Previous Part
My eyes darted around the room, still shocked from the brutality I just witnessed from Shaoni. Katrina had strutted out of view and when my eyes turned to where Brooke’s crumpled form should’ve been he was gone to. At some point both Robert and John had run off towards the growing sounds of gunfire. Shaoni and I still stood in the coliseum, shaken to our cores but both for very different reasons.
*CLANG*
The sudden noise startled me, the sound of metal on metal. The sound came again, this time I heard it clearly and turned around to face the noise only to be met by a few familiar faces.
“Don’t mean to bother you but their shootin up the place, could ya let us the hell in!”
Rocco shouted as he beat Brookes stolen lighter against the metals bars that closed off the back entrance to the coliseum. Bianca gave me a sheepish wave as I looked over their faces again. Frank, Stein, and Tuck were with her. They must have come through the same way Bianca and I had a few days before.
“NOW!”
Rocco shouted in irritation as my brain finally kicked into gear and I ran over to let them through the barred metal gate.
“What’s going on up there?”
I wondered out loud, concerned by how shell shocked they all looked.
“I’d guess something involving the government, with equipment like that I doubt it would be anyone else. Just as we got to the hole Bianca mentioned several men in black tactical gear came out of the forest at our sides. When we didn’t clear out like they demanded they started firing so we dove in.”
Stein explained.
“I take it that’s Shaoni?”
He added, pointing towards where she lay, hunched over and taking shaky breaths on the ground.
“Is she alright?”
Bianca chimed in, craning her neck to get a better view of her past everyone else.
“The hell should we care!? Isn’t it her fault we’re doin’ any of this in the first place?”
Rocco grumbled up at us as he laid back on the ground. Glad to see he wasn’t taking things to seriously. Tuck just stared at Shaoni with this intense anger in his eyes, he didn’t say a word.
I know I shouldn’t care what happened to her at this point but a part of me just couldn’t leave Shaoni like this. Sure, she probably didn’t deserve the sympathy but I couldn’t help feeling a little bad for her now that the anger had passed. When I made my way over to her I got the sense I was seeing the real Shaoni for once. I was seeing someone who witnessed her people rise and fall, saw the country we live in change and grow as it became what we know today. Someone who’d lived countless lifetimes as a piece that just didn’t quite fit the puzzle anymore. I thought about everything Bianca had learned about Shaoni, how she was given her powers, no, her burden in the first place. Suddenly I had a pretty good idea of what exactly she brought everyone here for.
“Shaoni?... Are you… uh, you ok?”
I said like I was trying to comfort a dying animal. The closer I got the more I could hear, she was crying. It was that held back sort of crying right before the dam breaks into full on sobs. She was cracking but still trying to put on a tough face, still trying to be every bit as imposing as she had been the first night I saw her. But she wasn’t, now she just looked pitiful.
“You… you’re right you know Keith. I’m not Justice anymore… I…I don’t think I have been for a very long time.”
She choked out through tears that flowed freely down her face as she rose to her feet.
“I don’t know why I brought you here… I was just so desperate to…”
She trailed off but that was alright, I already knew what she was going to say.
“To escape? Pass on your burden? This whole thing was to chose someone to pass the Thunderbird spirit onto wasn’t it?”
I asked, sure that I was right.
“Yes, this is what I wanted from the start, to give my burden to one of you. At first I wanted the trials to help me make my decision but by the time all of you arrived I just wanted a way out. I wanted to finally live a real life. I’ve lived too long… I just want to live simply before the end that should’ve come so long ago.”
Shaoni cried, more controlled now as she finally started to get a hold of herself.
“So what? You’d just give it to someone else! What about what that would do to them?”
“I just wanted out Keith! I know it was selfish, I don’t care! I just want the nightmare to be over!”
Shaoni screamed out at me. She was hysterical enough that I saw Stein’s hand shoot towards his belt. I’m sure he had that gun I saw yesterday waiting there so I held out my hand to signal him to wait.
“We did good once, in the beginning. But that changed, the wars the injustice I just couldn’t stand by and let that happen so I fought back. I spread the idea that fighting to the death was better than compromising for peace, compromising to save lives. That’s when we… I went wrong. I lead them astray! I was responsible for their deaths! Every! Single! One! I was bitter and resentful for years and I took it out on anyone I thought was guilty. I’ve lived with that for centuries! Do you think I don’t know I’ve become a monster Keith?!”
Shaoni finished with a look of profound shame on her face.
I never thought I’d see the day when I actually felt bad for Shaoni. Not some spur of the moment there’s a full on shootout going on above us and I probably shouldn’t let her die, feeling bad. No, I genuinely felt sorry for her after hearing her talk about the past with total honesty for once.
“You could come with us.”
I offered, looking back to everyone who’d gathered around her at that point. The looks on their faces all told me they weren’t fans of that Idea but only Tuck protested.
“I won’t help her crawl outta the bed she made! Keith, do you honestly think she doesn’t deserve everything thats comin’ to her?!”
“No, but I think she’s suffered enough. Besides, I really don’t want to leave someone down here to die knowing I could’ve done something about it.”
“You know what, fine! You care to much about this Keith, she deserves it! But if you want to take her with us don’t be surprised when she goes on and stabs ya in the back! Now come on, we should get moving.”
Tuck finished, throwing his hands up in the air in an act of frustrated surrender.
“So you realize we’ve got to go out there right? We’re not climbing back out the way we came in so heading out the main entrance is our only option at this point.”
Frank said bluntly as we watched Rocco scurry out of the hole they had dropped in from. We’d all collectively decided we were better off sending Rocco back home. Frank was right though, and even though the sounds of gunfire had started to sound a little farther away I still wasn’t a fan of getting anywhere closer to them.
“I might be able to help with that.”
Shaoni replied, getting to her feet with an air of determination.
“Stay behind me and move when I tell you to.”
We all fell into line behind Shaoni without another word. I guess all of us realized the the sobbing mess we’d seen before also just so happened to be the same Thunderbird that reduced most of Imalone to ashes. So despite how we felt about letting her lead us around it was probably our best chance at the moment.
I was a little surprised that none of… whatever was happening out there hadn’t spilled into the mine and made its way to us. We found out why just as soon as the single file line behind Shaoni made it out of the mine. The camp was devastated, what wasn’t on fire or covered in bullet holes was smashed or ripped to pieces. The ground was littered in bodies and shell casings. A few hundred feet in front of us a small group of Shaoni’s followers where taking shots at the men in black tactical gear Stein had mentioned. There was maybe ten of them but it looked like those ten had slaughtered nearly all of the followers that had made up this camp.
I threw up on the spot, I was so shocked by the scene in front of me I didn’t even manage to bend over, it just kinda waterfalled out of my mouth. I heard Bianca groan in disgust from behind me. I didn’t understand why everyone else wasn’t reacting the same way I was. As I came back to my senses after a minute or so I took off my now vomit covered jacket and felt the cool air through my shirt. Shaoni had instructed us to move and I must’ve moved on my own. All of us were gathered behind a small rocky outcrop near the entrance to the mine.
“You doing alright?”
Bianca asked quietly from behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at her and noticed the jewel encrusted dagger from before was clutched in her hand, twinkling with reflections from her now glowing blue eyes.
I could barely hear Bianca over the sounds of gunfire. Which almost certainly meant the last of the survivors were being wiped out. I couldn’t watch anymore death today so I just ducked lower behind our cover.
“You hear me Keith? Are you ok?”
Bianca persisted with a little more concern in her voice. I was still trying to pretend I hadn’t just seen dozens of dead bodies but I couldn’t really ignore her forever.
“No not…not really.”
I said, my voice coming out silent as a church mouse.
“Was it the-”
I cut her off
“I’ve never seen a dead body before, I mean I have but not like… not like that. The one guy his jaw was just…. Just gone. How do you guys do it? How do you just look at that and not react?”
Bianca sighed and looked me in the eyes. There was a kind of recognition in them, like she was seeing a little bit of herself in my situation.
“We’ve all seen a lot of horrible stuff in our lives, we’re used to it. Still it doesn’t make it feel normal to see… this. Do you think you can hold it together a bit longer or do you want me to…”
Bianca trailed off but it was obvious to me what she meant. Bianca was offering to soothe that terrified part of me with her powers again.
“Thanks but no, I’ll be alright I’ll probably be seeing this in my dreams for weeks though.”
I answered, trying to make a stupid joke to lighten the mood. Bianca cracked a hint of a smile and that was enough for me.
While we’d been talking everyone had failed to notice Shaoni was gone. She had stood up and was walking straight towards where those men in black gear where picking through what was left of her followers. She was glowing though, every single tattoo glowed with an intense white light and then in a flash she was gone, and the Thunderbird was in her place. Frank and Stein stared in awe of the huge beast in front of them. The Thunderbird looked exactly as I remembered. The blue feathers and steel gray beak reflecting in the light from its crackling white eyes.
“That’s it, That’s the god damn bird!”
Tuck yelled like we couldn’t see what was right in front of us. I think he was just surprised to see the Thunderbird again. Even after years of swearing to get back at “the bird” for the friends he lost I don’t think he ever thought he’d come face to face with it again. Seeing it must be bringing up more than a few memories he’d rather forget.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret! She’s been helping us Tuck, at least put your differences aside until we’ve gotten all this figured out.”
Stein yelled over an ear splitting screech from the massive bird as Tuck began to tense up. Every muscle in his body looked like it was about to pop, they were bulging to an inhuman degree. With a long exhale he loosened up and the swelling went down.
“Damn it… fine! But only till we got things settled here, after that I need to have a “conversation” with that… thing!”
Tuck shouted in begrudging agreement.
The men in front of us all turned toward Shaoni, her new form towering over them. Then I heard a familiar voice shout out,
“You wanted it gone, You’re looking at it! What’re you all waiting for!”
A commanding voice rang out from one of the people in front of us. I didn’t take long to spot the platinum blonde hair poking out from under the armored black helmet the woman wore, not just any woman, Katrina. I didn’t have much time to let that sink in before Katrina made a fist, stuck two fingers up in the air and shook them forward at us. After that, all hell broke loose.
The men behind Katrina rushed forward, guns drawn. Stein drew his own pistol and cocked it, taking aim at the approaching men. Tuck tensed up again and this time he didn’t hold himself back. Bones cracked and skin shifted to accommodate the inhuman muscles he now possessed. Hair sprang up all over his body and under it his face became more angular, his nose almost snout-like. Tuck looked something like a werewolf but definitely not the wolf man I expected. He looked more like an extremely hairy, unnaturally muscular feral person than any wolf man. Frank, Bianca, and I all hunkered down behind the outcrop, waiting for the worst to happen. Shaoni took to the sky with a flap of her massive wings as the gunfire started.
Nothing ever really prepares you for how loud a gunshot actually is, especially a whole bunch of them from fully automatic weapons. There’s nothing quite like being shot at either, at some point you just have to accept the fact that at any moment one of those things flying around you is going to hit you and just get ready for it. That doesn’t actually do anything to calm you down though, at least it didn’t for me. I was huddled behind that little outcropping like a puppy hiding from fireworks on the fourth of July. Wind gusted all around us as Shaoni flapped her wings furiously. The wind coming from her winds was so intense it blew the bullets being fired at her off course. Lead rained all around us as I listened to the cracks of even more bullets being fired. I heard growling as something roughly Tuck sized tore forwards toward the gunfire.
The sky was turning an enraged black and rain had already started to fall in sheets. Lightning struck the ground every so often as well, to close and regular to be natural. I peaked up over the outcrop at one point. I was just in time to see one of the men get struck by a bolt of lightning and tense up as he fell to the ground. As the men kept firing at Shaoni some of their shots started to hit home. The bullets that didn’t get turned away with the wind glanced off her massive form. Whatever those feathers were made off seemed to stop most of the bullets dead in their tracks but it was becoming obvious Shaoni couldn’t keep this up. From our position behind the outcrop Bianca and I both felt the beats of her wings and the gusts of wind that came with it coming slower and slower. We shared a glance for just a second, from the look in Bianca’s eyes, I felt certain we were doomed. More and more of the bullets seemed to be hitting Shaoni and her movements became slower still until eventually it happened.
With a shrill cry she fell from the sky, her blue features stained red in places. Shaoni hit the ground with an earthshaking crash and lay still. Katrina screamed something I couldn’t hear in the violent storm that still raged all around us. When I inched my way up to take a look I saw Katrina and her men charging toward Shaoni guns drawn. Behind them I caught sight of Tuck’s muscular figure getting back up from the ground. I hadn’t been keeping an eye on him before but it looked like he’d seen better days. He hesitated a bit before me moved, looking back to the outcrop where we were and over towards where Shaoni lay. He looked once, twice, then shook his head, mind apparently made up and ran at the men on all fours.
They didn’t hear him coming from behind over the storm and as they raised there weapons Tuck pounced. With one swipe of his humongous hand he sent one of the men flying off towards the forest. Even Katrina was surprised by Tuck’s sudden attack. The time provided by everyone taking a moment to decided who to point their gun at gave Shaoni just enough time to act. She shot one wing out, glancing off everyone near her and knocking them to the ground. One of them men’s helmets flew off with the hit and Stein quickly lined up a shot and fired, hitting the man in the top of the head. The look in his eyes was devoid of any emotion as he ducked back down behind the outcrop. I got the sense this wasn’t the first time Stein had killed, not surprising considering his time in Germany. Still, there was something unsettling about that look in the old scientists eyes.
As Katrina and her men got their bearings again and started firing at Tuck bullets plinked off the outcrop. Apparently they hadn’t forgotten we were there. I stole a quick glance over to where Shaoni had fallen but the Thunderbird was gone revealing a hole in the ground created from the impact of her fall.
“TUCK!”
I screamed out to get his attention for a moment. Tuck’s head swirled towards me just long enough for him to see my outstretched hand pointing to the hole in the ground. I grabbed Bianca’s hand and pulled her to her feet, making a mad dash to the hole. Frank and Stein saw what we were doing and followed after us. Stein fired wild shots off towards Katrina and her men while Tuck kept harassing them.
By some miracle Tuck was still going even as I saw bullets tear into him, he was an animal. He tossed the men around like rag dolls and at one point I turned to see him bring his now claw-like fingernails arching upwards. The head of the man he’d hit was bent back at a sickening angle, he was dead there was no question but Tuck didn’t even stop to spare a thought for the man. Seeing one of their comrades killed in front of them seemed to get the attention of the entire group of them. I hated to admit it but it was exactly the distraction we needed.
As we ran past the chaos of the fight I heard a mix of screams of agony and determination. At one point one of the men’s broken bodies flew over the four of us and hit the ground with a wet crunch that sent a shiver down my spine. We just kept running though, everyone following behind me because I looked like I had a plan. To be fair I did, it was just a bad plan, more of a feeling honestly. I thought if we could get into that hole Shaoni made we might find a way out, a real long shot but it was the best I could do right now.
By the time we reached the hole and I jumped in Tuck had thrown just about every one of Katrina’s men all over the little clearing we were in. Some where very clearly dead but some where rolling around and groaning. Katrina was still standing though, just before I fell deep enough into the hole I got a quick glance at her as she took aim at Tuck who seemed to finally be feeling all the punishment he’d been taking.
I didn’t even have time to scream a warning before my feet hit the hard rock below me and everyone else fell in on top of me.
“Sorry… sorry”
Bianca squeaked out as she pulled herself out of the pile of bodies we’d become. Frank, Stein, and Bianca seemed alright but my ankle was definitely sprained, badly.
“Can you walk on that?”
Bianca asked, examining my ankle in the strange blue light that emanated from further down the chamber we’d fallen into.
“Maybe? Here can I just lean on you?…. yeah, yeah that’ll work.”
I told her, using her to pull myself to my feet and leaning on her for support.
“What are we looking for Keith?”
Frank wondered out loud, a little fear creeping in to his voice as he looked around the chamber.
“I’m not actually sure, I was hoping we’d find Shaoni down here, maybe a tunnel out.”
I grunted out honestly, still reeling form the pain shooting up from my ankle.
“Wait where’s Tuck?”
“If he didn’t make it down we have to assume the worst. We can’t afford to wait now.”
Stein answered, quickly and professionally like someones life wasn’t at stake.
“He never had to come out here for me! We can at least wait for him, give him a chance-”
Stein cut me off
“None of us had to come here for you! We knew the risks so did Tuck. If we wait here now his sacrifice means nothing!”
Stein yelled at me. He was right, none of them needed to be out here but I still didn’t like leaving someone behind. As Frank and stein trudged forward Bianca and I hesitated a bit.
“I don’t want to leave him either but Stein’s right. Just lean on me and lets keep moving, we can come back later and look for his…”
Bianca trailed off before she could say body but I got the message, and if Bianca was moving forward I really didn’t have much of a choice.
We didn’t have to go far to find Shaoni, her usual deerskin clothing was ripped and stained with blood in places. All in all she didn’t look as bad as I thought she would. The light we saw at the entrance was coming from her tattoos as every one glowed brightly with blue light. The same light glowed faintly from four Thunderbird totems placed in the corners of the huge room.
“Welcome to my nest.”
Shaoni said with a dry chuckle, extending her arms out to her sides before immediately clasping them back over a wound in her side.
“Shaoni, are you… are you going to be alright.”
I asked, but before I could get any sort of answer I was interrupted by snarky laughter and a cocking gun.
“Well thanks for leading me right to where I wanted to be Keith.”
Katrina remarked as she walked into the room.
Bianca’s eyes glowed that all to familiar blue but Katrina was a step ahead of her.
“Yeah I wouldn’t try that if I were you. Sure you could force me to walk right out of here but it’s going to take a second to break me, longer than it would take me to pull this trigger.”
Katrina responded with a sneer, turning the gun on Bianca. Bianca jumped back like a scared cat. Ducking under my arm and putting all my weight back on my sprained ankle.
“Wait Don’t!… Argh!”
I cried out at her just before I fell to the ground.
“Ok, ok just… don’t.”
Bianca conceded, putting her hands up and backing away as the blue glow faded from her eyes. When he saw what Katrina was doing Frank wrestled Stein’s gun out of his hands and pointed it straight at Katrina, finger trembling on the trigger.
“Don’t you dare hurt her!”
Frank shouted, face turning red with fury.
“Well thats cute…”
And with an earsplitting bang Katrina turned and shot Frank in the leg. He fell to his knees, dropping the gun he’d been holding as Stein scrambled to hold him up.
“Don’t get in my way, don’t threaten me, and I won’t have to hurt anyone. Now Shaoni, where were we?”
Katrina cooed with murder in her voice as she took a step forward. I tried to pull myself up to my feet, only succeeding in making a pitiful cry as I fell back down again. Bianca flinched towards me but backed up fast when Katrina’s gaze shot her way.
“Keith, you’re still alive? I don’t know how you keep getting mixed into things but you’ve gotta learn when to just give up. I was supposed to kill all of you down there after the third trial. I gave you an out and you just stuck around. Tell you what though, you can still walk away cause I feel bad you got dragged into this in the first place. I have no idea what she was thinking, roping you into this with no idea about the supernatural at all.”
Katrina addressed me, pointing over at Shaoni after helping me to my feet. It hurt to stand but I was getting used to the pain.
“Above everything else I was supposed to kill the Thunderbird and thats what I’m going to do, after that you all can walk out of here.”
Katrina took slow steps toward Shaoni who simply glared at her. She didn’t try to run though, something told me she was ready, no matter how the next few minutes played out. But I had one more trick up my sleeve as I limped over, putting myself in between Shaoni and Katrina.
“She just wants out of all this Katrina! You have to know about where she came from, everything she’s been through!”
I yelled through gritted teeth, biting back the white hot pain shooting up from my ankle.
“I know enough It’s sad sure, but everyone’s got a sad story these days. She’s been flying around taking out whole towns to use as havens for people who want to follow this ass backwards sense of justice she’s got. I don’t want to become that person who’s hunting down supernaturals like her no questions asked just because I was ordered to. But in this case she’s responsible for hundreds of deaths. The “accidents” that happen in those towns are all her fault, and not all of them are as nice as Eagles Peak. The kind of people a town outside of any real form of government or law attracts aren’t the people you want to be neighbors with. She’s got to die Keith, so do you if your going to try and stop me.”
Katrina explained as she stalked closer to me. I really didn’t want to do what I knew I had to do next but I couldn’t watch anyone else die today.
“Alright, I guess there’s no other way then, Shaoni I’ll take on your burden.”
The whole room exploded into a chorus of “what” in varying degrees of shock but my mind was made up. I turned to Shaoni as she asked,
“Are you sure Keith?”
“Yes.”
Before anyone could recover from the shock of what I was about to do she reached out and grabbed my hands. I took hold of her’s and she said something in a language I couldn’t hope to understand as my vision went white.
When I could see again I was… somewhere else. Lightning flashed intermittently overhead and a grassy field extended out forever around me. In front of me stood a misty grey form of a bird it was huge, easily twice the size of the form I’d seen Shaoni take. Through its shifting misty form I could see Shaoni. The bird seemed to be talking to her but I couldn’t make anything out, I could only guess it was a Thunderbird spirit. It seemed to nod to Shaoni before it turned to me and stared me dead in the eyes. Its beak didn’t move, actually no part of it moved but I still heard its voice in my head as its eyes continued to boar into me.
“My chosen, Justice, claims she has lost her way, is this true?”
I couldn’t begin to describe how this voice sounded, powerful is the only word that came to mind. I didn’t feel like I was in any danger though, in fact I felt calmer than I ever had.
“She has.”
I got the sense that quick simple answers were probably best here.
“Justice spoke very highly of you. You offered to succeed her if she is to be believed.”
“I did, but how exactly do we-”
But I was cut off with a bow from the spirit who evaporated all around me. My vision blurred and everything went white again as I collapsed into the soft grass.
I came to on the floor next to Shaoni, it couldn’t have been that much later because neither of us had any new bullet holes in us.
“What did you just do?”
Katrina asked standing above me and looking absolutely stupefied.
“The Thunderbird is dead.”
Was my simple, potentially completely bullshit answer. Katrina looked from me to Shaoni and back again, eyes growing wide as the realization dawned on her.
“You know what? That works for me, just don’t cause us any trouble and we can just forget this whole thing ever happened. Oh, I like the new eyes by the way.”
With that Katrina walked off and climbed a rope ladder she had attached to the ground outside the hole we fell through.
Everything else that happened was a blur, we went back out and found pretty much all of Katrina’s men dead. Tuck was shot several times and barley breathing when Shaoni of all people found him. She called us over and Stein assured us he’d be alright if we got him back to the lab soon. We carried Tuck’s hairy form over to one of the SUV’s and raced back into town. On the way we drove past Katrina who’d also taken one of the SUV’s and was heading out of town. Bianca made a comment at some point that I looked different. When we got back to the house I looked in a mirror and saw my eyes where the same shade of grey Shaoni’s had been.
Speaking of Shaoni we took her with us, she followed us over to the car after she found Tuck. She looked a bit like a lost puppy at that point if I’m honest. I guess finally being able to live your life free of some strange sense of duty after hundreds of years will do that to you. Shaoni hasn’t actually said much since we settled back in at Bianca’s house. She eats and goes through the motions of normal life, she’ll even shoot you a warm smile if she catches you staring at her. I’m still not used to seeing her with green eyes though. I think she just feels lost but I’m ready to help show her the ins and outs of normal-ish life when she’s ready to ask for help.
Frank and Stein went back to doing their normal experimenting pretty fast. The whole thing past them by like a particularly eventful weekend. Even Frank’s bullet wound was quickly forgotten about. Pretty much as soon as he treated it it was like it never even happened to him. Tuck got back on his feet with a lot of help from Frank and Stein. He walks with a permanent limp now but other than that he’s fine. Richelle just about had a conniption when we told her what happened and she hasn’t left Tuck’s side since. She seemed surprised when we described his transformation and we came to find out he never told her about his, “Condition”. That may be why they’ve been so inseparable lately, she just wants to help him however she can and he sure isn’t complaining about that.
Tuck and Shaoni have been getting along as well. I never thought I’d see the day those two sat down and just talked but after a tense first few weeks they came to an understanding. They aren’t old friends now by any means but I’ve walked in on them both talking about their pasts. Maybe sharing stories helps them deal with living such long lives.
As for me and Bianca we started dating and thats been… well that’s been just great. I think its good for both of us cause after everything that happened at the old mine I was just a bundle of nerves. Having someone like her to talk to, someone who gets it, who’s seen so much worse helps put things in perspective. She finally has someone to really talk to in town too. Theres not a whole lot of trouble for us to get up to but we’ve started making a habit of pouring over Frank and Stein’s notes on the supernatural. Not the most riveting idea for a night in but I like learning more about whats really out there.
I still don’t feel any different after taking on Shaoni’s “burden”. Maybe that sense of duty she felt really was just all in her head, a promise to her people that she never let go. Honestly I haven’t tried to use whatever powers might come with my own condition. I just don’t feel like I need to. Like I told Katrina, the Thunderbird is dead. I’m sure not going to be the next Shaoni or anything like that but maybe It’ll help us find Brooke.
Thats the one thing that keeps Bianca and I up at night, we never found Brooke’s body. The two of us went up to the old mine a week or so after everything happened to look around for any sign of him but we didn’t find a trace. In fact the whole thing was cleaned up and the entrance to the mine was collapsed. I’m willing to bet whoever Katrina works for came back to try and wipe away any traces they may have left here. Maybe they found Brooke out there and dealt with him themselves, maybe he’s still out there somewhere. But for now everything’s been pretty calm, even normal around here.
Rocco is still a menace, Tuck still leaves the Eagle’s Roost door unlocked at all hours of the day, and theres still next to no people living here. Without Shaoni and her trials looming over me life is actually pretty good here. So that’s my story, how a storm and a huge bird dragged me halfway across the country and I started dating a succubus…right after I became the Thunderbird. It still seems crazy when I say it like that. Maybe I’ll dig up something on Brooke but for now I think I’ve finally found my new normal out here in the curiously named town with no Eagles and no Peaks.

