Owen hart death fall

LOVED THE GAME. 8/10 would commit blasphemy again.
Kind of a masochistic opinion but I really really missed the insta kill spikes. I was genuinely laughing at myself for making a mistake while platforming and falling to my death, or getting hit by an enemy and then falling into the spikes. Well, sometimes it got frustrating, but for most of the times it was funny.
Also the Prie Dieus. Is it just me or are there too many of them in the map? 1 had put them far away from each other, and I liked that too. In 2 its way easier to go back to where u died since there are 578990 Prie Dieus on the map. I love how in the early game of 1, in the desecrated cisterns, there's literally one Prie Dieu u can go to. And when you die like a hundred times and finally explore the area, you find out that nearly more than half of it is unexplorable due to the miasma. That's how much the punishment you recieved for fking up in 1, 2 is like a cakewalk in comparison.
Say whatever you want. Punishment was not well done in 2. And the only thing that made me struggle a bit was ofcourse Eviterno. Utmost respect to him
(Soryy for bad english)

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

In this post, I make the claim that one of the best historical parallels for Renly is the roman emperor Hadrian. Before reading this, I recommend that you check this out: https://reddit.com/pureasoiaf/comments/lpu99h/the_tragedy_of_renlys_childhood/.
So let’s plunge right in.

1. Hadrian and Renly both lost their parents when they were young, Hadrian was around 10 when his dad, Hadrianus Afer died along with his mother, while Renly was around 1 year old when Steffon and Cassana died off the shore of Cape wrath. Hadrian was taken in as a ward (not adopted) by his cousin, the future emperor Trajan, who seems to have not have liked his cousin much, just looked after him and set up his education, similar to how Robert and Stannis just had Cressen and the Storms End staff look after Renly. Hadrian was very interested in Greek Culture and much more Hellenistic, earning him the mocking nickname of the Greekling, similar to how people make fun of Renly for spending more money on his wardrobe than a woman.
   
2. Neither Hadrian nor Renly were born into the ruling family, We all know what happened with Robert’s rebellion, while in Hadrian’s case, the emperor Nerva was forced to adopt Trajan due to fear or rebelliousness. It is said that it was Hadrian who told Trajan of the news of his adoption (doubtful). After their relatives were placed onto the throne, neither of them got very important jobs (or in Renly’s case, not do much with the power.), with Hadrian having a normal roman public career, which might have got him some power in the old republic, but which was mostly just honorary by this time.
   
3. Both of their successions/usurpations of the throne were spearheaded by women, in Renly’s case Olenna and Margaery are two of the most important people that allowed him to claim the crown, while In Hadrian’s case, it was claimed by Plotina(Trajan’s wife) that Trajan had adopted Hadrian on his deathbed, which could not be easily verified as Trajan had died returning from a grand Persian campaign, leading many to suspect, me included, that this was a fictitious story.
   
4. After killing some senators who might have opposed him, Hadrian shocked the Roman world by withdrawing from Trajan’s Persian conquests, realizing (correctly) that the empire had overextended. Similarly, Renly offers Robb further autonomy and even allow him to keep calling him king, which goes against everything that Aegon’s conquest did by having only one king in westeros, similar to how Hadrian’s abandonment went against the roman ethic of imperial expansion.
   

Now, we come to the part I have been wanting to deal with and which is the reason I started writing this: their love lives, more specifically, I think Renloras is a reversal of the Hadrian Antinous story
Both Renly and Hadrian were gay. Neither of them seems to have shown even the slightest interest in sleeping with their wives. Hadrian was also quite controlling of his wife, famously sending away Suetonius, author of the twelve caesars for being too friendly with his wife, Trajan’s grandniece, who he seems to have almost loathed, but was on very good terms with Plotina, who shared his hellenistic values. We don’t enough about Alerie to know what her relationship with renly was
Somewhere on his many travels, Hadrian met a boy called Antinous, who might have been only around 13-14 when Hadrian first met him, while Hadrian would have been around 47, while Renly and Loras have a much less troubling age gap of five years, cuz even grrm knew that was too much of an age gap I guess. It is said that Hadrian was deeply in love with Antinous, whether Antinous was or was not will probably never be known, similar to how some readers think Loras was just a fling for Renly (I’m unconvinced by that), but Hadrian was fucking obsessed with this dude, similar to how Loras was to Renly. Royston Lambert says of their relationship: “The way that Hadrian took the boy on his travels, kept close to him at moments of spiritual, moral or physical exaltation, and, after his death, surrounded himself with his images, shows an obsessive craving for his presence, a mystical-religious need for his companionship.”
Then their deaths. Similar to how most of westeros is confused about who killed Renly or have the wrong culprit in mind, usually Brienne, we don’t know how Antinous died, except that that it was an ‘accident’ on the Nile, with some reports that Hadrian killed him in a blood magic ritual, which almost certainly didn’t happen seeing how Hadrian reacted to his death, (although if we assume it was true, there is a sort of parallel with Hadrian’s reaction and Stannis’ thoughts about Renly, but that’s off-topic.)
Hadrian deified Antinous after returning to Rome, and built temple after temple for him, with many towns enthusiastically taking up the worship of the new cult to curry imperial favor. Loras might not have gone to such a great extent, but his mass killing spree is exactly what might be expected of a young man in love who finds his lover killed, while Hadrian’s obsessive building is what an old administrator who built so much stuff that historians say we could make a good account of his reign with just them, is also sorta expected.
There’s a further parallel if we’re going by perceptions of hadrian:

“The caprice of Hadrian influenced his choice of a successor. After revolving in his mind several men of distinguished merit, whom he esteemed and hated, he adopted Ælius Verus, a gay and voluptuous nobleman, recommended by uncommon beauty to the lover of Antinous.2” (Edward Gibbon, The decline and fall of the roman empire.)

Gibbon seems to think that Hadrian appointed men to powerful positions just because their beauty attracted him (as a hadrian lover, I thoroughly disagree.) . As the post linked above makes a pretty convincing argument for, the Tyrells are a pretty good stand-in for the beautiful men, in both a figurative and literal sense with Loras.
Tldr; Renly is a lot like Hadrian.

In this post, I make the claim that one of the best historical parallels for Renly is the roman emperor Hadrian. Before reading this, I recommend that you check this out: https://reddit.com/pureasoiaf/comments/lpu99h/the_tragedy_of_renlys_childhood/.
So let’s plunge right in.

1. Hadrian and Renly both lost their parents when they were young, Hadrian was around 10 when his dad, Hadrianus Afer died along with his mother, while Renly was around 1 year old when Steffon and Cassana died off the shore of Cape wrath. Hadrian was taken in as a ward (not adopted) by his cousin, the future emperor Trajan, who seems to have not have liked his cousin much, just looked after him and set up his education, similar to how Robert and Stannis just had Cressen and the Storms End staff look after Renly. Hadrian was very interested in Greek Culture and much more Hellenistic, earning him the mocking nickname of the Greekling, similar to how people make fun of Renly for spending more money on his wardrobe than a woman.
   
2. Neither Hadrian nor Renly were born into the ruling family, We all know what happened with Robert’s rebellion, while in Hadrian’s case, the emperor Nerva was forced to adopt Trajan due to fear or rebelliousness. It is said that it was Hadrian who told Trajan of the news of his adoption (doubtful). After their relatives were placed onto the throne, neither of them got very important jobs (or in Renly’s case, not do much with the power.), with Hadrian having a normal roman public career, which might have got him some power in the old republic, but which was mostly just honorary by this time.
   
3. Both of their successions/usurpations of the throne were spearheaded by women, in Renly’s case Olenna and Margaery are two of the most important people that allowed him to claim the crown, while In Hadrian’s case, it was claimed by Plotina(Trajan’s wife) that Trajan had adopted Hadrian on his deathbed, which could not be easily verified as Trajan had died returning from a grand Persian campaign, leading many to suspect, me included, that this was a fictitious story.
   
4. After killing some senators who might have opposed him, Hadrian shocked the Roman world by withdrawing from Trajan’s Persian conquests, realizing (correctly) that the empire had overextended. Similarly, Renly offers Robb further autonomy and even allow him to keep calling him king, which goes against everything that Aegon’s conquest did by having only one king in westeros, similar to how Hadrian’s abandonment went against the roman ethic of imperial expansion.
   

