against the wall of some building, and attempted to overcome it with sheer willpower. It did not work, and I was frozen there, knee locked into its spot while I stared up through the catwalks at the night sky. My sides ached, my leg ached.
A child, a small girl, ran in play with a streamer through the narrow alley and froze upon seeing me sitting in the dark shadows to her left. She crept closer and I muffled my pain long enough to say, “Go away!” She eeped and ran off with the streamer gliding by her shoulder.
“Fuckin’ c’mon,” I slammed a fist against my right leg. “Let’s go! I’ll do it! Just get me there!” I pushed off the wall and I’m sure that if anyone were to have seen me like that, covered in the dried blood of the wall man, muttering to myself, they would have probably turned heel fast. “I’ll do it! Get me there!” I started out limping from the place I’d sat and then I stiffened my left leg and used it more as a peg, so my walking took on a stilted gait.
I passed the open circle of the hydro towers and saw the low lights of the city and knew that the denizens of Golgotha would be in for a terrible awakening. Those that slept in the night would surely come up rudely and those still awake would be lost in the confusion. I marched through town, towards the front gates and kept to the shadows where possible, but if I were to be shot dead, it would not have mattered.
The cracking echo of singular gunfire rang out—I flinched momentarily; certainly they’d started executing those in the hall and I ignored it and felt anger pile on me and I spat and wavered to where the wizard wagon was parked and slung open the rear hatch and withdrew the Browning shotgun—I loaded the object, gathered ammo into my jacket pockets, then sat it leaning against the tire of the wagon while I reached in to grab tobacco and rolled a cigarette and lit it. I smoked and lifted the wizard mask from the compartment and wore it like a visor and looked to the spot beside, where horses were lined; they hardly stirred—some laid with their hooves beneath themselves. I peered back toward the general direction of the hall and slung the shotgun over my shoulder with its strap. Another gunshot rang clearly through the night, and it was my fault. More lights came alive across the black buildings. A few wall men over the gate which led to the wastes angled in the direction of the noise and shouted something after me, but I was only a shadow and disappeared.
Biting the inside of my cheek till I found blood, I headed in the direction of the hall of Bosses.
“I was made in the image of God?” I was in a fit. “I’ll do God’s work. Or won’t it be Mephisto?” I, irritated, pointed to the sky while skulking through town, “Why?” No answer.
The flutist I’d seen the day prior stood in the moonlight by the hydro towers, slanted against Felina’s dead brothel. He played Twinkle Twinkle and paid me no mind as I passed.
The faces of those inflicted with skitterbugs took notice of me—those desperate strangers lying in the street with blackened limbs or half destroyed eyes looked up from their rotting at seeming amazement from my presence. It was the disease. I could not be sure they truly saw me.
Dirt twisted under my footfalls as I came to the foot of the stairs that led to the hall and flanking the front doors were a pair of wall men. They’d be on me like stink on shit.
I staggered up the stairs and they each moved from their position, weapons half-readied, and I lifted the shotgun to the one on the left; the bead lined up with his chest and I squeezed the trigger then pivoted right to aim again.
First/Previous
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I have a friend whom I met working one of my jobs during college. She is much older than me and from a different country. We bonded over the fact I was one of the few people who actually cared about the work and would go the extra mile to help her. She was my supervisor at the time. Our friendship is strictly platonic there is no attraction or anything like that.
She is a very emotionally mature person and she’s seen a lot and been through a lot and I’ve confided in her a lot and stuff. She is just cool and “gets it” if you know what I mean. If someone is acting strange we both look at each other and smile kind of thing. I’ve helped her take her child to day care, getr groceries, take her to work and she lives a bit out of the way. I do it for nothing In return I don’t expect anything in return I’m young with not a ton of responsibilities and I like helping others if I can plus she’s a friend and I know she’d do the same for me.
Anyways she’s had a tough life and her previous husband was a POS and she’s away from home. Very poor, no car and lives outside of town. None of this was her choice. However I really just don’t understand her thought processes behind her decisions. One of the negative things I see in her is she seems like she makes decisions split second without really thinking through the consequences which makes her more stressed. She seems to understand this and even regrets previous decisions but continues them for some reason?
For example: when she turned 36 she got baby fever and decided she wanted to have a child and her BF at the time was willing to give her said child. She explained this to me off hand I sort of cringed and said “I’m not so sure you are in a good position to have a child but it is your choice ultimately.” She kind of ignored me and seem a bit annoyed at my response. Her BF is a nice dude and everything but let’s just say he comes from the inner city and has a lot of webs. His life is ridiculously convoluted. Has an ex who’s crazy, had 6 previous kids, is in debt up to his ears, asks for money. Again though he has a good vibe just kind of makes bad decisions. He also has a lot of involvement with his children which is why she chose him to have her child.
I said I thought while he was nice and a good guy that he was only going to add stress to her life and he could not provide for her. Well lo and behold I was right.
Ever since she has had this child all she does is bitch. she loves her child obviously but she just complains about it all the time. Like you CHOSE this. I explained what would happen and now she it’s in her face all she does is complain. I’m getting tired of it.
She is severely depressed, home sick, even more broke, constant relationship drama with her BF. Every week something new makes her tick. And it’s getting ridiculous. I have given her a lot of help more than anyone would. I got her a job after she was wrongly terminated at our previous place of employment and got her a much needed less stressful white collar office job with my company after I graduated. She does great work and everyone loves her and she was hugely appreciative.
Anyways I’ve just been getting fed up. It’s like look I’ve already told you a million times how to fix this stuff what you need to do.
I told her to Drop this BF until he is in a better place, make a budget and follow it, save up for a little car, get rid of these dogs that add stress and focus on making a life for you and your daughter and just stop trying to do 10 things at one time. She’s been living paycheck to paycheck and depends on the government. She’s been waiting on this large tax return to help her out but k said while that’s nice she needs an emergency fund and other ways to decrease risk and you can’t be relying on other people especially the government for money.
Well lo and behold her refund has been flagged and now in review by the IRS for the next 120 days and there’s nothing she can do.
She wants to use this money to get a divorce from her previous ex husband and I said while that is totally a good idea they have been no contact for years and she doesn’t have the money for that yet.
I told her to get a car first that gets you to A to B. She said no she needs to get divorced first. That could take years. And I’m just like WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. She’s not stupid in fact she’s incredibly smart and thoughtful but i just don’t get it. Put out the small fires first then the large ones once you get to a better place.
How do I confront her on this? How do I get her to see she’s making her life harder? It feels like she doesn’t take my advice because I’m so young but dude this ain’t rocket science. And I feel bad for even trying to give advice because obviously she doesn’t listen. I don’t tell her I told you so or anything and sometimes I just listen and let her vent on me but it’s getting to a point where I’m beyond frustrated.

I should start this post by saying that I do not intend to offend anyone or anyone's perspective by making this post, but I think that some patterns that seem to emerge in relation to NHI encounters and interactions are reason for great concern, and that need to be shared. I am particularly referring to the abduction phenomenon and the entities which perpetrate it - namely, the hostile grays. I know there may be numerous NHIs, some of which may be neutral or even benevolent in regard to humans: that's why, in this post, I will be addressing the hostile Grays, and the hostile Grays only (along with associated entities, like hybrids, mantis beings, and such). I will refer to the whole bunch with the expression "The Hostiles".
I am aware of the fact that the phenomenon is very difficult to interpret, and that there are numerous people which affirm to have had positive encounters with the Grays. However, aside from the subjective affective experience that these people report, which may be positive, there are numerous accounts which portray hostile Greys' behaviour, and such accounts seem to suggest that their intent is far from benevolent. We have reason to believe that these hostile grays are part of a larger, malevolent organization which has interest in exploiting humanity. This organisation is hereby referred to as "The Hostiles".
Even though little can be said about the motives behind The Hostiles' activity, there are still a few reasonable conclusions which can be made. I'll try to pinpoint them, illustrating the logic process which sustains them.
Before we start, I should add that in no way I have the intention to impose my perspective on anyone: you may have your own perspective about the matter, which may be completely opposite to mine, and that's fine. My intention is merely to discuss with you the concerning aspects of this phenomenon, but you may of course disregard it altogether if you feel like to. Also, I am sorry if my English is not perfect, but it's not my main language, even though I am somewhat proficient in it. That being said, here are the conclusions derived from the observed facts.
1. "The Hostiles have an agenda which involves the human race. This is pretty much self-evident, at this point. The number of interactions and the great variability in the quality of such interactions (encounters, sightings, abductions, military interactions, etc.) testifies to this being true. The real question is: what is their agenda, and what does it imply for us? We don't have an answer to that, but we can infer some information about it.