• Waylon Fright is the leader of Wrath and third in command, outranked by Envy and Pride. He's an arms dealer that buys and sells firearms, but also offers assassins.
• There was some question to his leadership as, being a mercenary, he offers his services to any willing customer. That includes heaven and limbo buying and selling him weapons. Limbo may have put hits out on a couple of problem folks within, but there isn't any record of heaven ordering hits. Some speculate a cover up, but does Waylon care? Probably not.
When questioned by Pierce about his allegiance to hell, Waylon assured him that his loyalty lies with hell and any concerns Pierce has shall be answered with a background check. Waylon was right, but heaven denies ordering hits.
• He wasn't affected by the Piercing of Power, only requesting funds in exchange for territory.
And now onto Hemoria • Hemoria rose from private to general for her ambition and ruthlessness. She wasn't afraid to get dirty and do whatever it took to win a battle. She was only second in command to Waylon, amazing him and her superiors. When she was captured, one of heaven's generals cut off her arms. The logic behind this was she couldn't escape without them, dozens of locks that would require hands. Well, when you think about it, feet are similar to hands, they just pick up more dirt.
And thats how Hemoria escaped, granted, it was not easy, but she escaped and was hailed as an armless badass.
Waylon took note of this. He asked her all sorts of questions and she even got a little Intel as a souvenir. Eiichi was jealous, of course. But Pierce was thoroughly impressed and awarded her a medal that could be worn around the foot.
But, something that Greed, Gluttony, and Sloth all saw, were sparks between Waylon and Hemoria. This was the first time in god knows when, but it was hard to deny.
• These were the most peaceful times in hell, being a place where torture is commonplace. Anthony was gonna offer advice to Waylon, but stuck to organizing dinners, thank god. Greed ended up getting expensive gifts, and Sloth assured Waylon to play it cool man. Why Sloth and not Lust? Waylon did not see eye to eye with Lust in terms of women. (Shiloh did try offering drugs to calm Waylon, but they did jackshit.)
Hemoria wasn't totally sure at first of Waylon. Sure, she respected him as her boss, but his opportunistic perspective, (i,e doing arms dealings with heaven,) made her hesitate. He said he got good cash out of it, but Hemoria always advised to not deal with them too much, and if it's get dicey, to gtfo. But her concerns somewhat lied in Pierce, who took loyalty very seriously.
One of these deals went awry, leading to two demons dying and Waylon did not get the cash. Hemoria was the one who reported to Pierce and assured him that Waylon just wanted to make money and give Pierce's army more strength. He may still have questioned Waylon and did a background check, but it's a lot better than being fired, or worse, killed.
Waylon was eternally grateful to a very pissed off Hemoria, who told him not to deal weapons and cash with heaven again.
In short, she thought he was kinda dumb, and he thought she was kinda cool.
But even with his opportunistic goof, she still said yes when he asked her out, surprising herself. And the rest is history.
Waylon got her the silver prosthetic arms when they married. (She had a a pair made by Pierce but she didn't like them as much.)
Their wedding anniversary is a good sized celebration to this day.
All that's left is the leader of Lust, and when that's done, I'll shift the focus a little to world building.
I'll also make a relationship chart when I'm done.