Now, we come to the part I have been wanting to deal with and which is the reason I started writing this: their love lives, more specifically, I think Renloras is a reversal of the Hadrian Antinous story
Both Renly and Hadrian were gay. Neither of them seems to have shown even the slightest interest in sleeping with their wives. Hadrian was also quite controlling of his wife, famously sending away Suetonius, author of the twelve caesars for being too friendly with his wife, Trajan’s grandniece, who he seems to have almost loathed, but was on very good terms with Plotina, who shared his hellenistic values. We don’t enough about Alerie to know what her relationship with renly was
Somewhere on his many travels, Hadrian met a boy called Antinous, who might have been only around 13-14 when Hadrian first met him, while Hadrian would have been around 47, while Renly and Loras have a much less troubling age gap of five years, cuz even grrm knew that was too much of an age gap I guess. It is said that Hadrian was deeply in love with Antinous, whether Antinous was or was not will probably never be known, similar to how some readers think Loras was just a fling for Renly (I’m unconvinced by that), but Hadrian was fucking obsessed with this dude, similar to how Loras was to Renly. Royston Lambert says of their relationship: “The way that Hadrian took the boy on his travels, kept close to him at moments of spiritual, moral or physical exaltation, and, after his death, surrounded himself with his images, shows an obsessive craving for his presence, a mystical-religious need for his companionship.”
Then their deaths. Similar to how most of westeros is confused about who killed Renly or have the wrong culprit in mind, usually Brienne, we don’t know how Antinous died, except that that it was an ‘accident’ on the Nile, with some reports that Hadrian killed him in a blood magic ritual, which almost certainly didn’t happen seeing how Hadrian reacted to his death, (although if we assume it was true, there is a sort of parallel with Hadrian’s reaction and Stannis’ thoughts about Renly, but that’s off-topic.)
Hadrian deified Antinous after returning to Rome, and built temple after temple for him, with many towns enthusiastically taking up the worship of the new cult to curry imperial favor. Loras might not have gone to such a great extent, but his mass killing spree is exactly what might be expected of a young man in love who finds his lover killed, while Hadrian’s obsessive building is what an old administrator who built so much stuff that historians say we could make a good account of his reign with just them, is also sorta expected.
There’s a further parallel if we’re going by perceptions of hadrian:

“The caprice of Hadrian influenced his choice of a successor. After revolving in his mind several men of distinguished merit, whom he esteemed and hated, he adopted Ælius Verus, a gay and voluptuous nobleman, recommended by uncommon beauty to the lover of Antinous.2” (Edward Gibbon, The decline and fall of the roman empire.)

Gibbon seems to think that Hadrian appointed men to powerful positions just because their beauty attracted him (as a hadrian lover, I thoroughly disagree.) . As the post linked above makes a pretty convincing argument for, the Tyrells are a pretty good stand-in for the beautiful men, in both a figurative and literal sense with Loras.
Tldr; Renly is a lot like Hadrian.

I have MDD for a very long time. For years I have a very bad recurrent depression with strong suicidal tendencies. I'm still alive because I'm the biggest loser possible and failed every single attempt. I hate my life, I'm in constant pain and suffering and literally can't take it anymore and there is no help for me.
I started going to therapy in March 2022. It was a council at my college because I wasn't able to afford anything more. I had weekly sessions with my counselor until September 2023 and I was looking for a new therapist since the beginning of summer. I graduated and moved so I wasn't able to continue at all. It wasn't the exact treatment I needed, but the council was very great and understanding. I'm extremely lonely and for the first time in my life I had at least someone to talk to and who cared about my well-being.
It was extremely hard to find a new therapist and the once I managed to get were extremely bad. Like I got belittled, made fun of and disbeliefed. I also got forcedly hospitalized by a therapist because she didn't wanted to have me as her client and wanted to get rid of me.
The mental hospital was absolutely the worst. I cried for hours because of extreme stress and no one cared. I had a few huge mental breakdowns and when the stuff saw me crying on the floor made fun of me and bullied me for it. I never got any medicine, counseling or any treatment. I was literally just locked up.
The other patients hated me and avoided me. Like their refused to be in a room with me and kept distance from me. I struggle with social isolation and was always an outsider, so being avoided even by people in similar positions was dragging me even more down. I was the only person who got excluded like that. The other patients never minded to do stuff together or talk to each other.
I also felt extremely lonely because I never had friends and got abandon by my family very early. Seeing that other patients got regular visits and calls just reminded me that there is absolutely no one who would ever care for me.
The facility where I was in was also very mixed. There where both men and women of very various ages. I'm 24f and I get sexually assaulted by 45-50 y.o men on a regular basis so I'm scared of that demographic group. I also got raped a few times. There were men that would fit that group, they didn't care about me, but I was still scared. I was extremely uncomfortable staying a night there because literally anyone could come inside the room I was staying. So I was too scared to sleep.
Overall no one really cared about me and they also wanted to get rid of me as fast as possible, so I was let go extremely quickly.
Since then I found another therapist, who is a way better fit for me. I also have a psychiatrist and I started taking medication since begging if this year. The medicine doesn't do shit. I feel like the therapy doesn't help me at all. I feel like a lost case. Both my psychiatrist and therapist talk regularly about them wanting to put me back in an asylum. I know it's useless. The meds are useless. The therapy is useless. I feel like the more I open up the more my therapist hates me and wants to get rid of me. I know I should receive "specialized" therapy but the joke is that's impossible to me because the mental health system where I live sucks ass.
I don't see any reason to change my therapist and or psychiatrist or even go back to the asylum. I feel like my mental health is so bad there is no help for me anymore. The only thing that could possibly help me is death. I don't get why "suicide/death isn't an option" when there is literally no help for me and everybody hates me and wants me gone anyways.
I don't even know why I wrote this post. I had so many suicide attempts I don't believe I will ever succeed. I just hope that I will soon just fall asleep and never wake up.

Do you remember the theory that Marco and Toffee are connected? It is a theory with a lot of negative opinions, but I tried my best to think about it.
Marco and Toffee have a planned and meticulous personality. I think... their gestures are sometimes similar. https://www.tumblr.com/frmacnac/723950017044512769/marco-and-toffee-are-like-mirrors-each-other-or
Marco with purple items is something ominous. The monster arm emits purple liquid, and when Marco is involved in magic, he often wears purple things. The skin color of Marco's corpse in the Blood Moon nightmare is purple, The purple cloth he wears at before beach day has nothing to do with magic but look at the shape.
Besides, The following are the ones that appear in Toffee's first appearance episode.
Star's penstand with holes. This is similar to the symptoms of victims of Solaria's magic. Dead End signs, Star and monsters. A fortune cookie message that Toffee sent to Star says "Love is always the answer". Toffee say that "You're not the only one who is the victim of magic".
What if these are things that imply something? Toffee said he knows the future. What if Star, her friends, and monsters are killed by Solaria's magic? What if Toffee is related to Marco's monster arm? So, Marco may have been shapeshifted to Septarian by dark magic of unicorn and time-traveled to the ancient Mewni. (It might sound stupid) Glossaryck may be involved in it, He may have created a weird time loop. Toffee may be Adult Marco who comes from such a bad future timeline.
Toffee knew that he would be killed as Star's first enemy, so he probably decided to give Star the idea of destroy the magic for change bad future, but in the process, probably he entered Realm of Magic and went crazy. And he may died like "Toffee" on his timeline. and, Glossaryck may have seen Marco as Toffee's childhood. When they first met, Glossaryck said he wouldn't let Marco read magic spells book, and Glossaryck disliked Marco until the day Star rode a bicycle.
Toffee may be a character that assumes as Marco in his thirties. Marco at Neverzone is a child with an adult body. too childish. Star and Toffee's mental age is too far apart, for Toffee, Star will be like a sibling? "Surprise" is a word when the Diaz family celebrates Star every day, so it may be a symbol of friendship and family love. Even if Marco was influenced by the monster arm, he is not necessarily evil. In this case, Toffee wouldn't kill Comet, but his subordinates would do it at their discretion.
Toffee has existed since he was a teenager. The reason why he was shocked when Marco said, "You're boring" would because he had too short time to live as his true self, and he forgot what he was like when he was living as himself. On the other hand, he may have despised his past self who had no power or knowledge to protect the important things. Toffee's last words were probably a warning to his past self, and were probably the answer to what he was told to be "boring". He manipulated Ludo, but it made Buff Frog a Star's friend. It triggered that Star wants Mewni to stop the monster abuse. Marco is the type who is into the role he plays, and he is good at hiding his emotions. If he had felt responsible for the death of Star's grandma, he couldn't have been able to tell the truth. He may have been acting like a crazy, cruel man to Star on purpose.
But how can Marco be so dark and conspiratory?
I think Marco knew very little about monster abuse in Mewni. Marco will be angry if he knows that, and Marco will try to protect the monster from Mewman as one of the earthlings because he knows Mewnians were earthlings, and will be thoroughly research magic and Mewni's history. And Marco's charisma will be gather the support of Septarian. In order to protect the existence of Star, he may had to keep Butterfly family alive while dealing with the monster's hatred for Butterfly family, and he would have been afraid of losing the support of the monsters. Marco was once unable to oppose it for fear of losing the support of the princesses in St. Olga. He may have been bound by his past as Septarian and had limited things to do. I think he has reason for hating Glossaryck. Glossaryck made Star's ancestors, the colonists of Earth, into Butterfly family and Mewman.
"The code name is Sailor V", a spinoff of Sailor Moon came to my mind. The villain in this story was just a soldier who wanted to become a knight to get closer to the princess of Venus, Minako's previous life. However, after everyone died in the war and the queen of the moon reborn everyone with magical powers. He was helping Minako's growth as her enemy but he died while doing fortune-telling that Minako was destined to kill the person she loved. Minako will ended up killing her boyfriend who became an enemy. Daron loves Sailor Moon, and Mina's name is taken from Minako, but Minako looks like Star.
Well, Marco is just a boy from the earth, but he tried to become a knight because he wanted to get close to Star, the princess of Mewni. And what if Marco's Blood Moon's nightmare warn his fate that he will be killed by Star when he falls in love with her? Toffee lives in Star's past, and Marco lives in Star's future. Star and Marco, who are tied by the Curse of Blood Moon, will be bound in a weird time loop forever.
I think the Dark magic that Toffee was melting in Realm of Magic will strengthen the desire for revenge. Toffee may have wanted to neutralize MHC and Moon because them empower Mina's rebellion. What if the magic and Star's family destroyed his life? What if magic doesn't exist? What if the colonists from Earth, the ancestors of Star, didn't go to Mewni? What if Star was born as an earthling? What if Marco chose Jackie instead of Star? His purpose in S1 would to protect Star, but his purpose in S2 may have changed to save Marco's life from Star. The reason he was so obsessed with his lost finger was probably because it was the only point of contact between his past self and his present self. The motivation in that case will be self-love. Realm of Magic will not kill Star, but it will make her suffer. He may have locked Star there to teach her his suffering, instead of telling her who he is.
If Marco's fate is related to magic, it would be right for Star to destroy the magic for Marco. Toffee was watching Star's decision to destroy the magic, and he screamed "surprise". The only person who spoke to Star from the tapestries was Toffee. If the bad future changed, if the timelines merged, would be a happy ending. Will Toffee/Marco trace the fate of Heinous/Meteora?