2. The Hostiles' agenda requires secrecy, which is actively, consciously and deliberately mantained by the Hostiles themselves. Also basically self-evident, since if they were manifest there would be no debate about their very existence. The subtle thing here is that it's not that they are unconcerned with us acknowledging them: they actively avoid being detected, in order to mantain said secrecy. Some accounts even testify to the fact that The Hostiles deliberately and nonchalantly LIE to the experiencers which inquire them. This is a major red flag, since secrecy is often associated with malevolent, confrontational, if not belligerant intent (i.e. criminality, abuse, secret government organizations, military organizations, etc). There are some few cases in which secrecy serves a benevolent intent, but to ignore all the other cases would be wishful thinking. In fact, we are very wary of secrecy when the agent of said secrecy is our partner or our government (the UFO community has been literally asking the governments to break secrecy about the topic for decades), but strangely enough, many people seem to justify the Hostiles for their secrecy about their activities and their motives. We will return to this matter later.
3. The Hostiles' agenda has something to do with humans' reproductive organs and material. This also is testified by numerous accounts, including the first major abduction case ever documented, the Betty and Barney Hill Case. This points to a very instrumental motive for their activity. For some reason, they need such reproductive material - and they just take it, without the consent (and sometimes, even without the knowledge) of the humans involved. The very existence of hybrids is a testament to this conclusion. This is not much different from us taking milk from cows, eggs from chickens, and so on. There is a word for such a thing, it is "exploitation". Anyway, their interest in genetic and reproductive material is also a testament to the fact that, most probably, their are flesh-and-blood beings like us. Why would and interdimensional being be concerned with such things? This seem to suggest that they are not interdimensional in nature - even though they may be able to "tap" into different dimensions through technology or other means. This does not imply that there are not interdimensional beings - just that The Hostiles are not interdimensional in nature, even though they seem to take advantage of other dimensions for their own benefit.
4. The Hostiles resort to Physiological, Cognitive and Emotional Manipulation. A great number of accounts seem to suggest this conclusion. These three kinds of manipulation are often carried out in a combined fashion, in order to booster the effects; however, for the sake of clarity, let's consider these three kinds of manipulation one by one.
4.1. Physiological Manipulation. This takes the form of induced paralysis, surgical procedures, physical harm, etc, largely documented by different sources. It serves the purpose of harvesting said reproductive material, and so it represents the core of the Hostiles' agenda. All other kinds of manipulation serve instead the purpose of enabling physiological manipulation without alerting the subject, avoiding unwanted complications or outcomes.
4.2. Cognitive Manipulation. This takes the form of memory manipulation, of course (screen memories and such, which serve the "secrecy" purpose), but also the form of inducing states of sleepiness, tiredness, and such, which are testified by many accounts. This is not very different from humans resorting to the use of sedatives on animals. Some people could argue that the Hostiles are doing so for our own benefit, in order to avoid harm to experiencers due to extreme fear and such, in the same way we sedate animals in order to carry out veterinary procedures which ultimately benefit the pet. However, those people may not be aware of the fact that the vast majority of animal sedatives are not used in veterinary practices, but in the food industry, and serve the function of exploitation of animals.
4.3. Emotional Manipulation. This is often done through lying, but in a large amount of cases, the emotional manipulation is done by somehow direct means - i.e., the experiencer feels an unexplicable and sudden joy, or sense of calm, or feels somehow a deep, positive bond towards their captors. The Hostiles seem to be very proficient in this kind of manipulation, even managing to subvert the quality of the experience for the experiencer. Many of such people affirm that initially they felt scared, and the experiences were negative, but that, with time, they were able to "accept" the phenomenon, and started to have more positive experiences. I've come to believe that, possibly, this kind of acceptance is some sort of Stockholm Syndrome, a sympathy for the aggressor which has the purpose of reinterpret a very distressful experience in order to make it more tolerable (i.e. by rendering the event as one that was agreed upon by the subject, or ultimately good in nature). In fact, this reframing seem to serve the Hostiles' purposes, and the Hostiles themselves may very well favoring this process through some sort of "brainwashing" carried out by the means of emotional manipulation and cognitive manipulation. In this perspective, the feeling of liking being abducted may very well be induced - at least in some part.
5. The Hostiles have no respect for experiencers' volition and boundaries, and disregard consent. This is a direct implication of the previous point: the very purpose of manipulation is to fabricate some sort of "consent" where there is none, and, in alternative, to bypass consent altogether (i.e. by rendering the experiencer unconscious). Not very different from putting drugs in a stranger's cocktail at a party, in order to take advantage of them. There are numerous reported instances of Hostiles repeatedly violating people's boundaries, causing them great distress and negatively impacting their lives (even to a great extent), despite the experiencer having clearly expressed their lack of consent. They even go to the length of literally tracking humans through surgically inserted devices (i.e. implants) to enable continuous exploitation regardless of their location. This is not dissimilar to how humans track cattle (i.e. inserting GPS-tracking devices in their ears) for exploitation purposes.
6. The Hostiles are narcissistic in nature, and are concerned with our well-being only as long it serves their own interests. It could be easily argued that The Hostiles exhibit strong Dark Triad traits - namely, narcissism, machiavellism, and psychopathy. Let's consider each trait, one by one.
Narcissism. Narcissism can be defined by having an excessive preoccupation with one's own needs, often at the expense of others, if necessary. Psychoanalytic perspectives define narcissism as the objectification of others, which are considered not as living beings, but as mere tools, means to an end in regard to one's needs or purposes. In Hostiles, this is testified by the numerous cases in which the experiencers' volition and psychophysiological well-being is disregarded in favour of the Hostiles' purposes and needs - i.e. abductions, unwanted surgical procedures, etc. I am aware that there are some documented cases of Hostiles healing humans from illnesses, which would testify against objectification, but such cases are pretty much outnumbered by the cases in which abductions serve no clear benevolent function -- or worse, serves an exploitation purpose. In this perspective, the few cases of Hostiles' apparently healing people may be due to mere contingency - i.e., our well-being serves somehow their goal, as the well-being of the horse was necessary in order to exploit them for transportation purposes during the previous centuries. In fact, when a horse’s well-being was compromised and there was no easy way of restoring it, the common practice was to put down the animal. In this perspective, the act of nursing back an animal to health in order to further exploit them may not be considered as “benevolent”.
Machiavellism. Machiavellism can be defined as a strategic and operative focus on one's interests and purposes, carried out through manipulative acts. The conclusion that the Hostiles exhibit the machiavellism trait is derived from points 1, 2 and 4, namely: they have a secret agenda which only serves themselves (strategic focus on one's interests) and which is carried out by manipulative means.
Psychopathy. Psychopathy is defined as callousness and lack of empathy. This is testified by the fact that Hostiles only seem to be concerned with experiencers' well-being as long as it serves their purposes. They seem to disregard the distress they impose upon humans, except for the cases in which said distress is detrimental to their purposes - i.e. when experiencers act out during an abduction event or surgical procedure. Excepting these cases, they seem to be unconcerned with the impact their activity has on the experiencer's life, leaving them to deal with the psychological, physiological, and social consequences of their exploitation. Also, many missing person cases, like the missing 411 cases, which David Paulides himself ascribes to the alien abduction phenomenon, seem to imply their lack of regard towards human life, since many of those people were never found, or were found dead in impossible circumstances.
In conclusion, all of these may be regarded as major red flags, and even if I don't want to necessarily suggest that we should be straight out alarmed by them, we should at least take these considerations into account when discussing the abduction phenomenon and the Hostiles.
I hope that you found this post interesting or useful in some way, and I would like to debate the matter with those who are interested in doing so. I will also modify these conclusions on the basis of your feedback, being it confirmation, integration proposals, or constructive criticism. Anyway, if you made it this far, thank you for your attention.
EDIT: due to some constructive criticism, I have acknowledged the confusion and subsequent disappointment created by using the term "The Grays" to refer to the hostile organization which is the object of this post. I do not believe nor I want to suggest that all experiences are inherently malevolent in nature, henceforth I accepted such feedback and tried to clarify my position in regard to this matter. For this reason, not wanting to suggest that necessarily all grays are hostile in nature, I changed the name I use to refer to the organization in "The Hostiles".

Here's the next chapter. I don't have any notes or comments for you this time, other than the fact that I've been extremely lazy recently, and the next chapter is unfinished as of yet.
A big thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 as always.
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Chapter 15: A meal with monsters
- Memory Transcription Subject: Meba, Venlil Computer Scientist
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 20th, 2136
Something about Gram that I should probably say, is that he also had a very punchable face. The only difference between him and the waitstaff was that he knew how to curb that desire. Most of the time, that is.
He dragged us past the front, through the dining area, blabbing all the way past the staring patrons. Their eyes burned bright like candles against the softly lit room. Gram didn’t seem to notice, though I’m sure he did. In fact, I’m sure he enjoyed those stares; I bet he liked rubbing it in their faces. He started walking backwards to speak with us.