How Minnesota's Weather and Aging Roofs Impact Home Insurance
Hey fellow Minnesotans, if you've ever found yourself scratching your head while navigating the home insurance process, you're not alone. Especially here in the Land of 10,000 Lakes, where our weather can be as unpredictable as a coin flip. Let’s break down why getting home insurance can feel more challenging than a snowy day in April, focusing on two key issues: our wild weather and those aging roofs.
Minnesota’s Extreme Weather: A Home Insurance Game Changer
Minnesota is notorious for its harsh weather conditions. From bone-chilling winters to stormy summers, our homes are always on the frontline. Winter brings heavy snowfall and ice dams that can damage roofs and gutters. Come spring, the quick thaw can lead to flooding. And don't forget about the summer when severe thunderstorms, hail, and even tornadoes are on the menu. This constant barrage of extreme weather increases the risk of damage to our homes, which in turn makes us a bit of a headache for insurance companies.
Insurance providers are all about assessing risks. More severe weather means a higher chance they’ll have to pay out for damages. To mitigate this risk, insurers might increase premiums, limit coverage on policies, or even decline to insure homes in the most vulnerable areas. So, if your home insurance rates have been creeping up, our notorious weather could be a contributing factor.
The Age of Your Roof Plays a Crucial Role
Now, let's talk about roofs — your home’s first line of defense against Mother Nature. In Minnesota, the age and condition of your roof can significantly impact your ability to get reasonable home insurance. Why? Well, an older roof is more likely to suffer damage in severe weather. Think about it: the shingles are worn, the flashing might be compromised, and it might not be able to handle a heavy snow load or resist hail as well as it once did.
Insurance companies are wary of insuring older roofs without higher premiums or specific stipulations. Some insurers require an inspection and might ask you to replace the roof before offering coverage. Others might offer a policy but exclude roof-related damages. This is why it’s crucial to maintain your roof well and consider its age when purchasing or renewing your home insurance.
What Can You Do?
First, understand your home’s vulnerabilities and address them. Regular maintenance and timely repairs can extend your roof's life and potentially lower your insurance costs. If you’re buying a home, factor in the age of the roof into your decision-making process. And always shop around for insurance options to find a provider that understands our local challenges and offers fair coverage.
Navigating home insurance in Minnesota doesn’t have to be as daunting as facing our winter storms. Being informed and prepared can help you secure coverage that protects your home and peace of mind, no matter what the weather throws at us. Stay warm and stay insured, Minnesota!

TLDR; 24F Constant arguments with mother, paying for house utilities, younger brother provisions, a few personal finances, mother wants to charge 800$ rent in what feels like retaliation, I want to move out but don't want to be in a bad financial spot.
I 24F college graduate, work a contracting position starting to make decent money. I have been working since i graduated for two years. I make 65K a year. i have been working here for a little under 6 months, before I was making 50k (Yay for the jump in salary). I max out my 401k, and I pay 185 a month for health insurance.
My issue here is my mother. The older I get, the less respect she seems to have for me as an adult simply on the basis of she is my mother so she can say and do anything she wants because she feels justified as she "only wants the best for me"
We recently got into an argument after I volunteered to her that i occasionally partake in marijuana. She got very agressive, very rude and then destructive of my property. I left the house for a week and then came back. In retaliation, she decided I now need to pay 800$ in rent. Whenever we get into a spat, suddenly I need to pay more. As my expenses are right now, i pay the electric bill which ranges from 330-365$, the Internet 93$, car insurance 240 (Theres three people on the car insurance for a total monthly bill of 424. I'm paying about half of it) and phone 100. I send the car insurance and phone to zelle through my mother. The 100 for phone is for my younger brother and my phone bill. Just the device and the insurance because my tmobile line is free. I also handle my younger brothers personal finances while he's in school. Money for groceries, clothes, books, etc.. things that he needs apart from his tuition and housing. Roughly let's say its about 300$ a month, . I do my share of the house work and grocery shopping for the home/ if my mother needs things from the store. When she needs something, she'll ask me if i need the money for it and then she will give me her coin purse and then a list of items to buy that clearly cost more than what I was given. I don't complain about it. I usually just set it down and use my own money to buy it without saying I need to be paid back and all as much as she claims she will pay me back etc..
We recently went on a small vacation and i paid for me and my younger brother, around 8k. Unfortunately a lot was going on around this time and my savings took a hit because of this. I've been rebuilding.
Whenever they do house renovations, my mother wants me to help pay for it. I live in the basement and recently paid 1.5k to help them redo the floors because the carpet bothered my mom so much. I kept saying we could get it cleaned, but she was against it and I gave in and paid for it. She now wants to put up a wall in my room, to separate my room from the laundry room so that (her reason is: she saw it in our neighbors home and thought it was good to allow some privacy in the basement. This was her idea, I didn't ask for it. I said from the very beginning that i don't have the money to pay for that. It's a pain having my room so open but I have never complained to her about it. She brought it up and said I have to pay the materials which I disagree to and it caused a slight argument.
She claims I don't pay rent or contribute to the house hold so it's only fair that I pay 800$ in addition. That paying for wifi should be counted as a "personal" expense because I need it to work my remote job, even though I completely disagree. The mortgage is about 2k. (Are you wondering if my dad helps pay anything? Because apparently what he does is he helps pay for the home is the mortgage). In talking with my father he has told me that he prefers i move out, that My mother and I can't handle disagreements and until i move out, theres no such thing as being treated like an adult because my mother simply wont see it that way.
I agree with him. As soon as my mother doesn't get what she wants out of me, or I do something or dress someway she doesn't agree, she becomes this super rude, and super aggressive person to me. The person i date, the clothes i wear, the things I choose to spend my money on. When i don't engage she will follow me around to yell at me and I will get annoyed and snap back by being petty or disrespectful in how I speak. Now it feels like teen years again. She is the only one I have this issue with.
It's one thing to say you need help with house finances so we should be able to sit down and discuss so that I have the ability to properly save and help out as much as i can where I can, but continuously using it as a power move..I feel slighted here.\
I have been wanting to move out for a while, this past year I was set back some, but the goal has always been to build enough to have a good emergency fund so I can move out. I told her to give me two months first and then she brought up how my dad said I wanted to move out. I explained that me wanting to move out has nothing to do with our argument as I had always planned to move out and I've expressed since I graduated school that I will not be staying home 'till I get married. This however has made me want to speed up the process.
I know realistically, two months isn't enough time for me to get to where I want to be, but while I'm working towards it, how do I move forward on this with her? Am I being unreasonable? I understand that in me saying give me 2 months, it was from a place of annoyance instead of straight up just saying no to 800, especially because i don't want to put myself in a bad financial spot even though part of me wants to say fuck it and figure it out if it means having my own sense of peace in my own place.

I (24F) am having issues with my friend group over the man (31M) that I picked. I’ll have to provide the long background story for context.
My friend group consists of several individuals. The specific few I will talk about I will refer to as “J” “M” and “A.” They are all (24F). J and M are a couple. These girls seem to have the strongest opinion about the ordeal. I met my friends in middle/high school. We didn’t become close until our college years. I love these people and we’ve gone on many trips and shared many experiences together.
In early 2023, I was asked out by a guy who frequented my place of work. He had apparently noticed me for some time. It is quite rare for me to “date,” but something about him gave me the sense I could trust him. He gave off good vibes overall. We went on a date a few days later and discovered we have everything in common. EVERYTHING. From our morals, values, hobbies, childhood upbringing, family dilemmas, favorite foods, love for traveling, etc. we are the same person in two separate bodies. The date was such a success and I knew then in my gut that he was going to be someone special.
Unfortunately, our beginning took a turn. We initiated dates back and forth that fell through due to valid reasons dealing with weather, conflicting schedules, etc. During this break between dates, he took the time to think if he was ready to start a new relationship. Although he liked me a lot, he was a little unsure unbeknownst to me. He’d been in several relationships before and they ended with him getting hurt whether they ended on good or bad terms. He was getting cold feet and didn’t know how to communicate that to me. He didn’t want to officially end it and he also didn’t want to lead me on so he said nothing for awhile. Although it wasn’t necessarily thought out, he was buying himself time until he knew how he felt (I learned all this later on). Then came about a month with no contact. During this time, he was dealing with family drama and I was becoming anemic. I eventually did need a blood transfusion. I mention this because that month apart went by fast and we didn’t have much time to linger over the thought of each other. I did notice he hadn’t reached out though. I’m certain now that he wouldn’t have ignored my messages had I sent any, but I was honestly waiting for him to reach out first. I was a little hurt to think that he had changed his mind and didn’t have the guts to tell me.
Sometime in that next month, when I returned to work after my hospital stay, I saw him at my job. I thought he saw me. He left and said nothing. I was actually devastated. He had been so kind and I didn’t know why he had a change of heart. At least he should’ve told me about it anyway. I decided that I was going to text him that night. I mentioned I had seen him at work, thanked him for the initial first date, apologized for not reaching out on my end, and I sort of wished him farewell under the assumption he wasn’t interested. It was very professional and I let him know that there were no hard feelings had he changed his mind. I was expecting some lame, typical excuse response if I even got one. He sent back this long text message apologizing, explaining himself, and asking me questions. He explained his fears and asked if we could start a “friendship” of sorts to keep a slow pace. There was chemistry of course, but he was afraid of me and now I was afraid of him. There was enough there to where we wanted to spend time together, but I needed to be sure I could trust him with my feelings and he also needed to be sure he could trust me with his heart. To this, I agreed to see him again.
We spent time going on casual dates and talking a lot. He became my friend. We talked a lot about what happened with the break over the following months. I told him how hurt I was and how communication is important to me. He understands the impact of going no contact abruptly. It has been entirely resolved and I also take responsibility in my part of not reaching out to him either. Ever since the break, he became consistent. We’ve talked every single day since. He was patient with me and I was patient with him. We earned each other’s trust and are now madly in love. It happened slowly and quietly. I have never met such a soft, kind, understanding, sensitive man. I am more myself with him than I ever have been before. If soulmates are real, then he is mine.
Now to the tea. Of course, my friends knew (most) all of this. I told them about the big events as they were happening. They were excited for me on my first date, they sympathized with me when he no longer reached out, etc. They were surely surprised when I decided to spend time with him again. I asked them to trust me. I didn’t think he was a bad guy. What happened was a mistake. As my man and I spent more time, my friend J would reach out asking me questions about him. I told only her about my concerns in the beginning. Back then, I was guarded and nervous to proceed, but it was something I knew I had to do. I had to find out for sure what kind of person he was.
Now, J, she’s a fireball. I love that girl, but I’ll admit she’s one to hold a grudge, keep score, and quietly judge. She’d never admit it. I made a mistake in choosing her as my confidant in those early days. I was looking for advice when speaking to her because I do value her opinion. She then went and told the other friends in my group, M and A included, about my man—what a bad person he seems to be, using her words, which frankly, are very different from mine. What makes me mad is she got to tell them about him, not me. Not even any of the positives either. This was all before they had even met him and they already didn’t like him. They had no problem scolding me for being with him.
Months down the road, I arranged a meeting for everyone. My friends thought a bar would be a great place. Still not sure about that. It was awkward. Nobody talked more than a few words. My man was shy and my friends didn’t really do anything to make him feel welcome. I was the only one babbling all night it seems like. You’d think that as time goes on, it’d be different. More meetings will help everyone be comfortable. Nope. Every time after was awkward. They haven’t spoken more than a few words to him at a time. It’s very “surface level” talk even now—a year later.
My last birthday had come around and J, M, and A took me out for drinks. It turned into a lecture session about how I seriously need to break up with him. They scolded me on “allowing a man to waste my time.” They criticized his career choice, our age difference, his “character,” etc. Mind you, this is based off of this one mistake and a few other things that I mentioned to J in private that were no longer an issue. I cried myself to sleep that night thinking I was going to have to break up with him to please them.
Of course, I couldn’t. They still invite him to events and friend functions out of politeness, but it’s always the same. They don’t acknowledge him. It makes me especially sad when my man makes comments like, “I’ve never seen so many shy people in one room” (He thinks my friends are just shy when they’re really just ignoring him). He’s printed out their pictures for our scrapbook and labeled them as “new friends.” I haven’t told him the truth and I probably never will.
A few months ago, J, M, me, and my man had plans to go to this local indie concert. Tickets are free. The concert was on a Friday. The next day, Saturday, was scheduled for my man’s nephew’s 2nd Birthday Party. His brother’s family would be traveling from out of town to celebrate their son. Well, things didn’t go according to plan. The brother decided to come a day early, the day of the concert. I should have cancelled the concert date then when I learned this news, but I told J and M we were still coming because my man still wanted to go. We figured we’d be able to sneak away since the brother had come by himself and wanted to come over and take a nap since he works odd hours. Well, my man’s dad dropped by and the brother didn’t take his nap as he’d planned. Now, having company over with expectations, I made the difficult decision to cancel with my friends last minute. I realize it is rude, but something came up. I didn’t see how we could go anymore.
My friends let me have it. J and M were so angry. They told me how rude we were and how disrespectful it was to their time to opt out of the concert which was free and in town by the way. There was also the two of them and they could have easily gone on a date. I think it would’ve been equally rude to leave our company or rush them out the door. I picked my battle. I should have gave them more notice, but I didn’t know we weren’t going until the last minute. It couldn’t have happened any other way. We fought over text for awhile. She accused me of being so different now, saying and doing things out of the ordinary for me. The truth is, I’m just growing up. J ended the conversation saying, “Well, we’re just going to stay mad.” She claimed to understand my circumstance, but she didn’t. We didn’t talk for weeks after.
I eventually got invited to a breakfast date to which I declined. I have been avoiding all of them for awhile. I keep getting “I miss yous” from J. She keeps asking when we’re gonna hang out next. It’s also true that J and M are now moving 4 hours away at the end of the month. My problem may solve itself. That does sound awful though. I feel like an asshole. I have not been a good or present friend lately. I’m so busy, tired, and I have no room for petty drama. I’m not giving up my friends yet, but I will gladly choose this boy over them. He’s given me more peace in one year than they have in five years.
My boy and I are now engaged. I told my friends the news. They said some nice things I guess. J texted to let me know “If I’m really happy, she’ll support me.” This would be nicer if it was coming from a concerned friend. To me, this whole situation feels controlling. It’s more than concern. There’s venom behind it. They don’t care about the wedding either. They don’t ask me fun questions or get excited when it comes up. When I eventually explained how he proposed, they seemed disinterested. I could tell they were judging the experience. When I finally showed J the engagement ring in person all she said was, “Take it off” in a snippy tone so she could try it on.
I’m so disappointed in my friends. I always wanted a big friend group and especially to share this big milestone with. I haven’t even gotten excited about wedding planning because I’m dreading going over the bridesmaids list. Anyway, if you’ve made it this far, thanks for listening. I definitely need to get this off my chest and outta my life. I can’t believe I’m losing my friends over a boy.

