“We’re a meat family,” my dad would proudly tell strangers. He’d wait for the quizzical look, then launch into detail, starting with how many freezers we had, how long we could sustain ourselves on the contents. It was just his way of starting a conversation, which made sense when you considered that raising and home-killing animals for food was, for want of a better term, his life-long hobby. His prize possession was one of those industrial-sized vacuum sealers: you could put half a pig inside and wrap it in plastic so tightly that every wrinkle and skin fold waxed unreal with shiny detail.
If we hadn’t lived in a rural area, albeit semi-urbanised, I guess it would have been pretty weird. But the mostly farming-stock locals only found his extra enthusiasm a little bit odd.
When he wasn’t being a bit embarrassing talking about it, I never really paid much heed to his hobby. I had a child’s vaguely grateful awareness that though our family went through some lean financial times, our stomachs never suffered like some of the families around us. All the beef, pork, ham and bacon in those big old chest freezers passed down from his dad really could have fed us for years.
I should preface all this by saying that I wasn’t a particularly bright kid, though neither was I dumb. I didn’t fail badly at anything in school, I just never achieved beyond a pass. I didn’t know it yet back then, still quietly dreaming about being a ballet star or a dressage champion, but mediocrity was my destiny. And I think that’s why I got on so well with my Aunt Liz.
Liz was my dad’s live-in youngest sister. She was one of those women who get described as ‘bubbly’ — not really pretty, not really smart, not a lot going on besides just being… well, all Liz. But she was salt of the earth; kind, caring, and great with kids. She was the only person who would willingly mind my two older brothers, who fought like hellcats and caused more trouble than the whole last generation of my family combined. People would privately lament to my parents that it was a shame Liz didn’t have kids of her own, but dad would just shake his head and say Liz liked it that way – that all the fun of looking after kids is being able to give them back to their parents.
I guess she was like me; nice, but mediocre. Lovely, but somehow forgettable when she wasn’t doing something for you.
But when Liz left us, I couldn’t forget her.
In hindsight, it was pretty weird timing that we had a big fortieth birthday party for Liz right before she disappeared. She was radiant that night; she’d hired a local girl to do her hair and makeup, and it was honestly the first time I’d ever seen her look pretty. She’d even worn a push-up bra under a tight red dress, which flattered her very plump curves well enough that the neighbour’s farmhand was spotted disappearing into the woolshed with her for a snog. In my dawning awareness, that gave a plain girl hope: if Aunty Liz could get a guy at forty, maybe things would turn out okay for me.
Anyway, I couldn’t forget how her pink cheeks, her eyes, her whole self, glowed that night before Liz went to bed. She said it was the best birthday ever, and that she was very much looking forward to the next stage of her life.
Would I have done anything different, if I had known? If I had realised what, exactly, that next stage was?
The week after the party, Aunt Liz said she was going on a little holiday up north, to visit some old school friends. She packed her things – she didn’t honestly have that many – and drove her little orange mini out onto the main road. And with a wave of one fleshy hand, she was gone. Nobody really thought much of it when she didn’t call, because nobody rural had cellphones back then. And Liz was, as I said, somehow kinda forgettable when she wasn’t right in front of you.
When we hadn’t had contact for six weeks, Dad tracked down the land line numbers for their old school buddies. They were surprised to hear from him — Liz had never arrived, so they had just assumed she’d cancelled her visit. No-one had thought to check. I eavesdropped on the conversation, and it sounded for all the world like *they* had forgotten about Aunt Liz, too.
From there it became a missing person case. The local cops came and talked to all of us; the farmhand who’d been seen snogging her was briefly detained, then let go, dad got grilled at length, even my hellion brothers were questioned thoroughly to see if this was one of their wild and dangerous pranks gone wrong.
But everything was a dead end. Nobody knew where Liz was, or what had happened to her.
The remains of her old mini were found halfway across the country, burned out on a beach, on a derelict stretch of ragged, rocky coastline. The police assumed murder and combed the area for remains. But even the most expert divers couldn’t conquer the incredible undertow and fast-shifting seabed of that coastline to look for evidence, so none was forthcoming.
Eventually the cops collectively shrugged and said that there was really nothing more they could do unless more information suddenly came to light. The locals knew nothing, no witnesses had come forward, and the trail was cold. As far as anyone knew, poor aunt Liz had been murdered on some desolate beach, far away from her home.
It didn’t feel fair to me. She’d once mentioned wanting her remains buried on our farm, in the graveyard plot beside grandma and grandad.
So, in my grief, I went into her room to look for something of hers to bury beside them.
Like I said, Liz didn’t have many things. Her room was pretty spartan, and her wardrobe was mostly sensible farm stuff. There was one exception: she, like me, did like to read, and she had a pretty good collection of well-thumbed books. I think it’s the escapism – even the most mediocre girl can lose herself in the plot of some trashy romance novel, imagine there’s still hope of being swept off her feet by that handsome stableboy, his inexplicable yearning for chubby plain girls.
So I set myself the task of going through the books, to find the right one to bury in the graveyard plot.
Most of them were exactly what you’d expect, but some of them were racier than I was used to. I felt various parts of my body flushing and tingling, as I read breathless prose about calloused hands touching the softest flesh of the protagonist. Okay, if I’m honest with myself, I might have got a little *too* invested in my project at that point. But that was also why I persisted going through her entire collection, until I found the ragged paperback from 1970, entitled Tawny Sands. And inside that trashy cardboard romance cover, I discovered not the tale of Tawny Sands, but some carefully hand-cut, stitched-in pages. A handwritten story in my Aunt’s rounded penmanship: Memoirs of a Long Pig.
I read her story twice in a row, utterly gripped.
Aunt Liz was no Stephen King – heck, she wasn’t even the Goosebumps guy – but her story was gripping and compelling, and I couldn’t put it down. Even if I hadn’t known her, I think that would have been true.
The gist of it was that Liz, when she was sixteen, had discovered that our family had a very long history of eating what she described as ‘Long Pork’. It’s an antipodean term, anglicised from the Pacific Islands: human meat.
Like me, young Liz still had some hopes and dreams. In one of her many failed attempts to find a special talent, she’d taken up cooking as a hobby. Naturally, with our family’s overabundance of meat, she’d scoured the freezers in the shed for ingredients: the racks of ribs and stacks of pork chops, butcher-paper wrappings all neatly labelled with the first letter of the name of the animal they came from.
She found familiar meat from Rodney, one of the pigs that had been recently slaughtered, emblazoned with an ‘R’ in her father’s strong, blocky lettering. There were cutlets labelled ‘M’ for Mary, from one of the lambs she’d hand-reared, and ‘F’ for Ferdinand, the steer they’d killed the month before. But she couldn’t explain the many, many curious parcels of meat on one side of the huge freezer, all labelled ‘J’ – at least, not until she took it all out and assembled it as well as she could on the scoured concrete floor of the killing shed. A big, frozen jigsaw puzzle without the box, her best attempt to discover what kind of beast the pieces had come from.
The animal, she quickly realised, was a Long Pig. Her own Aunt Jenny, who had died the month before – just after her fortieth birthday.
Fortunately, or perhaps not, for Liz, her father entered the shed right at that moment and realised his daughter had discovered the family secret. He sat down calmly on the lid of the freezer, and explained to her that this was a long-running family tradition, dating back to at least before his grandfather had been born.
“There are always people in life, Liz,” he’d said, “who won’t really amount to much. They want to be useful, want to be more. They strive and they strive, trying job after job, hobby after hobby, trying to hit on something they’re really good at. Something that makes them special. Those people can waste their whole lives, chasing dreams that never come true. Eventually they die unfulfilled, knowing that all their time has been wasted. That what they leave behind will fade quickly.”
His voice was oddly gentle as he leaned down and patted one of the neatly wrapped cuts of Aunt Jenny, still sitting frozen on the shed floor.
“Your Aunt Jenny was one of those people. So was my Aunt Irene.” He paused to gaze at his daughter, his next words peppered with emphasis. “But you see, my sweet Liz, they did find a purpose in life. They did find a way to be special, and they left this world utterly certain of their gift.” He stood up, stretched his back. “Let me show you.”
Liz waited while my grandad meticulously stacked the meat back into the freezer, all but one J-marked parcel that looked for all the world like a thick venison steak. He took her back to the farmhouse, and reverently unwrapped the deep red, heavily marbled meat to let it thaw. Then he laid it in the family’s ancient, cast-iron pan, basting it with butter and rosemary until a heavenly scent filled the kitchen, and Aunt Liz couldn’t stop her mouth from watering.
“Just try it. Let her show you. You’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.”
Even though she knew it was her aunt, Liz couldn’t stop herself from taking that first bite. There was something transcendent about the smell, overriding her natural revulsion that this was human meat, not one of their farm animals. For the first time, she truly realised it: we’re just another kind of animal. And weren’t her memories of Mary the lamb almost as fond as her memories of Aunt Jenny?
Liz explained then, in her curly handwriting, the explosion of taste that had assaulted her when she tried the steak. It was tender, it was succulent, it was rich beyond imagining. The fats melted on her tongue, lingering somewhere between pork and beef, but oddly neither. The flavour of the meat defied identification; something familiar, yet not.
But one thing she couldn’t deny; it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. Tears dripped onto her plate, mingled with the juice, the grease — not grief, but a pure, real, giddy delight.
“You’re tasting your aunt’s love for this family,” my grandad explained. “Her entire life was carefully curated, to eventually make unforgettable moments for us, just like this. This was her way of being special. This was the greatest gift she could possibly bring to our world – and because she realised that, she died with not a single regret. She knew her life had purpose. She was perfectly, completely fulfilled.”
I felt those words. I felt them lodge in my own belly, settling uncomfortably deep. I knew Aunt Liz, probably better than anyone else in the family. I’d seen how fucking happy she’d been on her fortieth, how goddamn fulfilled she was, despite apparently being a *nobody* and achieving *nothing*. Somehow, in the space of a single day, she had gone from being a forgettable background character to becoming the *main character*, immortalising herself in our family’s history with her sacrifice. Quite literally becoming part of all of us, forever.
I went to the killing shed after I finished with the book. I looked inside the freezers.
But there were no vacuum-sealed packages labelled ‘L’, no matter how deep I dug into the frozen stacks of plastic-wrapped flesh. Panicked now, not sure if I wanted to connect all the dots or unconnect them, I tried to think back over the last few months, recall any meals that had been unusually good. A few Sundays ago, we’d had a stew that really hit the spot and left me craving more. And I realised that the family had a really good night that night; my brothers behaved themselves, my parents didn’t fight, and grandma and grandad had been there. Hadn’t they looked far more… expectant than they should have?
I strained my brain, trying to recall if I’d seen the homekill bag on the kitchen bench – if I’d registered what letter it was. I knew it wasn’t an L. I would have remembered if it was an L.
And then it hit me, the memory, the connection, sizzling as if branded with a hot iron.
It had been an ‘E’.
E for Elizabeth. Not for Edward the pig.
I snorted at my own stupidity – of *course* Liz was short for Elizabeth – and as I comprehended my lack of smarts, I felt something give inside me.
I wasn’t clever, and nothing, nothing would ever make me smart. I had no big talents. I wasn’t beautiful, or even cute – and even if I had a million plastic surgeries, it still wouldn’t fulfill me. It wouldn’t be real.
I was a Liz.
I was a Jenny.
I was whoever the first aunt had been, the aunt who had dedicated her life to making her flesh as delicious as possible, who had worked every damn minute to be the best Long Pig she could ever be.
I wondered how many magical family evenings had been spent eating Aunt Jenny. How many glorious, satisfying, memorable dishes had been made out of her.
And… I wanted that. I wanted to finally know I had a *purpose* in life. One so simple, and so easy to achieve.
I wanted what Aunt Liz had.
***
It's my fortieth birthday today and I’m so fucking excited. For the last twenty-four years, I’ve dedicated myself to this moment; I’ve eaten exactly what I needed to, I’ve exercised just enough, but not too much, to maintain that perfect balance of marbling vs tenderness. I’ve relaxed and meditated to keep all those amazing flavours inside of me. I’ve researched all the greatest meats in the world, from prime Angus beef to A5 Wagyu. I really think I may have outdone myself.
I’m having my hair and makeup done at the local salon this afternoon, and I’m going to look so pretty; all prize piggy on show at the fair. I’m even going to have a big red ribbon in my hair, in memory of Aunt Liz.
Maybe there’ll be a cute boy I can snog in the wool shed, maybe there won’t – I don’t really care; because the most important, most certain thing is that I’m going to be the most delicious Long Pig in the history of our entire family.
I’m going to make everyone so damn happy, and I’m just so glad I can share my story with you all, instead of hiding it in a grubby book like poor Aunt Liz.
My only real disappointment? That you won’t get to taste me.
Reader, I have loved, loved my life. My Long Pork will be out of this world: once tasted, never, ever forgotten.

Preface: In a lot of these trades you could add or subtract a pick or two based on how you view certain guys, please don't get too caught up if I had a guy traded for 2 1st and you think it should be 3. We see plenty of trades in the league be holy overpays or teams moving off guys for a lower price than we as fans anticipated. Also, a good bit of these trades have big names in them and are just fun/what-if scenarios.
Detroit Pistons

• Pistons Receive: Draymond Green & 2029 1st Round Pick Swap via GSW
• Warriors Receive: Troy Brown Jr, 2027 2nd Round Pick via BKN or DAL, 2029 2nd via MIL

Pistons bring back the hometown guy. Help set some semblance of a culture in Detroit. Get a 1st Round pick swap when Cade should be peaking and Warriors are in their post-Curry era.
Warriors focus should be flexibility, would likely have to attach pick(s) to clear cap space, retool around Curry either in free agency or at the next trade deadline cycle (move on from CP3 and others), and could use 2nds to grab other role players.
Washington Wizards

• Wizards Receive: Duncan Robinson, Jordan Hawkins, 2025 1st Top 3 Protected via NOP, 2026 2nd via LAL, 2027 1st via MIL, 2029 1st Swap via MIA
• Heat Receive: Brandon Ingram & Kyle Kuzma
• Pelicans Receive: Jimmy Butler

Wizards are in the asset collecting stage. Whether or not it is the Pelicans/Heat that will trade their guys— the Wizards should look to have their hand in any mid-to-large level trades that take place this offseason and take on cap for assets. It doesn’t move the needle for them now but gives them more ammo later.
While Pat Riley may stand firm on his word and keep Jimmy, there is still a chance he gets moved this offseason. Getting back two wing players on relatively good contracts (Ingram expiring) and Kuzma making a fair $23M, which is a good salary-matching number for trades, might be a better alternative than extending Jimmy Butler. The Heat would also maintain a relatively good fit around Bam and see if BI can be a more consistent contributor under Spo-- then decide to extend him or let him walk after the season.
Brandon Ingram has been shown to take a backseat in the playoffs, and the West is only getting more competitive. While Jimmy isn’t a prolific shooter he would help stabilize their offense and take their defensive potential to the next level. They should seek more shooting even with the emergence of TM3 to feed off the slashing style of their top guys. The Pelicans would have to extend Jimmy and their cap situation would get tighter but their next goal should be moving McCollum off the books anyway. I'd make that move and figure everything else out later.
Charlotte Hornets