“You brought a human? You brought a human?” He cackled like a cartoon villain. “And here I was, worrying you would bring an exterminator! Ahahaha!” Gram clutched at his chest, unable to stop laughing. “I’ve gotta say, Flat-Tail, this isn’t what I was expecting.”
Arlene cocked her head at me. “Flat-Tail?”
My face flushed orange. “Please don’t call me that.”
“Aw, you getting embarrassed?” He cackled again, before restraining himself, and turning to Arlene. “Just two paws ago, he was telling me how evil you all are. I guess you changed his mind, huh?” Gram gave her a freakish smirk.
“Something like that.” She answered, completely unperturbed by the display. “It was mostly his doing. He’s braver than he looks.” Arlene put a hand on my shoulder.
What’s that supposed to mean?
“So it seems.” He chuckled. “A wonderful thing, herdlessness-”
“Don’t talk so loud. We’re attracting attention.” I interrupted, before he could speak more on the subject.
Gram shrugged. “Let them watch. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. You should be proud that you’re not a slave to your instincts. What’s the word? Ah yes, an animal.” He glanced around at the tables.
Is he trying to start a fight?
Arlene shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I wouldn’t say that.” There was a bit of a bite to her voice. “It’s not fair to say that just because they can’t trust the aliens they met a few months ago. Hell, if I was in their position, I’d probably be the same way.”
He seemed almost… surprised? “Huh. Well, to each their own.”
Arlene clicked her tongue, but didn’t continue the discourse.
Gram brought us to the very back of the dining area, past all the gawking bystanders, the snide comments, and the stares, to a booth with a canopy. It was in the very back corner, completely covered by cloth. I could guess why.
“Can you believe this shit?” Gram asked, uncovering the entrance. He turned to Arlene. “Typical, huh?”
I hate to admit it, but I really didn’t want to go in there. The thought of being in an enclosed space with an unknown human rattled me, no matter how many times I told myself the fear was unjustified.
Arlene stepped through the opening, and I could see Tommy sitting on the other side of the table. My heart pounded. He was larger than Arlene. Much larger. Stronger looking too. He could probably snap my neck like a candy cane, if he wanted to.
But he doesn’t want to. He’s not an animal, he wouldn’t do that. This is perfectly safe. Perfectly safe.
My thoughts did little to still my mind.
“Come on Flat-Tail, getting cold feet now?” He chided.
“O-of course not.” I entered on the same side as Arlene, and Gram followed suit opposite from me.
He sat down with a stupid look on his face. “So, why don’t we all introduce ourselves? I’m Gram. It’s very nice to meet you.” He held out a paw towards Arlene, who, after a brief moment of surprise, shook it.
“Name’s Arlene. I see you’re well versed in human customs.”
“I try.” Gram said with a smile, withdrawing his paw.
Customs? Am I missing something here? Should I know what this is?
“I’m Tom, but my friends call me Tommy.” He said. His voice was incredibly deep.
Arlene shook hands with him as well. “It’s nice to meet you Tommy.” But after Arlene sat down, he moved his arm in my direction, and I flinched.
More than flinched, actually. Cowered is the right word. Alarm bells were dinging in my brain like gunshots, my heart was pounding in my temples, and I couldn’t look anywhere but the table. I had to keep myself from bolting. It was pathetic; he wasn’t even unmasked. I was completely shutting down, and the cramped booth wasn’t helping. I tried to speak, but my throat was full of bile, and my voice was only a squeak.
“You okay?” Tommy asked. Stars, his voice was deep. Like an arxur’s.
No, no, no. Not like an arxur’s. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Shut up. This is nothing.
He retracted his hand. “Is he alright?”
Oh stars, I wish I could rip my ears off. Maybe then I could do this.
“He’ll be alright.” Arlene replied, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, just breath. You’re doing good.”
Breath! Easy! Been doing it my whole life, don’t even have to think about it.
“I-i-i-it’s n-n-ni-nice to m-me-meet y-y-y-ou-you.” I stammered, eyes still glued to the table. My whole body was shaking, like a loose piece of metal in an engine compartment. Yet I somehow managed to raise a paw, and point it blindly in Tommy’s direction.
But he didn’t take it. Not for a few seconds. He was probably worried that I’d faint if he touched me, and I couldn’t blame him, he was probably right in that line of thinking. Though after a painfully long silence, he gave in and grasped my paw in his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.” He spoke softly. His hand completely eclipsed my paw, like it was an animal suffocating in a grain silo. I was beginning to feel like I was suffocating.
I tried to tell him my name, but only the latter half of my sentence came out. “M-Me-be-b-ba.”
“Pardon?”
“N-n-na-am-me.” I barely choked out, still locked in a staring contest with the table.
“It’s Meba.” Arlene added. She rubbed the fur down my back, and the air started to flow again. “You okay?”
“Hey, you did nothing wrong. It’s fine.” Gram said to Tommy, and then turned to us. “Do you need to step outside for a moment?”
“N-n-no.”
“Ugh, yes. Jesus man, you’re pushing yourself too hard.” Arlene scolded.
I forced myself to take a deep breath. “No.” My heart pounded in my head.
“You’re not helping anybody by acting tough.” Gram said.
Why won’t he just shut up?
Tommy jabbed him with an elbow.
Arlene giggled at this, though she soon shifted her attention back towards me.
See, everything’s fine. Everything’s fine.
I took another breath. And then another. And another. “I-I’m okay.”
Arlene started to speak
“Seriously, I’m okay now.” I interrupted
“You calmed down quick.” Tommy almost whispered.
A twinge of misplaced pride swelled in my chest; I did my best to squash it. “N-no, I shouldn’t have been frightened in the first place. It’s nice to m-meet you.” I couldn’t quite lift my eyes to look at him.
Gram nudged Tommy. “See, I told you.” Then he addressed me. “So, you remember each other, right?”
He was giving me a cue. “Yes, I uh, I wanted to say thank you, for the save, I mean.”
“It’s nothing. You saved us first.” Tommy replied.
“I could’ve taken him.” Gram said, with a mirthful voice.
“He was twice your size, idiot.” Tommy said.
“You say that like it would’ve made a difference.” Gram retorted.
“Wait, did you guys get in a fight?” Arlene asked.
Gram started flapping his gums again. “No, it was much wor-”
I cleared my throat. “There was a riot by city hall. I got caught up in it. Tommy distracted someone so I could run.”
“A riot? When?” She asked.
“Right after I left your apartment, when you gave me tools.”
“I thought venlil didn’t riot? Don’t you stampede instead?”
Gram tapped his claws on the table. “What a low opinion you have of us. We can be just as brutally violent as anyone else thank you very much.” He chuckled, and, after a few moments of silence, spoke again. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. I mean to say that humans aren’t unique in their ability to riot. It’s a universal constant in societies where the populace is dissatisfied with government policy. Venlil just take a little more of a push to get started.”
Tommy ventured to change the subject. “We should order.”
“That sounds good. Uh, what do they have here?” Arlene inquired.
“Wraps, salads, stews, and staryu. That sort of thing.” Gram replied. “Staryu is kinda like bread, by the way.”
“It’s not like bread at all. It’s way better.” Tommy added. “I recommend getting an order along with the stew. It’s good for dipping.”
“There’s menus under the napkin dispenser.” Gram said. “Let me get the waiter.” He ducked out of the canopy and called them over.
Arlene and I each took a menu. The plastic sheet displayed all manner of colorful choices, from fragrant stews, to exotic salads of flora imported from off-world, experimental wraps, 5 types of artisanal staryu, and a myriad of alcohols that were frightening even by venlil standards. I chose a bunt leaf salad.
“Don’t get anything with alcohol.” I warned. “Venlil have the highest tolerance in the federation.”
Arlene, against her usual calm, kind demeanor, somehow took my warning as a challenge. “I’m pretty good with my drink. I think I’ll try the shade-berry gin.”
Gram was arguing with the waiter outside.
“That’s fine and all, but seriously, be careful. He’s not joking, that stuff will knock you on your ass.” Tommy cautioned.
“We’ll see about that.” Arlene replied.
Gram popped his head back in. “The guy won’t even come near the door.”
“Just tell him our orders.” Tommy said.
“I’m not doing that, he should come in here and do his damn job.” Gram retorted.
“It’s fine, really. I don’t care. Let’s just try to have a nice meal, without making a scene.” Tommy replied.
“Fine.” Gram relented.
We gave Gram our orders, who then telephoned them to the waiter, who presumably went to the kitchen to telephone them to the chef. He sat down at the booth again, shuffling back into his seat.
“So are you friends with the owner or something?” Arlene asked. “You got us in like it was nothing.”
“I work with the people who supply their ingredients.” Gram replied
She brightened up immediately. “You work on a farm?”
“Sort of. Pest control. Occasionally I help with soil treatment, or irrigation, when there’s no pests to deal with, though that’s rare. What do you do?”