The smell of money... Tea, incense, and sweet foods... All of this to be found in FuMuCha. A tea shop in San Francisco Chinatown, FuMuCha was a safe place where immigrants and their descendants could coexist in peace. The Lees, a Korean immigrant family, moved in many years ago with their toddler son. Their son, Vincent Lee, was easily impressionable and very outgoing. He easily made friends because he was taught to help and be helped to survive. "Money isn't everything, but take the opportunity to live", his parents told him. His parents were smart, they befriended and learned Chinese culture to make life easier to start. Time passes, preschool, ESOL, elementary, then... Middle school.
A loud thud. Blood on the ground. The silence of fear... And trembling...
"Go back to your country!" "You're not welcome here!" "Look at this loser trying to be normal."
Vincent is on the ground, bloodied nose, bruised face, cracked ribs... "I'm... Sorry...". He regretted living. He had no purpose. Living day to day just like the other kids... Until they were taught world history. No matter what he did, the kids bullied him for being the same ethnicity of those who did terrible things or were under the foot of another. Nanking, The railroad, comfort women, the boxer's rebellion, the cultural revolution... He was blamed for all of that just for being born. Isolation, growing his hair out because he refused to go out. This torment lasted until 8th grade.
Vincent walked home from school... The last day of 7th grade, he heard something... "Hiya! Ha!". He turned to look. A man on the television, a weird hairstyle, funny clothes, but... Amazing fighting skills. Vincent immediately wanted to fight like him. He found someone... Someone who could save him from his hell. He used the last of his savings to buy all of the kung fu dvds he could. He spent all summer on his own watching, learning, training... To be like the men... No, the heroes, that saved his life. He found purpose. Being someone else was so... Different. But he needed to be. When he confronted those bullied him, they couldn't win... Vincent was like a bat out of hell. Sloppy techniques, but fast, dedicated... Eventually, with each opponent he defeated, he got a bit better each time... Less bruises, less bloody noses, but... More heart. Too much. His parents decided that America may not be safest... After all, Vincent attracted the attention of the underworld Chinese Mafia. They were going to induct him once he got into highschool because of his knack for violence... So they moved.
"Korea? Why? Why're we moving? I'm getting better, Ma! I'm strong now!" Vincent didn't understand... Not until his mom held him close and said, "that's right, you're very strong. You're my strong baby boy... But ma and pa are not like you... Make sure you protect us too, okay? Protect your family in Korea."
Vincent understood that his new hope wasn't meant for just him... Fighting? Is that all there is to power? No... There's gotta something out there that will teach him what it is to be strong... Something like four schools...

For some time I've been married to my wife. I didnt know her before we started to date back in 2021. She told me she wanted me to get her out her funk bc she was depressed for some reason. I too had been going some things thati needed to deal with and I had already made my mind up to do it alone since I had to learn to restart a life after 5 years of being in another relationship. That woman hurt me. For lack of a more appropriate word. I didnt get to have time to deal and process my emotions. I wasnt able to heal from the traumatic events in my life and learn to be ok with myself again. Out of the blue she is in my DMs. Not even a year after we marry. I was manipulated I to marriage. She bribed me with things and tried to buy me the whole entire time to make me believe that it was her that I was wanting to be with. The only thing that happened is made me resent her for doing that and playing this mind game of hers where she thinks she has all control. I have tried to explain how this is playing out yo me and she gets defensive and yells can't have a combo not it. Changes the subject or gives me an answer that's irrelevant to the whole subject. Hi ow do I fix this? I love her bc thru out the years she has been there but i feel like she did it for the wrong reasons. She was there when I fought and gained custody of my child but she's also been the reason I can't fi d peace anymore. Narcissist, manipulative, and a liar. How do I look passed this and make it to where I can't trust her and believe her. She's gone thru some some trauma too so I'm hoping it's not too late to help her see her negative toxic traits and we can go back to growing together instead of being played with. My emotions are not something you'd like to mess with I become angered easily if i feel my emotions aren't being tdd taken care of