• Hornets Receive: Jalen Green, Cam Whitmore, Dillon Brooks, Jock Landale, 2024 1st via HOU (#3), 2025 1st via OKC or BKN, 2026 1st via BKN, 2027 1st Swap via BKN
• Rockets Receive: LaMelo Ball, Grant Williams & 2024 1st via CHA (#6)

Consider this a thought experiment on which side of the fence you are on about the health of Lamelo Ball. Yes, this is a trade that could easily get you fired if he consistently plays 65+ games instead of the ~30ish he has in the last two seasons. I’m not saying it should happen but if you’re on the side of it probably being a consistent theme that he'll be missing the majority of a season every other year this would be an interesting haul for the Hornets. Swap picks this year and get the future Brooklyn picks which as a franchise seem very lost right now— plus it gives you some freedom to push to compete knowing you'll probably have some good picks to fall back on. The Hornets hope to have Jalen Green become a more efficient scorer and get to pair Whitmore's massive frame alongside Brandon Miller which would be intriguing.
Rockets are meddling in that play-in tier. Alperen is him but you may have to take a gamble on another “him” to move into that next echelon. The Rockets would be insanely good at playmaking inside and out pairing Sengun and Ball. Move off the Dillion Brooks overpay and get you a guy that if he plays 65+ plus games you might be in the running for the 4-6 seed every year, if he’s hurt you didn’t give up your own picks to do it.
Toronto Raptors

• Raptors Receive: Karl Anthony-Towns
• Timberwolves Receive: Bruce Brown, Kelly Olynyk, Jalen McDaniels, 2026 1st via IND 1-4 Protected & 2028 1st Swap via TOR

I never really know what the Raptors intend on doing each transaction cycle but with the Timberwolves cap situation forcing them to make some decisions— the Raptors might be able to poach KAT for a reasonable price. They can buy a high-level shooting big to play off Scottie and RJ. I could see Masai fighting tooth and nail to only give up 1 moderately protected 1st round pick here.
YES, the Timberwolves have just made the WCF, and if they make it to the finals and win they may bite the bullet and be willing to have one of the highest payrolls in the NBA for years to come. But let's say they don't... they may look to avoid some of the constraints that come along with being over the aprons. They could potentially get under the tax aprons with this move, and get some rotational guys that could play and contribute in a competitive Western conference.
Brooklyn Nets

• Nets Receive: 2024 1st via BKN, 2025 1st via OKC or BKN, 2026 1st via BKN, 2027 1st via BKN Swap, Dillon Brooks
• Rockets Receive: Mikal Bridges

Nets get your picks back. I don’t care if they didn’t accept the Rockets offer, run it back. Or send Mikal somewhere else (Cleveland?) to get those picks back.
I'll give you another Nets trade if you're tired of the Mikal talk.

• Nets Receive: Devonte Graham & Zach Collins
• Spurs Receive: Ben Simmons

The Nets get rid of basketball squatter, Ben Simmons, which is a win in my book. Focusing their time and resources on their other guys.
Spurs finally get someone who will pass the ball to Wemby. The Spurs are no strangers to letting guys rest and fully rehab. Simmons most likely won't ever be that all-NBA level defender and distributor again— but as a rebuilding team, you might as well see what you can salvage. Also, Simmons is in the last year of his contract-- they could resign him if he shows signs of being a guy who wants to play basketball or use his vacant salary to round out their roster around Wemby.
Atlanta Hawks

• Hawks Receive: Marcus Smart, 2024 1st via MEM (#9), and 2026 1st via OKC, HOU or LAC
• 76ers Receive: Dejounte Murray
• Grizzlies Receive: Clint Capela, 2024 1st Pick via PHI (#16) & 2027 2nd via MIL

Atlanta has one of the more intriguing offseason decisions coming up with them now owning the first overall pick in the draft. They have a plethora of tradable contracts and only one true untouchable in Jalen Johnson. They could run it back with Sarr or Risacher added in but I believe Murray will be shipped out of Atlanta to "recenter” their team around Young, Johnson, and whoever the first overall pick. They get to try their hand at the other renowned defensive guard over the last 8-years to put next to Trae Young. They could also pick up a fake first in 2026 to attach with players in future deals. The Sixers would hope to get Murray back to displaying the defensive tenacity he showed on the Spurs (he has been less locked in as of late) while still maintaining the ability to go after a high-end free agent(s) before extending Maxey. The Grizzlies get an expiring contract and high-level rebounder in Capela after moving on from Steven Adams to put next to JJJ. Losing Marcus Smart would be a tough pill to swallow, he’s the guy you never want your team to get rid of when they have him but the Morant, Smart, Bane lineup is less than optimal— especially when you can move Bane back to the 2 and slide G.G. Jackson into the 3. Moreover, moving from #9 to #16 may not be that much of a drop off in talent in this year's draft and the Grizz could either stay put and draft or trade that pick for a rotational guard.
Chicago Bulls

• Bulls Receive: Chris Paul, Gary Payton II, 2026 2nd via ATL
• Warriors Receive: Zach LaVine

Bulls bring in CP3 as a mentor for Coby White, they hope to flush out the MIP runner-up potential to the fullest. They could also flip GP2 or buy him out later down the line as they have a solid backcourt rotation already. Get off of LaVine's contract.
For the Warriors, they would hope that LaVine can return close to all-star form, he feels like a guy who would fit into the Warriors movement shooting philosophy. Also, feels like he would become a fan favorite in San Francisco.
Miami Heat

• Heat Receive: Collin Sexton & Omer Yurtseven
• Jazz Receive: Tyler Herro

It's time for the inaugural Tyler Herro mock trade. If you're the Heat you give Danny Ainge a ring and see if he's still interested in Herro. Check the DARKO DPM, Sexton or the sexGod is coming-- He had a very efficient season in fewer minutes this year in Utah. Get a dog and bring Yurt back for the vibes. Heat could include Duncan and take a gamble on Spo's ability to resurrect Collins or Clarkson.
I don't know why the Jazz would do this. I don't know why Danny Ainge does half the things he does, good or bad. All I know is Danny Ainge likes Herro a lot and maybe likes his ceiling a touch more than Sexton.
I'm picturing Ainge and Riley sitting in a sauna turning the temperature knob up and seeing who submits first... winner gets a pick-swap.
Philadelphia 76ers

• Sixers Receive: Deni Avdija
• Wizards Receive: Paul Reed, 2024 1st (#16), 2026 1st via OKC, HOU or LAC, 2027 2nd Round Pick via MIL

A dream scenario here for the Sixers as they need to fill the spaces between Maxey and Embiid. Avdija has great length which shows up on the defensive end and has excellent rebounding efficiency from the 4 spot. His shooting improved this last year and would be a massive payoff if it cracked the 40% percentile on 4-5 3PA per game for the Sixers. Wizards likely view Deni as a cornerstone piece (I just really want him on the Sixers).
The Wizards could fetch a higher price for Avdija by holding onto him for one more year and letting him improve (which I believe he will do). The sell here is you get more 1st Round Pick equity to spend while you’re still searching for a legit franchise cornerstone and a solid rotational big in Reed after losing Gafford (Gafford is better than Reed). The Wizards reportedly want 3 first-round picks this year which the Sixers could supply plus additional capital to sweeten the deal.
Indiana Pacers

• Pacers Receive: Luke Kennard
• Grizzlies Receive: Jalen Smith, 2025 2nd via CHA, 2025 2nd via IND & 2028 2nd via DAL

The Pacers move on from a guy who has fallen out of their playoff rotation and snag Kennard who fits their run-and-gun style of play. Grizzlies pick up Smith to bolster their frontcourt depth and could pair his length with JJJ to make for some nasty interior defense.
Orlando Magic *unserious\*

• Magic Receive: Robert Williams & Jevon Carter
• Trail Blazers Receive: Nikola Vucevic
• Bulls Receive: DeAndre Ayton

The Magic are in big need of a real rim protector and Robert Williams is a high-level rim defender. His biggest detriment to the Magic would be his spacing as he'd occupy driving lanes for Banchero and Wagner. The other side of this trade is more of a funny scenario to me as I think the Bulls front office would do this trade to prop up a former #1 pick as a sign to the fans that they are serious about contending, which they aren’t.
Cleveland Cavaliers

• Cavs Receive: Lebron James (Sign-and-Trade) & Kelly Olynyk
• Lakers Receive: Darius Garland & Georges Niang
• Raptors Receive: Jarrett Allen, 2024 1st via CLE (Draft Night #20), 2025 2nd via MIL, 2027 2nd via DEN

Preface: This only works if Lebron wants out. The Cavs get to roll organically into the Lebron farewell tour and try to retain Mitchell long-term by pairing him with Lebron. Lebron, Mitchell, and Mobley have a very similar feel to the Lebron, Wade, and Bosh Heat… not quite as good of course but the archetypes are there. Also, pick up a stretch five in Olynyk which Lebron would appreciate. The Lakers have limited leverage because Lebron can opt out, so they might as well get an All-Star level talent in return for him. Raptors just try to get in the mix, by picking up a young center and some draft capital.
Milwaukee Bucks

• Bucks Receive: Cody Martin
• Hornets Receive: Pat Connaughton & Andre Jackson Jr

Don’t have much to say here. Pat Connaughton is probably the one contract they could/should move to snag a veteran who’s a bit younger than Pat but with more versatility at the wing spot, they’d pray for Cody Martin to pop off their bench. I just don’t see Doc playing young guys unless his hand is forced. Hornets take a flier on Jackson. You could toss in some protected seconds to the Bucks to replenish their draft stores.
New York Knicks

• Knicks Receive: Matisse Thybulle, Robert Williams III & 2025 2nd via CHA or MIN
• Trail Blazers Receive: Bojan Bogdanovic, 2025 1st via MIL, 2025 1st via WAS (will likely convey as 2 seconds in 2027) & 2025 2nd via BKN

Who knows how a 36-year-old Bojan recovering from a foot injury will look next year? They'll likely lose Hartenstein in free agency (if they don't use his bird rights) and will need someone who can play a similar role. Get some athletic freaks and depth that Thibs can use to carry out his war crimes.
Trailblazers eat the Bogdanovic contract for draft capital.
Boston Celtics

• Celtics Receive: Corey Kispert
• Wizards Receive: Jaden Springer, Neemias Queta, 2024 1st via BOS (#30) & 2027 2nd via POR or NOP

There’s something about Kispert that feels like he should be a Celtic… I don’t know what it is. The C’s need win-now contributors and could look to move the 30th pick. Kispert is a solid rotation guy that the Wizards like and would be somewhat hard to pluck him from them. I think it’d be worth a shot for the C’s to kick the tires and find out his value.

Synopsis:
An engineer in another world—blending science and magic to achieve greatness in a world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger.
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Chapter 02