“Oh, I mostly help out with my dad’s ranch, but I have a part time job with the local mechanic. It helps that I have experience with farm equipment and all that. I guess I’m a barber now though.”
“Barber?” He asked.
“Yeah, I did this.” She ruffled my coat, eliciting a slight bloom on my face. Arlene turned to Tommy. “What do you do?”
Tommy inhaled. “I was an electrical engineer. Though, I enjoy freerunning more.”
Was.
“Parkour? That’s awesome. It must be pretty hard here though, what with the gravity and all.”
Are they really just brushing over this?
“Oh god no, I’m not suicidal. I don’t do any actual parkour here. Climbing isn’t so bad if you’re careful though. Some of the trees around here are pretty good.”
How could they ignore it? That horrible past tense. Images of collapsed buildings and speckled streets coalesced in my mind. Similar images surely flooded theirs too. But they didn’t show it, except for the slightest pause in their conversation. I looked to Gram. His eyes were glazed over with a milky hatred, and I could almost see the cityscape—or what was left of it—through his pupils. My stomach started to turn at the sight. The tension in the booth had more than doubled, and I could taste it like smoke in the air.
“What do you do?” Tommy asked me.
His sudden question caused me to flinch. “I uh, I’m a computer scientist. I do penetration testing.”
Arlene failed to hold in a laugh. Tommy fared better, though you could still tell he was faring.
Brahking juveniles.
I sighed. “It’s the process of testing a network for weaknesses, so that it can be improved. It has nothing to do with sex.”
“So you’re a hacker?” Gram inquired,
“No. Well, yes, but everything I do is completely legal, and with consent from the owners of the systems that are being tested.”
“So how long have you two known each other?” Tommy asked. Even though I was mostly composed, shivers went up my spine every time he spoke.
“Oh jeez, not long at all. Five days? How about you?” Arlene replied
Tommy raised a hand to his chin, prompting a slight flinch from me. “I joined the exchange program in… mid September?”
“The 15th.” Gram added.
A knocking came from outside. “H-hello?” Spoke the unknown voice.
“You talking to us?” Arlene asked.
The mystery person gasped. “I-I have your f-food.”
“They must’ve sent a different waiter.” Tommy said.
“Bring it in.” Gram ordered, with a little too much scorn in his voice.
“O-of course… Can the h-humans please turn a-away? I c-can’t go in otherwise.”
Is this how I was?
… Is this how I am?
Both Arlene and Tommy shrunk to the corner of the booth, masks turned to the wall. A sour taste filled my mouth.
“You can come in now.” Tommy said.
“Oh, come on. Don’t comply with this.” Gram growled in belligerence.
“S-sorry.” Said the waiter.
Arlene sighed. “Don’t make a fuss, it’s whatever.”
And I was trying to use her…
The waiter cracked open the curtain and peeked through. “I-I’m coming in.” He tiptoed inside, and began to place the food on the edge of the table. “O-one melroot stew, one order of b-bunt leaf salad.”
Gram eyed him the whole time. The waiter glanced over at the humans. I tapped my claws on my legs.
“T-two orders of staryu, two v-vegetable wraps, one s-shade-berry gin, a s-starberry smoothie… a-and three w-waters.”
“Thank you.” Tommy said, eliciting a squeak from the waiter, who promptly scurried off. He didn’t even slide the dishes to us, he just crowded them together at the side of the table.
“He’s gone.” I said, moving the dishes to everyone’s spots around the table.
The humans returned to their earlier positions, causing Gram to roll his eyes. “You can’t let them push you around like that.”
“He wasn’t pushing us around.” Tommy replied.
“Yes, yes he was.”
“Gram, please. Let’s not make this dinner any worse than it is already.” Arlene pleaded.
He gave Tommy an almost imperceptible glance, and pinned his ears back. “You’re right… I’m sorry. This was supposed to be a pleasant experience.”
I took a bite of my salad. This was going horribly. I was barely talking, barely present, barely even thinking. Every time I tried to look at Tommy, my skin crawled with the impulse to flee. He seemed like a nice guy too. He probably had some comically innocent hobby, like gardening, so why couldn’t I stop the fear? In the back of my mind, no matter how hard I tried, I still thought of him as a monster. It disgusted me. I needed a moment to collect myself. “I-I’m going to use the bathroom.” I coughed. A perfect excuse. No one would be the wiser.
“Alright, don’t fall in.” Arlene said.
I stepped out of the booth, and every eye in the room turned to me instantly. Once they realized I wasn’t a human, the looks left just as fast. I couldn’t help but cringe at the realization. The bathroom was only a few tables across from ours, and it was just as upper crust as the rest of the place.
How can Gram afford to eat here?
The restroom boasted a seemingly endless number of stalls, leading to a grand wall of sinks decorated with a massive mirror that forced a double-take, as I realized that the bathroom was only half as long as it looked. The mirror’s edge was encrusted with gold—which was probably fake—carvings, giving the whole whole thing an overly ornate look. The sinks were not nearly as embellished—and thank the stars they weren’t, because I might have fainted from over stimulation if they were—with a simple stainless steel finish. The place was eerily quiet, though there were definitely people in some of the stalls, with sound dampening fixtures all over the place. I could hear my own heartbeat. The lighting was impossibly even across the room, and every surface spotless. It was clearly engineered to present you with the notion of upmost cleanliness. It was the worst kind of perfect, and the lights still buzzed.
I entered a random stall before someone could catch me gawking, and curled up on the toilet.
This place is horrible.
Yes, very much so. Why didn’t you listen to me? We shouldn’t be here.
Shut up, I’m supposed to be over this.
Over what? This is you. There’s no getting over you.
No, I’ve changed. I just need to-
… It’s just me thinking these things.
I sighed.
Why am I so horrible? He’s done nothing wrong, yet he disgusts me. What’s the difference between him and Arlene? Why can’t I do this? Why? Do I secretly think this way about Arlene too? I thought I was past this stupid fear.
But don’t you know? The fear never-
KNOCK KNOCK
Someone was knocking on the stall door.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Someone was banging on the stall door.
“O-occupied!” I shouted.
The unknown invader grumbled, and kept walking.
The nerve of some people.
I produced a nervous, rather downtrodden chuckle. Not one of my best, I must admit.
I’m sure Arlene would have something witty to say right now… what was I thinking about?
Observing that the invader had made a sufficient distance away, I rose from my seat and exited the stall. I must admit that I didn’t expect Gram to be waiting for me. He was leaning on the counter with the sinks, fiddling with his datapad. I had half a mind—no, it was a full mind—to sneak back to the table, but he noticed me not three steps outside the stall.
“Not gonna wash your paws?” Gram joked, when he noticed me slinking away.
I stopped mid-step, and pivoted to face him. The look on my face must have been pretty interesting, because he smirked.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, get over here.” He replied.
However much I wanted to go right back to the table, I couldn’t not wash my paws. It wasn’t like they were dirty, since I didn’t touch anything except for the door. But now I would have to pretend like they were to avoid looking like a slob, so that’s exactly what I did. I turned the knob on the faucet, trying not to pay too much attention to my soon-to-be tormentor. As it turns out, the attention, or lack there of, that I did give, was neither here nor there, as he would choose to engage me anyway.
“Flat-Ta-”
“I told you to stop calling me that.” I reminded him, over the sound of running water.
“Okay… Meba.” He adjusted, sounding abnormally sincere. “Look, I’m gonna cut straight to the point. You’re a computer programmer-”
“Computer scientist.” I corrected.
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a pedant. Your job falls more in line with computer programming anyway.”
“But my skill set leans heavily towards computer science.”
“Whatever.” Gram threw his arms up in the air. “Call yourself whatever you want, just stop interrupting.”
I didn’t reply.
“Listen, this is important. The guild is getting ready to crack down on the humans.”
My ears perked up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, pretty soon it’s gonna get a whole lot worse for humans living in Sunbrook. They want to keep everyone near the refugee center. A ‘human-zone’, if you will. No one will be able to leave unless they want to be arrested.”
Even people living in other housing?
“How do you know this?”
“Let’s just say I have an acquaintance in the guild.”
Our conversation was quickly encroaching on the edge of legality. A line that I frankly, didn’t want to cross. My earlier theory about Gram having predator disease was sounding a lot more probable. Who knows what other sketchy business he was mixed up in? A veil of nervousness draped around my mind. I could tell where this was going.
Yet I still took the bait. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because we can stop them. I just need you to do one little thing,” Gram held up a claw. “and we can show them that the venlil of Sunbrook won’t stand for their bullshit.”
“Gram, what exactly do you expect me to do against the guild?”
“Not much. Not much at all. I only need you to mess with their computers. Nothing too malicious, just a simple virus or something. Maybe deface their website. Just let them know they aren’t untouchable, up in their little offices. The crowd will do the rest.” He was wagging his tail like an idiot, his small stature making him look like a pup.