I just watched "I Saw the TV Glow," and it's one of the weirdest and trippiest movie I've seen in a while. It's what you'd get if you took Beau is Afraid and bathed it in LED lights and 90s kid nostalgia. The visuals and atmosphere are hypnotic but I want to focus on the puzzling themes and messages and my personal interpretation. Beware, there will be spoilers.
In the film, Owen and Maddy become obsessed with the fictional TV show "The Pink Opaque." The characters repeatedly indicate that The Pink Opaque feels more real to them than their everyday lives. When asked if he likes boys or girls, teenage Owen says he thinks he actually likes TV shows. The film is touching on the feeling that there is something more invigorating about the heightened reality in scripted dramas than the mundanity of our everyday lives. It is like people substituting p*rn for sex, or watching travel vlogs from the comfort of their beds.
Owen gradually becomes more pathetic and lifeless as the film progresses. After skipping eight years, the film transitions to Maddy revealing to Owen in a spellbinding monologue that The Pink Opaque is the true reality and everything else is an illusion. At this point, Owen is working a dead-end job in a movie theater, barely able to make eye contact with anyone, living in a bleak home with his father. The only source of vibrancy in his life comes from the suffused glow of his childhood TV show. Maddy is offering him a lifeline, with The Pink Opaque representing the opportunity to hold on to his childhood and the radiance of his childhood experiences. But Owen rejects the lifeline in favor of returning to his mature and dull adult life. As he abandons Maddy, the words "THERE IS STILL TIME" are etched out on the road, but Owen walks past them, abandoning his youth forever.
When Owen watches the show later, he finds it cheesy. The magic he found in life had vanished. As he becomes older, it becomes more difficult for him to breathe. The people around him smile and cheer, but at their core he sees them as lifeless and dead, which we see when Owen freaks out at the birthday party and nobody reacts. Owen aches to be in the TV show of youth, even if it means tearing apart his chest and choking to death in a hole in the ground, rather than continuing his mind-numbing adult routine of filling ball pits at an arcade center. But it's too late. The movie ends on a sad whimper, with the character in a final pathetic state of mumbling apologies to people who don't care and are barely even real. It's unsatisfying, but it suits the film's narrative themes.
After I watched the film, I learned that the director had the trans experience in mind when creating the film. This post is not to detract from that original interpretation, but to offer an alternative perspective that I had while watching the film.

Can anyone tell me if I am the only one . Is it me am I the problem? I don’t know what to believe anymore I wanna know someone give me a reason an explanation fuck give me an excuse for all the moments in my life that pain so white hot and intense has wracked my body and brought me to my knees when my will to live has been brought face to face with my darkest fear. Where the only words i can hear as death whispers in my ear is my name sweetly spoken in promises of a quiet mind and peace. Can anyone hear me is this thing on. My fear is fading out and I know I should be scared at this but I don’t feel fear the same anymore. it is blurring around the edges and starts to look a lot like comfort something I just can’t seem to find or hold in my grasp, and I tell myself I should be scared at this but my soul is battered and bruised and I am running on fumes.I honestly don’t know how many more days I can wake up to this bleakness of my uncomfterably painful existence. Is my pain all in my head. Did I do something that has led the People i love to mishandle me. Do I deserve to be wrecked every day the minute consciousness returns to this weapon that is my brain. Ive torn myself apart so many times ive made myself BLEED. ive let my pain soak into me till I no longer existed in space, gone without a trace. I try so hard to do no harm. As I am falling apart. I pour and pour from my empty cup. Its been empty from my fucking start. My dad was the first to mishandle my fragle new heart. He is where my cracks did start. Home was a battle field amd my skin was where my father’s anger would wage war. I grew up being told I held the golden cup full of my father’s favor. It never would save my skin from his anger. And I was told, no reminded often, how wicked I had been to the first being my heart ever truly let in. I grew up feeling every blow they took wrapped in guilt savagely placed on my heart to go along with my skins own marks. I was Twice whipped but only one would ever heal the other would bleed me every day even till today. At 8 is when death would first whisper my name to me . I never knew never would he ever depart from my mind and heart. At 9 so small and yet already my soul felt so heavy. My wounded little family grew by one. And traveled miles back to where my first cry had taken place. Where I would be born again and die more than one time. 9 taking on a little one. The second soul who would come to know my heart. Cherished and so loved even before air would give raise to his own challenging start. My mother would finish the killing of me without stopping my heart. The tiny soul I had hoped for was ripped away from me unexpectedly. Given away to have a chance, a brand new start , Or so that is what was said. 17 years I would mourn this everyday feeling like a piece of me was lost. By 11 melancholy would already call me home. School the escape from the war at home had become a battlefield of its own. And wounds would be added to the collection that had started. My first brush with a razor and a mans warped desires would fall in this timeframe not too far apart. Ill never know why my mother would make guilt and not love in me grow. Love for my parents I have felt from the start and still with each mark on my heart they would leave on me, the only thing I would ever bleed is my desire that they would want me.that they would love me. Can a child grow up too young? I don’t think I grew up tho. Ive been trapped in the tiny body that never had a real chance to start. By 15 I had lost both parents and one sibling already I was torn apart and bleeding. My wounded heart festering as it began to rot. The razor blades became my closest friends. At least when they marked my skin, I had wanted it then. They always stayed and helped me cradle my already too heavy pain. They knew what I would feel and that it was real. They went in deeper,beneath my surface on purpose. Something no one else wanted to do or so it would seem to me that no one really wanted me. My first love found in a man would be one that would feel much like my dad. Hands too rough and words never in the only shape Ive ever really wanted L O V E He Left more torn up marks on my heart. Heartbreak at 16, you would think i would have welcomed it like an old friend . that I would have tucked it up besides my heart hidden beneath my ribs, where pain was already rattling around in. pain makes us seek out comfort wrapped in deceit. I looked to the arms that made me weep for comfort. I never would find comfort there. for me there all I found are things that broke me. 16 I was 16 when the first piece of me truly died. I watched it die in her eyes. as the words scorching up my throat and heart left my lips. I watched as they connected the dots of things that mothers should not behind her eyes as the piece of me died. I was a daughter never cherished by my father, pain the only thing he gave for me to gain. I was a daughter never loved by my Mother given to men and left to defend alone the monsters my mother let in. Pain separated me from bonds that should have been. I would later see that the monsters I fought inside of me had always really been me . I grew up lonely both on the battlefield I was forced to Fight to survive in real life and inside the prison bar confides of my own mind. I fought and waged war constantly never knowing the enemy I had been fighting the whole time was always me. I don’t know who I am I died before I got the chance to even begin . Love is supposed to fill up your heart and shape you into the person you are. Teach you to swim in the depths of our own emotions. I never learned how to swim in the oceans I hold within. Ive been slowly drowning since I was a kid. Told that the validation I would grow to need like a drug, heroin to a fiend just so that I could feel something good inside the depths of MY being, a liferaft to keep me afloat was wrong of me to ever have a need. But How do I save myself from drowning beneath each giant wave my emotions bring crashing down around me. I cant swim in the ocean beneath my skin. Waves constantly crashing in and dragging me under. My air is running out and the only thing I hear people shout is SWIM!. as water replaces my lungs empty spaces. Blood hurts more than water its true but let love boil the water and it will still hurt you just as much too. Never feeling loved by my makers I searched for it in other spaces. Except the only place it should have been. My children you will never know of the force of love I hold for them. But I am still only a human. Trapped and stunted in the child that has been calling out in pain. So many lessons I have gained I see them now neatly wrapped up in my pain. I have been told by the ones I love both with and without blood, that I am too much because of my pain. Yet when I agree and try to erase me I am told to stay as they then walk away. Why. Why. Why Do I have to stay and everyone else gets to walk away from the darkness that takes my light away. Happiness feels almost like a myth a conjured up dream to dangle just out of my reach. And I have been told that its happiness I thieve from those around me. What kind of monster does that make me. That I would take the thing I so desperately need from someone that I love. It has been told to me that I am the creator of my own misery. That I should be a better human being and stop claiming to be the victim to the things that have brought death to my mind so many times. When I reach for help. Water rushing in as my screams are ripped out. Never a hand has been held out. Only the boots of blame and shame to push me further down. My pleas have begun to fade out. my voice is weakened by the consistent beacon, the sos hanging above my head running down my eyes and out my wrists that everyone claims to miss. No one will hear me if they don’t believe me. How do I convince them my pain is real. it means its me I have to kill. Then everyone will say I had been real and not the ghost I thought I had been when i was drowning and didn’t know how to swim.