-1-
Roland cursed under his breath as he trudged down the muddy path toward Lord Theodore's manor. The late early morning sun cast long shadows, painting the desolate landscape in an even bleaker light.
Why was it only him who had to deal with Lord Theodore's bullshit? Just last night, Roland had to take care of all the complaints from the bar he'd found Lord Theodore at. Not to mention, he had to pay compensation to the wenches from his own personal funds.
And that wasn't even half the things he'd done yesterday alone.
After all, Lord Theodore was either busy abusing his power and bullying the people of the town, gambling, drinking, getting wasted with his face stuck up a prostitute, or doing his fourth favorite activity which, naturally, was a combination of the latter three. The man wasn't the brightest, but he wasn't quite dumb enough to avoid dealing with the problems the town of Holden faced.
Roland shook his head when he made it to the estate gates. As expected, there were guards, servants, and soldiers dashing left and right, but he was ignored. It was time to beg Lord Theodore to attend to his duties. None dared stop him, for he was a [Knight] appointed to Lord Theodore by his father—Lord Alexander Lockheart—and an acting advisor while said lord was being, well, his usual idiotic and selfish self.
So, Roland did what he had to; he moved past them all, and made for Lord Theodore's sleeping quarters where a handful of maids were all fussing about like hens with their heads chopped off.
Lord Theodore's quarters were not large by noble standards, but impressive all the same. Lavish and gaudy, just as he expected. Tapestries and drapes were hung up high all about the walls, and on the ground, there were expensive fur carpets.
After moving past the maids and butlers who were currently shuffling about like a horde of ants whose nest was threatened by a boar, he stopped before a silk drape that barred the way to Lord Theodore's bedchambers.
"Lord Theodore," he called.
Silence.
"Lord Theodore?"
Nothing.
Feeling a little annoyed, Roland frowned. "Lord Theodore," he called again. "With all due respect, are you presently attired?"
Nothing but a muffled sound came from the other side. Roland grimaced, and looked up at the ceiling in exasperation before dropping his hand and tugging the curtain aside. The inside of the bedchamber wasn't much to look at. Just your average nobleman's bedroom with a canopy bed big enough to fit twelve women side-by-side.
Most did, in fact, do just that.
A bookshelf stood on each wall, and at the far end was another drape that led to an enclosed balcony where he had the gall to throw his used clothes through during summer.
"Greetings, my lord," Roland said.
Lord Theodore, however, didn't answer.
He sat in front of a full-length mirror on the dresser. He had this listless sort of look, like he just didn't know how to deal with things. It wasn't an expression he'd ever seen on the man's face.
"Lord Theodore, are you well?" Roland inquired, a sliver of unease creeping into his voice. Though he found the young lord childish—given he was barely eighteen years old—Lord Theodore was his responsibility. He'd been Roland's responsibility when he was a little brat, and even now.
Theodore gave a startled response. "Ah, Roland? Yes, I am quite well."
"My lord, with all due respect, I implore you to be truthful. Has something transpired?"
Roland was anxious now. While he harbored no particular fondness for Lord Theodore, a sworn oath bound him to protect and care for the Baron. Granted, his master, Lord Theodore's own father, had afforded him considerable autonomy within Holden's borders—heck, he could even go as far as beating up Lord Theodore without consequences, if Roland deemed it reasonable and necessary—but his code of honor held oaths sacred. The son of the house Varian would rather lose an arm and his birthright than break a single [Oath] made.
"No, truly, I'm fine."
"If that is the case," Roland acknowledged with a curt nod, "then I bear news."
Lord Theodore furrowed his brow. "Good news, I trust?"
"I'm afraid not," Roland sighed. "Yesterday, our patrol in the Deadwoods encountered a band of brigands...…"
Lord Theodore's frown deepened. "While banditry is a common occurrence, it often heralds further troubles. Elaborate, Roland."
"Indeed, my lord," Roland continued, "these brigands weren't merely causing a ruckus. Apparently, they were engaged in combat with a rather formidable creature, vaguely humanoid in form."
Lord Theodore's posture stiffened. "Vaguely humanoid? Can you provide further details?"
Roland shook his head. "Limited information, I'm afraid. Only reports of unnatural speed reached our ears; it appeared to be engaged with wolves. Both fled upon human-contact, however."
Lord Theodore stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Did our men prevail against the brigands? And this creature—surely Captain..." he paused, searching for the man's name.
"Thomas," Roland supplied.
"Ah, yes, Thomas. Holden is geographically close to the Deadwoods. Sir Thomas wouldn't simply abandon such a threat near the bordertowns, would he? He and I may not see eye to eye on certain matters, but... surely he wouldn't leave such a threat unaddressed." Lord Theodore said.
Roland hesitated. "Captain Thomas chose to bypass us and directly inform the Crown of their discovery. He remained tight-lipped regarding specifics despite repeated inquiries."
Lord Theodore hummed thoughtfully. "If Thomas deems it worthy of the Crown's attention, then it surpasses our jurisdiction. Let's hope for their swift and decisive action. What of the brigands? Eliminated, I presume?"
"So it seems," Roland replied. "All but one met their demise. The sole survivor remains in a cell, though maddened beyond reason."
"I see. Is that for now?" Lord Theodore leaned back in his chair.
"Not quite, my lord. We've had a recent outbreak of the Blight, and we suspect it was an intentional spread. Unfortunately, the culprit remains unidentified."
Theodore's expression morphed into one of genuine shock. "Are these two seemingly unrelated issues connected, perhaps?" He asked.
"It appears to be the case, my lord." A sigh escaped Roland's lips. The Blight—a magical sickness that eats away at your life force, causes lethargy, nausea, and kills you, all while your body radiates a pervasive foul odor. It had recently taken hold on a few people of Holden. Why or how, Roland did not know.
"Those afflicted have been quarantined in a secure location far from Holden to prevent further contagion. Our physicians are doing their utmost to manage them. However, several have died already, and the remaining victims exhibit signs of feral behavior—meaning, they have already entered the late stage, I'm afraid. It's become imperative that they remain under quarantine, lest they either bite other humans—given there's hunger for raw flesh in the late stage—or they could infect the crops, causing them to decay. Consequently, the farmers, understandably anxious, have retreated into their homes."
They were likely waiting for their lord, incompetent as he may be, to deal with the situation. Yet, he had his hand up a wench's skirt more than actually trying to fix the issues... What can I do with him? Roland sighed.
Lord Theodore rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Roland."
"Yes, my lord?"
"Do you think the Merchant Guild would let me have another loan?"
Roland's lips thinned into a line, but he shook his head. "Regrettably, my lord, they would not. The Merchants' Guild has been cautious lately. There was this whole unpleasant affair with a prominent [Merchant Lord] named Bertram, you might know the name. Used to flaunt more gold jewelry than some of the highborn nobles. Turns out, he was embezzling.
"Apparently, he manipulated the Guild's books for months. Inflated trade contracts with nonexistent suppliers from faraway lands, siphoned off the extra profit into his own pockets. Clever, gotta give him that. Even forged shipping manifests to keep it all looking legit.
"Nasty business, that. Apparently, the esteemed Lord Bertram decided a little vacation was in order after everything, and wouldn't you know it, he packed a rather hefty sum from the Guild's coffers along for the ride as well. We're talking a near royal-wedding-sized dowry here, my lord. Vanished, all of it.
"The details are still murky, but rumor has it Bertram might have gotten tangled with pirates operating from the Broken Isles. One of the [Pirate Kings], perhaps—or most likely. So, the Merchants' Guild has been refraining from giving out loans. And, my apologies to say this, my lord, but you're a high-risk individual, and you already have quite the debt with them... They wouldn't want to give more."
Lord Theodore already had a mountain of debt on his name... The interest rate was more than what Lord Theodore could pay off even if the crops did better than planned. Given that the Adventurers' Guild of this sector had been rather short on manpower lately due to a dungeon incursion in the town, Corinth, lying beside theirs and given that Lord Theodore had a tendency for tax evasion and then laundering… Yeah, they were royally fucked. Even if in this situation, Lord Theodore wanted a loan for himself... Roland just gave up. Maybe it was time to return to his master, Lord Theodore's father, and just ask him to appoint him somewhere else—he couldn't deal with this scumbag anymore, not in his current state.
"I see, they wouldn't. Not surprising. It seems I'm going to have to hire a [Necromancer] by my lonesome."
Roland blinked. "That's..." a shock, Roland stopped himself from saying. [Necromancers] cost a hefty sum, and given that Lord Theodore was already under debt and likely the financial situation of Holden was anything but optimal, hiring a [Necromancer] would've put a huge dent in Holden's already meager reserves. However, Roland hadn't imagined, not in his wildest dreams, that Lord Theodore would be employing one by his lonesome.
Throughout his life, Roland had known this man to not even spare a thought to anything that wasn't his immediate self-gratification, or his amusement and satisfaction. How was the wastrel noble suddenly going to change?
"My lord, my apologies for asking, but why do you require a [Necromancer's] assistance?" Roland finally asked, schooling his shocked expression.
"Oh, I have some... theories regarding the Blight." Lord Theodore grinned. "And a [Necromancer] might just be someone who we need in order to solve this problem once and for all."
Roland was shocked to his core, once more. "But, my lord, the treatment for the Blight isn't something common folk can afford? So, how...?"
"Nonsense, Roland. Forget that rudimentary concoction they peddle as a cure. I envision a more... permanent solution. Issue a commission at the Adventurers' Guild—a [Necromancer] or perhaps a [Witch], their talents are equally suited for this task."
"Yes, my lord." Roland bowed, failing to comprehend what Lord Theodore was planning on doing.
-2-
When Roland left, Ethan found it easier to relax. The stiff, aristocratic manners these people employed were rather annoying to bear with. No, they were rather hard to imitate, more accurately. Because despite his efforts, he'd still found it hard to match their ways, but it was doable. Not good enough, yet, but doable.
"How should I, going forward, act, then?" he muttered. "Because if I've understood a single thing, it is this: Theo's character as I know it now will ruin any chance of me, well, earning anything, be that respect, wealth, power, or all three. Should I continue as him, then, or completely overhaul Theodore's character and pretend it's some epiphany? A spiritual enlightenment, perhaps?"
Ethan shook his head. Whatever it may be, he wasn't planning on being like Theo. Let's go with a gradual change in mannerism.
First, however, he needed to deal with the Blight issue. Which would be easily dealt with—all he had to do was pay the [Necromancer], or [Witch], from his own pouch. Then, he needed to figure out this town's financial status and everything else in order to organize a working infrastructure and create new financial opportunities. Afterwards, he could move onto his 'character', if that is indeed what his situation required. There's a lot to do.
Before everything, however, a bath.
After all, he reeked of sweat and alcohol, among other not-so pleasant scents.
...
It took no more than a few minutes for a handful of servants to prepare the bath. Hot water steamed inside the spacious tub as soap bubbles glistened—soap that was far too expensive for the common folk. Despite being a luxury, its quality was arguably trash. Regardless, this was all the people had in this world. A strong scent of lavender permeated the air and tickled his nose as he undressed. A few maids had prepared for his comfort and placed a silken bathrobe alongside a set of towels on a small table near the bathtub before he'd dismissed them, ordering them to inform the kitchen staff that he would like his meal soon.
Ethan relaxed his shoulders, took the robe with one hand, and tossed it carelessly nearby. It was fine silk. Ethan shook his head before proceeding with an easy grace into the water. It was hot. Yet, Ethan felt rather cold, despite the heat. It helped him relax, and with it, the stiff persona that was Lord Theodore faded.
Ethan sank deeper, letting his long blond locks loose. A quick thought made him bring his hand forward. What if... he could make a fire? Just a little one, like a candle flame. How cool would that be? He focused, willing a tiny spark to appear on his fingertip. Nothing. Just a sputter and a fizzle.
"Hmm," he mumbled, undeterred. "Maybe I need to practice."
He doubted it was just understanding. After all, the skill [Elemental Spells] had given him the barest hints of the basics of how to create a basic spark of flame. He lacked control over mana. [Magic Perception] allowed him to view his mana—flowing, fast-moving streams and spiraling, coiling vortexes. It was chaotic; it was a mess! Maybe if he calmed it down, he could actually make something happen?
Easier said than done, he quickly learned. When he moved it, it took no less effort than bending metal with brute force. The feeling was there, and the will, too. Just the act of 'moving' it alone was a herculean effort. It seemed nigh impossible.
Maybe I'm doing it wrong?
Humming, Ethan looked through the snippets of memories he'd gotten from Theodore. The memories, he found, weren't entirely useless; as his mind drifted back and forth from those flashes, he did remember something Theodore had seen last night... There! A memory from last night—a drunk mage at the bar, showing off with a fireball for some girl who didn't seem too impressed.
"Let's see how that trick works," Ethan grinned.
With [Magic Perception], he saw how the spell flowed. The "spell" was, in a way, forced outwards into reality through the use of symbols he quickly recognized as runes—at least that was what he assumed after seeing the fireball.
Ethan could easily recall the shape of the rune that'd appeared before the fire took form on top of the mage's hand.
I'm pretty sure it's not possible to view runes. I assume, at least, from what little fragments of memories I got from Theo. Anyway, let's move my mana in the shape, then.
He imagined the shape on top of his hand and willed the mana to pour into it. Soon, rune motes started forming out of thin air, ripping into reality. Forming into a shape he willed, a rune burned brightly and loudly atop his palm. As he drew his hand forward, flames burst into life, flickering before fizzling out.
[Basic Magic Script] — Lvl 1 -> Lvl 2!
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Basic Rune Creation]!
"Whoa." Ethan stared at his hand, a wide grin splitting his face. So that's how it works! Runes, huh? That's awesome! Ethan felt like a child again. He couldn't wait to try again, this time with a smaller flame, as it appeared that a fireball was far too much for his lacking skill and control. Magic... it was epic stuff!
Before that, however, he looked at the new skill he'd gained.
~Basic Rune Creation – Level 1~
Type: Active
Effect: You have grasped the fundamental concept of using runes to channel and shape your mana for basic magical effects. The Connection between two of your skill—[Magic Perception] and [Basic Magic Script]—has resulted in the creation of a new skill. You can now create simple runes that allow for the manipulation of elemental energy on a small scale. As your skill level increases, you will be able to create more complex runes, allowing for more powerful and versatile spells. You may also learn to combine runes for even greater magical effects.
Ethan stared. Reading the description was a quick matter of concentration. It took him by surprise, however, when he realized it. Rune creation? Huh. Does that mean I can create anything? The thought alone was exciting. What about rune motes? Rune motes were fragments of runes, combining certain fragments could result in a full rune. I saw them congregating into the shape of a rune, but is it possible to just create rune motes and not a full rune? I should try.
Regardless of his thoughts, it was creation—
—and Ethan loved creation. Even as a child, he had never gotten tired of tinkering with things. He still recalled the time he'd gotten his first Lego set. Just putting random pieces together with no thought for a bigger picture—he'd loved that. He'd loved doing all sorts of stuff with Legos, creating different castles or other complex structures, but it was building something completely random and ridiculous, yet unique nonetheless, which gave him the most sense of satisfaction. It was fun. It was a hobby—a hobby that ignited in him a fire of passion for innovation.
It was then the thought of being a civil engineer had sprung up in his mind. To put it simply, a civil engineer is responsible for planning, designing, and constructing buildings. Though, that was just a general term. Ethan would have been perfectly happy had he chosen that. Unfortunately, his father had wanted him to become a boxer, instead.
The man wanted to become one himself in his prime, but due to health issues, he'd quit right before making it to a big league. He'd hoped his son would achieve what he couldn't and bring victory for the family. Even though Ethan hadn't exactly planned boxing as his future, but who could refuse the pressure his old man put on him? Especially when he'd been just a little boy?
It was another matter entirely that Ethan fell in love with boxing, too, as it made him feel alive. The sensation of a punching bag slamming against his fists? Nothing quite made his blood boil like that.
And oh, fighting in the ring. There was just something about the sport Ethan couldn't resist.
Something about creation, fighting, and experiencing a bit of both, had Ethan wishing he could try the other options that lay in front of him now.
Could he make a real spaceship, in this world?
It sounded silly as fuck and he knew it. Nonetheless, the temptation was still there, hovering and nagging at the edge of his mind, as ridiculous as his previous thoughts might have been.
Spaceships are cool, dammit.
That thought suddenly gave Ethan pause. "Let's just return to practice."
This time, fire flickered atop his fingertips for a second longer.
Another second was added on top of that after his third try.
The light was dim. However, it did mean something: improvement.
[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 1 -> Lvl 2!
Grinning like an idiot, Ethan sank deeper into the hot bath water and brought his other hand up to repeat the exercise for the next half an hour or so, occasionally reading a notification that would come every now and then.
[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 2 -> Lvl 3!
[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 3 -> Lvl 4!
[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 4 -> Lvl 5!
But no matter what, he couldn't get it to level up to level 6, nor could he level up [Basic Magic Script] from level 2 to 3.
Why not, though? I'm doing—
"Don't rush," he chided himself. "Your control is pitiful, shaping is trash, and your spellcasting is akin to tossing stones into the sea without even knowing how to make it bounce—guesswork is all you are, but it's a good start, I suppose."
As he set a handful of candle-like flames afloat on all five of his fingers, his lips quirked into a wide smirk. It was only a party trick. For now, that is. I need to find more about magic and learn. I've been winging it.
That was true; he didn't understand anything about magic. All he'd done so far was try to emulate the rune he'd seen in the memory snippet through the help of [Magic Perception] and cast a few party tricks. Was that impressive? He had literally no comparison to base off of, thus why he knew he needed to learn more.
Theodore's memories proved to be useless in this regard, too. His father hadn't found him worthy enough to be assigned a mage as a tutor. Theodore was a disappointment through and through, and that's why he'd been sent to rule the bordertowns.
He could cast the spell, yes, but he didn't understand the underlying concepts that fueled the magic or what the process was.
-3-
Ethan descended down the stairs that would lead him to the dining room where breakfast had already been laid out for him. Two maids were present as well. It was a feast of the likes he'd only ever read in fairy tales. Fried, scrambled, boiled eggs. Different shapes, sizes, and cuts. Cakes and pies in varying quantities and sizes. Grilled meat, smoked and salted. How could he ever eat everything alone?
Ethan exhaled and then dove in; however, he still maintained decorum as it was imperative to do so given that he was a noble now. Regardless, once done, he made it to the meeting room given that he had some people to meet today.
"Barely breaking even," Ethan muttered, flicking the parchment in his hand. He frowned at the financial situation of Holden, the town he was in charge of. The bordertowns consisted of a series of towns lying on the periphery of the borders. Each town was a barony in name, and nobles—especially troublesome nobles—were often sent here to practice ruling and to make them accustomed to how the common folk lived, so they could empathize with the people they ruled.
With how many bandits the region had had lately, the Blight, debt, tax, and interest that'd ramped up, Ethan's current situation was mind-fucking at best and a keg waiting to explode at worst.
I don't want to deal with Theo's issues.
Not only was this whole situation something Ethan did not want in the slightest, a whole can of worms that were Theo's problems was thrust into his hands. Ethan had held no fantasies of getting isekai'd. That was suicide in his books. He'd have been more than happy to die and meet oblivion. But now that he was here…
Leaning back into his chair, Ethan rubbed his eyes. Yeah, he needed to deal with everything and make the best of his situation to live a comfortable life. When Roland returned with a man in tow, Ethan hummed.
The man was young, younger than Roland, even. Black hair and sharp green eyes. He held himself high with confidence and Ethan recognized him instantly. Isn't he that mage from the bar?
"My lord," Roland bowed. "I have brought a [Necromancer] as per your command."
The [Necromancer] bowed and with a thin smile said, "Pleased to be at your service, my lord. The name's Jack."
Hm. So he wasn't a mage but a [Necromancer].
"Likewise," Ethan replied with a nod, then leaned forward, smiling. "Say, Jack, would you like to be part of a business opportunity?
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Sofia, honey, please wake up' mum mind links as I stir in my sleep. I moan, not wanting to wake up. Why would mummy want to wake me up in the middle of the night? Maybe she didn't say anything and I'm just dreaming about this whole thing. I sign and roll over, sleep overcoming me. 'Sofia, please' I groan, trying really hard to wake up. She doesn't sound too happy with me. 'What's wrong mummy?' I ask her, still half asleep. 'Sofia, you need to get up and run. We're under attack from a rogue pack. Your father and I managed to hide your sister away somewhere safe but we can't get to you' 'Where are you, mummy?' 'The other side of the house baby. I tried to get to you and I was so close but a rogue got to me before I could reach you and knocked me out. I'm tied up. There's too many of them so I need you to get out of bed and run away from here as fast as you can. Use the door in daddy's office and the tunnels to get out. Run to one of the neighbouring packs and when you get there tell them what happened and then wait there for us to come and get you. Do you understand my love?' 'Yes, mummy.' 'Good girl. I love you Sofia.' 'I love you too mummy.' 'Run sweetheart.' 'Yes, mummy' I reply as a tear slips down my face. I sit up quickly and reach over to my bedside table. I fumble my hand around in the dark, trying to find my hearing aids. My hands connect with the cold plastic and I grab them and put them in as my bedroom light turns on and I come face to face with two large men. Rogues. I study them for a split second, frozen in place. Maybe I will blend into the duvet if I'm still enough. The man on the left is taller than the man on the right. Both of them have dark hair and black eyes, a mixture of dirt and blood covering their bodies. I bite my lips, trying to hold back a scream. "Hello there, sweetie," the man on the left says in what I hear as a mumble. I whimper as they get closer, still frozen with fear. "What's your name?" the other one asks with an evil grin. I shake my head and shuffle back against my headboard. 'Mummy?!' I mind link. No answer. 'Daddy? Please?' Still no answer. "I said what's your name girl?" the man asks again, his voice rising, anger clear in his tone. I whimper and point at my hearing aids, more tears falling down my cheeks. The men look at each other before looking back at me. "Are you deaf?" The one on the left asks loudly, his smile darkening. I whimper again and nod. He grins at the other guy before looking at me. "How old are you?" he grunts. Not wanting to make him any angrier, I shakily hold up eight fingers. "Oh, this should be fun," he says chuckling as he walks over to me. A scream manages to finally escape my throat, more tears rushing down my face as I curl up into a ball in terror. The man stops for a moment and pulls out some black leather gloves from his back pocket. He puts them on before pulling out a pair of silver handcuffs. My heart stops. Daddy told me what silver does to werewolves. It burns their skin and causes them pain. It's meant as a means of torture. Suddenly, he grabs my hands, yanking my arms behind my back as he turns me around, cuffing me. The silver burns into my skin. Just as daddy had warned me. I scream out in pain, sobs falling from my lips and he does the same with my ankles before taking the gloves off. I continue to cry, not daring to move as it will make the burns worse. Deathly still, I watch as the shorter of the two men walks over to me, an evil smile spread across his face. He proceeds to pick me up and carries me in his arms towards the door and out of my room. I start screaming again, thrashing and kicking to try and loosen his grip on me but it only makes the burns worse. I lull in my attempts to break free, knowing now that it will only cause me more pain. A pain worse than I have ever felt before. All of a sudden, we stop and the taller man turns around and walks up to the rogue and I. He looks at me grinning and touches my hearing aids. Oh no, he's noticed them. "You won't need these where we're going" he snarls loud enough for me to hear him clearly, still smiling. Time slows down as he rips my hearing aids out of my ears, dropping them on the ground and stomping on them. Crushing them into a million pieces. I proceed to sob even harder as the dull ringing fills my ears. The pain of the burns starts to take over and I start to see black spots. 'Mummy?' I try mind linking again. Nothing. I really hope she and daddy and Claire are okay. My eyes start to flutter and the last thing I see is the back of the other man as we walk out the door and towards a car. I whimper one last time before everything turns black.
TEN YEARS LATER
I weakly pace around my tiny cell, trying to keep myself awake. I haven't eaten in two days and I'm surprised my wolf and I are still hanging on after all this time. This dirty, disgusting cell I have been trapped in for more than half of my life.
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Chapter 2
I look up and see a guard watching me with a smirk on his face. He says something but all I hear is muffled noises. But that's all I ever hear so I'm used to it. He walks up to my cell and unlocks it and I know I'm about to be beaten again when suddenly, the ground shakes. I look up to see the guards start to panic and run out of the room, leaving my cell wide open. Now's my chance. I've been waiting for so long to escape and now is finally the time. I send a silent thank you prayer to the Moon Goddess before stumbling out of my cell and out the door. I walk through the office and over to the window to see a fight outside. The whole rogue pack is fighting what looks and smells like to be another rogue pack. I take one last look before slipping out of the door and into the forest without anyone noticing me. I run. Fast. I feel my wolf getting a tiny bit stronger as I run through the forest, the fresh air filling my lungs. I haven't left that tiny cell in ten years and now I am free. It's honestly too good to be true. I know I have to keep moving or they will find me. I continue to feel my wolf get stronger and begin to surface as I continue to run, trees whipping past me. After a while, I stop for a moment and feel myself begin to shift as my wolf takes over my body completely. I scream out in pain, my bones cracking and popping and I feel my dirty rags rip to shreds. God, it was just as painful as the first time it happened. Hopefully it gets easier the more I do it. I quickly dig a hole and paw in the shreds to hide the evidence of me being here before covering it up and taking off again. My wolf lets out a happy growl and runs faster. It feels nice to let my wolf out again after I first shifted. I shifted about a year ago, I think, in my tiny cell and they screamed at me and I shifted back out of fear. I then got beaten and tortured and that made my wolf disappear. I haven't felt her in so long which is understandable due to everything that has happened. But now I know she's still there which is good. I continue to run, having no clue where I'm going but that doesn't matter. As long as I get away from that horrible place, I'll be fine.
I've been running for maybe about an hour, I'm not really sure. I feel like I haven't gotten anywhere. The rogue base must've been hidden out in the middle of nowhere because honestly, I haven't come across a single wolf pack territory yet. Or at least I don't think I have. All I know is that I'm not on the rogues land so either it's neutral land or a wolf pack's territory, both of which I find terrifying. I can feel my wolf starting to get tired but I know that the rogues will have discovered that I'm missing so I need to keep moving. I can't get caught. I won't let myself get caught. I can't go back to that hell hole now that I'm free. God only knows what Zane will do to me if he does catch me. I shiver at the thought. I must keep running.
I think I've been running for what seems like hours now and I'm exhausted. To be honest, I'm can't believe I'm still going. I'm surprised I'm still alive even today after everything that I've been through over the years. I know if I had been human then I definitely would have died a while ago. I continue to run, although I feel myself starting to slow down once again, my wolf growing more tired by the second. At this point, I don't know how many territories I've crossed. My wolf senses have gotten weaker, become almost non-existent from being locked in my cell with silver chains and wolfsbane injections for so many years so I'm finding it harder to tell. Either that or packs have gotten better at masking their scent nowadays, but I highly doubt that. I can't tell how many I've been through, I'm just glad I haven't been caught by anyone yet. I slow down a bit more to catch my breath when suddenly something flashes past in the corner of my eye. Whatever it is, it was gone as quickly as it arrived. Inhaling deeply, the faint smell of wolf hits my nose. Oh shit. Panic sets in and I instantly pick up my pace but I am quickly tackled to the ground by another wolf. I whimper, trying not to struggle too much because I know from past experience that if you struggle, you'll get beaten. There are always consequences for your actions. I close my eyes, another whimper escaping my throat and feel the weight suddenly disappear from me. I get up and slowly back towards a tree and the wolf gives me a funny look. Suddenly, two more wolves appear and stand next to the other wolf. I whimper again and continue to back slowly away until I hit the tree behind me. Losing my balance, I fall over and decide it's best to just stay on the ground as I'm absolutely exhausted. I look at the wolves and they stare back at me. The one that tackled me has a chocolate brown coat, while the one on its left has a sandy blonde coat and the one on its right has a pure white coat.