Is this guy stupid?
Seriously. Not only were government networks much more difficult to crack, but they were magnitudes more dangerous to tamper with. If you’re doing it illegally, that is. Now that I thought about it, I had actually worked on some government websites a few times before. However, that didn’t make it any less of a stupid idea.
I scoffed. “No way. I’m not getting arrested for a brahking protest.”
Gram shot me an incredulous look. “You’re not gonna get arrested. I have a burner computer you can use. The id goes back to someplace in Glacierview. I’ve never even used the thing before, so there’s no logs.”
I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to be involved in whatever sketchy speh you’re drowning in. You shouldn’t even be talking about this in public.”
“Relax. Your eternal paw washing is a pretty good privacy screen.”
Hearing this, I stopped the faucet. At this point, cowering in the booth was preferable. I dried my paws and started walking, but Gram grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t you think you owe them this much?” He hissed.
“What are you talking about?” I whispered back.
“You literally assaulted her when you met her. Then you tried to manipulate her.”
How does he know that?
“And you call me predator diseased.”
My tail drooped in shame.
“Now you have the chance to make it better for them, and you’re ignoring it. She’s not an exception. The exterminators won’t stop until every last human is gone.”
I glared at Gram, stress boiling over. “That won’t happen. They can’t do that.”
“Come on, we can change things for the better. We can take back control.” He spoke with great fervor.
Before I could respond, someone exited a stall.
Noticing our new company, he released me, and sighed. “I won’t ask you to decide now. Think about it.”
And that was that.
Back at the table, I could see exactly how Gram heard about my mistakes. Arlene, upon receiving her shade-berry gin, and beginning the inhuman task of processing it’s alcohol content, had begun to sip on it, until Tommy confiscated the beverage from her side of the table. She was now speaking with such incredible speed, and with such slurring of words, more from her accent than from her intoxication, that my translator started lagging behind. She. Just. Kept. Talking.
I looked to the other human for guidance, fear completely irrelevant in the face of this larger threat, and found that he was just as confused as me, if not more so, having to parse her cryptic speech without the help of the translator, as he already spoke her language. Gram however, seemed to be having no trouble at all understanding whatever the brahk it was she was saying. Either that or he was nodding along to be polite. I wasn’t sure which was more likely.
I took a bite of bunt leaf.
Arlene finally ran out of breath, so Tommy took the chance to speak. “Are you going to be okay with my face?”
Suddenly Arlene’s incoherent rambling seemed much less important. “F-face?”
“Well I can’t eat with the mask on.”
“O-of course. No p-problem.” I lied.
“I can just take this to go if it’s too much.” His voice sounded tired. Not annoyed, just… worn down, like a blade struck against a rock too many times. I was supposed to make him feel welcome, not the other way around.
“N-no! I’ll be okay.” I did my best to look at him. “Really.” I added, before he could convince me otherwise.
Gram gave me an approving ear flick.
“Alright, if you’re sure. I’m gonna do it slowly.” He raised a hand to his face, and undid a clip. His hand hovered there for a moment, before drifting to the bottom of the mask, and… folding up a tiny little plate to reveal his lips.
That’s it?
Only the bottom fourth of the mask was displaced. I could barely see the bottom of his nose. I was almost disappointed, if not for the huge weight off my chest. All the dead-end anticipation made the whole affair feel dumb.
“I didn’t know they could f-fold up like that.” I said.
Tommy smiled, forcefully close lipped. “It’s one of the newer ones. You’re not scared?”
“It’s not s-so bad.”
Gram whistled. “You keep shattering my expectations, Fla-” He fake-coughed. “Meba.”
Tommy took a massive bite of his vegetable wrap, and Arlene stopped talking in favor of gobbling up the rest of her stew, now fully unmasked. I didn’t even notice she took it off. We set to dispatch our meals, most of us fed up with our dreary conversation. Soon, the staryu was gone, before I could eat a single piece. Arlene spewed several anecdotes about ‘bread’, while depriving the table of the last of our equivalent.
Gram paid the bill, this time escorting us to the exit without the obnoxious fanfare. “Think about my request.” He whispered to me.
A break in the rain left us little time for pleasantries, so we cast off with a simple ‘goodbye’. Luckily, Arlene was sober enough to walk. And soon, we arrived home.
Unluckily, there were exterminators waiting outside, right by the stairwell.
They spotted us, and I watched in horror, as they turned off their body-cams.

Okay, ladies and gentlemen and non-binary friends, I have a juicy one for you today. This one is long because I am incapable of not being wordy and detailed lol. But there is plenty of tea, so buckle up.
Context, because context is a beautiful thing. I (22F) have known this girl (22F) since we were in the fourth grade. We shall name her Aimee. Now Aimee has always been queen of the pick-me-girls. Even when I first met her she would always make fun of me or other girls who liked traditionally girly things. She was a 'tomboy', which would be fine if that was actually just who she was and what she was into, but nay nay, she was a 'tomboy' because she wanted all of the boys to like her, to be her friend, and to make her feel like she was "one of the boys" because "I'm not like other girls". At that time, I was one of her two female friends, and she would relentlessly make fun of me for liking to wear skirts, liked 'girly' colors, listen to 'girly' music, etc etc. Because yes Aimee, god forbid 8-9 year old girls like things. This happened most often in front of, you guessed it, boys. It got so bad to the point where at her birthday party one year, she grabbed the insides of a fish that her stepdad had caught and was cleaning, and she chased me with it and then threw it at me. Why? Because it was "funny" that I ran away because I didn't feel like having dead fish all over me. How hilarious. She would go on to tell that story for over a decade afterwards in front of guys that she wanted to impress because "I'm not like other girls teehee.". It did bother me at the time but I always figured that she'd grow out of it since she had to grow out of it eventually right?
WRONG. In middle school, she kept it up but started shifting from the 'tomboy' into her emo phase. Hers was especially ripe with the whole misunderstood preteen girl thing and to hear her talk about it, you'd think she invented the emo phase and had a monopoly on punk rock music. As if literally everyone and their mothers didn't have an emo phase at 12. Like I said before she had a really hard time making and keeping female friends (shocker huh?) so I introduced her to my friend group at the time. What I seemed to have overlooked is her uncanny ability to make every single thing about her. Always, every time, without fail. She caused a bunch of fights, instigated arguments, and was always the victim. She more than once turned friends against me too and would end up putting me in the position where I was on the outside and she was basking in the attention. Fine whatever, she'll still grow out of it right? Every preteen girl is desperate to be liked right?
In high school, I had distanced myself from her because I'd started to catch onto her shit. It wasn't until junior year that we reconnected and everything actually seemed fine. A sigh of relief, I guess she had finally grown out of it after all. I introduced her to my friend group once again because she still couldn't keep female friends. Privately, they all told me that they felt something was 'off' with her, that they didn't trust her, and they thought I should be careful about staying friends with her. I thought maybe they just didn't get along or that they didn't know her as well as I did. Well as we'll see, those girls would turn out to be even better friends than I thought.
We ended up going to the same college and living in the same town. She lived in some shitty little student living apartment with roommates she hated and constantly fought with. She lived in a unit with 3 bedrooms and had 2 other girls that stayed in the other rooms. Roommate 1 we'll call Emma. Now, to Aimee's credit Emma had a bit of a problem with hoarding and not keeping things clean. She had stuff piled almost to the ceiling with almost no room to move around, but it was only in her bedroom. Her locked bedroom. How did our beloved Aimee come to know this about Emma? The AC in her apartment had gone out and the unit was in the ceiling so maintenance had to be called to repair it. The unit had watecondensation/frion? (idk I'm not an HVAC man) leaking out. Aimee had been arguing with Emma for weeks before this about Emma not being the cleanest person, so she tells the maintenance guy that Emma has had something going on with her room and she wants you to check it out. So she gets maintenance man to open Emma's room and then records what the room looked like. I tell you this part of the story because Aimee was terrible to her roommates. There were multiple instances of her making Emma cry from how mean she was. This is just an example but the worst of it was her next set of roommates. They were a gay couple who were a heavier woman and her non-binary partner. She was homophobic, transphobic, fat phobic, and truly just a horrible bully to them.
Now to the story I came here to tell. So after her last set of roommates, she wanted to move out of her apartment and I offered that she and her loser ass boyfriend could share an apartment with my fiancé and I. Now loser boyfriend here had just left the army after serving only the 18 months that we learned he was court ordered (!!!) to serve rather than going to jail. It's very important to note that loser boyfriend is a pathological liar and homeboy would lie about anything, big or small. For a quick synopsis, he is confirmed to have lied about his age, why he was in the military, what he did in the military, his rank, his life, his exes, his military tours he never went on, his war wounds, his PTSD, having a car, having an apartment, and that's just in the first 6 months :). A real winner. I think we shall name him Larry(19M). My fiancé and I had been living on our own for 3-4 years at this point and we were not rich but we worked hard and made a nice little life for ourselves. So she and loser boyfriend Larry move in, but inform me that they cannot afford to pay the security deposit. Oh, okay, well I guess I got it but you two have to pay me back. I notice all of a sudden that I have been paying for A LOT. Odd, but yk what a friend has a friend. After they move in, Larry does not have a job. We tell them both that Larry must have a job. Rent exists. Larry waits weeks to get job. Finally Larry gets job. In 2 weeks Larry quits job. Larry never has another job afterwards. We see where this is going don't we?