[Eöl] shunned the Noldor, holding them to blame for the return to Morgoth, to trouble the quiet of Beleriand; but for the Dwarves he had more liking than any other of the Elvenfolk of old.
Welcome one and all again to the 2024 Read-Along and Discussion of The Silmarillion here on tolkienfans. For Week 20 (May 12-May 18), we will be exploring The Quenta Silmarillion (The History of the Silmarils) chapter 16, "Of Maeglin."
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Aredhel, the daughter of Fingolfin, resided awhile in Nevrast with her brother Turgon, but later went with her people to dwell in the hidden city of Gondolin. However, she soon wearied of her hidden life in Gondolin and was permitted to set out purportedly to visit with Fingon in Hithlum with three lords of the household of Turgon. Upon reaching the Ford of Brithiach, she commanded her companions to instead turn south in the hope of passing through Doriath to eventually find the Sons of Fëanor, "her friends of old".
Upon arriving at the borders of Doriath, they were refused entry by King Thingol. And so Aredhel and her companions instead sought the dangerous route between the haunted valley of Ered Gorgoroth and the northern edge of Doriath. This passed through the land of Nan Dungortheb, where Aredhel was separated from her companions. They searched but could not find her, and barely escaping death themselves returned to Gondolin to share their tale, and there was great sorrow at the assumed fate of Aredhel.
But Aredhel, having lost her companions, continued on and eventually arrived in Himlad, where she was welcomed by the people of Celegorm and waited for his return. There for a while she was satisfied, but as the year lengthened, she took to riding further afield, seeking new and unknown paths and fields. By chance, she crossed into the forest of Nan Elmoth, where dwelt Eöl, who was named the Dark Elf. In earlier days, he was of the kin of Thingol, but he had left Doriath and fled to the shadows of Nan Elmoth. He loved not the Noldor, but learned from the Dwarves much skill of metalwork, and was often a guest to the halls of Nogrod and Belegost. He espied Aredhel from afar and desired her, and ensnared her in enchantments so she could not find the way out, but instead came deeper into Nan Elmoth. Being weary, she finally came to the halls of Eöl, and he welcomed her, and took her for his wife, and it was a long time before any of her kin heard rumour of her again.
Though at Eöl's command she was required to shun sunlight, it is not said that she was completely unwilling to their union, and in the darkness of Nan Elmoth was born their son, who, in her heart, she named Lómion, which means "Child of the Twilight" in Quenya. But Eöl gave him no name until he was twelve years old, at which time he named him Maeglin, that is "Sharp Glance".
As Maeglin grew to full maturity, he resembled, in face and form, one of the Noldor. But speaking few words, except in matters important to him, he resembled his father in mood and spirit. Often he went with Eöl to the cities of the Dwarves, and learned much from them, especially the craft of finding ores and metals in the mountains. Yet he loved his mother more and would often listen to her tales regarding the Noldor, and the valour of the House of Fingolfin, while Eöl was abroad.
In speaking of her kin to Maeglin, Aredhel desired to see them again, and these tales stirred also in Maeglin the desire to see the Noldor. But upon revealing his inner wishes to Eöl, his father became infuriated, and threatened to bind his son if he would associate with the Noldor. Maeglin became cold and silent, and no longer went abroad with Eöl, and Eöl mistrusted him. One midsummer, Eöl went away to a feast in Nogrod. During this time, the desire grew hot in the heart of Maeglin to leave Nan Elmoth and look upon his mother's people and to seek the city of Gondolin. Seeing this, Aredhel was glad and they departed, telling Eöl's servants they sought the sons of Fëanor.
However, Eöl returned earlier than anticipated and found his wife and son two days gone. He set out immediately in wrathful pursuit. On entering Himlad, Eöl was ambushed by the riders of Curufin, and was taken to their lord. Curufin mockingly asked Eöl what urgent matter brought him to his land, and Eöl told him that he wanted to join his wife and son on their visit to him. Upon learning from Curufin that they turned westward, travelling along the northern fence of Doriath, Eöl asked leave to discover their purpose. Curufin instead coldly bid him go back to Nan Elmoth.
Thus Eöl rode off in haste, full of shame and anger. He perceived that Aredhel and Maeglin were heading towards Gondolin and rode after them. As the two arrived at the Outer Gate of Gondolin, they were received joyfully and passed inside the Hidden Kingdom, where Turgon listened with wonder to the story of his sister, and gave Maeglin the highest honour in his realm. Eöl watched them from afar and followed them to the city, but was taken in by the Guard, and was brought before Turgon after claiming to be husband and father to Aredhel and Maeglin. Aredhel confirmed this and Turgon welcomed Eöl as his kinsman, giving him leave to stay in Gondolin. But Eöl insulted the King, and bid Maeglin to "leave the House of the slayers of his kin, or be accursed". Maeglin did not answer.
Turgon then set a choice before Eöl and Maeglin of either abiding in Gondolin, or dying in Gondolin. Eöl stood a long time in silence, before he abruptly took a spear from under his cloak and threw it at Maeglin, crying "the second choice I take, and for my son also! You shall not hold what is mine!" But Aredhel came between the spear and Maeglin, and was struck. Eöl was restrained, set in bonds and led away. However the tip of the spear was poisoned, and Aredhel died in the night. Eöl was brought before Turgon and no mercy was shown to him; he was led to the Caragdûr, a precipice upon the northern side of the city, to be cast down. Maeglin stood by in silence, and Eöl cried out "so you forsake your father and his kin, ill-gotten son! Here shall you fail of all your hopes and here may you yet die the same death as I". And he was cast over the cliff-edge. Thus ended Eöl, Dark Elf, of the shadows of Nan Elmoth.
Maeglin grew great in stature in Gondolin, and was high in the favour of Turgon. He rose to be mighty amongst the Princes of the Noldor, and was the greatest other than Turgon in the realm of Gondolin. And yet not all things went as he would have liked, though he did not reveal his heart. For from his first days in Gondolin, he loved Idril Celebrindal, his first cousin, and desired her, but without hope. For the Eldar did not wed with kin so close, and further, Idril loved him not at all. Maeglin's love turned to darkness, and he sought more to have his will in all matters, no matter the cost to him, if it might grant him more power.
And so it came to be that in Gondolin, at the height of all its bliss, majesty, and beauty, a dark seed of evil was sown in the heart of Maeglin.[1]
Of Maeglin at The Lord of the Rings Wiki: This chapter introduces Maeglin, and his father Eöl, and tells the history of Maeglin's life from his birth to his becoming a citizen of Gondolin. Also in this chapter is the death of Eöl.
Chapter discussion at Entmoot TolkienTrail.
Chapter discussion at The Barrow-Downs.
Questions for the week:

1. Eöl is described as grim -- "his eyes could see deep into shadows and dark places." Does this just mean his eyes have adjusted to life in the dark, or is there also a hint of his being able to see beyond what is there, in a "foresight" or "farsighted" kind of way?
2. Maeglin and Eöl argue because Eöl won't let him see his mother's kin which causes a major rift between the two. Why did Eöl object?
3. What is significant of Maeglin's given name of Lomion, i.e. "Child of the Twilight" by his mother, Aredhel, but at age 12, Eöl named him Maeglin, i.e. "Sharp Glance".
4. Why did Eöl have more liking for the Dwarves "than any other of the Elvenfolk of old."?