I want to thank Meatcanyon and Wendigoon for starting Creepcast. I've played around with writing horror, and here is my first short story. I will post it for free in a few other places to see what people think. Please enjoy!
A Hike to Remember
By R.L. Oclen
Chapter 1
A woman sits with hastily pulled-up fire-red hair in the waiting room of the state patrol station. The procedurally sterile off-white walls and decade-old magazines do little for comfort. With her head hanging low, her shoulders pushing forward, and her boots rapidly tapping on the floor, something has to give.
"Please just let her be okay." The woman growls as a pair of officers come in from the field. The officers' demeanors quickly change when they see the familiar face.
"Tabitha, did Officer Nichols call you?" one of the state patrol officers asked sympathetically.
"Yes, he asked me to come in and pick up a few things," Tabitha said, shooting back a muted look.
" I'll let them know you're here." The officer said, nodding to Tabitha as they passed the security door. Tabitha leaned back against the hard plastic chair, staring blankly into the fluorescent light. She had done this dance in the macabre repeatedly over the past month. The last image of her younger sister, Lisa, still burned in her mind. Tabitha had always been protective over her younger sister after their parents died. A pang of guilt shoots through her chest as she thinks about her and Lisa's argument.
"Tabitha Hymm, Officer Nichols is ready for you."
"Okay," she stood up, shaking off her guilt, and followed the officer back. The familiar surroundings of the state patrol station blurred as Tabitha stared forward. She followed the officer as they came to a rustic wooden office door, which was embossed with "Officer Nichols."
The escorting officer turns the old brass door knob. "Sir, I have Tabitha Hymm here." A grizzled West Virginia Highway State Patrol veteran sits behind the desk and nods. The escorting officer steps aside, pushing the door open as Tabitha pushes past him and slumps in the awaiting chair like so many times before. An uncomfortable relationship had formed between the two, born out of necessity and duty.
"Cup of coffee?"
"No thanks. Let's just cut to the chase. You don't have anything new?"
The worn laugh lines and Officer Nichols's face flattens. His eyebrows contour sympathetically as he shakes his head.
"Tabitha, I don't have anything else new for you. I wanted to give you the clothes returned from the lab." Her face darkened at the same response she had heard many times.
"As we discussed two weeks ago, there is nothing new and no signs of struggle or foul play," Officer Nichols said while placing a box marked evidence on the table and sliding it forward. Tabitha began to weep at the realization of Lisa's clothes in front of her. In a coordinated queue, Officer Nichols brought out a box of tissues. Reluctantly, Tabitha took a few moments to unblur her vision.
"How does someone stop their car in the middle of the Remington West Virginia State Park, lock it, and then walk into the woods?" Officer Nichols clasped his hands together and sighed at her worn question.
"Tabitha, I wish I had an answer for why your sister stopped her car in the woods and simply walked off. We're still going through her cell phone, but no signs exist that anyone forced her. On that Tuesday morning, she pulled over to the side of the road, secured her car, and walked away." Officer Nichols said empathetically.
Tabitha became stoic at the same explanation she had heard many times before. " So what next?"
"You should go back to Ohio, and I'll contact you as soon as I have more information." She winced at Officer Nichols's words. Reality began to pull at her that bills and work wouldn't wait much longer.
"If I leave, she's gone for good."
" You staying won't bring her back." Officer Nichols said sympathetically.
" So is that it? She's just gone?"
" Tabitha, I'll be honest with you. In cases like this… when people do things like this. Recovery is harder in the spring due to the weather and the animals. You know her mental condition better than I do. I can't explain why she did what she did. But until I find a solution, a suicide note, some intention, or body. She's not here. Tabitha, I'm-"
" Don't you fucking say sorry!" Tabitha stood up, screaming at Officer Nichols, throwing the plastic chair backward against the wall. " I should just look for myself."
"No!" Officer Nichols said momentarily, gripping the desk as his face hardened, then relaxed. Tabitha was caught off guard by Officer Nichols, who was normally composed. "Tabitha, I know this is unbearable. I've sat on this side of the desk and had these conversations. Trust me; I need you to be safe if I need your help later."
Tabitha nods, knowing Officer Nichols is right. She reaches down, picks up the evidence box of her sister's belongings, and leaves.
" Tabitha, if you're heading home, don't stop your car; just keep driving." Tabitha stops to look at Officer Nichols, feeling an eeriness to his words.
" Goodbye, Officer Nichols," Tabitha said as she closed the rustic wooden door behind her. She counted the tiles as she exited the West Virginia State Patrol Station. Placing her sister's belongings carefully in the back seat of her Jeep, Tabitha then sat momentarily behind the steering wheel, staring at the emblem. The familiar numbness washed over Tabitha as she pushed the start button. She pulled onto the highway, driving to the motel that had been home for the last month or so. Muted pop music accented the drive back as her mind raced with questions. Once inside the two-and-a-half-star motel room, Tabitha sat her sister's belongings on the corner table, crumbled onto the bed, and cried.
***
Tabitha wiped the steam from the slightly spotted mirror above the bathroom sink. The hot water from the shower felt good and loosened some of the stress from her body. Looking back at her, Tabitha's face was framed by damp curls around her shoulders. Her face marked the stress of the past month. Frowning, she examined the bags under her eyes; sleep had to come tonight. Walking into the living area, She changed into her favorite gym shorts and oversized sleep shirt. The alarm on her phone flashed "7:00 am," so she could drive home five hours after breakfast.
Tabitha hated feeling comfortable in this once strange room, but falling asleep was getting easier now. Her eyes closed slowly as the ceiling fan droned evenly. At first, nothing came in her dreams, but she let her guard down and slipped further into sleep.
As she dreamed of floating overhead like a bird of prey, Tabitha soared over the vast Remington National Park. The high noon sun bore down on the crisp woods, perfectly contrasting sky and forest. The heat of the sun felt good on her feathers. Distant cries rang out through the dream-like forest, catching her attention. Tabitha tilted her wings toward the screams, feeling a sense of familiar curiosity.
She now recognized the sobs and cries for help as she flew closer, her sharp eyes locked on her sister leaning against a large oak tree. She glided overhead without care, examining the situation below. Lisa clung to the tree, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning upwards. Lisa's face reflected desperation, looking for help in any direction. Tabitha lazily circles Lisa several times before perching on a sturdy branch higher in one of the oak trees. She watched Lisa intently with hunger. She bellowed deeply, hearing the unnatural sound she made, catching Lisa's eyes. Lisa's expression changed; she became calm, almost uncaring, as she stared back at Tabitha's form. Hunger grew exponentially in Tabitha as she spread her large wings. Her large eyes gaze down at Lisa before diving straight for her sister.
Tabitha jolts awake to the alarm on her phone flashing "7:23 AM." She breathes in sharply, shaking off the last horrible thoughts from the reoccurring nightmare. The strange details become more vivid each time. The lingering memories of folk stories her mother told sat in the back of her mind. In those stories, the dead would reach out in dreams as a matter of warning. Leaning back on the headboard, she searched for the advice her psychologist gave her. During their last session, Dr. Ryland explained dreams are a form of self-actualization of guilt. He told Tabitha that it was natural to feel responsible when losing a loved one in this manner.
Tabitha grumbled, lightly running her hands through her red hair; she pushed everything to the back of her mind. "Get it together!" She grumbled to herself. She pushed herself off the bed and got ready to leave. It was going to be a long trip home, and the only thing she could do now was leave things in the authorities' hands. Packing up was pretty easy since she only cycled through the outfits she brought. The local laundromat must have made a small fortune off her. Tabitha took one last look at the box of Lisa's belongings before throwing them in her duffle bag. She was thankful she didn't have to spend another night in this room.
***
Tabitha sat behind the wheel, waiting for the 90's model minivan to finish their order so she could grab a breakfast burrito on the way out. Considering the situation, the Deer Stop Family Restaurant did have a good breakfast. Finally, pulling up to the 70-style drive-in board, Tabitha rolled off the order she had been accustomed to. " I'll take a large iced tea with the double breakfast burrito meal and hash browns, please."
" Would you like some happy hot sauce with that?"
" That's fine, and a few ketchup packets as well."
" Your total is $8.79. Please pull around."
She pulled around to her window, flashed her debit card, got the receipt, and waited for her food. Luckily, the young woman serving her wasn't very talkative in the morning. The last thing she wanted was a conversation about the weather or meaningless small talk.
" Here's your large iced tea and breakfast meal. Ketchup and happy hot sauce are inside."
" Thanks," Tabitha said while mustering her best fake smile. The woman only smiled and nodded as the service window automatically closed. She pulled into the parking lot and dug into breakfast. Turning the radio to the weather, Tabitha sat back and enjoyed her meal. The local DJ read through the headlines, making nonpartisan comments about politics and grumbling about improving the economy. Tabitha powered through the updates of the "out-of-state woman" who'd gone missing. It was nice that the local radio station gave Lisa's name, description, and a missing person's number for sightings or leads. Tabitha even interviewed with the local news and radio stations, hoping it would bring Lisa home. But she soon found all it brought was a sorrowful look from the locals as she interacted with them in her day-to-day life.
Finishing the last of her hash browns, Lisa wadded up everything in the paper bag and threw it in the back seat. The 9 AM weather report said it was nothing but clear skies and sun the rest of the week. Tabitha flipped the radio over to the greatest hit station, pulled out of the parking lot, and began her trip home. She memorized the roads, every bend and turn in the early weeks as she frantically looked for Lisa. There's something hypnotic about the trees: the way they flow together. The trees' green tops and the oak trees' wide trunks were a relaxing view. Tabitha enjoyed the lazy s-curves of the road, bending and winding around the hills and the trees. The occasional farmhouse or field dotted the sides of the road as she made her way to the main highway.
The blur of a semi-truck snapped Tabitha's attention as she pulled up to the mouth of the highway. She had four and a half hours ahead of her, which would be a long ride. Tabitha pulled onto the highway and picked up speed, noting sparse traffic. She relaxed into her seat, letting her gaze gloss over the blur of green foliage. Without warning, Tabitha caught a large shadow from the corner of her left eye. When she registered the black feathery form, Tabitha tensed up and slammed on the brakes as it swooped across the vehicle's hood. Quickly, she pulled the car safely off the road. She couldn't determine exactly what it was, but it was bigger than any bird she'd seen. It was a bird, right? Tabitha turned off her Jeep and grabbed the keys and cell phone. Standing before the Jeep, she looked over the grill to see if she made contact with the entity.
Bewildered, she scanned the tree line, spotting something in the distance. Sitting in the clearing of the large oak forest was an enormous black owl. It stared intently at Tabitha with bright, shiny yellow eyes. She pushed the lock button on her keys, causing the jeep to beep securely. She turned, looking across the open field, an enormous black owl perched in the upper branches of an old oak tree. Each step she took away from the road piqued her curiosity. Soon, Tabitha stood in the middle of the open field, staring intently into the eyes of the enormous owl.
The horn of a passing semi-truck blared, pulling Tabitha's attention away from the mysterious large creature. She looked back and saw that she had walked farther away from the Jeep than she had thought. She glanced back to the forest line only to see the enormous owl was deeper into the woods than before. She narrowed her vision to find the two large, bright yellow eyes staring back. Had it moved? The day's stress, care, and worry suddenly poured out of Tabitha. It was replaced by only curiosity and overbearing tranquility. She warmly smiled for the first time in months as her feet pulled her further into the woods.
Chapter 2
The tug of gravity pulls Tabitha to her senses as her body reacts, falling forward. Her arms thrust forward, bracing for impact. Water rushes around her face as she struggles to get her bearings. Quickly, Tabitha pushed herself up in the ankle-high stream she fell in. The haze slowly clears from her mind as she stares at the muddy water. The dull ache throbs up her legs. Tabitha can smell the sweat from her clothes. Her face contorted in panic as she quickly stood up in the water, looking for her cell. Thankfully, the device was still in her pocket, dry and unscathed.
"One o'clock. How can that be?" Tabitha says, slowly looking up from the screen to see the vast, dense West Virginia forest encompassing her view. She shakes her head back and forth with disbelief. A smile gently spreads across her face, with the last bit of tranquility leaving her body. How did I get out here? Her breathing becomes faster as her pulse begins to quicken. I'm in the forest. I'm all alone—just like Lisa!
"NO, NO, NO, NO! THIS FUCKING CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME!" Tabitha screams into the void of trees. Her eyes well up with tears as she crumbles to her knees, gripping her phone tightly to her chest. Her sobs ring out through the thick oak trees. Her breath slows a little as she regains her composure. She begins to search her mind for anything. What is the last thing I can remember? The image of the black shadow crossing her vision while driving flashes into her mind.
"Okay, I got out of the Jeep, the…then what?" Tabitha says, trying to refresh her memories. She thinks her memory is not just gone; it's a black void in her mind. Complete blackness fills her mind right after remembering locking the Jeep and then turning to see the…
"Fuck I saw something. What was it!" Tabitha says, frustrated with her mind. She knew there must be a logical reason she was out here. Officer Nichols warned her not to go looking for her sister. She wasn't stupid; she just said that as a last-ditch effort to get him to do anything. Now I'm here.
"Run!" Tabitha heard Lisa's voice in her ear. Before she could turn around, she heard a loud bellowing coming from overhead. Fear shot down her back, reminding her of the nightmares she had over the past month. She shot forward full bore as something crashed to the ground behind her. Glancing back as she ran, a black mass of feathers convulsed between the broken branches of the trees. Its slick black feathers rippled across its surface as its bones crackled and flesh tore. Its body contorted and twisted from the shape of an owl to something bigger.
"Run, Tabby! Don't let it catch you!" Tabitha pushed forward, hearing Lisa's scream beside her face. Her breath burned in her chest, and she moved past the old oak trees bent over the creek bed. Her feet slammed rapidly, splashing along the side of the creek. Another loud bellow comes from behind as the trees bend and break to the force behind her. A small opening in the rocky creek bed catches her sight from the left. She dives into the crevasses, not caring where the fathoms lead. Tabitha tumbles in the pitch black, taking scrapes and sharp jabs from the rocks as she tumbles further into the void.