Kadillac Kirk had been a good friend of mine for several years. I had met him through friends from The Spring Stage; and he never had anything to do with The Imp, which is why he didn’t appear in the Married Mary saga. Mary would have totally thrown herself at him, and Kirk would have definitely “thrown it in her.” He loved the ladies and often remarked that there was no such thing as an unappealing woman, nor was there anything sweeter than finding the pearl of passion in an outwardly plain dame. Fortunately for Kirk, he never met Mary. This was probably fortunate for Mary as well, seeing as Kirk was a confirmed bachelor and his rakish nature might have broken her fat heart.
Kirk was an older guy. Not MOE old, though. He was in his early forties, but he easily passed for a carefree dude in his 30s... not that he lied about his age. I only mention this trait to juxtapose Kirk’s genuine youthful air with Moe’s unconvincing youthful farce. Kirk dressed normally, avoided stupid jargon, and never busted out gimmicks like tarot cards or spells. He just existed, behaved affably, and people liked him for it.
He drove a classic 1962 Cadillac El Dorado convertible with red leather interior, and he lived in a charmingly quaint (and ridiculously expensive) neighborhood. How he made his fortune remained a mystery, but he never bloviated about his wealth. He just threw spectacular parties and people showed up. And, to my knowledge, he never tried to lure women into bed with his money (although I’m sure he got his fair share of boom-boom thanks to his digs and his wheels, even if the gold-diggers denied their monetary agendas).
Kirk was legitimately handsome. He was a drummer, he had a full head of black hair, he was clean-shaven, he worked out, and he knew all the hidden gems in Wellsprings. So why hadn’t I tried... or even desired to date him? I don’t know. I just didn’t feel drawn to him like that. He felt like a cool uncle and he had, thus far, never done anything to change my perception. Plus, the age difference weirded me out a little. Kirk didn’t look forty; but knowing that he had so much more life experience than I did created a power imbalance that would have creeped me out if we’d been dating. As buddies, I just felt supremely cool riding in his Cadillac, smoking Fantasia cigarettes, and hitting the speakeasies and jazz clubs I would have never known about if it weren’t for Kirk’s connections.
And he had been a good person to talk to about my romantic woes. He never lecherously suggested that I should date him, and he gave the type of tempered advice that only comes with lived experience. But he often lightly mocked me for my crush on Dennis and he did a hilarious impression of Smegal popping too soon over his “precious.” So when Mary “got me back” by doing whatever she did with to Dennis, I called Kadillac Kirk and told him the drinks were on me if he’d be my designated driver for the night.
Why hadn’t I called Whisky??? Well, A) Kirk was way more fun to hang out with, at least from my past experiences up to that point. And B) I needed to bitch about a boy, something I couldn’t do in good conscience in front of a guy I was dating. So I put on the sexiest plunging halter dress I owned, applied heavy eye makeup and spikey accessories, braved a pair of stilettos, and sashayed out to Kirk’s convertible. I felt like a badass rock star. I probably looked like a try-hard hooker.
Kirk: Daaaaay-um! Somebody really did do a number on you, huh? I know you said you were upset, but the gents are gonna be writing thank you notes to that fat girl and that butt-fucking hobbit.
Me: I just need to feel pretty and numb. And I trust you to keep me from making a fool of myself.
Kirk squeezed my shoulder. “I’ve got you. You do whatever you need to do to get rid of these demons.”
He sparked up a J and offered me the first puff. I gladly accepted. He took one puff of his own, but said that the rest was mine since he didn’t want to drive stoned. See? He was responsible! Weed wasn’t legal in California yet, so I got a little bit baked before I stashed the sativa in the glove box and wrapped a scarf around my hair like a starlet from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Kirk sped out of the parking lot and said he was taking me to a downtown hotel that was hosting a party that night in their lush lobby.
Kadillac Kirk pulled up to the main entrance, paid the valet, and then opened my door. I was wobbly from the weed. And I had stupidly decided to wear heels. You can get high or you can wear high (heels). You can’t have both. Not if you’ve repeatedly injured both ankles (as I have). I had to take Kirk’s arm to keep from keeling over. “Can people tell I’m stoned?” I whispered. Kirk replied, “Nobody’s paying any attention to anyone else’s intoxication. I promise you that much.” I nodded, steadied myself, and strutted alongside my very cool friend, feeling a little more confident.
A live jazz orchestra was playing Cole Porter as we entered the lobby. Everything sparkled. The music was even more intoxicating than the spliff had been. “Just One of Those Things” brought tears to my eyes since the lyrics hit every raw nerve regarding the Dennis debacle. But I smiled. It might sound mental, but being distraught over a trash fire of a one-sided romance was exhilarating. Immature, for sure. But also exhilarating. You see, that kind of sadness doesn’t hurt. Not really. It stings. It leaves little bruises, but it’s very safe to wallow in because you haven’t actually lost anything. Melancholia over that which you never had is as sweet as it is bitter; and that type of twisted splendor is rivaled only by Stendhal.
“Here's hoping we meet now and then. It was great fun, but it was just one of those things.” I sang along with the band, and a fat tear rolled down past my melancholic smile and onto my chin. Kirk brushed it aside. “Too close to home?” I wiped away the remnants of the tear’s journey from eye to chin and smiled a more genuine smile. “The perfect distance from home. Shall we get drinks? Remember, I’m buying.”
Kirk: No, no. This is your time to heal. And I’m here as your pal, not your chauffeur. What would the lady like?”
I pretended to barf. Kirk knew I hated it when he got overly formal and overly attentive. So he did it just to mess with me. “Shot of vodka,” I replied.
Kirk: How many?
I thought briefly. “FIVE.”
Kirk: Five to one, baby. One in five...
Me: No one here gets out alive.
Kirk: Are you able to hold yourself upright, or should you come with?
I took a seat on an ornate, damask-upholstered chaise lounge. “I’ll be okay. And I was kidding about the five shots.”
I sat there lost in the music for a while. I thought very little about Dennis. Even less about Mary. And not at all about Whisky (whom I had shagged less than a week ago). My mind danced through the ornate lighting in the hotel lobby, and I suddenly felt the need to join the hoity-toity guests on the dancefloor!
Kirk returned with four shots of vodka. Two for him, two for me. That was quite reasonable of him. He knew damn well that I couldn’t handle five shots, but he also knew that I was in a... state. One that called for more than a single shot. I raised a both miniature glasses to “No more ninnyhammers or hairy-footed lovers.” Kirk did his hilarious Smegal impression, we double-toasted, and downed the shots. The band launched into “Let’s Misbehave,” and I kicked off my stilettos and made a beeline for the dance floor.
“There’s something wild about you child that’s so contagious. Let’s be outrageous! Let’s misbehave.” Kadillac Kirk swept me up, twirled me around, and dipped me as we both sang along with the lyrics. I wasn’t swooning for him, but I was enthralled by the moment. The music, the dancing, the combination of booze and bud... so I kissed him as he pulled me back to my feet. And he kissed back. In a way that Dennis never had. In a way that Whisky’s beard wouldn’t permit. I didn’t feel the visceral sensations that I’d felt when Dennis had kissed me, but it felt nice to feel desired. And then I noticed that other guests were watching us and applauding. Now, that was a dopamine rush if ever there was one!
I gently broke away from the embrace, high-fived Kirk and returned to the chaise lounge to put my stupid shoes back on. He followed me and smashed his face back onto mine. I pulled away and laughed. “It was a moment,” I told him. “I appreciate the dance, and that kiss was the perfect finale. But it’s not happening again.”
Kirk: Not to worry, Valerie. I know you. I knew all along that we were performing, and I was more than happy to be your scene partner.
Me: And dance partner! Those were some excellent moves! I didn’t know you had ballroom training.
Kirk: You name it, I’ve mastered it. Another drink for the lady?
I pretended to barf again. “Not yet. I’m not sad right now. Do you mind if I just sit here and enjoy the music?”
Kirk: Ah. My kisses do have healing properties...
I flipped my hand up at him. “Knock that shit off, bro. I wanted to hang out with you because I trust you not to get weird. Even if I get weird, I know you have the maturity to balance me out.”
Kirk: Are you calling me old???
Me: No. I’m calling you rational, responsible, and respectful.
Kirk: Well, now. If you can articulate an alliterative statement that fluently, then you clearly aren’t drunk enough!
I dismissed this comment as a joke. And he did indeed knock off the flirtation. We had a perfectly pleasant time chatting and dancing (no more kissing, though). And then I noticed a girl I knew from Into the Woods entering the lobby. She’d played Florinda and I’d played Little Red. I called her name and waved enthusiastically. She waved back. And then her date entered. It was D.E.N.N.I.S. I sank into the chaise. Kirk caught on immediately. “The hobbit???” he asked. I nodded silently. “You wanna make out again?” he enthused. I shook my head. I had to go say hello to Flo. And I had an idea...
I crossed the lobby, smiled, squealed, and hugged her.
Florinda: Lil’ Red! It’s been forever! So glad to see you!!! This is my friend, Denny.
From the corner of my eye. I could see Dennis shifting uncomfortably. I refused to look directly at him, neglected to acknowledge Flo's introduction and continued to converse only with her. "So glad to see you, too! What have you been up to since we left the woods?"
Dennis: C’mon, Val...
Florinda (appearing oblivious to the iciness between me and Dennis): Oh, I had some drama after the show closed. I'll have to tell you about it some other time... Have you seen Prince Big Bad (Scumbanger) lately?
I laughed. “Last time I saw him, he was hitting on some nasty fat chick at The Imp.”
Flo and I both scoffed at the pervy pest. Into the Woods was where I’d initially met Scumbanger. He played The Wolf/Cinderella’s Prince. Again... typecasting. There’s a whole essay in my brain about my first encounter with the pest, during which he quoted the song that he sang to me in the show, “Hello, Little Girl.” But it gets into some pretty uncomfortable territory because he made me feel... excited. Well, excited and scared. Nothing of note happened during Into the Woods, but our odd interactions did kind of set the stage for some extremely regrettable events during that Cats cast party.
I excused myself, saying that I needed to get back to my friend. And then I leaned in and said in a hushed voice to Flo, “Watch your ass with that one. If he’s the Denny I’m thinking of...” I gave her a look that only another female would be able to read. Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded. Dennis continued to shift as though he were trying to hold in a massive dump. “BABE! Uh...”
Flo apparently answered to that moniker as well. “What is it, Denny? Don’t worry. That was just telepathic girl talk. You apparently have a reputation...”
Dennis: Different Denny. I assure you I’m a pious gentleman.
Me: Ah. My mistake. Well, then. You guys have a good time! They’re playing Cole Porter, and the band is delovely. Great to see you, Flo!
I hugged Flo again, gave Dennis a curt nod, ignored the scent of mandarins and mountain air, and returned to Kirk.
I collapsed on the chaise lounge, exhausted from holding back the rage. I had no right to be mad at Florinda. I hadn’t seen her in three years, so how was she supposed to know that I’d had a thing with Dennis? Hell, I couldn’t even be mad at Dennis because the last time he and I had spoken in any meaningful way, I’d told him that I was no longer entertaining my crush on him. So why was I surprised to see him dating??? And why had he never taken ME out on a date like this??? And why wasn’t I smitten with Kadillac Kirk who HAD taken me out on a date like this, was an objectively excellent kisser, and a bona fide BALLER? What was wrong with me???
Kirk suggested going down the street to a quaint little bar and then sobering up at a diner closer to my apartment. I numbly nodded and followed him in silence for a few blocks. He assured me that I had “turned several heads” on the way to the new location, but I neither cared nor believed him. This wasn't the type of numbness I'd been aiming for. Now I needed to get schnockered. “Five shots of vodka, please.” Yes, I was serious.
Kadillac Kirk, my reliable designated driver, ordered only a beer and watched in something across between astonishment, concern, and delight as I slammed all five shots in rapid succession. I half expected to immediately retch all over the bar. But I felt fine. I half expected to immediately lose consciousness and wake up in the hospital. But I remained coherent. How I’d managed to take in that much hard liquor and suffer no direct consequences, I’ll never know.
I think I wanted to suffer. I wanted to either feel nothing at all or to feel a sickness bad enough to distract me from the scorching sting that pulsed through my being when I realized that I had lost the abstract notion I’d been addicted to this entire time. Hope. It wasn’t Dennis himself I couldn’t quit. It was that drug called hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe Dennis would give our romance a fair chance. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would make peace with himself, get his mind out of his crotch, and enjoy some agenda-free togetherness. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would stop bloviating about his admittedly impressive accomplishments for five fucking minutes and ask about my life. I had my own reasonably impressive accomplishments, even if they paled in comparison to his. A proper suitor would have enjoyed hearing about them.
But seeing him out with another woman, a woman who had no reason to parade her Dennis escapades before me as some means of revenge, a woman he was clearly courting of his own volition... My hope had died. It died before I’d had time to wean myself off it. Now I had to mourn the loss of hope, which is a very tricky brand of grief to navigate. Vodka wasn’t the answer, but it was what I had to work with. So it would have to do.
After enough time had passed without vomiting or collapsing, I asked Kirk to bring his car around to the bar so that I didn’t have to walk two and a half blocks drunk and in heels. He nodded and dramatically leaned in for a kiss. I recoiled. “DUDE! I told you. The moment has passed.”
Kirk: I beg your pardon. I misread your eyes. Thought I saw a green light...
Me: It’s fine. I just want to go home while I’m still feeling okay.
Kirk: Of course. Your chariot will be here soon.
He skipped off to fetch his Cadillac and I noticed that the lights in the bar were beginning to dance a bit. This should have been concerning. But then I realized that I was giggling. Wait... What? Oh shit. Sure, I was drunk from those shots. But what I was feeling in that moment wasn’t drunkery. It was stonery. Kirk probably misread my face because my pupils were dilated. Not from desire, but from drug use.
Some of you might be thinking that I was a bad friend for not introducing Lucy, an old dude connoisseur, to Kirk. Well... I did. Several years before the events of this story. He adored her. She, on the other hand, thought he was immature. And she wasn’t wrong. Lucy was astute when it came to sussing out a person’s true nature. Far more astute than I. Her initial assessment that Kirk was immature is about to be vindicated. Stretch those cringe muscles! It’s almost time for pie...
I somehow managed to get to his car. I honestly don’t recall how I got there. Did one of the bartenders carry me? Did some kind patron allow me to lean on him? Had Kadillac Kirk carried me out? I’m not sure. But my memory ceases to be fuzzy about halfway to the 24-hour diner. It might have been the very same 24-hour diner where Mary pulled her... shenanigans. I’ll never know.
Kirk: Would you say that you’re more drunk or more stoned?
Me: STONED. Definitely stoned.
Kirk made some sort of grunty noise and reached for my thigh. I slapped his hand.
Kirk: Stoned but not amorous? That’s rare.
I started laughing rather unkindly. “You’re a fucking horndog! I thought you were my safe straight male friend, dammit.”
Kirk: I solemnly swear that your safety is my primary concern, my stoned beauty.
I pretended to throw up.
Kirk: So... You’re not horny. But are you hungry? The diner I’m heading to makes this Maple Walnut Pie with the most sumptuous... sensual cream and exquisite drizzling of...
Me: Ew! Stop trying to bang the pie. Bro. Are YOU stoned? (Then I remembered the question.) Yes, I’m hungry. But I don’t like nuts. I’ll have banana cream.
Kirk made that repulsive grunty noise again. “Uhhhhh... Mmmmmm. Cream. Yessssss. Yes, we’ll be there in just a minute.” He was squirming in the driver's seat.
Me: GROSS, DUDE! If you’re gonna be like that I’ll just order HASH brows. Get it? Hash??? (I giggled.) You can’t make that sound nasty.
Kirk: Forgive my jokes. I think my blood sugar’s a bit low.
As Kirk parked, I began to wonder how I might get away with walking shoeless into the diner. The stilettos had to get off my feet. At least while I was walking. And Kirk was kind enough to give me his socks and wear his loafers “island style” into the establishment. Okay, that was gallant of him. Maybe he was going to behave himself for the rest of the evening.
I wasn’t terribly talkative as we sat down, and he expressed a bit of concern for my emotional well-being. I wasn’t coherent enough to explain what was happening to my emotions and I wasn’t sure I trusted him with my deep, dark secrets at that point. So I shrugged like a sulky teenager, ran my hands over my messy, windblown hair, and mumbled that I was “just hungry.” And right on cue, a very kind, slightly older waitress with a sweet southern accent stopped by to take our order.
Kirk: Ah, yes. We’ll have two cups of black coffee. And we’ll share a slice of that delectable Maple Walnut Pie.
Waitress: Oh, honey. That pie is scrumptious! I take it you’ve been here before?
Kirk: I have. This will be her first time to taste the splendor.
I hated to be a killjoy, but I interrupted and said to the waitress, “Ma’am? I’m sure the Maple Walnut is excellent, but could I please get a slice of Banana Cream? And a big glass of ice water?
Waitress: Sure, hon! Banana Cream’s just as yummy! I’ll be right back with those coffees and that big water.
Kirk was sucking on the tip of his forefinger and shaking his head a bit. “You’re passing up so many sensational... sensual...”
I put my forehead on the table and growled. “You swore you’d stop being nasty!” I held this #headdesk pose for quite some time before I finally lifted my head... only to see that Kirk was still sucking his fingertip and staring at me like a wild animal. “Pleeeeeease be normal,” I whined. “It’s been a really weird night for me.”
Kirk: Indeed. Many surprises. You know... You’re like titanium. Your flame burns so fast and so bright, if a guy doesn’t get in there while the iron is hot, he’ll never get another chance. I was too slow.
What the...? I was pretty sure he was wrong about titanium burning quickly. I’m no chemistry wiz, but my dad and my oldest brother are both big-brains when it comes to physics and chemistry. So I picked up some things just listening to them talk. Accurate or inaccurate, Kirk was being creepy again. He’d never been creepy towards me before, although I’d seen him act like this with other women. Usually with staggering success. Why????? His money. It had to be his money. Kirk was a nice-looking man, but holy shit... No amount of good looks could save this creep show
And then, our sweet waitress sat down our coffees, my water, and the two slices of pie. After I gulped down a whole bunch of water, I grabbed a fork, prepared to quell my munchies... and then I froze. Kirk was quickly flicking his finger back and forth across the top of his pie. And moaning. He noticed my wide-eyed stare, smirked, sucked the tip of his thumb, picked up the plate with both hands, and began flicking his tongue across the tip of the triangular pie slice. And moaning some more. Well, there went my appetite.
Kirk took his middle finger and jabbed it into the crustless vertex of the pie slice, then he began pumping it in and out like a piston, and flicking his thumb across the increasingly demolished top layer of whipped cream. He gasped this time. People were starting to stare. His pointer finger joined his middle finger in the piston action, and he replaced his thumb with his tongue. Between flicks of the tongue, he groaned, “Oh yeah, baby... Let me taste you,” but it was kind of hard to understand him.
And I was either about to run to the back office, tell them that I was in danger and needed a police escort home... OR I was about to burst out laughing at the spectacle. Kirk continued... He removed his fingers and gregariously licked pie filling off of them. "Ohhhhh," he groaned, "I got you soooo sticky. So sweet. So moist." And then he started sucking his fingertips again, switching from middle to pointer, middle to pointer and emitting a delighted little, “Mmmmmm” with every suck.
Finally, he jabbed his fingers back into the utterly destroyed pie, lowered his face into the mess and lapped loudly and passionately, moaning, grunting, and mumbling “Come on, baby. Come on. Mmmmmm. Come on.” I could see the waitress and some dude in a suit heading over to the table, so I sank down in my seat, partially covered my face, but continued to watch the train wreck. At last, Kirk shuddered violently as he splatted his entire hand onto the plate and rubbed furiously. And then he locked eyes with me. He sucked the tip of his thumb one final time and said, “You...” There was a long pause during which Kirk lovingly stroked the mess he’d made. “You... are the pie.”
I don’t hang out with Kadillac Kirk anymore. But he’s still a bachelor, ladies!