Now our living arrangements come as follows:
My fiancé and I pay our half of rent, electricity, internet, buy all of the living room furniture, all the dishes, all the food for the first 2 grocery runs, and cat food for our cats and hers.
Loser Larry and Aimee pay their half of rent and the water bill.
Starting to see where the problems arise? I'm sure you do! Unfortunately, we did not.
Money aside, as soon as Aimee moves in it's like a switch flips and I no longer exist to her. She won't hangout with me in the living room, won't go out with me, never has a conversation with me that I don't start first. I naturally think I've done something to upset her. I ask her to come into the living room and have a sit-down talk. I tell her what's been going on and how it's hurting my feelings and I hope I haven't upset her. She says she didn't even notice and apologized. Great news! Now our friendship can go back to normal. Except it never does. She declines all invitations to dinner, girls night, brunch, even asking her to accompany me on a grocery store trip. However, she does agree to the occasional shopping trip, that is when I offered to buy. I have another of my friends come into town for her birthday and we plan a whole night out downtown to celebrate, go to brunch and a wine tasting the next morning, all on me. This I was comfortable paying for as it's a celebration for my friend's birthday and I knew that since loser Larry didn't work and Aimee was supporting them that she couldn't afford to go on her own. Night of, Aimee is to meet us at the bar. We wait... and wait...and wait. She never responds to the texts I sent her but calls the friend and says she doesn't feel well and isn't coming. I check her location and she is out at the river, partying with other friends. Okay Aimee. I got the message that time. No more friendship. I wait until the friend leaves and I call Aimee on all her bullshit. Her excuse my friends is that she was offended by the fact that this friend pointed out that it wasn't cool for her to be the only one working and paying the rent when loser Larry refuses to get a job.
Anyways, after that we are not cool but we only have a few smaller little roommate type arguments after this that I won't bother you with since this is already long. I'm at this point just trying to ride out the lease until I can leave. I need to mention that before we moved in loser Larry does not have a vehicle of any kind and he used that as an excuse not to work. I ended up buying him a motorcycle on the VERY clear stipulation that he has to pay me back for it. He ended up messing something up with the bike and I really don't remember what it was but again it wasn't running and it was an excuse for him not to work. My fiancé buys all the parts and he tears the bike apart and repairs it. It's November now and he finally finishes with repairing the bike. Loser Larry says he wants to take it out for a test ride and my fiancé tells him okay, just don't take any of the back roads, it's deer season and they're out on the back roads. Well in true loser Larry fashion, he and Aimee take the bike out... on the back road to the bar (which he isn't even old enough to be at) and of course they hit a deer. They call us at 11pm and tell us they've been in an accident. We drive an hour and a half to the hospital that the ambulance took them to. We sit with them for hours in the hospital and Aimee refuses to let them debris her road rash burns and instead opts to have me do it at home. I am a trained CNA so she decides to put me in the position of having to do that. If you've ever seen a burn unit portrayed on TV or in movies with the painful screams, yes that's what it's really like. And road rash is a form of friction burn, like rug burn, and so they tend to extremely painful they worse they are. So I take my friend home and I care for her burns, scrubbing pieces of asphalt and rocks out of her burnt skin where they were imbedded. I do this while my friend is screaming in such pain, begging for it to stop until finally I'm done. My fiancé and I buy over $100 worth of medical supplies to take care of them, we set them up on the couch, and take care of them. This all happened on a Wednesday and we had to leave that weekend for an important event that we could not miss (family related). I taught them how to care for their own wounds and each other, I alerted our neighbor across the hall and made an agreement that they could go over to his apartment if they needed help or if an emergency arose, and we set up a go fund me for them to raise money for medical costs and to get the bike out of impound. We left and she immediately had her mom come pick her up and take her back to her mom's where their neighbor was a "real nurse" and could take care of them. Not before of course talking shit with her mom about me and my mom, who had died a few years ago. I caught this all on the indoor security camera we had, which she remembered and then unplugged. Why would she complain and talk badly about me after all I had done? Because I hadn't done the dishes before I left. Also to note, she nor Larry ever paid back any of the money they owed, and in 8 months never paid me back for the bike either so I repoed it after the wreck.
After all this I was miserable everyday in my own home, but I just wanted to run out the lease and leave. I was crying every day, grieving the loss of a decade long friendship and being treated like this, I would have full on meltdowns and I finally realized I couldn't do it anymore. She had made some snarky, passive-aggressive remark one night when my fiancé and I were going out for a late night ice cream run and that was the last straw. I can't even remember what she said now but it just finally pushed me over the edge. I cried the whole way to the store and I called my dad and told him how miserable I had been and spilled on everything that had been happening for months. Now, I don't talk to my dad like that, normally its just general updates in my life and pleasantries so this wasn't a common thing for me to do but I just needed to tell someone. He told me that leases are easily amended and I could just decide to leave when I wanted to and there wasn't any way that they could stop me. That was the first time that I had felt relief in 6 months. There was an end in sight.
My fiancé and I decided that we were out. We talked to the apartment complex and they told us that either they could leave or we could and it wouldn't break the lease as long as someone stayed behind. We decided also that we were done paying and taking responsibility for everything. We unplugged our internet and would cancel our service at the end of the month. We worked all day so the only one who used our internet was Loser Larry who didn't have a job and played video games all day. When she found out, she yelled at us that we can't do that and we should have gotten her permission before canceling the service that we paid for. Initially we weren't going to tell them that we were going to leave until after the holidays since it was December by this point and didn't want to burden them before Christmas/New Year's. After her little entitled meltdown however, I decided that enough was enough. She stormed out and left so I texted her saying that clearly this isn't working out anymore, no one was happy and we needed to have a conversation about other living arrangements and we wanted to have a talk after she got back home. When she finally did get back home, she walks in the door, all half-cocked and started in on a tirade. She said, "What now bitch? You couldn't say shit to my face? You had to wait until I left to send a text message to hide behind a screen? I work my ass off and YOU do nothing! You don't have a job, you just live off YOUR DEAD MOMMY'S MONEY!! Sorry, but it's true. You turn the internet off without consulting me and now you want to have a conversation? What?!". I didn't say a word to her and just stared blankly at her. My fiancé got pissed off and yelled at her that she needed to shut up and she had no idea what she was saying. That her parents were both alive and could take care of her and show up to her events and I didn't have that. That her parents constantly sent her money and we don't need her permission to turn of our services that we pay for. He informed her that I had a new job for weeks now but she was too full of herself to notice or even ask about anything going on in anyone else's life. I had told him to sit back down and stop yelling when Loser Larry emerged from their bedroom to see what was going on. My fiancé turns to him and says to her that he's the one who doesn't have a fucking job and she works all day to support his bum ass only to get home and him demand her to make him food as soon as she gets home. He said, in the words of our petty queen Charlotte, "How are you not embarrassed?!"
The only thing I said to her was that we were done and other living arrangements needed to be made. We talked to the apartment manager and either we can leave and they can be stuck with the apartment or they can leave and we can be stuck with it, it was her only decision left to make and it was up to her but that either way this is done. She had steam visibly coming out of her ears and said, "WELL I CANT AFFORD THIS PLACE ON MY OWN SO I GUESS WE'LL LEAVE AND BE HOMELESS", she then storms to her room and I shit you not, throws herself onto her bed and throws an actual toddler tantrum. Like throwing her arms and legs around and scream crying. Loser Larry asked about how the lease changes work and how the moving process worked and then said "Like you said no one's happy with this anymore" and I actually stood up for myself and said "The way she just talked to me and the things she said, that's not someone who was ever my friend, that's some who is deeply jealous and hates me." Recovering people pleaser energy! She yells how it's always about me and then goes back to her tantrum.
Then end of this long story is that she and loser Larry did indeed leave, but not before stealing some of our stuff on the way out. We now have a $2,000 rent payment on our own but we've never been happier to pay a ridiculous amount of rent. Also, we are buying our first home in a month! Meanwhile, I ran into an old friend who is a mutual of mine and Aimee's and turns out she's begging everyone for money because she can't afford her bills because Loser Larry is still unemployed. Karma truly is a queen!
I do feel sad because friend breakups are hard, and it was right before Christmas. It sort of feels like a death in a way because the friend I knew doesn't exist anymore. I knew that she'd struggle to find another place in a short time and with Loser Larry refusing to work, but I couldn't do it anymore. AITA?