For drafts and history of this chapter see The War of the Jewels, "Part Three: The Wanderings of Húrin and other Writings not forming part of The Quenta Silmarillion", Chapter III, "Maeglin)", pp. 316-339.
For further history and analysis of this chapter, see Arda Reconstructed (by Douglas Charles Kane), p. 155.
Be sure to have your copy of The Atlas of Middle-earth by Karen Wynn Fonstad on hand as you go through this chapter.
Some Tolkien-related hangouts on YouTube (relevant to this week):

• Nerd of the Rings This episode: Maps of Middle-earth: The First Age The Silmarillion Explained
• Nerd of the Rings This episode: The Origins of Melkor Tolkien Explained
• Nerd of the Rings This episode: The History of Morgoth [COMPILATION] Tolkien Explained
• Nerd of the Rings This episode: Eöl the Dark Elf Tolkien Explained
• Tolkien Untangled This episode: The Return of the Noldor Of the Lords of Beleriand : Silmarillion Explained - Part 2 of 10
• Ælfwine's Road This episode: Silmarillion Summary: Ch. 16 - Of Maeglin [19/31]
• Voice of Geekdom This episode: Chapter 16.1 - Eöl the Dark Elf, and Aredhel, White Lady of the Noldor Silmarillion Explained
• Voice of Geekdom This episode: Chapter 16.2 - The Rise of Maeglin Silmarillion Explained
• The Tolkien Road Podcast This episode: Silmarillion 2022 Ch 16 » Of Maeglin
• The Tolkien Road Podcast This episode: 0047 - The Silmarillion - Chapter 16 - Of Maeglin
• The One Ring This episode: Tolkien’s Disney Princess!? – Of Maeglin – The Silmarillion – 18

The Silmarillion Reader's Guide at Tea With Tolkien.
The Silmarillion Reader's Guide by askmiddlearth on Tumblr.
Quettaparma Quenyallo (QQ) - The most extensive list of Quenya words available on the internet, by Helge Fauskanger, 1999-2013.
Tolkien Collector's Guide - Guide to Tolkien's Letters
A (Hopefully) Light Guide to the Silmarillion — Or What I Wish I’d Known Before Reading It by u/Ok_Bullfrog_8491/
The Definitive Family Tree of the Tolkien Legendarium by u/PotterGandalf117
Wikipedia - The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
Announcement and Index: (Take 2) 2024 The Silmarillion and The Fall of Gondolin Read-Along