She finally tumbles to a stop on the sandy, wet floor of the cave. Her body aches from the sudden burst of exhaustion. The cool water running around her body from the creek is soothing despite her bumps and bruises. Pushing herself up, she scoots out of the water. Feeling her way forward, she finds a dry spot to collect herself. Quickly pushing her hand into her pocket, she finds her phone undamaged.
The sound of footsteps pushing against the creek fills the void around Tabitha as the light steps move closer to each other up the underground creekbed. She slowly removes her cell from her pocket and then shines the camera light toward the sound. A pair of scratched and bruised pale bare legs hold up a frail form in front of her in the creek. She wears the darkness as a shroud with nothing else to clothe her. Tabitha froze, not wanting to shine the light further in the pale form before her.
"Tabby, turn your light off. You need to save your battery." Tabitha turned off the light and then rushed forward, embracing Lisa—the how or why didn't matter, only the now. The pale form hugged her tightly. Tabitha felt her cold, bare skin. The darkness couldn't hide the feeling of the marks across her back and torso.
"Lisa, I'm-"
"Hush! I don't have much time. This wasn't your fault! I'm with Mom and Dad now. You have to survive, Tabby! Listen. Wait until the sun shines through the cracks, making a trail out. Follow it down the creek until you come to the opening. You'll see a large hill you hike up for a cell signal. And remember…If you can't see it… It can't hurt you. I love you-"
Tabitha stumbled forward before catching herself. The void in front of her arms was only filled by cool air. She looked up and noticed a faint glimmer of light pushing through the ceiling. She sat down, relaxing against the limestone wall of the cave, waiting for the trail of light to form.
***
After a few hours, the light shining through the cracks of the cave ceiling was bright enough to lead Tabitha to the other side. She stepped onto the creek bed, thankful for the sun hanging lower in the sky. Scanning the sky, Tabitha saw only a few clouds. The foothills of Appalachia backdropped the forest as she scanned for the hill. Her eyes found the trail leading up the steady slope of an impressive hill. The top of the hill was bare. Part of the hill must have sheared off in a landslide, leaving the top void of trees and a jagged cliff face. Tabitha started her hike up the back of the hill. She was careful to stay under the heavy canopy of the old trees, hopefully avoiding the creature's eyes.
She did her best to quiet her mind while hiking up the trail. Come on, almost to the top, then I can call 911, she replayed repeatedly in her mind. Her adrenaline made up for the lack of food since morning. She drank some water from a clean spot in the creek. She was placing her bet on rescue rather than worrying about the water.
Leaning against one of the trees, Tabitha took out her cell and measured the signal.
"Damn it, nothing!" She swore under her breath. She listened nervously and cautiously peered her head out from the tree line. Standing at the tree line, the cell phone still had a low signal. She pushed her anxiety down with a swallow and slowly stepped forward onto the bare rock. Tabitha was now out in the open. She walked with the cell phone pointed upwards, measuring the signal. Within three feet of the cliff face, her signal bar punched up to full. Tabitha began to punch in the numbers just as a pair of large yellow eyes appeared. She felt her legs become weak, and her vision blurred as the creature snared her in its gaze.
Tabitha ducked, missing the giant owl's claws as it swooped for her. She squinted her eyes shut, momentarily breaking the hold of the infernal beast as it crashed to the ground, tumbling down the path of old trees. On her hands and knees, she tucked the dialed phone back into her pocket. She heard the creature's loud bellowing, followed by the snapping of bone and flesh ripping. It was changing its shape to finish her off.
Tabitha tried to get up, but the flash of its eyes did something to her. Her legs were numb, her stomach was in knots, and she could barely put a few thoughts together.
"If you can't see it, it can't hurt you." Tabitha heard clearly in her left ear. She quickly pushed herself into a sitting position and fumbled for the key chain in her right pocket. Pulling the long chain of keys, luck charms, and keepsakes, her father's Swiss army knife dangled at the end. She slowly opened the half-inch blade. Her body wholeheartedly rejected her plan and tried to fight her. Every internal warning system sounded as her body fought against her as she brought the blade against the corner of her left eye.
She didn't know if she could do it until the creature bellowed in her direction. With one quick motion, the half-inch blade sliced across her left eye. The world dimmed and then went black on her left side. Behind her, the beast's thundering gallop was getting closer. Tabitha plunged herself into total darkness with the last bit of her strength. Her hand gripped tightly around the bloody knife as she folded forward onto the ground. She could feel herself weeping blood. She squinted, doing her best to stem the tide of blood loss.
A large feathered paw drove into Tabitha's right side, flipping her onto her back. She lay still as the hulking creature stood over her. It remained motionless, and Tabitha was confused about why it didn't move or bite her. Then she started to giggle, just a little at first. Then, laughing madly into the creature's face as it growled back at her. She could not see it; she couldn't see anything. Her mind couldn't be eaten!
The creature roared into Tabitha's face while plunging one of its sharp claws into her shoulder. Tabitha screamed in pain, slashing the knife downward. The blade hit something soft, and she ripped the blade down, rending whatever she had hit on the abomination. A bright yellow, foul-smelling liquid gushed in a torrent over Tabitha's face. She turned to cough, having swallowed a portion of it. The creature reared back, squealing in pain. Its hind leg came down hard on Tabitha's leg, snapping her tibia. She jerked her leg up, causing the creature to tumble forward and fall over the edge of the cliff side.
Tabitha heard the creature crash below at the base of the hill. A large dead tree speared the creature through its chest. Tabitha could hear the labored whines of the creature as its cries became weak and slowed. A wave of sickness hit her as she rolled over and vomited. The foul smell drenched her. She did her best to focus, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the phone. By memory, she typed in the unlock pin. She held her breath and placed her thumb where the call button should be.
She could hear the call being made then, "911. What is your emergency?"
"Please help me! A bear has attacked me, and I can't see. I think I am on a hill."
"Ok, ma'am, stay with me! Do you know where you are located?"
"No, I'm lost. Please send help."
"It's okay. Stay with me on the phone, and I'll use the cell signal to try to find you."
"I'm on top of one of the hills. I think I am lying on a bare roc-" Tabitha slipped unconscious with the cell still tightly in her hand. Her body began to tremble and convulse.
"Ma'am! Ma'am! Stay with me. I have help on the way."
Chapter 3
A young man in military fatigues frantically compiles images and reconnaissance data from his drone feed. Confirming his hunch, he commands the winged surveillance drone to make a hard left and send a live video feed. His eyes widened as he saw a large owl-shaped shadow crash onto the top of a hill. He watches in awe as the sleek black owl twists and shifts into something much larger, like a grizzly. As the drone turns, he sees a woman at the cliff's edge trying to steady yourself on her hands and knees.
He bolts up from the command module, jotting down the drone's coordinates on one of the printouts. The drab government-issued office motif for the watch station blurs in the corner of his eye as he rushes down the hallway to the watch commander's office.
"Sir, recon has eyes on AMOS! And it's feeding!" the man said, swinging the heavy wooden door open. He took the hastily compiled file and pushed it forward to the commanding officer.
An older, tanned man quickly stands, reaching for the files. His brow furls, seeing his charge is awake. "Keep eyes on it! Go Adams!" The young man nods, turning on his heel and bolting for the drone command module. As his office door slams shut from the subordinate officer, he grabs his headset and frantically dials the closest military outpost to the coordinates.
"Hello, Sergeant Klein; this is Agent Smith of Black Watch outpost 7948! Shadow is active, code Alpha, Mike, Oscar, Sierra. The coordinates and data package have been sent. A civilian is on the ground; deploy strike-and-rescue ASAP.
"We'll be up in five, Agent Smith! The line cuts as Agent Smith closes out the call on his headset and rushes to the door. The normally quiet watch station buzzes alive, with personnel flooding the central command station. The background echoes resource allocation calls, frantic typing, and the hum of cold computers warming up.
"Adams, get our eyes back on Amos!"
"Coming back around in 30 seconds." Thirty sets of eyes stare at the three giant screens, anxiously waiting for the drone feed to clear the bank of trees. The camera clears the tre top to see the giant feathered grizzly rear back slinging its massive head away from its prey. Its large yellow right eye spews bright yellow liquid all over the red-haired woman and the cliff face. The giant feathered grizzly missteps, crushing the woman's leg and causing the creature to tumble over the cliff face.
"Fuck!" Agent Smith yells in horror as he watches AMOS fall four stories, impaling a sharp, 3-meter-tall log lodged in the boulders. The command center freezes wide-eyed at the flailing dying creature on screen. Agent Smith pulls his cell out quickly and dials.
"Klein, Scrub the current request! AMOS is down! Switch to rescue and harvest now!
"What, someone took out AMOS?"
"YES! It's at the bottom of the cliff, bleeding out essence! The woman is covered in it as well. Clean as much of it off her as possible before you take her to the ER.
"Understood!"
Agent Smith, in a rage, slings his phone straight forward, connecting with Private Adams's skull. Adams flinches at the sudden impact of the hard plastic and covers his head. Agent Smith grabs the table in front of him and flips it over, sending the computer equipment crashing to the government-issued tiled floor.
"A two-year cycle gone! All that essence is gone! Now I have to wait another 24 months for AMOS to resurrect!" Agent Smith screams, causing the rest of the staff to recoil away in fear.
"Jones!" Agent Smith says sternly, turning to a petite woman on his left. She stares at him, pleading.
"Yes Sir?'
"Get Officer Nichols on my office line. That fuck up has some explaining. He should have told us AMOS was awake."
"Right away!" Jones quickly sits back down and begins dialing Nichols, thankful she doesn't have to deal with Agent Smith further. The command center quickly shifts gears as Agent Smith returns to his office.
***
Two Weeks later…
"Tabitha… Tabitha… This is Doctor Wilhelm. Wake up." The kind older gentleman said as they gently nudged Tabitha in her hospital bed.
"Where am I?" Tabitha asked, waking from what felt like years of sleep. She sat up, the world still pitch black, but an odd sense of the world around her seemed to hum just behind her eyes.
"You're in the hospital, dear; you scared us. Do you remember anything?" He said as he sat down on the side of her bed.
Tabitha thought for a moment the last parts after she slashed her eyes were a blur. She remembers people yelling and the sound of two or three helicopters over her. " No, it's really all just a blur."
"Well, it's probably for the best. You had some very serious injuries. The first night, we honestly didn't think you would make it. Then…" The doctor trailed off with a concerned expression, not knowing how to explain things further.
Tabitha felt his pulse quicken somehow. She didn't understand it but fully felt or sensed the doctor beside her. She sensed the two other nurses standing at the end of the bed. Her body didn't hurt. She felt great. She felt hungry.
"Doctor, you said had. What happened to my injuries?" She said calmly, trying not to startle the old doctor further.
"Well, Tabitha, it's the closest thing to a miracle I've ever seen. You had violent seizures from the minute you hit the entrance of the ER. We couldn't even set your leg. The medications we gave you had a minimal effect, and you thrashed so much that we had to restrain you. Then, the early morning check-in found you in a deep sleep. All but your eyes were completely healed. So we switched gears to support care and treated your eyes the best we could." He said, watching her reaction.
Tabitha leaned back in her bed, taking in the wild account. "Do you know how I healed so quickly?"
"What happened to you is beyond all scientific reason. A miracle is the only way the staff and I can explain it. I know you have been through a lot, but I want to check your eyes."
"Thank you for all your help, Doctor Wilhelm." She said, sitting up in bed.
"You are most welcome, dear. Now I am going to unwrap your eye-dressing. Hold still, please." he said as he reached up and pulled on the bandage tape. Tabitha felt a quick tug and felt the bandages loosen from around her head. The doctor slowly unwrapped the bandages. The doctor's brow wrinkled as he examined the two large black scabs covering Tabitha's eyes.
"Tell me if this hurts at all, ok?"
"Yes, doctor." She relaxes as the doctor's gloved fingers pass over the scab. He pushes and gently tugs at the side of one, and it starts to lift. He pulls on the scab more, and Tabitha begins to sense the light as it hits her eyelid.
"Oh, I can sense the light, Doctor Wilhelm!" She said, smiling.
"Wonderful! Nurse Allen, please hand me some saline solution. I think a little water will loosen these right up. Hold still; this may feel cold," he said as he reached for the solution. She felt the cool liquid flush over the left eye, then the right. The scabs fell away with a gentle tug from the doctor. She could see the light shine through her eyelids. She grinned widely, happy to have some form of sight left.
"Please open your eyes for me," he said as he sat back on the bed. Tabitha slowly opened her eyes. The flood of light was almost too much, causing her to squint. After a few moments, she adjusted to the fluorescent lights. Three figures began to take shape in front of her. First, the distinguished older features of Doctor Wilhelm came into view quickly, followed by the brunette and blonde younger nurses standing at the end of the bed. Suddenly, her vision snapped into place, crisp and clear.
"I can see perfectly! This is amazing! Thank you, Doctor Wilhem!" she said, turning to look directly into his eyes, but he stared back at her unmovingly.
"Doctor Wilhelm?" she said as her expression became more worried. Doctor Wilhelm just sat staring, intensely focused on her eyes. His expression was overbearingly calm. She glanced at the nurses, rigidly staring back at her with trapped, calm expressions. Doctor Wilhelm began to twitch slightly. It traveled from the base of his spine out to his limbs, finally convulsing.
"Doctor Wilhelm, are you okay?" Tabitha yelled as the doctor began to have a seizure and fell on top of her bed.
"Help Him!" She screamed at the two nurses only to see both of them crumble to the tiled floor. One of them bashed her head off the bed frame. Tabitha recoils back from Doctor Wilhelm in terror as he starts foaming at the mouth. She climbs over the bed rail and hits the tiled concrete floor with a thud. Her adrenaline surges as she bolts for the door, looking for help.
At the entrance of her hospital room, she sees another nurse leaving the adjacent room. "Please, my doctor and staff need help!" As the male nurse turns to see Tabitha, he suddenly goes stiff before collapsing into a violent seizure, spilling his cart over with him.
"What's happening!" Tabitha screams, thinking something is in the air, or everyone has come down with something. A pair of security guards round the corner, hearing the screams and commotion.
"Ma'am, are yo-" The guard freezes mid-stride as he makes eye contact with Tabitha. Both men start to convulse and topple over, thrashing violently on the hard tile.
"No, no, no, no!" Tabitha yells as she darts into the women's bathroom, a few doors up the hall. She runs in, terrified of the situation. She approaches one of the sinks, bracing herself against the cool porcelain. Her stomach turns, and she dry heaves in the sink. She steadies herself while turning on the cold water. Leaning in, she takes a drink. As she looks up, a glint of two yellow eyes catches her. Tabitha stumbles backward on reflex. Then, she sees her reflection in the mirror. Two completely bright yellow eyes stare back at Tabitha. She screams at herself in the mirror, not feeling hungry anymore.
The end.
I will