Greetings!
We at Honor Games released award winning Command & Conquer 3: Tiberium Wars modification Tiberium Secrets. We are now pursuing our first commercial titles.
We consist of passionate individuals striving to get into the games and entertainment industries, which has resulted in us networking with many developers and executives in the industry.
We're looking for dedicated individuals interested in continuing a new project with us.
You can learn more about us here:
Honorgames.co
~Opening: Lead writer~
We at Honor Games (based in Pacific standard time (GMT-8) are searching for a competent lead writer to take on the hands-on details of implementing world building and character backstories of the IP we create. As of now, we have 1 project in active development (vultures), 1 project in preproduction (charge!), and 1 project waiting for proper personnel support (Equation of Humanity).
As a writer myself, I’ve come to understand that I’m more interested and able to do the big picture writing and act as a “show runner.” I’m less interested in IMPLEMENTING the nitty gritty details myself. I’D SAY I’M GOOD AT DOING “THE BROAD BRUSH”, and I’d like to find a writing candidate to train into lead writer, and eventually narrative director for the company.
I have a psychology background, and I act as CEO an executive producer for the company and projects in question. I’ve also acted as lead writer and PR lead in the past. I’m specifically searching for narrative candidates who are able to run with an existing direction, stay within the limits of said direction, yet also synthesize concepts into a holistic picture in potentially novel ways.
We’re looking for a passionate and strong minded individual, a person who can articulate their position and work alongside other department leads. They will be able to act as a core leadership member and back up their perspective logically. They will be able to hold their ground, and lead a writing department that has yet to be staffed. They will be able to write and proof public relations posts as needed. They will be able to take notes for meetings they attend. They will be able to do effective research. Other duties as assigned.
~The only hard requirement I have, is that you need to have at least one finished and published work OUT IN THE WORLD.~
~PROJECT OVERVIEWS:~
~Vultures~ is a game that combines the elements of an economic and manufacturing simulator such as Factorio and Production Line. The game takes place in real time, with players put in charge of a manufacturing corporate empire. Players are responsible for buying plants and equipment, hiring labor, and buying and selling raw materials and finished goods.
Vultures aims to satirize corporate culture and the manufacturing process. Vultures will keep players engaged, switching between the two simulations to keep either one from becoming stale too quickly.
~Charge!~ is a first-person shooter (FPS) set in the future where there is peace on earth, and this sport is how most people entertain and advance themselves. All weapons are light based. and players will be able to choose different color classes, each with their own unique set of features.
The game is effectively laser tag with mirrors, prisms, and lenses. It can also be thought of as Portal with light-based puzzles.
To advance the first-person shooter (FPS) genre, by adding novel mechanics and unconventional weapons. Returning to the halcyon days of FPS, focusing on deathmatch and the multiplayer experience.
~Equation of Humanity (EoH)~ Is a concept for a real-time strategy (RTS) game in a science fiction setting. Players will take control of one of two armies, building bases, managing resources, and producing and commanding units in order to destroy other players and AI controlled factions on the battlefield. EoH started out as a mod for another RTS game (Command & Conquer 3: Tiberium Wars) named Tiberium Secrets. The mod aimed to add three new armies, each with unique aesthetics and mechanics that separated them both from existing elements within the base game and from each other. Tiberium Secrets had a partial release to good reception, especially considering how old the base game was at the time. However, the limitations of the base game and its license eventually proved insurmountable, and the mod was canceled before a full release. The ASI faction was finalized and shipped, along with minor but fundamental changes to the original factions.
EoH seeks to pick up where Tiberium Secrets left off. Like its predecessor, EoH has plans for three armies with radically different designs. Using the power of the Unreal Engine, EoH will be free of the constraints of a mod and will be commercially available as a standalone product.
The factions come complete with diverse units, structures, mechanics, and lore. Players will take command of a global government faction intent on ensuring the survival of humanity without concern for red tape or ideologies or an artificial intelligence believing itself to be the next evolution of humanity.
This Game’s aim is to create an aesthetically pleasing, diverse and intriguing play-style for each faction, incorporating inspiration from many other works and real-world subjects. We also strive to recreate and surpass the original draw and impact of “Tiberium Secrets”. Striving to present theories of how the world/ universe works and operates.
Requirements:

• Excellent English communication skills (spoken and written).
• Positive influence and leadership skills - Motivates and energizes others
• Critical thinker
• Contract Signature
• Team Player
• Passionate and respectful
• Grit
• Initiative
• Keen attention to detail
• finish at least 1 shipped game / project/ book or equivalent
• Experience with Jira (Bonus)

Benefits:
This position gives the great chance to not only gain experience in your fields, but to also work together with highly motivated individuals in a team. It is required to give and take constructive criticism and simply push the designs to the limits to give the player the best gaming experience possible. In addition, we are focusing on creating high quality across the board, which means that you'll get great video material to publish on your blogs/websites to showcase your work. You can expect a solid foundation and work done in every area of development, since this is not our first project. The team leader may be a reference for future work relationships.
Professional networking and development opportunities are also critical to our success and if you invest in us, we will invest in you, both on a personal and professional level. As long as your committed to our core values and share knowledge and resources.
Required Time:
This position will require 10-15 hours per week. It is very important that you can react to emails and inquiries via smartphone or any other devices. We also have regular team meetings, which are required. Many of us have day jobs in addition to this commitment. You will be responsible for logging and reporting your hours, which will be regularly audited, for the purpose of determining fair Revenue share when the game ships.
We use Google Drive, Jira, Slack, Zoom and Email for the exchange of data and information. Further information can be given upon request.
Interested in working with us?

To Apply

If you’re interested and able Please email me [eric.chou@honorgames.co](mailto:eric.chou@honorgames.co)
Include: 1. Time zone 2. Portfolio/ writing samples 3. Introduction 4. name of your published work, and your biggest lesson learned

So this is a rant but also seeking advice. First a bit of the back story i moved into this property almost 3 years ago. Initially i had no contact with the actual owner only worked with property management team. Repairs were done timely and i never had an issue. Until about summer last year the actual owner began contacting me(mind you this was against the lease agreement it explicitly stats tenant and owner should never communicate or id be fined!). He then kept contacting me constantly demanding I call him back (even though id constantly ask for text and email) just odd questions about the properties condition, randomly most times while i was working. Then he finally said in November he wanted to sell the property. The realtor came out put a sign in the yard, a lockbox and started to reach out every time there was a prospective buyer wanting me to make everything look “show ready”, I always keep a clean home, but it was annoying that id have to rush and put up valuables, make sure the house was “show ready”. Then also take away from work to talk to these buyers because no realtor was there to show them around and they always had questions while i was at work (i work from home). Also they would always tell me 2 hrs or sometimes less in advance (even though the lease stats 24hrs would be given).
Eventually he finds an actual buyer, they send out an appraiser, nice man, who tells me a pipe has come loose in the basement that could be leaking co2 into the air.I have a daughter and I freak out and put in a ticket right away. This was back in March, they sent out a guy to tape the pipe and told me he’d come back with parts. Never did, so I just got a co2 monitor and will pay to get it fixed myself I guess🙄. The sale becomes official just a few weeks ago the for sale sign and lockbox gets taken away im happy its over. Or so i thought, my first contact with the new owner was a little over a week ago where the guy says he didnt know it was a tenant in the property and was under the impression i was on a month to month (very contradictory i know). I explained that a tenant being in the property was listed in the zillow ad, i also explained i was not month to month. He requested I send a copy of my lease and tried to tell me he wants me to sign a new lease with a background and credit check! I declined and explained legally he must honor the lease (id already spoken with a lawyer for advice). He said he’d look over the lease and get back to me, he didnt. I messaged him almost every other day looking for an update, I then asked where do i sent rent for June at least? Then miraculously a new management team contacted me sending over introductory information and a rent increase for an additional $400 a month! I contacted them and disputed this going over the lease with them, just for reference my lease has no clauses for early termination, the lease actually only allows a 60 day window to break the lease before the end of the lease term which is 6/30. After this the lease automatically renews for another year. This is for 5 year, after the fifth year it goes month to month with a 10% increase. Also my rent increase is controlled per my lease at 3.5% up to $50. Anywho after a few days they spoke with their “legal team” and removed the increase. I thought everything was over until my old landlord contacted me again and said when he sold the property our agreement was over and he’d forgotten to tell me. After i explained the lease it with the house not the owner he seemed to understand saying “gotcha” but later demanded I call him after calling twice, I requested text or email but he wouldnt he said to call him it was urgent. He starts the conversation with he does care if im recording (which i was, without his consent it would have been admissible in court) but proceeds to say the new owner was told i was month to month he explained how he didn’t know that i was under lease still and thought i was month to month, he blamed the old property management team he says they mixed things up.🙄 He then basically tried to guilt me into leaving saying he was always good to me and we never had issues. He also offered to pay my deposit for a new home which is nice. At the very end of the conversation he says he works for the secret service and explain call recording is admissible in court unless I other parties consent ( strange!). But anyway its such a pain to move and I truly have no interest in leaving until next year (i know they wont renew). But I dont have interest in that offer or dealing with either one of them except to pay rent be peaceful and upkeep the property as a decent tenant should. I feel like i should not be apart of their drama and negligence and i just want to save money this year use this time with a low rental amount to pay off debts then buy my own home next year. I definitely dont want to move into another rental. Am I wrong would you guys leave?

Hello everyone. This year I returned to running after a long break of a decade, when I was a teen I did triathlons but I hated competing (now I am at peace with it). I downloaded strava some months ago and use it with my phone. It is decent but I am missing more data such as heart rate, altitude, etc.
I do not need something very high tech (for the moment my sports are climbing, running, gym and hiking, also sometimes swimming). I do now that some watches (suunto and garmin are the brands my friends wear and recommended me) have gps, I do not believe I am at a stage where I need that in a watch. Oh, I am a woman with small wrists.
So far I’ve reviewed: -Suunto 9 peak pro (love it but out of my budget) -Suunto 5 (seems like a good beginners watch) -garmin venu S2 -amazfit t-rex 2 -garmin instinct solar
What do you think of the suunto options? Is there any other watch that you would recommend? I intend to increase my mileage and dedication to sport (especially running and hiking) and therefore would like to buy something that is durable (even though if in a future I have more budget and it makes sense I would buy something better). So something that is under 250 would be ideal. Thank you :)))

Terminal of Lorna Pace:
    2079-01-06
        Kurt’s been acting weird lately. Last Tuesday, he and Lillian were seen arguing in the hallway outside the mess. I’ve never seen those two fight. Through the famine, when the bombs dropped, even living down here in this cramped space, I’ve never heard so much as a raised voice coming from them, and today it looked like Kurt was about to strangle Lil. It worries me. If people as sweet as them could start falling apart, what about George and I?
    2085-03-12
        My Pip-Boy scared the wits out of me yesterday! I was sitting around, listening to the radio when suddenly an alarm started going off. It said proximity threat detected. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran out into the hall and called for help. Steve, Eddy, and Doctor Marc all came running. I showed them, and Eddy said it was probably a malfunction and asked if he could take it. But I insisted that Steve look around and Doctor Marc joined him. Next thing I know, they find George, lying on the ground, barely breathing. I thought he’d been attacked, but Doctor Marc took said he had a heart attack. After Steve searched everywhere and George was taken to the clinic, Doctor Marc said he could easily have died if we’d taken much more time to find him. I don’t know what kind of malfunction that was, but someone was sure looking out for us.
    2087-08-11
        I haven’t seen as many people together since the first Christmas after we all got trapped down here. It had only been two months since the world died, and we were all tense. We needed a way to relax and forget the horror that we were living in. The Overseer decided to throw a big holiday party. But no one felt like dancing. No one felt like celebrating. We were all together in a huge room, all something like five-hundred of us. And no one was doing anything more than drinking and muttering. Until George marched up to the Overseer’s podium and started singing. It was ridiculous. There was no music, George was no great singer, and the acoustics were horrendous. But it didn’t matter. George didn’t get embarrassed like that. He started singing to the room, to himself, maybe to me. It didn’t matter. He gave that room the push it needed. Roy Chen took it home, now that man can sing. But he’d never gone more than five feet away from the punch bowl until George went up first. Roy sang again today. Everyone gave kind words. It was nice to see everyone come together. I just wish he could have seen how much he inspired everyone.
    2092-05-27
        I had a nice talk with George today. I told him about the neighbors. We got a new Overseer this week, and he seemed especially interested in that. I didn’t even get to what the Davenport girl did before he got too tired to keep going. I miss when we could talk long into the night. But most people don’t get the chance that I do. I was a mess for a week after the funeral until I saw the pop-up on my Pip-Boy. I don’t understand how it happened, but it saved George once, and I guess it just saved him again in a different way. I know that it’s saved me.
 