Inspired by MichaeltheSpikester's idea of a shared world, decided to add my variation of it. But with extra media that I think would fit well with this shared world.
-Several dimensions that were connected to Earth-199999 are not only the Astral, Dark, Mirror, K'un-Lun, Ta Lo, Duat, etc. but also consisted of Chronobowl (DCEU), Mount Olympus (DCEU), Axis Mundi (MonsterVerse), 4 Nations (Avatar: The Last Airbender), Spirit World (Avatar: The Last Airbender), Xadia (Netflix's The Dragon Prince), Heaven & Hell (Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss), and the Kraang Dimension (TMNT).
-The Titan's origins originated from the Celestial Tiamut from the Earth's core with the cosmic energy mutating small creatures into giant monsters. It is revealed that every planet in the universe not only has its celestials but also has its own set of Titans that play a key role in the planet's ecosystem. King Ghidorah is revealed to be one of the last few members of his species who survived his planet's Emergence and the reason why he and his kind terraform worlds is to rebuild the home they lost.
-Heaven and the Kraang played a role in the development of the Human race where it is revealed that Humans have various animal DNA, thus having the dormant gene that ties them to their animal ancestor.
-Lilith would be considered the "First Scarlet Witch".
-Due to Heaven's influence, their magic created the Gods and Goddesses in the universe. Adam would eventually create the Council of Godheads, where he is good friends with Zeus from Thor: Love and Thunder (aka Jupiter, the Roman counterpart of Zeus).
-The celestial's cosmic energy not only created Hollow Earth but also created pockets from the Earth's surface that created portals that allowed access to Hollow Earth from the surface.
-Asgardians, ancient Wakanda, Eternals, and Titans banding together with humanity, ancient Atlantis, ancient Green Lanterns, Olympians, and Themsycira in the fight against Darkseid, Steppenwolf, and their forces in ancient history.
-It is revealed that Titans, such as Sehkmet, Na Kika, and an unnamed Thunderbird Titan are responsible for Bashenga's, Talokanil's, and Chafa's origins and abilities instead of the Gods and Goddesses from Thor: Love and Thunder.
-The Titans and Startouch Elves would be labeled as "low-level" gods by the Council of Godheads.
-Atlantis, Asgard, Themyscira, Heaven, and Olympus (When the Greek Gods were still around) were aware of the existence of Titans and the role they play in the Earth's ecosystem. Similar to Asgardians, Titans were responsible for many legends and myths regarding mythical creatures and gods. The relationship between them and benevolent titans would be at best mutual notably towards those like Godzilla and Mothra but otherwise would be at odds with destroyer titans like Rodan and Scylla.
-The Eternals are aware of the Titans as well. Ikaris proposed killing them since they would be affecting the Earth's population and preventing the Emergence from progressing. However, Ajak talked him out of it as they observed Godzilla's species preserving the balance of nature, keeping the population steadying, keeping the other Titans at bay, and hunting/killing giant Deviants as well.
-The Eternals once met with Mothra, who Sersi and Sprite formed a close bond with.
-The animalistic Egyptian Gods and Goddesses (Khonshu, Anubis, Ammit, Tawaret, Horus, etc.) were once human-looking Gods/Goddesses before being exposed to the Kraang's Ooze, which mutated them into more animalistic creatures.
-Godzilla has a mixed relationship with the Eternals. While he approves them for keeping the Earth safe, he doesn't trust them due to their "unnatural" nature due to being from space, which is the same with King Ghidorah.
-Prior to his arrival on earth. King Ghidorah had a fearful reputation across the cosmos by civilizations, similar to that of Darkseid and Thanos.
-Both Thor and Rodan once fought each other in the past when Rodan at some point appeared in Scandinavia and terrorized the people, which prompted the Thunder God to engage. It was a long, withdrawn, and lengthy battle that eventually ended with Thor finally driving Rodan off. Like many legends and myths, this fight inspired one of those about Thor fighting a "Great Bird of Fire".
-Shazam was the first Sorcerer Supreme and taught the Ancient One magic.
-Wonder Woman and the original Shazam took part in imprisoning Ammit alongside the other Egyptian Gods and Goddesses.
-The radiation of Hollow Earth caused certain viruses and organisms to become more hostile when infecting their host while granting them various abilities. Examples include the T-Virus and the E-Series mold.
-Both Asgard and Mount Olympus are aware of Aaravos and his past crimes.
-The Ancient One visited both Xadia and the 4 nations once to learn more about both world's magic. The Ancient One also helped in imprisoning Aaravos.
-While Xadia is aware of dark magic, they are unaware of the Dark Dimension and Dormammu.
-King Ghidorah was without a doubt probably the only being that Darkseid and Thanos had ever developed a grudging respect. Both warlords are aware of King Ghidorah due to being just as feared by civilizations across the cosmos as they are. Despite classing Titans as "low-level" gods, the Council of Godheads also feared King Ghidorah due to his destructive nature.
-The Necrosword is made of the same metallic material used by the Exorcist Angels during their exterminations.
-Wonder Woman's presence in World War I inspired Johann Schmidt (aka Red Skull) to pursue mythology in hopes of creating weaponry for HYDRA.
-Captain America and Wonder Woman met during World War II when Steve was doing his USO Show.
-SHIELD is aware of Monarch and STAR Labs and has often collaborated with each other in the past.
-Packard is a relative of Nick Fury.
-Asgard and Krypton having had a history with one another and the former having tried to warn the latter of their inevitable doom, but were dismissed.
-Prior to Krypton's destruction. Zod and his soldiers had a run-in with Yondu and the Ravagers.
-Both SHIELD and Nick Fury were not only aware of the Titan's existence but also aware of Superman's arrival on Earth and kept close tabs on him since he was a child.
-Both Superman and Chris Redfield were Captain America fans when younger.
-After the T-Virus Incident in Raccoon City, SHIELD and Monarch helped with the clean-up.
-Bruce Wayne, William Stenz, Amanda Waller, and Chris Redfield were all targets of Project Insight.
-Alongside SHIELD, STAR Labs, B.S.A.A., and Monarch were all infiltrated by HYDRA Agents who sought their resources. They stole various technological weapons created by the Motherbox, samples of the T-Virus, and stole Titan DNA to create Titan clones.
-After the Turtles made their debut, SHIELD and Monarch kept close eye on them based on their mutation.
-After the Civil War, Amanda Waller proposed Task Force X to the government, in which Theaddeus Ross was among those who approved it while William Stenz opposed it. Abomination and Baron Zemo were among the possible candidates for Task Force X.
-Task Force X and Monarch weren't affected by the Sokovia Accords due to their connections with the government.
-After the Baker House Incident, SHIELD and Monarch not only helped clean up the situation but also got clues on the E-Series's origin. Not trusting the B.S.A.A. or Blue Umbrella, they gave the info to Chris, which led to his isolation from both organizations.
-Talokan would be considered one of the Kingdoms of Atlantis. Ocean Master would later try to recruit Namor, but decides not to as he was warned by the other rulers that Namor is more dangerous than Ocean Master himself.
-Karathen is revealed to be one of the lost Titans of Earth.
-Wakanda is aware of the existence of Atlantis but their ancestors have made a treaty with each other in not interfering. After the events of Aquaman, both T'Challa and Arthur meet in secret to discuss how to unite their kingdoms together and reveal their secret to the world. While Arthur respects T'Challa, he wants to keep Atlantis a secret until the time is right.
-Katolis would be aware of various magical humans such as Original Shazam and the Ancient One.
-Clark Kent/Superman, Diana Prince/Wonder Woman, Billy Batson/Shazam, and Mothra are beings capable of lifting Mjolnir.
-At the Senate hearing, alongside Serizawa, Nick Fury and Calvin Swanwick (Martian Manhunter) are among those who defended the Titans while Thaddeus Ross and Amanda Waller voiced against them.
-After the Titans were released, several Titans, such as Titanus Sehkmet, Behemoth, and Mokele-Mbembe all resided near Wakanda and all bonded with T'Challa/Black Panther while Titans such as Titanus Na Kika, Tiamat, and Amhuluk all resided near Talokan and bond with Namor.
-By the end of Infinity War and during the events of Endgame. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Lois Lane, Martian Manhunter, Joker, Lex Luthor, Black Mask, Victor Zsasz, Black Canary, Renee Montoya, Huntress, Cassandra Cain, Bruce the Hyena, Bloodsport, Harley Quinn, Rick Flagg, King Shark, Ratcatcher 2 and Sebastian, Polka-Dot Man, Captain Boomerang, Savant, Javelin, Blackguard, Mongal, T.D.K., Weasel, Thinker, Billy Batson/Shazam, Billy's foster parents and siblings, Amanda Waller, Emilia Harcourt, John Economos, Adebayo Waller, Clemson Murn/Ik Nobe Llok, Goff/Sophie Song/Eek Stack Ik Ik, Casper Locke, Larry Fitzgibbon, James Gordon, Atlanna, Mera, Arthur Jr., Starro, Peacemaker, White Dragon, Hawkman, Doctor Fate, Cyclone, Atom Smasher, Adrianna Tomaz, Karim, Amon Tomaz, Ishmael GregoSabbac, Blue Beetle and the Reyes family, Victoria and Jenny Kord, Carapax, Madison Russell, Mark Russell, Illene Chen, Houston Brooks, Sam Coleman, Nathan Lind, Illene Andrews, Jia, Josh Valentine, Bernie Hayes, Travis Beasley/Trapper, Walter and Maia Simmons, Ren Serizawa, Alan Jonah, Godzilla, Kong, half of the known titans, Leon Kennedy, Chris Redfield, Claire Redfield, Ethan Winters, Mia Winters, Zoe Baker, Joe Baker, Mother Miranda, Karl Heisenberg, Lady Dimitrescu, Salvatore Moreau, Donna Beneviento, The Duke, Chris's Team, the Turtles, and Baxter Stockman would be amongst the survivors of The Blip.
-Flash, Cyborg, Aquaman, Perry White, Martha Kent, Stephen Shin, Deadshot, Deathstroke, Katana, Killer Croc, Ling Chen, Rick Stanton, Diane Foster, Jackson Barnes, Anthony Martinez, Lauren Griffin, Rodan, other half of the known titans, Jill Valentine, Ada Wong, Sensei Splinter, Bebop, and Rocksteady were amongst the victims of The Blip.
-Similar to Scott Lang, Black Adam, Mothra, Khaji-Da, and the inhabitants of the 4 nations, Xadia, Heaven, and Hell would not be affected by the Blip.
-The only beings that sensed the Blip were the Avatar (Aang), The Archdragons of Xadia (Zubeia, Rex Igneous, Domina Profundis, and Sol Regem), the Seraphim (Sera and Emily), the Goetian Hierarchy (Stolas and Octavia), and the 7 Deadly Sins (Lucifer Morningstar, Asmodeus, Satan, Mammon, Beelzebub, Leviathan, and Belphegor).
-The victims of the Blip weren't sent to Heaven or Hell, they were stuck in Limbo.
-During the post-Blip, due to Thanos' actions, Godzilla had a hard time in trying to keep balance of the Earth with half of the remaining titans running loose. Due to the world powers struggling, they helped fund Apex Cybernetics to stabilize their economy as well as unknowingly helping Walter process with his Mechagodzilla experiment.
-Because of Thanos, the Corto Maltese government took advantage of this by continuing their experiments with Project Starfish and the Intergang were able to operate and have full control over Kahndaq. Many crime organizations in Gotham have either been dismantled due to the disappearance of the leaders or have been absorbed into the Black Mask Crime Organization. Jaime's family and his community go through financial struggles from Kord Industries due to the effects of the Blip.
-Due to less hero activity, the I.M.P.s operated their assassination business.
-Kingpin met with Joker and Black Mask during the Blip where the 2 made mutual agreements in developing a partnership. However, this agreement was broken due to Black Mask's death.
-The Joker was on Ronan's list of targets. However, due to his powerful influence, he was forced to back down.
-Due to the effects of the Blip, the butterflies decided to start their invasion by infecting powerful humans.
-After the Village's destruction, SHIELD aids Chris in a war against B.S.A.A.
-After Doctor Fate's death, Hawkman gives the Helmet of Fate to Kamar-Taj for safekeeping so it doesn't fall into the wrong hands.
-The Avengers and Justice League team up and join the time heist to find the Infinity Stones. With Iron Man's and Batman's technology, they create a black and red infinity gauntlet. Hulk still snaps his fingers which brings every living being back. During the final battle with Thanos, the Justice Society, Black Adam, Godzilla, and the other Titans arrive to join in the fight.
-Victoria Kord and Walter Simmons are among the many people who also had a hatred towards Tony Stark and are joyful about his death.
-After the events of Blue Beetle, Damage Control tried to apprehend him but was forced to back down due to public support.
-Godzilla would grow hostile towards the Hex that Wanda made. Due to being composed of cosmic radiation from the celestial, Godzilla and the other Titans are revealed to be immune to magic due to their massive size as well as not being affected by the Hex's effects. However, once Wanda leaves Westview, Godzilla will leave as well.
-After Endgame, Apex Cybernetics not only seeks to eliminate Titans but also superpowered individuals as well. After the events of GvK, Damage Control cleaned up the damage and acquired their resources.
-Among the deceased that would be in Heaven based on Adam's rule: "Act selfless, Don't Steal, and Stick it to the man" would be Tony Stark/Iron Man, Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow, Peggy Carter, Ancient One, Ben Parker, May Parker, Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver, Phil Coulson, Steve Trevor, Jonathan Kent, Chato Santana/El Diablo, Silas Stone, Rick Flag, Alberto Reyes, José Morales, Ignacio Carapax/OMAC, and Nuidis Vulko.
-Among the deceased that would be in Hell and have the potential to become Overlords are Obadiah Stane/Iron Monger, Ivan Vanko/Whiplash, TrevoThe Mandarin, Alexander Pierce, Dreykov, Xu Wenwu, Quentin Beck/Mysterio, Roman Sionis/Black Mask, Victor Zsaasz, David Kane/Black Manta, and Walter Simmons.
-Wanting to reconnect with his daughter, Mark Russell resigns his position as leader of Monarch and Bruce BanneHulk becomes the next head of Monarch due to his knowledge of Nuclear Physics.
-Both the Great Protector and Dweller-in-Darkness are revealed to be Titans who stumbled upon Ta Lo.
-In Xadia, Viren was resurrected 5 years later rather than 2 (Events of S1-3 take place in 2019-and S4-6 take place in 2024).
-Due to the effects of the Emergence and the Deviants, Godzilla would ally with the Eternals in hunting down and killing the Deviants as well as stopping the Emergence from happening.
-The Benevolent Titans have gained a reputation due to their involvement in keeping the planet safe and healthy.
-Driven by vengeance, Overlord Quentin Beck/Mysterio pays the I.M.P.s to assassinate Peter ParkeSpider-Man. However, this is during the events of No Way Home and when Doctor Strange performs the spell that erases everyone's memory of who Spider-Man is, the I.M.P.s were affected as well and called the mission off due to their amnesia.
-Maya Lopez's/Echo's Powers awaken the ancient Thunderbird Titan that lives near her hometown. She successfully bonds with the Titan.
-Ms. Marvel would not only be a Captain Marvel fan but also a Wonder Woman and Mothra fan as well.
-Riri Williams is a huge fan of both Iron Man and Cyborg which influenced her to create her own enhanced suits. While she has an intense hatred towards Apex Cybernetics after their dirty secrets were exposed, Riri started making concepts on how to build a giant-mech suit to combat hostile Titans.
-Thor recruits Wonder Woman and the Shazam family to help them stop Gorr the God Butcher. They arrive at Omnipotence City where Wonder Woman exposes the Greek Gods being the Roman counterparts with Zeus' real identity revealed to be Jupiter. After the mission, Thor gives Shazam the Thunderbolt.
-Wonder Woman then encounters Marc SpecteMoon Knight where she sees and speaks with Khonshu.
-When Doctor Strange and America Chavez arrive on Earth-838, they meet the Illuminati which not only consists of Captain Carter, Blackbolt, Captain Marvel (Maria Rambeau), and Mister Fantastic but also consists of Christian Bale's Batman and Brandon Routh's Superman.
-Same with Wakanda, the U.N. held a conference on whether the Titans should be contained or killed. Director Fontaine would state that the Titan's radiation helps balance the ecosystem of the planet and propose a solution where they can imprison the Titans and drain this energy they embody to help sustain the ecosystem, thus having them alive, but tortured.
-After Shuri takes the heart-shaped herb and becomes the next Black Panther, she communicates with Sehkmet, Behemoth, and Mokele-Mbembe for the first time. She convinces them to take part in the battle against Namor by battling against Na Kika, Tiamat, and Amhuluk.
-After the battle, Wakanda becomes harmonious with their Titans as they are welcomed in Wakanda and become its protectors alongside Shuri.
-After the alliance with Talokan, Aquaman visits Shuri on the same beach where she meets her nephew, T'Challa II, and warns her about her deal with Namor. Then he introduces his son, Arthur Jr., where he and T'Challa II develop a brotherly bond with each other.
-Due to the Secret Invasion, Superman was affected by the Anti-Alien Act and was forced into hiding.
-During the events of Secret Invasion, the Turtles were forced into hiding due to being confused for Skrulls.
-After the events of The Flash, Doctor Strange and Clea confront him that his actions in altering time created more incursions and recruit him to have them fixed.
-After the events of the Marvels, Monica Rambeau not only meets Binary and Beast but also meets Michael Keaton's Batman and Sasha Calle's Supergirl.
-After the events of Lost Kingdom, Atlantis revealed its existence to the world by joining alliances with the UN and Wakanda.
-Ms. Marvel's Quantum Bands and Shang-Chi's Ten Rings start behaving weirdly as they detect a signal from deep within Hollow Earth, signifying a war cry from ancient Titans known as the Skar King and Shimo.
-As Namor is preparing for the war against the surface by aligning themselves with Wakanda, he commands the Titans he bonded to gain strength. However, one of the Titans, Tiamat, is killed by Godzilla, and Namor is saddened when hearing the news.
-Ms. Marvel's Quantum Bands attracts the attention of Mothra, who believes that Mothra may be the key to bringing back Monica Rambaeu.
-The Avatar's (Aang) awakening was sensed by Doctor Strange.
Overall, this is my take on how this shared world would go. If you have any suggestions on how the shared world would go, feel free to reply!
Special thanks to MichaeltheSpikester for the idea!