[Run Zero chapter: https://redd.it/1csb71x not every run will have a chapter; it won't be long before there are multiple runs per chapter.]
Portal load: Agility 1, Bait 3, Trumps 1, Pheromones 1, Packrat 1, Motivation 1, Power 2, Toughness 2, Looting 5, Discipline Challenge, 54 of 54 He allocated, 7.8% AP at start.
[This is probably the lowest helium load I've ever done, and sorta keeping my own advice on a recent Reddit post, Bait and Looting are up. Especially Looting, but it's not like I don't always do something like this.]
The human emerges from the glowing green mist and hits the ground. Groans. Pushes against that ground, trying to get back up. I feel really heavy. I'm not that fat, am I? He's got a dark blue button-down shirt on. A uniform? A shoulder patch. Rolls over- Ah, what's that? His shoulder pressed into something hard and metallic, He reaches over and his hand naturally seems to find a folding handle. He pulls it out from under himself and gets it up on his chest, sort of in a semi-comfortable position to hold it up and look at the screen while lying on his back. Some fiddling around the edges gets the power button pressed and the screen lights up with:
"Manual portal activation 1 successful: Void enabled. / 54 He loaded / Discipline challenge active / Total portal activation 955"
"Kakka," its one of his trimps.
'My' trimps? The human sets aside the portal pad and gets up.
Are you the guy? They all seem to be looking at him, as though they have a frickin' huge problem to solve and they need his help to solve it.
32s: First trap.
Do you bite? It doesn't matter much to us. The trimps look hopefully up at him through the trap's grating, We're so friggin' screwed.
I didn't think four of you could fit in there! He opens it and they all start following him around like imprinted hatchling birds. It seems his tactic of making a catch-alive trap confirmed to them that he was 'the guy' to help solve whatever problem...
26m42s: Z2c15, 58 pop, 7.7s RC with Z1/2; 29m44s: Fresh turkimp c25.
"Hey, buddy," he says to his first scientist, "can you speak yet?"
"Shijou?" it says, then it starts writing, "Hi Tightniks."
"Who do you mean 'Tightniks'?" he asks, "I mean, it's not like I remember my own name, but what makes you think it's Tightniks?"
"Tai," it points right at him with one paw.
"Just pointing at me isn't going to answer that," he chuckles.
The trimp's hands are quite prehensile, but it's hard to tell without it holding something, they don't seem able to make their fingers visually distinguishable. [Puchim@s all the puchidoru, although some have big round hands and some have small pointy hands; Takanya is the latter. Probably Final Fantasy Red XIII as well, but I'm not familiar enough with him to be satisfied.] This one starts climbing up his leg.
"Wait, wait," he stops it. It's a challenge to stoop in this gravity, but not as much of one as carrying a trimp. He gets down on his knees and back on his haunches and-
"Tai," it points again to a spot on his chest just left of his heart, then climbs on his lap and grabs his uniform at that spot, "Tai!"
He looks down and sees "Tightniks" embroidered into the fabric above his pocket. "Ah," he sighs, "Well, if that's my name, that's my name."
"Shijou," it gives him a friendly whack on the shoulder.
2h38m55s: Mskel in Z11c3.
"Hey guys?" Tightniks points at his bone box, waving his finger, "Does anyone remember where these came from?"
"Nope," the yellow one says.
"Yeah, there are 12 more in here than we got kills to account for," Tightniks says.
"I've been getting a sense of deja vu about just about everything," the red one points at the metal box on the strap over his shoulder, "That's a big exception. Any clues there?"
"It says it's for something called a DT Experimental Industries Time Portal," the human shrugs, "I have no idea what it's talking about, honest."
3h25m46s: Block PB, 0.3% AP sub-4h, 540 pop, 8.3s RC, no turkimp
That thing is beeping? He takes a look at his TPCS pad and he's got a message saying that he finished the Block in under 4 hours and there's a little attack bonus- Under 4 hours? It's been over 4 days!! Checking the time on the device reveals that the portal times in terms of a "map frame" out there in space, and the passage of time has been vastly dilated on this planet.
4h15m56s: Zone 15, 954 pop, 11.9s RC with Z14/60, no turkimp.
"Tightniks," the yellow one comes back from the second full bin to the filling third bin, watching the human fold up another of his very first inventions, the very first thing he built after jumping through the mysterious green phenomenon exiting the crashed ship, "Why in blazes are you building so many traps?"
The human had finished another and tossed it into the bin, then picked up the now ever-present portal control pad, gets it out of auto-sleep and called up the "Achievement Points" page. "I have this weird hunch," he says.
"Deja vu? That familiar feeling we always have?" the yellow one inquires politely, slightly tilting its head.
"May I?" Tightniks turns up his hand and waves it up and down in a lifting gesticulation, then points at the trap pile.
"Sure," the yellow one understands, "if you'll put me back down after."
The human sets the pad down, stoops at the knees and gets his arms under the yellow trimp scientist's front limbs and lifts it up onto that stack of traps with a grunt; it is an impressive demonstration of his improving strength against the planet's high gravity. Then he picks up the pad again and points at one of the blank purple squares near the bottom.
"You don't know what that is," the yellow one says, "Are we going after that first one that is readable?"
"Yes," the human nods, "it's for finishing something called a Dimension of Anger, whatever that is, before getting something called Bounty."
"Whatever that is," the trimp chuckles.
"No, I know what it is," the human says, "I remember it being access to a resource-rich area on the other side of a green Wall we'll find with our next map route. It doubles our resource production."
"That would be handy," the yellow one says.
"Hmm," he nods, "But all the traps are for this one," pointing at the third square in the top row of the array the pad labels "Feats", the second of three that are purple.
"Oh," a stylus materializes in the yellow one's paw, "Well, all it says is 2.5%. It doesn't say how to get it. Something to do with traps?"
"Something to do with traps," the human chuckles, "that's only convenient to do now."
4h29m46s...
Other trimps can understand the grey one better than the human, "Shijou shijou shijou?" is what a human ear would hear, but it's really asking the yellow one, "You mean he knew it was going to be here?"
"Yeah," the yellow one nods.
"Well, it's gotta be that pad none of us finds familiar," the grey one insists.
"I don't think so," the yellow one argues, "He showed the reason for all these traps to me on the pad, and the information is not yet available there."
"Well, it can't be just a coincidence," the grey one grumbles.
6h23m16s: Our first void map dropped.
"What is that?" The red one asks the yellow one. It grabs a stick and lifts the strange square object up by an edge from as far away as he can.
"I have no idea," The yellow one says.
"It seems to have some sort of cooling effect," the red one says, looking underneath it, having tilted it up with the stick, "Like it's not just cold, but actually cooling down, as though it were the opposite of on fire."
"Shijou," the grey one says, holding a note.
"It's a void map. Grab it with a blanket and put it on the cart please. - Tightniks"
"Shijou shijou," the grey one clarifies, "The new pad said 'void enabled'. Guessing it's that."
10h06m21s: Zone 21, 1975 pop, 19.6s RC with Z20/232, no turkimp.
"Ooooookay," Tightniks growls, "There is something off about this thing."
"Shijou?" the grey one looks at the yellow one with concern about their human starship pilot friend.
The human stoops, picks up the little green gem on the ridge between Zone 20 and 21, looks at it, huffs, and asks, "Any idea where this comes from?"
"Err..." the red one seems hesitant to say, "I think you made it."
"Really?" the human huffs, "How could that be?" Then he tosses it at Red, "See if anything reacts to it. It might be radioactive, so we should take turns to minimize exposure."
"Really?" Red's holding it now, "What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm pissed off for no reason I can figure out," the human says, "I think it's coming from-" he gasps, "Waitamint!" He starts searching for the portal pad.
"Frags," the red one says quickly, "I think it's arranging a route. You're good with maps," it tosses the gem to the grey scientist.
The human has his portal pad up and reads aloud, "You have the Discipline challenge active. Tweak the portal to- yada yada yada. Tiss tiss t- completing The Dimension Of Anger will cause Trimp damage to return to normal." He snaps his fingers, "That's gotta be it."
"Shijou," the grey one says hopefully, and has a map drawn within a few minutes.
12h30m06s: Portal, 45 He, 3.600 He/hr, 2098 pop, 18.3s RC, 1% AP for Portal-before-Bounty.
The last head of the map's boss monster goes limp as one of the fighting trimps' dagger points goes into it, and the huge thing settles on its tail, resting on the package that seems to be the prize of this map. And there's a popping sound, and then something mechanical.
Is that a scroll compressor? Tightniks looks at the package. The deflating monster's lifting envelope material drapes over everything underneath it. "Red, Shijou!" he snaps and points, "roll up that side of it. Keep this part from sucking down on the extractor nozzle!"
All fifty of the scientists jump in, literally, pushing the gas in the bag towards the compressor. Tightniks as well, rolling up the front.
Until he kicks, and nearly trips over, a smaller package that might be the explanation for the reason why the center of the monster's defense seemed to be a little away from the big package he could see. It's in the right place, he realizes. He gets it uncovered and reads stenciled-and-sprayed block letters on it:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE DOWN"
Perhaps the Dimension of Anger is so named because of the rage suddenly rising up in Tightniks' throat. It isn't so much as the free-floating aggression suddenly has an answer, there is definitely a fresh batch of rage and anger as he grips the nearest Dagger V, Mark 2 with both hands- ...I must have gotten used to destroying it at some point. He lets go of his weapon with his right hand first and dangles his left arm while holdi-
Refocusing on surviving the next few seconds, the pilot turns on the radar for the final approach and takes a last look around, then straight ahead at his forward camera and primary flight display...
He crouches, sets the dagger down gently, then starts clearing the debris from the box's grab iron. He tries to lift it- Damn, this is heavy!
Surprised at this turn of events, his two oldest scientists, Grey and Yellow, rush to either side of him and help out. They get it flipped over and read the other side of the device, Tightniks chuckles a bit at its predictability:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE UP" There's a square cutout in the middle of one side of it, with a sliding cover at the bottom of it.
"Thanks," he pats his scientists, "but back off, please." He gets the cover unlatched, and slides it open to see, first a big rainbow-colored wide data cable and card edge connector, then several fluid ports. "There's something missing," he says aloud as he gets the cover completely off and onto the grass, "this connects to some-" he's got the wide flat cable up in his hand, realizing what it plugs into. He looks at his scientists, lips trembling, "G-g-g-get the pad."
The grey one already has the survival data pad and offers it to him.
"No, the other pad," Tightniks clarifies, "The big one. The big one," he picks up wide flat rainbow cable and its edge socket in one hand, "It goes here," he points at it with the other. "It must have come with me end of the last cycle."
Both the yellow one and the red one bring it, one on each side.
"Thank you," the human takes it, gets its hinge lugs on the trunnions at the top of each corner of the cavity, then gets the cable connector on the card edge in the pad's base recess, "See, that's where it came from." It comes on:
"12h30m05s: You have completed the Discipline challenge, unlocking a new memory-enable coolant loop and restoring your trimps to normal combat discipline."
"Do you have any idea what that's about?" the yellow one points at the edge of the left side.
"That's-" Tightniks examines it, then suddenly realizes, "It's gotta be for the void map."
He's got a port cover open, and the bottom of it says, "NULLIFIUM/VOID HEIRLOOM INTERFACE"
"Shijou?" the grey one brings the blanket-wrapped void map.
The human clears an edge of the map; doesn't seem to matter which one, and then gets it into the slot. It disappears and the blanket settles down while the environment goes deep blue and suddenly goes super cold. "Hoe Lee!" he shivers, wrapping the blanket around himself, "I hope this isn't too much of a Napolean-Hitler Maneuver!" He glances around, but all the trimps don't seem to discomforted by the sudden cold.
12h35m24s: Void 1, 55 He, 4.369 He/hr, 2098 pop, 18.3s RC, first void AP 1% and 0.3% AP for 100 He simultaneously, we got a rare shield, but it's lame with attack, storage, and empty.
As the environment around them return to normal, the trimps cheer over the deflated corpse of the- ...whatever, who give a hoot? Tightniks finds a flurry of messages on the portal screen, two regard APs, one is about having recovered 10 He units, and the big one was about a "shield". Through the touchscreen, he enables it, and gets the status effects that it's talking about.
"Where to now, boss?" the yellow one asks, Tightniks can feel the draft off the cold trimps. They seem to be extraordinarily robust ectotherms, unlike him.
"Let's go back to that friggin' Wall, where it's warmer," he shivers, "We got that AP and could use the resources." As he leads them to the L15 route, he thinks, Maybe I did that void too early. It takes on the level of our most recently entered Zone, and the resources probably go up accordingly. [I did for character reasons after seriously considering running it at Z25 or 30.]
12h49m37s: Nursery unlocked.
"Four hundred thousand gems!" the human squeaks, "Are you kidding me?"
Grey and Yellow glance at each other, the former says "Shijou?" and starts doodling a real answer.
"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but young trimps have special diets for healthy bones," the yellow one explains.
"You eat gems?" the human gasps.
"Shijou," Grey says with a shit eating grin just above a little sign that says, "Babies eat aluminate, and gems are the best!"
"Do they like the taste?" Tighniks tosses a gem from the helium compressor in the direction of the nearest house.
"Uh-Uuuuh!" after it bounces off a paving stone, a yellow juvenile with red head fur jumps into the air to catch it in its mouth. [Puchim@s Yayo. Liek seriously, she jumps after pennies.]
13h32m59s: Zone 25, 84 He, 6.199 He/hr, 2217 pop, 52.6s RC with Z24/568, no turkimp.
It has an unusually light colored body, dark head fur that lies flat, and for trimp tails, wide and not all that prehensile, reminds Tightniks of a- ...he remembers what the animal looks like, but not that his home planet is called Earth nor that the animal is called a tanuki raccoon. Just the tail, the rest of the trimp looks like a trimp for the most part. Oh yeah, the mining foreman. [Puchim@s Yukipo] He turns to Red and asks, "What's wrong with it?"
"It's in a bad mood," the red one answers.
"I can tell," Tightniks glares angrily at the red one for a moment, cools off, takes a breath, and asks kindly, "Why is it in a bad mood?"
"We've never been out this far," the yellow one offers, "...well, with the portal captured at least. Now, it was in a good mood before it got near the cart after we started this zone. Something new on the cart?"
Tightniks approaches the mopey mining foreman and asks it, "What's the matter, little fella?"
It sighs, then starts struggling to climb [see 1x6] onto the compressor cart. Tightniks helps it up with a lift, then it goes to the portal pad and turns it on, opens up the coolant page, the challenges tab there, and sort of sighs and looks questioningly at him.
"Metal challenge:" the pad reads, "Tweak the portal to bring you to an alternate reality, where the concept of Miners does not exist..."
"Oh," Tightniks realizes, then huffs, "That explains the bad mood." He sits down with the mining foreman trimp and brushes its tail, "Don't worry, my friend. You'll be back after one cycle, and I'm sure I'll miss you and your miners. These guys," he nods at the scientists, "we're scared they wouldn't be back when I first used it on purpose, but they came back. If there's a 'Science challenge' later on, I'll have you and not them-"
The scientists flinch.
"It'll be okay," he assures the mining foreman he hasn't yet realized has fallen comfortably asleep in his lap, "It'll be okay, buddy."
16h11m02s: Gymnastic Z25 taken and gyms rapidly increasing now.
The 710 fighting trimps are majestic with their new gymnastic skill and nearly impossible to hit. Only occasionally did the gorillimp do damage. They took it down easily.
Then the dragimp they faced next blew them away with a fireball that made Tightniks flinch. It took him a second to get the dragimp back in his bee nickels. The next group was all ready to relieve their fallen comrades before they went down, even without the welcoming traps for the wild volunteers (of which Tightniks has just started into the 41st bin of ten thousand.) The dragimp can do nothing to them; anything that hits gets deflected by their V-8 shields; they never got sufficiently blindsided.
[Funny: V-8 is a veggie drink similar to clamato juice I can't find anymore, but it's really five-eight, which just happens to be the squadron number of the cast in Space: Above and Beyond. Herp-a-derp!]
19h11m12s: Spammed some random biome maps...
"Tai?" the grey one looks up at the human holding a little sign, "Last couple zones, you've been mapping a lot of random biome routes we never used. Is there any point to that?"
"Stats," the human says, fitting another one together, "Oh, and this," he tosses the trimp the completed forest route map."
As it registers in the portal system, the pad starts beeping and flashing its screen.
"What?" Tightniks sneers incredulously, "There's an AP for that?" He checks and sure enough, there's a 5% Achievement Point for making a 'perfect' map, by a full notch the biggest AP so far.
The yellow one was relaxing on the corner of the latest filled up trap bin, the 49th, notices, and leans back, "Yarey yarey..." shaking its head.
19h13m28s: Uberhouse taken.
"Shijou," the grey one stands at Tightniks feet holding a small book.
Tightniks takes a brief break from his trapmaking and stoops for his oldest scientist.
"Shijou," the grey one bobs the small book in its hands to offer it to Tightniks.
"Flush toilets and septic systems?" Tightniks reads, "You do this yourself?"
"Oh, don't you wish," the red one snickers, "No, it was in that perfect route you mapped up."
20h39m26s: Zone 30, 161 He, 7.794 He/hr, 4656 pop, 20N, 74.5s RC with Z29/1735, no turkimp, 2.5% AP for sub-60 He Z30 start...
"Oh?" Tightniks has an Ax V-3 over one shoulder and screws the helium hose connector to the portal system with one hand. He grunts, sounds kinda disappointed, sets the ax down and continues working on his massive pile of traps; he's almost finished the 55th of, he just learned, 100 huge bins.
The mining foreman had struggled up onto the cart to see, and just looks baffled. It usually looks a bit lost just as part of its demeanor, but this time it looks really quite confused, and makes rather bemused sounds too.
"Oh, what is this?" Red jumps up on the cart, sounding like it's gotta be silly.
The mining foreman climbs back down and spots a purple ore vein, makes a happy sound and pulls its shovel out of its back pocket to start digging into it.
[OC: This is not even close to an exaggeration vs. OG Puchim@s Yukipo who, in 1x2, just pulls out her shovel from nowhere and digs a hole through Project 765's indoor tile-and-concrete office floor to have a nap in the cold open of a 137 second long cartoon episode. Never run out of mushroom boxes! Also, 2nd season Golden Week gold medallion, she and Yayo dig into a volcanic island and hit an oil gusher ...you don't need to know much geology to realize...]
"Really?" Red groans, "Sheesh."
What's on the pad? "Hoarder: Have over 1 million traps at once, 2.5% damage."
20h48m06s: Gateways.
"Hmm," Tightniks pauses from his trap building and gazes over where they came from.
"Thinking of something?" the yellow one asks from the stack he's building under his feet as he puts the most recent trap on the pile.
"Yunno, we have a lot of territory back there that should be pretty pleasant to live in," Tightniks says, "You'd think we should be able to just map an enemy-free route that trimps can just sit down and live peacefully in. I'd love to be able to do that."
"Shijou," the grey one is at his feet with a massive shit-eating grin, not really "hiding" a big piece of documentation behind its back. Obviously it's not so dumb as to realize that it isn't concealed. It then pulls it out and offers it to the human, "Shijou."
"What's this-" the human gasps, "Are you kidding?"
"Shijou."
"Well?" the yellow one prompts, "Let's friggin' try it, shall we?"
21h34m53s...
For some odd reason, that quiet little mining foreman is on the trap pile, fiddling around. Seems to be trying to arm one, has the spring catch on-
"Hey, buddy!" the human notices, "What are you-"
SPROING and it goes flying through the air. Does a few flips and turns, and then sticks the landing, strikes a pose, and makes a happy sound. [op cit. 1x57]
"What the-" Tightniks says, scratching his head, I wonder how much more damage the fighters could avoid if they could do stuff like that.
"Shijou," the grey one is carefully copying out the trimpese from a tattered and dusty scroll.
"What is that?" Tightniks asks.
"Where mining buddy learned that flip," Yellow says from the cart with feet playfully dangling, "another gymnastic book we picked up a few NMEs back. Probably another chapter from the same book, actually. It seems to have been torn apart and scattered."
"Is that right, bud-" the human looks around, can't seem to find the mining foreman, "Buddy, where are you?" It can't move so fast as to get out of sight this quickly!
"Po-wee!" it cheers from the bottom of its latest hole, which is beside a pile of rich bluish-greenish copper ore, onto which another shovelful flies out of the hole onto it.
22h44m17s: Zone 32, 205 He, 9.016 He/hr, 9548 pop, 30N, 37.7s RC with Z31/2712, no tkp.
"You should probably go," Red whispers.
The exhausted human has just sat down for a nap after tossing yet another trap into the huge bin stenciled "61".
"Really, I mean it," the red trimp scientist gently sets a paw on the pilot's shoulder, "Listen to sense please. Charge all this helium and use the portal; it'll make us so much stronger."
"Only 392 thousand to go," Tightniks sighs, "All the ones I've made go to waste if I use it now. I know it's only a two-and-a-halfer, but if I go now, I'll never be in de-" his head slumps into the nodding-off of post-all-nighter fatigue, "moo."
Red and the mining foreman help the snoring human gently down onto his side. The former quietly asks the latter, "Do you think he's doing the right thing?"
The mining foreman makes a particularly delighted squeak, grabs its latest flask of leafy-flowery infusion, which is just now cool enough not to punish such a maneuver with a nasty burn, and upends the whole thing in a couple seconds. It then bounds off joyfully towards the big pit mine over there. It does not often lead the general laborers because of the gymnastic and shield driven block fight, which needs wood, but it happens to be doing so today.
Yellow stands next to the grumbling unhappy green lumber foreman trimp, who is standing on the head of its dual bit ax with its chin on the end of the haft sticking up from the head on the ground. "Cheer up!" the yellow scientist gently prods it in the elbow, "There isn't a Lumber challenge."
1d00h20m05s: Zone 33, 229 He, 9.410 He/hr, 10120 pop, 50N, 40.8s RC with Z32/3390, no turkimp.
"It's a familiar smell," the human says.
"There's no way we've been out this far since whatever it is that shtfed Trimp civilization," Red grumbles. [Word based on acronym SHTF, which stands for "stuff hits the fan" in its G-rated version. Long time ago, similarly derived "nsfw" was a kerbalese cuss word.]
"I think it's from before that," Tightniks clarifies, "from before the time loop stuff."
"I'm worried our fighting group is nearly a third of our population," Yellow sighs.
"Casualties bother you?" Tightniks asks, "I thought we talked about that."
"It's taking forever to breed up new groups, and these things, *snap* ow," Yellow didn't quite touch that one the right way, "you've got 661 thousand of are too small to help. If you don't go now, this will probably be our last Coordination and we won't be able to finish the next zone."
1d06h52m14s: Gymnastic Z35 finally away.
"Did you know it was there?" The red one asks the human as they watch the grey one transcribe another lost chapter of the Gymnastic book.
"No," Tightniks huffs, in a few minutes' break from his trap building, "But I'm not surprised, I hope it gets us Zone 36. In any case, as soon as I finish that millionth trap-"
The mining foreman makes a mournful sound.
"Don't worry, buddy," Tightniks pats it on the head, "I'll brush your tail again last thing before I go." He's working on bin #88.
1d08h00m10s: 12802 pop, 80N, 43.7s RC with Z34/5298, down from 27.4s; '31m00s...
Tightniks, wearing wool-lined leather gloves mixing shimp and bovimp ingredients, plugs the void map that they got from earlier in the zone into the portal, bundled up against the expected cold. He hopes that the fresh Gymnastic Z35 and Coordination Z34 will get them through it.
1d08h33m03s...
"Do you think you can get it back out of there?" Red asks the shivering human as he reaches for the portal.
There are a pair of ejector levers beside the void map slot which clicked when he inserted it, but the void map disappears, so it remained an open question as to whether they could get it back out. Making sure not to have his hands over the void map slot, Tightniks gets a thumb over each one and there's resistance like something is in the empty slot. He grunts and pushes down until they suddenly snap down, the ejected void map rematerializes. "Well, that's a relief," he sets it down and the starts doffing his coats and sweaters to let the warm air of the normal world reach him.
"Try again later?" Yellow asks.
"Yes," the human says.
"What, are you kidding?" Red scoffs, these things level up with the zones!"
"Later on in this zone, obviously," Tightniks grunts with a huff, and then turns to see the grey one holding its little sign with those exact words on it, can't help but smile.
1d09h08m09s: Snimp in Z36c74...
Having just finished yet another trap for bin #95 of the hundred that he needs for the million-traps AP, he tosses it in and looks to the front. There's not much left of that snimp, but it just killed a third fighting group. "The training bonus from running ten laps in an on-level map route doesn't transfer to the void, does it?"
"Shijou," the grey one says with a note of confirmation.
"And I'm getting close to done this pile of traps we need for that 2.5% AP damage bonus."
"Shijou," it says again.
1d09h08m21s: Snimp in Z36c75...
Tightniks sighs, "...and there's another one. So much for that void map with its heinous critically accurate fast voidsnimps and ugly boss fight." And he returns to building traps.
1d10h14m08s: Trying again...
"NULLIFIUM/VOID HEIRLOOM INTERFACE," Tightniks tightens the stuff around himself and then finishes getting the void map inserted with his gloves, and his fingers come together as it puffs out in a brief blue mist in the void environment.
"Timba timba," Tightniks hadn't even noticed that the lumber foreman was up on his head, pats him on the head, wants to get back to work. [No Puchim@s resembles the lumber foreman.]
"Oh, there you are," the human says, "Sorry, I wanted to finish the run with the mining foreman in charge of the resourcing workers. I don't know what's about to happen to it when I hit the Metal challenge."
"Who the devon talked you into into trying this thing again?" Yellow grumbles, looking up at the indigo sky and mysteriously shrunken and dim sun, hands- ...forepaws on its waist, not discomforted by the cold, but bothered by the re-attempt. [This cuss-word after Disturbed song "Inside the Fire".]
"Shijou," the grey one grins above a Rosetta-stone-like sign it's holding with "It was me." in forty-seven languages both human and trimp.
"Zone 37 is hopeless in the time it'll take me to finish building the traps," Tightniks says.
"Won't the cold slow you down?" Red inquires, "It seems to get to you for some reason we don't get."
"Timba timba," the lumber foreman confirms from its perch on Tightiks' jacket hood.
"Yeah," he huffs, tightening it down, "but it slows down the portal clock by the same amount, so who cares?"
1d10h38m48s: Voidsnimp in c12...
Even in the void, Tightniks has gotten used to the sounds of the combat and trimps dying en masse, but when he heard that voidsnimp screech, which is similar to a "drill" robot from an Earth video game he has almost totally forgotten called Descent (Interplay 1995), he almost involuntarily turned to see, Even way back here, they can damage us despite all that gymnastic training? Then it landed the critical hit and wiped them out, as all critical hits do on this void route. He still finished the trap he was working on before going back to the portal, "Forget this, we're just getting the zone blimp." He pops the map from the portal's void slot, and starts getting his void gear off. His uniform long since wore out, so he's wearing something much more cave-manny. [I picked that sound because that sucker was dangerous and terrifying and carried the nearly hitscan Vulcan cannon. There was no Descent II equivalent, but the Thiefbot was pretty annoying.]
1d10h45m30s: 1M traps AP for 2.5%. 1d10h47m36s: Zone 37, 345 He, 9.916 He/hr, 13120 pop, 100N, 33.6s RC with Z34/5298, 2774 pop short, no turkimp.
Tightniks had nearly finished the long procedure for loading and configuring the portal, then sat down with the mining foreman to brush its tail like he promised.
The scientist trimps tried to hit the portal's activation plunger, but it refused to travel the full distance closed for any of them. Quite tired themselves out trying. The only one not exhausted into total silence was the grey one with its exasperated "Shijou..."
The mining foreman refused to go to sleep, and watched intently as Tightniks finally reached over and set it home with one hand. Its last nervous little sigh was the only thing he remembered-
The ship is without power, and Tightniks can't run the radar much without draining the batteries...