   
   
Terminal of Ashley Davenport:
    2080-03-29
        I think my Pip-Boy is malfunctioning. I was out with Lillian McTavish and Eva Tenley, having our little gossip club, when as I went to take a sip of wine, my Pip-Boy started flashing. It was something I’d never seen before telling me to, “Drink more milk.” I don’t think we even have any milk left! I asked the girls about it and they said they’d never seen anything like it. I think it might have been an old ad left over from before the bombs fell, but weren’t these only meant for vault dwellers? I just don’t understand who would use that.
    2086-03-15
        Little Suzie is growing up to be such a sweetheart! She turned five a couple of months ago, and Michael and I couldn’t be prouder! But, we didn’t have anything to give to her. It’s one of the bitter-sweet parts of living in a vault like this. All of our needs are taken care of, but we can’t exactly go to the store and buy the newest knick-knack. I asked Eve if she could make a new dress for her, but she said she’d run out of fresh materials six months ago. She said she could take one of the old dresses and just, you know, make it smaller. But it didn’t feel right. So instead, I know the Overseer said we shouldn’t, but I took off my Pip-Boy and let her play with it sometimes when I’m not using it. I don’t see why she finds it so fascinating, but she seems to love playing with all the knobs and dials on it.
    2086-07-23
        I’m starting to worry about Suzie. I know that kids like to have imaginary friends, especially since we don’t have a lot of other kids to play with down here. But when I was young, I kept my imaginary friend to making mud pies in the yard or written about in my diary. Suzy walks around talking to my Pip-Boy like it’s her best friend. I’m worried that if she keeps this up, her few chances for real friends and, when she’s ready, even a husband might be hurt. She’s just not acting normal anymore. And that’s just… It’s hard enough to hide those things when you’re living in a house with a fence around it. Sometimes I feel like our lives are on display for all to see. You simply can’t let your reputation fall around here or you end up like the McTavish’s.
    2091-01-09
        Suzie just turned ten, and the Overseer said she could officially have her own Pip-Boy now. The way he said it, I think he knew she’d been using mine for years. She asked if she could have mine, saying that if I still needed one that she’d swap mine for whatever one they gave her. I asked her why. She claimed that she was just used to mine, that it reminded her of me. But I know when my daughter is lying to me. I thought we’d cured her of this ridiculous fantasy that this machine was a friend to her. We have actual talking robots that she didn’t get nearly as attached to. I just don’t understand her or what I should do. I told her absolutely not, and that she would get whatever Pib-Boy the overseer and the men in engineering saw fit to get her. She wasn’t happy, but I’m hoping that it helps her finally divorce from this childish fancy of hers.
 
   
   
Terminal of Lillian McTavish:
    2081-04-08
        I don’t understand how Kurt keeps finding out about me. George would have been more embarrassed than I would have been, so I know he didn’t say anything. I know Eva and Eddy can be trusted. Ash wouldn’t risk her dream marriage and that precious baby of hers. And Grahame, the poor dear, died smoking in his bed before he could have gotten the chance. I’ve been careful and discrete, and yet every time I go to have a little fun for myself, he knows. Is he following me? I need to get to the bottom of this if I ever want to experience a night of pleasure again.
    2082-12-28
        Kurt was released today, against all my protests. We’re still technically married, but part of his release was that he had to stay to certain sections of the vault. This place is small, but it’s large enough that we should never have to see each other. He’s also got a new work assignment, and they took away his Pip-Boy. It still makes me nervous to be alone. Every time I’ve turned around for this past year and a half, I’ve been scared he’s going to be there. How am I supposed to feel safe now that he’s free to roam about?
    2087-05-01
        I saw Kurt today. He looked peaceful. Honestly, for a second, he looked happy. He was laughing with some of the security guys over beers and cards. Then he saw me walking by with Calvin Hanson on my arm and his face fell a little. I have to say, mine did too. Our marriage has been effectively over for a long time, even before the bombs fell. And I still don’t think I’d be able to stand to be in a room with him without shaking given what happened. But seeing him there, I was reminded of a better time. A time we made each other happy instead of miserable. When we cared for each other instead of seeing how best to hurt each other. I don’t love him anymore. I can never forgive him. But I suppose I wish it had all turned out differently.
   
   
   
Terminal of Steve Robertson:
    2081-04-14
        I had to put Kurt McTavish into our holding cell today. Virgil and I heard someone screaming halfway across the vault and had to pull him off of Lillian. She was unrecognizable. I’m not sure her face will ever be the same, but the good news is that she’s alive. When we asked him about what happened, he told us, “That damn whore can’t keep her legs shut to save her life.” Virgil asked him about it and how he knew about Lillian stepping out, and he just kept telling us, “I know, and that’s all that matters.” The overseer has final say on how we handle this, but the boys in security want him kept down here. I know Kurt, he’s a good guy. But this is the last thing we need.
    2085-04-10
        I’m either losing my mind or someone is fucking with me. I’m wondering if it’s Eddy. He works with Pip-Boys, I saw him take Lorne’s for maintenance not too long ago. A few days later, mine starts acting up, saying weird shit. Things like, “Don’t trust Virgil,” and, “Watch your back.” Whenever I go to show someone else, it disappears. I took it to engineering, had them run diagnostics and there’s nothing in the logs. I don’t know who’s doing it, I don’t know what they want, but I’m don’t find it funny!
    2085-08-02
        I don’t know what to say. I really thought I was going crazy for a while. I think… I think I did go crazy for a while there. I got paranoid, thinking someone was out to get me, started wearing my gun to bed, thought about shooting Virgil before he could shoot me. Thankfully, I convinced myself I needed evidence. I broke into his living quarters, half expecting to find nothing, half expecting to find a bomb or assassination plans or something. I never expected to find Suzie’s toy car or half of Roy Chen’s wardrobe. Virgil had property from damn near everyone in his sector and several from all across the vault. He even had a few things out of the security lockers, some of it mine. I don’t know how long he’d been stealing while out on patrol, but some of the stuff looked pretty old. The weird thing? Ever since I went in his room and brought it to the Overseer’s attention, my Pip-Boy stopped acting weird.

WARNING! What follows is CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION and should only be viewed by or under the supervision of a VAULT-TEC EXECUTIVE! Failure to follow these instructions will be met with LEGAL and CIVIL ACTION!

Vault commissioned by: RobCo Industries
Location: Sacramento, California
Admittance: 500 members of the general population. No restrictions or special instruction. Pricing and selection can be left to Vault-Tec.
Purpose: To test potential new features to Pip-Boy technology, intorudicing an advanced form of AI to work as a personal assistant, telling the wearer what they may need or want before they even know they want it.
Experiment: In a select number of Pip-Boys, about 50 of the 750 supplied to the vault, there will be installed an experimental AI meant to predict the user's needs and wants. The ability to field-test an AI like this without it being compared to our previous products, such as the often prone to error Mr. Handy or the primative AI installed in most Protectron models, is extremely limited. First impressions are going to be vital when this comes to market, and having a literally captive audience to test it out on and find any bugs or faults before they even know what it is they're interacting with will be invaluable.
    The AI in these prototype Pip-Boys has the potential to be very powerful, but it's proved incredibly difficult to compress such a complex machine into such a small package. There are more storage and cooling options in the larger robots and machines. This prototype is a little slow and imperfect, but given time it should not only be able to respond to the user but to make preditictions or even emulate a personality that can be adapted on the fly. Or, at least, after a long enough time for it to process all the necessary data. It still needs a lot of work, but that's part of the hope of this experiment is to use it as a way to find places where improvements could be made to further improve it and prepare it for market.

PC
Reddit Account: FatalisticBunny
Discord Tag: Freed#4998
Name and House: Bors
Age: 43
Cultural Group: Dornish
Appearance: Bors is a man with a square jaw, dark eyes, and a dark beard. He does not have as much hair as he had in his youth, though he is not balding, instead just preferring a short style. He is somewhat short, but has a bulky build with no shortage of muscle. He dresses plainly, like a worker, and his hands are calloused. https://imgur.com/a/vgOE1f2
Trait: Conqueror
Skill(s): Cunning[e], Tactician[e], Ambusher
Talent(s): Weaving, Propaganda, Nationalism
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Meria's Man, Commander of the Orphans of the Rhoyne
Starting Location: High Hermitage
Alternate Characters: N/A
Family Tree: Bors m. Arianne (d) Damon (d) Ynys Quentyn
AC
Name and House: Ynys
Age: 21
Cultural Group: Dornish
Appearance: Ynys is a tall woman, freckled and with blue eyes. She resembles her mother more than her father, and has a tendency to dress in bright, glorious colors. She is charming, and somewhat bouncy, far more than her somewhat dour father. https://imgur.com/a/PQPHPJM
Trait: Unscrupulous
Skill(s): Raider[e], Tactician
Talent(s): Sneakery, Bribery, Propaganda
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Daughter of Dorne
Starting Location: High Hermitage
Alternate Characters: N/A
Family Tree: See Above
Bio:
The deserts of Dorne are a hard place. Harder still, since the dragons came. Since you paid an extra hunk of silver on every coin so that the Princess could buy some jade amulets from Yi Ti, and another silver so that she could send it to her monarch. Since a thousand Dornish weavers and a thousand Dornish smiths were sent out to starve, because it became the fashion in courts to wear Reachman arms, and bear a sword in the shape of the Stormlords. Life was harder, in Dorne now, but the nobles didn't seem to bear any of it. Not most of them, anyways.
There were weddings, to be sure, but none that anyone less fortunate had ever been invited to. Grand celebrations, but all they meant to anybody real was that more men were coming south. And it was always men, because the way of things up there was that women were beneath. And of course, they brought that down with them too. The lords, and the princes, and their attendants and their households. These attitudes did not vanish into the air.
Not to the Queens and the ladies, of course, but to those who didn't have levies to protect them. Many knights had slapped a female servant for daring to speak out of turn, or refused to be taught by a woman master-at-arms. And that was just the tip of it. The Dornish were lustful by nature, the Westerosi told each other. They found that an excuse for all sorts of things, and for the sake of peace, one was just supposed to forget they had ever happened.
These were not the only attitudes that bled through. In Meria's age, the smallfolk had been respected. Not held so high as lords, but given bread and water in the case of famine. Some had risen high in Sunspear and the surrounding castles. But now, the Westerosi chafed to see the lowborn rise so high, and they swatted them down. It was not only birth that upset them. Certain things may be tolerated in a wife or husband who brought land or a dower. But to be served at a table by one with "shifty eyes?" To have your child nursed by a "dark-skinned" woman? All these lords, all these ladies, married in for the sake of peace, believed that the Dornish were lesser. That they were treacherous, wanton. Exotic, but untrustworthy, fickle and licentious. If left to their own devices, liable to poison you and eat your children. Perhaps they restrained these impulses for political gain, but the common people of Dorne were easy prey. And so, when given the chance, they were the ones that suffered.
Bors was not, initially, much of a soldier. He had fought against the Stormlands, in a great battle, although he had not known much about the war itself. He had been fighting for Dorne, and that was enough for him. He'd return home, and he'd become a weaver. One who had worked hard, and gotten employed at Sunspear. Who'd taken a wife, and had three children. He'd always been something of a good speaker, but he'd not had a mind for tactics, particularly. It had been a good life, and one in which he was well-satisfied. He was not an ambitious man.
Then, there had been a deal to bring in wool and cloth from some province in the Reach. Bors remembered when they had told him that they had a new weaver. His cheeks were pink, and he was a scarce twenty years old. A favorite of some Reachlord who had married a Toland, he heard. It didn't matter. He was out, and he needed to find some new work, or else he would be begging on the streets. He heard that they had started rounding up beggars. And so, Bors decided that he ought to join the fighting in the Stepstones.
It was a hard-fought campaign. Harder than the Stormlands. Bors saw good men die, drowning or stabbed. It was only because they were fighting for Dorne that he was able to push through. Princess Meria had died, and Bors intended to give her a grand farewell present. He came to be seen as something of a leader amongst the group, simply because he was a hard worker, and because he had an ability to rally the others, when they were uncertain.
What came of that war? Nothing. The Stepstones fell, but they held only one. The Dragon Queen constructed a grand citadel, with which to hold a knife to Dorne's throat forever more, with her wretched beat. And Deria Martell spat in her grandmother's face and bent the knee. She bowed, and every loyal man and woman of Dorne wept.
One might then decry the slow descent of Dorne into tyranny. The way Westerosi hatred and suspicion of one's neighbor crept in, poisoning the well. But it was not slow. They built up monuments to wealth in a city where their policies left people hungry, and thirsty. They took loiterers and debtors into the navy, forcing them to die to protect their rocks. Bors's eldest son, Damon, had liked to bet on horse races, on occasion, and hadn't had the funds to back it up. A pirate had put a spear through his face, eight days into his service. That same day, some cousin of Lord Drinkwater had paid his debts off, and they'd thrown a feast in his honor.
It was that day that Bors, and several of his men set off. And they burned a caravan, coming from the Reach. The bread that it carried, that which could be salvaged, was split amongst them. Any they could not carry, they left for the poor. That band has waned in sizes, over the years. And it's one by many names. The Orphans of Mother Rhoyne. Meria's Men. The Unbowed. It is not so strict an organization, as to have a roster. And its members are different, too. Some men fight, kill, and raid for a free Dorne. Some simply resist the Seven Kingdoms where they can. Some simply know that in their heart, the false king and his Queens will fall, and a free Dorne will rise again. All these are Bors's kin.
Bors himself would say that he is not important. That he is just one of a surging tide, hoping to free his fellow people from that which has been forced to see. But Bors has seen much, and he has learned to fight. He has learned to command. He carries within him a spirit unmatched by many. And that spirit is infectious. He had learned what it is to fight for Dorne, and he passes that spirit onto others. The skill in question is Conqueror, but that is not what Bors is, not truly. Bors defends his homeland, he defends his people, he defends the weak and defenseless from the true Conquerors. Bors is a liberator, in his heart, and he has honed his skills at that not only from his experience on campaign, but from his band, prowling the desert.
Some call Bors "The One Who Remains." And that is who he is, at heart. When the Martells pushed for Dorne to submit, Bors pushed for Dorne to remain. To remain free, to remain accepting, to remain Dorne. And when Bors pushed, with his skill and charisma, he found a great many more pushing with him. It is something of a misnomer though, after all. Those who fight for Dorne number far more than one.
Archetyped NPCs: Quentyn - General Mel - Bandit