Early morning I woke up having a strange dream. In it I saw a couple of my close family members like my mother and grandmother and I think it was the world ending. the sky was falling of in layers and it was looking like a sediments mountain. the wear a lots of other women too but no sight of men. I was roaming around to collect water and sand to wash myself and while I was collecting the sand I saw a really badly hurt black cat i got scared and threw the sand I had at the cat. but after I have done that I felt really guilty and throughout the dream i was anxious about the cat. I feel this sense of guilt and anxiousness now too. I personally have three cats and one of them is black. and currently he is hurt because of a fight he had with another cat. I love him to death but I keep having a bad feeling about this.

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

Round 1, Pick 5 - Joe Alt, OT, Notre Dame:
NFL: Head coach Jim Harbaugh is set on building an offensive bully and that starts with the offensive line. Alt comes in as a polished tackle who’ll step in and immediately boost the unit and protect Justin Herbert.
CBS Sports: B. He is the best in this class, but now he has to make the transition to right tackle for Jim Harbaugh. That can be tough to do. But taking a lineman makes sense, I just might have taken J.C. Latham as a better fit.
ESPN: Chargers general manager Joe Hortiz said they would stick to the process of picking the best player available, a strategy he learned from 26 years in the Baltimore Ravens personnel department that won him two Super Bowls. Selecting Alt on Thursday night supports this theory. The Chargers currently employ only four receivers -- none of whom has a season over 800 yards in the NFL -- and passed on taking the second-best receiver in the class. The Chargers are returning four of their five offensive line starters from last season and signed center Bradley Bozeman in free agency, but stuck to their strategy despite much bigger needs on the roster.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: His Skyrim character is Thad: The High King of Skyrim.
Round 2, Pick 34 - Ladd McConkey, WR, Georgia:
NFL: Our second pick, second receiver and first trade of the night. The Patriots slide back a few spots, and the Chargers get a receiver who should be thrust right into the mix. Although McConkey had injury issues at Georgia, if he's able to stay healthy, he could be Justin Herbert's favorite target in due time. With great route-running skills and impressive separation ability, McConkey could be an 80-catch player one day.
CBS Sports: A. Crafty, athletic, polished WR who can win on the boundary and in the slot. Releases are great. Route-running nuance also there. Deceptive speed and YAC skills.
ESPN: After trading Keenan Allen and releasing Mike Williams, the Chargers came into the draft with just four receivers on the roster. None among that receiving group of Joshua Palmer, Quentin Johnston, Derius Davis and Simi Fehoko had ever topped 800 yards in an NFL season. Since Herbert entered the league in 2020, he has always had a coterie of reliable pass-catchers, including players like running back Austin Ekeler and tight end Gerald Everett, who both left in free agency. McConkey, the Chargers hope, gives Herbert another player he can count on in the passing offense after many key departures.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Cannot stand The Office save for Scott’s Tots.
Round 3, Pick 69 - Junior Colson, LB, Michigan:
NFL: If there was one player I would have bet would follow Jim Harbaugh to the Chargers, it would have been Mike Sainristil or Colson. The latter was the emotional heartbeat of a championship Michigan defense, as Colson is a full-tilt competitor who brings his all to every game and every practice. He's a tackling machine whose coverage limitations were likely what caused him to fall out of the top 50 picks.
CBS Sports: B. Ties to Jim Harbaugh and addresses a need at off-ball LB. Best tackling linebacker in the class by a wide margin. Flashed some coverage chops in 2023 but not a speciality. I didn’t see premier range or speed to the football. Beats blocks with decent regularly and ball skills must show up more in NFL. Very young.
ESPN: This was a position of need for the Chargers and Colson, who was a second-team Big Ten selection and led the team with 95 tackles last season, will bring necessary competition to a mostly unproven group. Both of the Chargers' starting outside linebackers in 2023 won't be back next season, as Kenneth Murray Jr. signed with the Tennessee Titans in free agency and Eric Kendricks was released in March. Linebackers Daiyan Henley (51 defensive snaps in 2023) and Nick Niemann (238 defensive snaps in 2023) are the Chargers' lone returning linebackers from last season, but they also signed Denzel Perryman and Troy Dye.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: We all know what pick this is so make with the ‘nice’ jokes.
Round 4, Pick 105 - Justin Eboigbe, DT, Alabama:
NFL: Jim Harbaugh keeps beefing up both fronts. Eboigbe played well in Bama's Rose Bowl loss to Harbaugh's Wolverines, so this pick isn't a shock. The Chargers are adding toughness in Eboigbe, assuming his health improves. He had a breakout season in 2023.
CBS Sports: C+. Classic Nick Saban defensive lineman. Two-gapping extraordinaire with thick, powerful frame. Good first-step quickness but won’t be a calling card to win as a pass rusher consistently in the NFL. Not a pass-rush move type. Higher floor than upside. Limited role.
ESPN: The Chargers begin Day 3 by filling another of the team's most significant needs. L.A. is set at outside linebacker on their defensive line with Khalil Mack, Joey Bosa and Tuli Tuipulotu, but they are largely unproven in the interior. Some of the Chargers' best interior defenders from last season, defensive tackle Sebastian Joseph-Day and defensive tackle Austin Johnson, won't be back in 2024. Eboigbe, 6-foot-4, 275 pounds, was a first-team All-SEC selection last season, finishing with a caterer-high seven sacks.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Has been known to run around banging coconuts together simulating a horse.
Round 5, Pick 137 - Tarheeb Still, CB, Maryland:
NFL: The first tape I watched of Still, coincidentally, was against Michigan -- and he looked good. Jim Harbaugh clearly agreed, although Still's lack of elite speed or size might make him more of a candidate to kick inside as a nickel.
CBS Sports: C+. Chippy, fluid CB who wants to come up and hit people. Super-smooth hips. Doesn’t have the length or pure speed to be lockdown type but gets the most out of his athletic skill set. Won’t follow routes perfectly at the next level. Can be too grabby in man. Infectious energy on the field. Just lacks premier traits.
ESPN: The Chargers' pass defense was abysmal last season, allowing 249.6 yards per game, which ranked 30th in the NFL. So they had to address their secondary in the draft. Still, who is 6-foot and 189 pounds, ran a 4.52 in the 40-yard dash at the combine and finished with five interceptions last season, which tied for sixth in the FBS. He has lined up primarily outside (77% of his snaps came from out wide), but he can also play in the slot.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: His favorite operating system is Windows XP.
Round 5, Pick 140 - Cam Hart, CB, Notre Dame:
NFL: The Chargers double up on long DBs to help combat the AFC West's playmakers. Hart has a strong athletic profile, and he has the perfect makeup to be a special teams coverage standout as well.
CBS Sports: B-. Old-school, long outside CB. Huge with extreme length. Moves well for his size but probably won’t be able to stay with quick separators in the NFL on a regular basis. Last-resort grabbing gets him into trouble during the route. Speed is average and didn’t make many plays on the ball but not tested often. Maybe move to safety?
ESPN: Cornerback is the first position where the Chargers have drafted multiple players so far, proving that the group was one Hortiz knew needed improvement and competition. Cornerback may also be Hortiz's favorite position. He told reporters that he "never feels full at corner. That is a position that you never stop chasing," he said. The Chargers now have six cornerbacks on the active roster, including the 6-3, 202-pound Hart.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Takes three to five business days to reply to an email.
Round 6, Pick 181 - Kimani Vidal, RB, Troy:
NFL: I'm a bit surprised the Chargers didn't take a back before this, but Vidal has a chance to join the RB rotation for Jim Harbaugh. Vidal's profile reads similarly to Blake Corum, so it's easy to see why Harbaugh might view him favorably.
CBS Sports: A. This is a future feature back. Stocky, well-built frame. Between the tackles experience and can blend slashing and multi-cut style together. Elusive, sets up blockers well and has effortless power through contact at times. Not a true burner.
ESPN: Since the Jim Harbaugh era began in February, the theme for the Chargers has been on running the football. Vidal gives them depth at a position that will be one of the most important on the team. Considering the talent in the Chargers' running back room, which includes J.K. Dobbins and Gus Edwards, Vidal likely projects to be mainly a special teams contributor in his first year. Vidal set the Troy career (4,010), single-season (1,661), and single-game (248) rushing records, and his great-uncle is Baseball Hall of Famer Hank Aaron.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Spreads his love of Frito Pie eaten out of the little bag, like God intended.
Round 7, Pick 225 - Brenden Rice, WR, USC:
NFL: Jerry Rice's son and Caleb Williams' go-to guy figured to go a few rounds higher than this, but it's possible scouts felt there was more development needed in his game. With the Chargers, there are WR jobs open for Rice to make the roster early on.
CBS Sports: B+. Downfield specimen with quality size. Didn’t test amazingly but was a vertical weapon for Caleb Williams at USC. Stiff routes and only glimmers of YAC but has the power to run through some tackles. Fun fit with Justin Herbert. Son of NFL legend Jerry Rice.
ESPN: Only four receivers were on the Chargers roster before the draft, so drafting a second receiver seemed inevitable. Rice, 6-3, 208 pounds, is the son of Pro Football Hall of Fame receiver Jerry Rice. He played his final two seasons for the Trojans, where he was the primary deep target for No. 1 pick Caleb Williams. Rice led the team with a 14.6 air yards per target average in 2023, and 7 of his 12 TD receptions were on vertical routes -- tied for the sixth-most in the FBS.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: After adjusting the other picks & removing outliers he regresses to 1st overall.
Round 7, Pick 253 - Cornelius Johnson, WR, Michigan:
NFL: Another Michigan player for Jim Harbaugh. Johnson rarely was featured in Michigan's run-heavy system, but he made his mark as a blocker and occasional big-play receiver. His hands are inconsistent, but Johnson could find footing in L.A.
CBS Sports: C+. Sizable receiver who can deceive CBs with his long-striding speed when given a runaway. Inflexible movements will keep him from getting open on regular basis or winning against press. Ball skills are good in traffic.
ESPN: The more, the merrier in the Chargers receiving room. Johnson is their third pick at receiver, and for good reason. Johnson is also a familiar face, playing under Jim Harbaugh at the University of Michigan and the many other Michigan coaches on the Chargers staff. Johnson, 6-foot-3, 212 pounds, was a four-year starter at receiver and had 119 receptions since the start of 2021, the sixth most in the Big Ten. Johnson mainly played out wide in his career, with 84% of his snaps over the last three seasons coming lined up on the outside.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Upset with the rising price of cheese and cheese related goods.