Blood tests appear fine, but I can't get my guardians to set me up with a primary care provider. Symptoms include constant chills to the point of not being able to walk, constant stomach pain, dropping and breaking things almost 24/7, and tripping to the point where I can barely get up out of bed and walk without being in pain from muscle weakness anymore. I take sleeping meds along with anxiety pills, but I don't know if they're enough anymore. . . . . . . . . . . . .
I've had labels thrown at me ranging from bipolar like my mother from a licensed psychologist to a schizophrenic who thinks they have ghosts in their bones by EMTs. They constantly ask how much caffeine I drink even though I only drink one cup a day (ranges in size). I would switch over to decaf in a heartbeat, but it's no longer sold on store shelves where I live and I'm stuck with what's available. I've tried to cut back on soda/kool-aid/etc. and mostly drink cold water from their dispenser to save money. I usually go for a sprite when I'm out at a restaurant. All my blood tests come back fine aside from Vitamin D and my stool looks completely normal. I do have the rounded gels for vitamin D, but I forget to take them.
I left my phone at therapy on accident so using this time to see if I can make sense of the outside world, but all it really does so far is prove the point of why I'm addicted to my phone in the first place. While everyone else aimlessly scrolls through TikTok, browsing actual social media like Twitter and Reddit is the only way to connect with the outside world in a small rural town with next to nothing but a trashed up Dollar General. I feel hopeless when it comes to everyday civil rights issues taking place around the world while I'm stuck with old boomers who pray for our demise.
It's not safe to get an apartment where I live because of all the drugged up deadbeats banging on people's windows and helping themselves to everyone else's spaces while the cops do nothing. I've also had all kinds of people come up to me and fantasize about wanting to kill my pets in front of me, so that's another thing I have to worry about as well. There's even been issues with people pulling out knives on each other, so even though I've bought pepper spray for myself I dont think it's enough to protect my entire living space from being pillaged. It might injure my pet if the perpetrator decides to aim for my pet first and I can't spray them in time.
Steel padlocks don't mean jack fucking shit when people can pick up a screwdriver from somewhere and unscrew the hinges off the door while I'm gone just like my sister's kids did to me growing up. Security cameras don't mean much either if all the meth heads are just gonna come back and rip through all the replacements without any consequences from the police whatsoever. Not only is it unsanitary and unsafe, but I wouldn't be able to find clothes that fit me without traveling out of state either. I would like to start walking again, but I'm scared of falling in the middle of a busy highway or tumbling into a ditch somewhere. Even then it wouldn't matter how much weight I lose due to cup size being controlled by horomones. The only reason I'm so concerned about my heart is because my mother's side of the family has heart issues really bad.
I do go to group therapy (CBT), but they've practically given up on the "mental health" aspect because it triggers all the other clients into not wanting to come anymore, with some being in even worse conditions than I am (CSA, domestic violence, etc). Whenever we try to provide reasonable explainations on how coping mechanisms can trigger volatile reactions out of other family members, we're constantly being invalidated and told that we're just choosing to be miserable. Everyone is always a stuck up about how family is so important and how we need to "love" them from a distance. However, I can't just go anywhere else for therapy because the only other psychologists they have for miles (ones at the facility) will literally raise their voice and scream at residents in front of everyone else if they don't get their way. I can't go to the other group therapy that the residents because some of them reek so bad to the point of giving me flashbacks of my parents' roach infested hoards.
Everyone gets onto my ass about leaving things on the table when I go use the restroom, but the truth is that I'm already tired of having my all shit stolen since I was 10 while everyone in my life sat around and told me to quit crying and bitching about everything. I do try to watch other residents and keep my personal items within arms reach, but I can't keep up when I can barely exit my bed and walk down the fucking halls just to eat. That's all on top of my parents consisting of three different hoarders and losing track of everything I bring over there (not to mention all the roaches, mice, and animal waste all over the floor).
I've gotten a lot more freedom since moving away from the cult, but everything I did to cope has practically gone out the fucking window due to thieves and lack of internet (they won't fix the damn router bc they dont know anything about tech). I used to have a Bluey box full of different characters from the show (ordered online ofc), but everything's so filthy that I can't really bring anything out besides toys or stuffed animals. I have an entire tote of books I've never even touched because the place is way too nasty to have them out and risk them getting ruined.
Whenever my belongings do go missing, I'm told to just suck it up and forget about it. I'm scared to fucking death end up with holes in them from being burnt or get mixed up with other women's clothes and get caught being worn them when they supposedly "know better" according to staff. I had a female resident at the religious group home scream and cry to the point that my entire fucking body weight against the damn door wasn't enough to stop her from barging into my bedroom and harass me for shit (that's after all the BS with my sister's kids for over a decade), so I'm not even gonna try to talk to anyone directly anymore.
If I told anyone in my family about my concerns, they would just get pissed and ramble on about how it's my choice to be there, how I need to stop bitching about everything not going my way, and that I should've just stayed at the religious group home. Therapists keep acting like it's all my fault in regards to my emotions, that I just need to work on myself and tell me there's nothing else they can do. Nothing fucking matters when everything on my broken ass tablet requires internet and my consoles are broken. Hell, I'd be having a blast with my 2DS XL if the thing didn't fall apart within the first month. All I really wanted it for was to emulate old PC games and hook it up to the TV. I figured that if I had all my games on one device with the bare minimum accessories needed to make it function, I wouldn't have to feel like a damn hoarder anymore.
I love the tiny library of games I have on my Wii, but my remote is absolutely dirty as fuck with roach poop and other crud. There's no way to clean it without literally soaking it in something. The console itself has all kinds of encrusted gunk on the side from where my hoarder father attached velcro to the side of it. Constant chills makes it practically impossible to sit up and play the games as well (I'm lucky just to be able to stand up anymore). My library is small enough that I'm willing to fuck around with gyroscopic controls for fun. It's not even the biggest priority to me anyway because there would be so many other games to play in the mean time.
I figured with the Steamdeck I could could prop it up against the bed or set it on a table use a controller with it if I reach a point to where I can't see the TV screen from my bed. I can't apply for a job at Walmart to pay for the thing myself because of my balance issues causing me to fall and the inability to grip anything (which would result in massive damages to inventory). I'm also worried about them taking all my earnings since my SSI check isn't enough to cover rent and I need state supplement. I thought about selling my art on Redbubble and save up that way, but my 2022 Samsung tablet that I got a few months ago glitches out when I try to draw stuff and crashes whenever I try to play certain games.
I can honestly forget about recieving one for Christmas/birthdays because for whatever reason, everyone has to have their way when it comes to gift giving and god fucking forbid you try to establish the most basic of boundaries or else you're nothing a spoiled bitch. It's one thing for the Steamdeck to be out of budget, and it's another to deliberately go against a person's wishes when it comes to simple shit like candy or soda when they obviously fucking know better. It doesn't help that everyone goes apeshit over the concept of making a "wishlist" like their life depends on it, only to hand me a sack full of random shit from the Dollar Tree and call it a day. It's also impossible to give it all away when nobody else wants it (I don't have transportation to Goodwill) and throwing away new items is a trigger for me.
I know the Steamdeck wouldn't really fix anything outside of the clutter issue and I probably shouldnt be getting one with my current impairments, but it would provide me with something to do outside of being on social media 24/7. Given the total squalor I grew up in as a child, I'd be genuinely happy with a lot of things outside of the Steamdeck if it weren't for my living situation literally preventing me from doing so:
_ toys
_ art
_ exercise bike
_ walking outside