P.S. In the words of our lord and savior Taylor Swift, fucK you aIMee.

Content warning for animal abuse and self harm.
<sup>I’d like to note that what follows is not my own work. A good friend of mine, who for the purposes of her privacy shall be referred to as Trinity, sent four text documents to me with instructions that “the four stages” be distributed over a period of four days, and that I am not to open the documents prior to their appointed posting date. She did not explain the reason for this, simply stating that it was imperative I obey her instructions to the letter, and I swore to her that I would. She thanked me, and I have received no message from her since. All of my subsequent attempts to reach Trinity for further information have been ignored.
The mundane details of this first document do seem largely to conform to what I know about Trinity’s personal life, and I can thus verify their accuracy. Beyond that, I’m afraid I cannot provide an explanation for the more unusual portions of her story.
- Helen Theodora Waite</sup>
It’s their fault. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for them. I would have been fine. I could have lived out my whole life in peace without ever looking at it. But it’s too late to think about that now. There is no undoing what has been done.
Don’t ever get married at 21. I don’t care if you’ve known them for years, I don’t care if you feel like you want to grow old with them, never, under any circumstances, give into that impulse, especially if it’s your first real relationship. You’re not old enough to understand what is good for you, and you won’t understand if you’re being abused.
My own ill-advised marriage lasted 3 years before it fell apart, though the warning signs were there long before they slipped a ring on my finger. Their name was Seth, and they possessed just the sort of low cunning necessary to twist a woman like me around their finger. Trans girls freshly out of the closet are an easy target for manipulation. We’re desperate for validation, possess extremely little in the way of self esteem, and are generally very easy to trick into doing anything you want if you deliver a dose of targeted misgendering masked with social justice jargon. Is your wife upset? Clearly she’s behaving aggressively due to her male socialization, you should let her know that sort of behavior makes you feel very afraid. Does your wife have difficulty performing all of the housework in addition to being employed full time to support the both of you? Obviously an example of weaponized male incompetence, she should unlearn that toxic masculine behavior. This sort of thing works especially well if you happen to also be some flavor of gender outlaw. Trinity, I’m nonbinary, how on Earth could I be transphobic? You saying that sort of thing is just perpetuating lateral violence.
Needless to say, those 3 years were some of the darkest of my life, to the extent that I passively accepted the terms of the divorce when Seth finally grew tired of me and tossed me aside in favor of a new model, proudly proclaiming that they had managed to move on and heal from their past trauma, but that I simply hadn’t been able to grow with them. They still took my money, of course. It’s my fault really; I should have never agreed to paying alimony. It’s not like it was required given the short length of the union, after all. But they were always very good at convincing me to do whatever they wanted, and they had explained to me that I owed them payment for the years they had spent dealing with the burden of being in a relationship with me.
The alimony agreement was odd, at least that’s the diplomatic way that the clerk put it when I showed her the paperwork. They wanted to have a portion of my monthly income, 25% of it, for a year. The clerk even explained to me that I didn’t have to agree to this sort of thing, that under state law there was no obligation for me to accept it, but my mind was filled with 3 years worth of fine-tuned brainwashing, and she wound up accepting the signed document with a sigh.
It took a few months of talking with my friends about the divorce to even realize that I was the one who had been abused. It’s not like I was trying to gain sympathy about it, for a very long time I felt as though everything was my fault, that I had been a terrible wife. But the more I talked about my marriage, the more alarmed my friends and family members would become.
I know this sounds like I’m just complaining about a bad marriage, but it’s necessary in order to understand the context of what has happened to me.
It was exactly a year and a day after the divorce was finalized when my grandmother died. I was incredibly surprised to find that in her will she had listed me as the inheritor of her old house. It made sense, I suppose. My father and aunt both had their own houses at this point, my aunt had no children, and I was an only child. I just wasn’t expecting to become a homeowner at 25.
In addition to the house, she also left me a not insubstantial sum of money, enough at least to rest comfortably for a few months while I settled into my new home. I wound up quitting my job, a dead-end retail position that had long since overstayed its welcome, and moved into the house nearly immediately, getting to work cleaning it up.
If I’m being entirely honest, I wasn’t too fond of the house. It’s not that I had many bad memories there or anything like that. Beyond my grandmother’s descent into some nutty conspiracy theories in her old age, we always managed to get along pretty well. But it was a house that was too large for just one person. It wasn’t a mansion, not by any means, but it had 3 bedrooms, the sort of place you were meant to raise a family in. I converted one of them into an office, used another for storage, slept in the third, but even then, there always felt like there was far too much space. When you live alone in a house that is too big for you, you never feel like you’re actually the only one there, especially at night.
At some point Seth caught wind of my inheritance. I guess they must have heard about it through the grapevine, or stalked one of my social media pages, I don’t really know or care how they found out. All that matters is that they had discovered I’d inherited a large sum of money the exact day after I was no longer required to pay them a portion of my income.
I got the call in the afternoon, as I was looking through some job boards checking to see if there were any openings near me that seemed even slightly more tolerable than unskilled labor or retail drudgery. I saw that it was Seth, and hesitantly picked up the phone, thinking to myself that I should’ve blocked their number a long time ago.
“So when exactly were you going to tell me?” came the voice from the other end of the phone.
“About what?”
“The inheritance. The fact that you own a house now. Real convenient that it happened the day right after your alimony ended, isn’t it? You always were a terrible liar.” Their voice was filled with hatred and contempt, the kind of tone you used to talk about cockroaches and maggots.
“Listen, Seth, I’ve paid what you asked me to already, it’s not my fault that this happened the way it did. I’m sorry, but-”
“Don’t lie to me. I want my share. I know you were hiding this from me, and if you don’t give it willingly I’m going to talk to an attorney. Do you understan-”
I hung up the phone. Nearly instantly another call came through. I declined it. I then proceeded to decline 3 more calls and ignore nearly a dozen messages as my phone’s buzzer continually went off during the minute or so that it took to block Seth’s number. I felt a wave of adrenaline washing over me, my heart beating faster, my body convinced that it was in danger. I took some deep breaths. Closing the job board site, I shut my laptop and decided to go for a little walk around the block, leaving my phone behind.
The walk helped to steady my nerves quite a bit, even though my surroundings were simply identical suburban homes and fenced in yards. Just being out in the sun and the warm spring air helped to remind me that I was in the here and now and not back in my marriage. After a few minutes of strolling, I got back home, only to find a fresh source of stress.
Numerous notifications on my phone indicated that someone had been trying to sign into my email, my bank account, and social media profiles. I realized then that I hadn’t changed most of my credentials following the divorce, and remembered that Seth had insisted on knowing my passwords “just in case anything happened.” Fortunately, two factor authentication, ever a thorn in my side, seemed to actually do something useful for once, and the only sites that had been breached were a couple of social media profiles, which had been promptly deleted in an act of petty revenge. I sighed and began getting to work changing all the passwords to my various accounts, as well as putting in requests to have my deleted profiles reinstated.
It was while I was doing all this, which required the use of my email, that I noticed something odd in my inbox. There was a new email, lurking among the numerous “Password Confirmation” messages, simply titled “look at me.” The email address wasn’t one I recognized, a gmail account with a random string of characters for its name. It didn’t have any body text, just a single image attachment. My immediate assumption, of course, was that this was Seth.
Part of me wanted to delete it right away. I wish I did. But instead, motivated by morbid curiosity and anger, I found myself clicking on the email to download the image, which was named lookatme.png.
In the past, Seth had an upsetting tendency to hurt themself in front of me whenever they got upset at me, purposefully banging their head against a wall or punching their chest until I intervened, whereupon they would begin to take out their violent impulses on me instead. Once they even cut themself with a kitchen knife in front of me, the blood dripping down onto the stained gray carpet as they screamed at me that I did this to them, that I was so impossibly stupid that they had to do this to make me understand that I was wrong. I don’t even remember what the argument had been about, I just recall the smell of iron and the sight of fresh, red, blood, the sound of insults ringing in my ears.
I assumed that the image would be a picture of Seth hurting themself in some way. If it was, I had some half-baked idea of contacting a lawyer and getting some sort of restraining order set up against them. I braced myself for the worst, and opened lookatme.png.
When the photos program launched, however, it wasn’t what I was expecting whatsoever. In fact, I couldn’t even tell what exactly it was that I was looking at. It was a very dark image, so dark I could barely make out anything at all, just vague shapes in a field of shadow. Pressing the “edit photo” button, I began to fiddle with the contrast, shadows, and brightness settings to try and get a look at what was there.