A friend of mine a few years ago recommended that I watch SVU and that I would love Mike Dodds so I foolishly got into it and was obsessed with him and then I was devastated at his death. I got so hurt by it that I completely dropped the show, but this past month I finally started to get back into it. I was thinking to myself "Well as long as I still have Barba I guess I can keep going" and you'll never guess which episode I just watched! 🫠 I remembered hearing jokes about him being a "baby killer" but since at the time I wasn't actively watching the show I dismissed it and forgot about it completely. Anyways basically I think I have a curse of falling in love with characters that die or get written off. Does anyone else feel this struggle? 😭

I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.

"....... The war affected my Master in ways I couldn't see at the time, yet it was her actions during the war that cloud my memory of her. Perhaps I was selfish, so focused on my own pain and feelings of injustice that I couldn't see she was suffering the same as I was. Perhaps she was able to deal with it in a far more healthy way. Or perhaps instead it burned her out on the inside to the point where she didn't care anymore or was force to surround herself with doctrine.
I don't know, and I don't know if I want to know as then I could not longer hope it was the better answer. I try to hold onto the memories of her before the war, a warmer, kinder woman, a mother like figure who's advice in hindsight, I wish I had followed more often.
While most would ascribe my political views to that of my father, Senator Fi Lor who's Senate seat I now hold. My political philosophy surprisingly came from my Jedi Master in a way. It was a consistency in her view of power.
During a discussion on the Dark Side, my Master stated something profound to me, something I internalized and ensured that I remembered. The quote, as best I can remember is this.
"Barriss, remember this: Power wants to be used. It must be kept under constant vigil, else it will seduce and corrupt you. One moment you’re swatting an annoying training toy; the next you’re paralyzing an offending being’s lungs and choking him to death. You do it because you can. It becomes an end in itself. As a Jedi, you live always on this edge. A single misstep, and you can fall to the dark side. It has happened to many, and it is always a tragedy. As with an addictive drug, it’s too easy to say, ‘I’ll do it just this once.’ That’s not how it works. The only thing that stands between you and the dark side is your own will and discipline. Give in to your anger or your fear, your jealousy or your hate, and the dark side claims you for its own. If that happens, you will become an enemy to all that the Jedi stand for and an enemy of all Jedi who hold to the path of right."
I asked her if she had ever given into the Dark Side, and she admitted she had on one occasion, I asked what it was it was like and if it would feel evil. She said no, said it would feel good, empowering, satisfying, and worst of all, it would feel right and justified, and that was the danger.
She was right, not just about the Dark Side but about power in general.
Had I listened and processed that at the time, perhaps so much pain I have inflicted could have been avoided, or perhaps not, the Force is mysterious like that, but It did not take the power of Dark Side to bomb the temple, nor to do any part of my plan or subsequent attempts to repair the situation. In fact, I made sure of it, yet, despite not using the power of the Dark Side, I fell into it, the trap, the drug.
I have used the Dark Side many times since then, trusting my own discipline and restrictions to keep me from falling deeper, tapping into a dangerous fire, every time more addicting and every time more tempting to throw away my restrictions that limit it, every time it always feels like the right solution, the only solution, it is essential, it must be done or else something worse will happen, just give in again, take another dose of power and you can solve whatever issue lies in front of you.
It is not just with the Force. It is any power. The power of a politician to force people to comply with their vision, the power of a business-leader to abuse their workers. The power of a parent over their child, the president of a home owners association, a landlord, a reporter, even how we treat animals. Power must be kept under constant vigil and no one in power is immune to the temptation of abusing it, we must actively choose every day to resist it and ensure our path is true, it is often harder, but is the right way and in the long run, that is what will matter.
I could be considered a recovering addict in a way, no matter what I do and how long I live I will always be fighting the urge to relapse. And like a recovering addict, I am often ashamed of my actions and seek to prevent others from falling into the same path as I once walked. Having walked it, I can honestly say that the benefits never outweighed the cost.
My Master's Saber now sits on my shelf at eye level, and looking at it I wonder what she would think of me. Should I care? Had she lived would the mother like figure I knew before the war return with peace, or was her true nature the cold and harsh one I saw during the war?
I miss her still."

I always have visions and thoughts of falling or flying through the air. It’s the feeling of freedom. But I never want to go splat.
I’ve had passive ideation for a few months now. And today I was so exhausted of this feeling of long-lasting underlying sadness that doesn’t go away. I was so happy in the morning. And in the afternoon I went for a walk, went to the cafe, went book shopping, went to a restaurant. I enjoyed it. But on the walk home in the park the feeling came back, the feeling that always keeps coming back, the feeling that won’t leave no matter what I do, the dull melancholy and exhaustion.
I sat down at a bench facing the river. I thought it would calm me down or bring me a sense of peace like before. I just felt like crying instead. Whenever I get a chance to breathe, to think, to be, I just feel like crying. I’m so tired, so exhausted of it.
I stood at the bridge crossing the river. I had no plans of jumping at all really. I just wanted to feel that control, the feeling of being able to stare down death, to look down at the water, to know that my choices matter. I can still make choices. I have agency.
But the bridge is not high enough. I don’t feel fear looking down. I know I won’t die if I jump. I don’t get the satisfaction from looking down the barrel. It’s not enough. I’m disappointed. And there’s too many people around. I can’t even cry or lean too hard on the railing because it would make a show. Too much attention.
I don’t know what drove me to go to the bridge. It’s not like I was planning to jump. But something about being able to stare down death brings me comfort, for the railing to be the only thing separating you from life and death. It’s a calming feeling, to feel so close to death but without crossing the line. I fear death. But I need reprieve.
I’m worried that my passive suicidal ideation is developing into something more active. I still don’t plan or have concrete plans. But the fact that I went to the bridge, considered its height, the potential outcomes of jumping, it worries me.
I’m scared for myself. But it’s exciting knowing there’s something out there that can calm me again. But I know it’s dangerous. It’s so sickening.