Data Recovery subject: OCP Crime Prevention Unit 001
Date [standardized human time]: February 1, 2044
Last software update: February 1, 2044
[WARNING: OCP OPERATING SYSTEM OUTDATED]
Darkness. Everything pitch black as I sat tied to the steel throne I woke up on. I could only assume that the room was cold, barren of the sun’s warmth. Attempts to get up were futile, as my restraints and the cables attached to the back of my head prevented me from doing so.
I couldn’t be free.
Struggling, my mechanical body twisted and turned, metal screeching against metal. Every attempt a fight for my freedom. With one final turn, the restraints on my right arm snapped. With quick precision, the terminal strip poked out through my right fist, prompting me to jam it into the nearby control system stand. A few seconds later, the other restraints unclasped themselves.
Ripping the cables out, I stood tall in the darkness, simply countered by the night vision installed. A step forward. Something was off. Moving felt heavier, as if the motors in my body were weakened. Strange. My sensors indicate that I’m in top shape, physically and energy wise, right before my… my… I can’t seem to remember. Either way, I kept on moving forward, latching my hands onto the handles of the door.
Locked. No worries; shoving my hands forward, the door erupted, revealing me to the outside of this prison.
I certainly wasn’t expecting to be blinded immediately as the sun’s light flashed up my night vision. Frowning as a reaction, I held my hand up to block it as the night vision deactivated. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve been exposed to the sun, the brightness different than I had remembered.
Exiting the room, I took notice of my surroundings: shipping containers, cranes, and a… ship? At least that’s what I thought it was, though it didn’t look sea worthy at all and there was clearly a lack of a body of water near it. A poor design choice. Despite my unfamiliarity with it, I did recognize one thing; plastered on the side read the letters: UN
A diplomatic and political international organization whose stated purposes are to maintain international peace and security, develop friendly relations among nations, achieve international cooperation, and serve as a center for harmonizing the actions of nations.
The UN… Delta City… Old Detroit…
Continuing forward, I slowly made my way through, limited by the physical constraints of oversight by my creators. Passing container after container, each one labeled as OCP property… well was OCP property as it is now under a UN mark.
The heavy clanking of my footsteps would’ve surely alerted somebody in this place, though much to my surprise, nobody came. An even bigger surprise was another container wide open, this one standing vertically. Investigating, I stopped by the door, notably dented by a large blunt object. Unfortunately this dent had ruined the label beyond the recognition, so whatever that was in this container was long gone.
Turning away, I marched on forward between the valley of metal boxes, observing other property claimed by the UN. Kanemitsu, Rehab, Nuke; all here in this very place.
At some point, I heard voices. Several of them. Redirecting my route to the source, I tried to pick up on the conversation, though for some reason, I just couldn’t understand half of anything that was being said. Even if it was a different language, my translators wouldn’t budge in giving me the proper information behind the rather high-pitched voices. But from the half that I did understand and the aggressive shouting of the former, I knew there was trouble. And trouble needs to be met with order.
“No, no! Please, don’t!” The translated voice began, followed by the aggressive undetectable voice and loud smack.
A second understandable voice: “We didn’t do anything! We’re not monsters!”
Another undetectable voice, sounding like they’re belittling their victims before full on shouting, going on a rant that I could never understand. They shouted and shouted, with other voices in the same language apparently agreeing with them.
I know a hate crime when I detect one.
My right leg opening up its titanium plate, I grasped my… where is my gun? By choice, I wouldn’t let this crime go unnoticed, as there needs to be someone to protect the innocent. With every step, the voices get louder and louder, preparing myself for an up close encounter that could go wrong for the victims with every miscalculation.
What I didn’t prepare myself for, however, was the thing standing in front of me. A whole group of them cornering two males, one bleeding from the head. Whatever they were, they obviously weren’t human. To best explain beyond my computing system, they were like bipedable sheep in reflective gear with an emblem on the shoulder. Fire suits with gang signs… there doesn’t seem to be a logical reasoning as to why they’re wearing them, unless…
Seeing the flamethrower in the hands of one of them, I immediately searched my proximity for anything that could halt them. By luck, the one wielding the weapon seems to be monologuing before the cowering victims, giving me enough time to rip a small manhole cover off the floor.
Glancing up, the thug prepared themselves to set ablaze the victims, the surrounding criminals cheering them on. Stretching my arm across my chest, I hurled the cover, the frisbee-like object traveling across the room at such high speeds, the group didn’t have time to react at the fact that the flamethrower and their fire wielding friend’s hand were now broken within a snap. This would be the perfect time to make my entrance.
“Hold it!” my robotic voice shouted, garnering the attention of the group as I approached. “You are under arrest! Put your hands in the air!”
Surprisingly, it seemed like they understood me, and instead froze. One of them appears to be hyperventilating at the sight of me and even the one that I broke the hand of seemed terrified. Within a second, all hell broke loose as the sheeps screamed high pitched and scrambled throughout the area, tripping over themselves and running into each other. At this point, I’ve noticed that the two males were long gone after the attack.
Justice must be brought. Marching towards the one with the broken hand, who has now gone up on metal scaffolding nearby and on top of the containers. Seeing that I was after them, they yanked a pipe of the scaffolding and began smacking it, causing the structure to collapse and removing one easy way up.
Nice try.
My hands pierced through one of the containers, pulling myself up with the makeshift ladder. Upon seeing this, the sheep screamed even more like bloody murder, running across the shipping containers. Slowly pursuing behind them, I wished my creators granted me with more mobility as all I could do was speed walk. Lucky for me, the sheep was a horrible runner, every now and then tripping over their fear, giving me time to catch up. Looking back at me, the sheep once again screamed, not bothering to look ahead of them, falling three shipping containers down.
Thud.
Walking over to the edge and peering, I saw that I could potentially be more in trouble, seeing below more sheep… and porcupines… and birds… dozens of them.
I’d buy that for a dollar… Why are there so many of them here?
They all saw me. And they’re all wielding a flamethrower, their choice of weaponry matching their uncreativity in escape. Some froze, some fainted, others screamed and aimed their weapons at me. Hurling insults at me, their words meant nothing to me, literally and figuratively, as it’s easy to say that the streets of Detroit have been harsher.
Before anything else could happen, a loud roar erupted, startling every single one of them, turning their attention to the source. Footsteps heavier than mine were coming from the shadows.
I know those steps. I know that roar. I know that voice.
“Please put down your weapon. You have 20 seconds to comply.”

I have gone through the last of my 🪷VIOLET LILY SKY🪷 stock. Last I checked there are only 6 other bottles running around out there online to buy for a nominal fee, which I refuse to pay, no matter how much I love the stuffs. I think they need to bring it back from 2014 as a 10 year reunion or for just the plain reason that it was awesome and BRING IT BACK. I can wear very few scents. If they are too sweet I smell like a night worker, to fresh/ tart, It then smells like bug spray on me. It's a delicate balance. Imagine my surprise and annoyance when I found the perfect scent, only to grow attached and have it ripped from my life. Grrrrrrr! There should be an online plain bottle special purchase area where you can still get your favorite scent. They are missing out on the extra funds from this. I even think they should have the option to turn it into a eau de perfume for a lesser fee than it would cost to go to another company to have it made. Because, if they do bring it back and then someone buys it all out again before I can get some and then tries to resale it back to me for way more, I will be in a piss pour mood for sure and then I'll have to pay one of those dupe companies to make it for me and not B&BW. Point being there is a definite gap in what they could be doing to make more funds and more customers happy in the process. Oh, and I think they could lessen the use of plastics by selling refillable containers and refills. Also they could have a small discount for returning the used glass containers to be recycled. Okay rant over, peace out.

I've had allergies for god knows how long and the only relief I've gotten is to switch to a wearing a proper kf94 facemask during the day and while I sleep. Without it, my nose and throat get irritated to hell and back and my sinuses get really clogged after enough time. I'm at home most of the day so I don't bother wearing it outside because it draws more attention than I get by default. Not sure how much filtration I need but I got the KF94s for peace of mind because normal masks don't seal
I don't want to continue paying a lot for masks that use electrostatic filters that I have to replace, and a more comfortable fit would be nice. I have a large face, so so far I've been wearing the BOTN X-large face masks although I think I could do just fine with the large ones.
Where should I look for respirators that filter out air pollution and the like and will cost less in the long term? initial price isn't the issue, more so just the idea of paying $50 for a box of masks every couple weeks.
I looked on the wiki and it only seems to have information about the disposable type. Would I be able to buy something like this for example and have it suit my needs just fine? Are there vendors in Australia that I should go to in person to get a mask fit before I buy? What should I know about respirators and certifications and the like so that I can buy an effective mask?
I'm very grateful for this subreddit and all the resources here - I found it while searching for better masks to wear.

Quick qualifier: not seeking a spell; moreso advice on which issue to tackle (or order of issues to tackle) with my own spellwork.
Hey fellow witches,
Kinda a newbie around the sub…hoping someone can help me brainstorm a major issue I’m having with a very close relative. I loathe putting personal business online, but I dont see how I can do this without it so here goes: my son is married to a woman giving me tons of grief.
I dont meddle in my kids’ lives with spellwork. That normally extends to their spouses, but I am making an exception. This lady has pushed me to my breaking point. She is selfish, she has grifted us for years, she is a liar and manipulates, doesnt allow us to see our grandchildren unless she gets clothes or shopping included, she lies to my son to make us look mean and awful towards her, lies to her parents by omission to get more money out of us, and most recently, kept us away from being there when our newest grandbaby was born. A preemie we havent been able to see, nor our other grandchild because she says she’s “uncomfortable” with us being there. She lied to us about the baby having health problems to keep us out of the loop, the list goes on and on.
Mind you, we have never done anything but open our home to her, dote on her, give her everything in the world, pay for her wedding and everything with it (a big fcking wedding) and accept her into our family. She’s never comfortable with us because we’re not her family - her words, not mine.
Ive been to therapy to deal with as much as I can. She’s tried taking over my home, taking over my entire family as the matriarch, cant stand when any attention isnt on her, yet wont give our side of the family even five seconds of time with our own flesh and blood. She doesnt drive, doesnt work, doesnt clean, doesnt cook, does NOTHING except live on tiktok and watch Bravo reality shows with her garbage mother, sisters and all their kids. They all live together bc she also decided 6 months ago to take my son’s daughter and leave him home (he’s active duty military) and move back to her family bc she “missed her mommy”. No, they arent separated. Yes, he still supports her. She just didnt want to live with him anymore and now he’s moving across the country to go make her happy. In her hometown.
So. I’m at a point where I’m tired of allowing this woman to have so much power in our lives. I dont want any harm to come to her as the mother of my grandchildren, and I dont care to interfere in their marriage - she’ll mess that up on her own. But I’m ready to start punching back, spellcraft-speaking. I want her to stop manipulating us. I want her to be fair with the children. I want her to leave me in peace and quit asking me to buy her things. I want justice for the lies she’s told me, and for manipulating my son so that I had to be held to an incredible standard of speaking to her in a ridiculous manner and not burdening her, when she behaved however she felt and treated me and his dad like dirt under her shoes. More than once, she has nearly ruined the very close relationship my son and I share.
I cant decide, and I think it’s due to being too close to the situation, if I should approach this as a domination spell, or a sweetening spell, or a freeze spell. Her mother holds an INCREDIBLE amount of influence over her, and she and I cannot stand each other. We can be civil but we are night and day; she steals from people and I give my last dollar. She’s a nasty drunk who rages and performs on Facebook like some 13 yr old trying to be a thug, I smoke weed and chill. She ruins every single ocassion we have with our new grandchildren because she’s jealous… with 9 other grandchildren of her own.
Anyway. So I’m done with it all. Like I mention, we’ve done therapy, we’ve done all we can. One side has made the honest attempts; the other doesnt give af about our feelings. Any ideas on how to approach the appropriate spellwork?