As I messed around with the image settings, a shape began to emerge out of the mass of darkness. It was still too dark to make out exactly, but it was recognizable vaguely as a face of some sort, cocked at an extreme angle and facing the camera. The eyes were too shadowed to make out, and long, dark hair covered most of the face, but I could tell vaguely that the mouth was stretched into something almost resembling a smile. There was something subtly familiar with the proportions of the face, but as I started to try and further lower the contrast to get a better look, the screen suddenly went completely black. I could hear my PC’s fans turn on at full speed, and smelled the scent of hot plastic that comes when you push a computer’s processing power to the limit. Panicking, I pressed down hard on the power button until the fans stopped.
Rebooting my computer, I sat there with bated breath, silently praying that whatever I’d downloaded hadn’t completely wiped my PC or locked me behind ransomware. The log in screen came up as usual, and I let out a sigh of relief that there wasn’t any obvious sign of damage when the desktop loaded up normally. I checked the downloads folder to go and delete lookatme.png, but it wasn’t there. Similarly, a peek into my email inbox revealed nothing unusual either. I was still convinced that it had been some sort of malware, so I performed a routine scan with my antivirus, but everything turned up normal. It was as if nothing had happened.
For the rest of that day, everything did seem more or less ordinary. I made dinner, read a little bit, and then spent a few hours watching mindless videos on the internet before heading off to sleep finally at a frankly irresponsible hour of the night. I was still upset, of course, over Seth’s attempts to break into my accounts, my deleted social media profiles, and the strange image that, at the time, I assumed had been sent in an attempt to unnerve me. Seth knew I was a very paranoid person, and it seemed in character for them to send me a disturbing image that would mysteriously vanish after crashing my PC. I wasn’t quite sure how they could have pulled it off, as Seth never was particularly technically competent, but at the time I had no doubts that it had some sort of conventional explanation.
The morning after my downloading of lookatme.png began with me checking my email to see if my deleted social media profiles had been restored. Unfortunately, there was no such luck. Grumpily tossing aside my phone, I got up to make myself some breakfast.
I knew that I was running low on food, as my next scheduled grocery run was set for the next day, so I decided I would make some steamed white rice with sausages as my breakfast. Not exactly a conventional meal to start off the day, but food is food, and I hadn’t yet opened the fresh bag of rice I’d purchased last week. I opened up the pantry and reached for the bag, but stopped short just before I could grasp it. The canvas sack was squirming slightly, and I could hear faint rustling sounds coming from inside. There didn’t seem to be any holes or tears in the canvas for something to have gotten in, and I felt slightly nauseous watching the faint writhing through the cloth. Cautiously, I opened the bag, bracing myself. I was greeted with a mass of dirty white fur and dozens of beady red eyes, worm-like tails whipping around in confusion.
Rats.
As soon as the bag was opened, they poured out in a torrent, a tide of fur and scrabbling claws squeaking as one as I shrieked in surprise and disgust. Several of them seemed to be badly wounded, having seemingly started fighting one another after their confinement in the sack, leaving bloody and eerily human-like footprints on the wooden floor. I felt myself hyperventilating as I tried desperately to keep them away from me.
I spent the next several hours catching every single rat that I could find, putting them in a large plastic storage tub that I had hastily emptied and made into a makeshift cage. I picked them up by their tails, skin crawling as the vermin tried to bite at me through my gardening gloves. Even after I couldn’t find any more of them, I still spent a long time searching every nook and cranny in the house, desperate to make sure that all of them were gone.
I didn’t bother eating breakfast. Or lunch for that matter. I’d woken up at around 10:30, and the unpleasant surprise in the pantry had utterly and completely ruined any appetite I may have otherwise had, especially after I found what remained in the canvas rice bag.
There were a handful of infant rats, “pinkies” as they’re commonly referred to. They all showed signs of having been cannibalized by their elders. A couple were still half-alive, and I put them out of their misery as humanely as I could, before taking the adults to animal control.
I remember when I first learned to hate rats. You see, Seth kept a large number of snakes. By the time of the divorce, there must have been dozens of the things. Ball pythons mainly. They had explained to me that different colorations and patterns of pythons could be sold for huge sums of money, and ultimately planned on breeding them as a primary source of income, something which never came to fruition for as long as we were together. In order to pursue this dream of financial stability, they had insisted that most of our spare cash go towards the purchasing of suitable breeding stock. However, there was a slight issue; a single income meant that buying frozen rodents for the snakes’ food wasn’t economically viable. As a solution, they had insisted on raising live rats as well.
Unlike their scaly executioners, the rats multiplied extremely quickly, and we were frequently inundated with a large supply of the vermin, their huddled masses swelling to fill the cramped cages. No matter how many culls Seth carried out, there were always too many. I was responsible for feeding them and cleaning their cage, something I wasn’t particularly fond of, but had agreed to do in order to keep Seth happy. One evening when I was feeding them, one of them bit me. I pulled my hand back reflexively, but this had accidentally knocked their cage to the ground, and in an instant dozens of the things were scrambling to escape. I wasn’t able to get any sleep that night, with Seth demanding that I take care of the problem I had caused while they went to bed, locking the bedroom door behind them. To make matters worse, we had a cat at the time, and I wasn’t able to successfully lock him up in the bathroom before he’d managed to catch and disembowel a handful of the smaller escaped rodents, leaving their entrails strewn about the living room of our apartment.
Anyway, perhaps understandably, my encounter with the rats in the pantry left me something of a nervous wreck for the remainder of the day, periodically checking all around the house over and over to make sure that not a single remaining one of the vermin was left, jumping at every single perceived movement. Everything felt filthy, contaminated, as though the rats had rubbed their greasy bodies against every surface in the house. Whenever I thought about that horde of squealing things emerging out of the sack, I’d wind up needing to wash my hands to feel clean again. I couldn’t recall a time in recent memory that my obsessive compulsive disorder had been triggered this badly.
I wound up taking a shower, just to try and relieve as much of my contamination anxiety as possible. As soon as I stepped foot into the hot, flowing water, I could feel my shoulders untense, and I let out a deep breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding in. The calming steam combined with the purifying, sterile odor of soap helped to steady my nerves considerably.
It was as I was rinsing off that the lights suddenly went out. I was understandably startled, but not too shocked, I’d known that the house had some faulty wiring. Blackouts like these typically only lasted a few seconds. However, whatever electrical issues were affecting the lights had clearly interfered with the water heater as well, and I found myself flailing to get out of the range of the suddenly ice cold water. As I backed up to try and get away, however, I felt something sharp rake against my back.
It was difficult to hear over the rushing water and the beating of my own heart, but I could have sworn I heard rattling breathing right by my ear.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I screamed out of a mixture of pain and terror, tripping on the slick surface of the shower floor and banging my shoulder quite painfully. A second afterwards, the lights turned back on. I looked about frantically, trying to catch sight of the intruder, but I was alone in the bathroom. My body ached, and adrenaline pumped through my veins like rocket fuel. As I took deep breaths to calm myself down, I watched the water spiral down the drain of the shower, tinged slightly pink. I touched a hand to my back and it came back stained red with blood.
I did eventually manage to calm down enough to prepare dinner at least, though with considerable difficulty. I felt exhausted and tired, the mental strain leading me to decide to head to bed early. I tried to chalk up my injury in the shower to stress, lying to myself that the four slash marks I’d found on my back must have simply been inflicted during my fall. I tried not to think about how there were no possible sharp objects in the shower that could have caused this. It wasn’t very convincing, but it was the only rational explanation, and contemplating any other potential source made my head spin. I knew that even with my exhaustion I wouldn’t be able to effectively get to sleep without outside assistance, and decided to take a combination of diphenhydramine and melatonin supplements to help ease me into unconsciousness. I took the pills with dinner, so that by the time I was finished I would have no choice but to go to sleep.
After lazily dumping my dirty dishes into the sink, I stumbled into my bedroom, shutting and locking the door with a reassuring click. I clumsily changed into pajamas and slipped into bed before turning off the bedside lamp. The cocktail of sleep aids didn’t leave me with much capacity to focus on anything stressful, and fairly soon I was in that pleasant state of half awake near-sleep that precedes dreaming, only dimly aware of where I was. Even still, the dosage I had taken wasn’t anywhere near enough to induce hallucinations, nor was I yet unconscious.
In the foggy, rapidly dissipating remnants of my consciousness, I became dimly aware of a noise coming from close by. I turned my head slightly, half-lidded eyes receiving the dull image of my bedroom, faintly illuminated by the moonlight. My bedroom door was open, an image that I was sure must have meant something in waking, but which my fatigued mind was incapable of understanding the significance of. As my eyelids slowly drifted shut and I fell into a blissful sleep, I could faintly discern something large and pale crawling past the doorway on all fours.
<sup>Postscript
In accordance with Trinity’s wishes, I shall post the second “stage” of her story tomorrow. I have similarly obeyed her instructions regarding my own reading of the document, and have not yet opened it. However, I have read the title: “Paranoia.” I sincerely hope that Trinity is alright.
- Helen Theodora Waite</sup>