• playing games on the 2DS again

All of these "coping" mechanisms would come back to me if I were able to move to a different area in my own setting where I don't have to constantly worry about pest infestations from the neighbors, getting evicted for no reason, and random strangers trying to kill me or my pets. I've looked everywhere for supported independence programs and absolutely all of them require a medical waiver with a waiting list of up to 10 years. I absolutely need these services for my own safety as a neglected autistic person to ensure that people aren't just gonna come out of the woodworks and try to assault me on my own property. If I move to a more stable area, I could finally get a decent job without having to worry about coworkers coming up to me and taking shit out of my hands for not knowing any better. I could finally have stuff to do outside of technology and be comfortable with my own surroundings.
Even if all of this is just anxiety, I'm still fucked over when in it comes to actual health issues like gingivitis (as confirmed by Aspen Dental) and getting my wisdom teeth removed due to the lack of a primary care physician. I've done everything I can to and they just won't do anything to get me in to see a doctor. I try to brush my teeth when I can but hurts too much to do so. I also feel overwhelmed with trying to organize everything as I keep getting way more brushes than I possibly need and people will not take no for an answer. I don't even know how to prepare for death anymore as I don't even have loved ones. The only people I've ever been given true contact with are my hoarder parents and mentally unstable sister and that's it; no friends or anything.
There's nothing I can really do to repeal the guardianship without taking everyone to court, which is impossible with my sister's busy schedule and unwillingness to work with anybody else. I only because it gives me something to do finally outside of being locked up all week until I go to a half-assed therapy session for three hours. However, they usually go straight home and aren't really willing to go anywhere that costs money aside from restaurants since we have next to no food at the house (even then it becomes unsafe to eat due to all the roaches and mice).
The bane of her existence is to scream about how much of a lazy ass I am despite turning my parents basement into a hoarded up shithole that's flooded out with animal waste to the point of attracting mice. I know her issues aren't my problem, but back in the day she'd come up behind me and pinch my sides to aggrivate me. She also threw pants/shoes/etc. at me while I was on the bed and even shoved me out of the way after accusing me of hiding something I wasn't supposed to have in the kitchen drawer (I was a legal adult at the time). I usually lay flat in bed to avoid confrontation, but ignoring her makes her volatile so I'm screwed either way. I'm pretty sure she's beating and starving her dogs as well, but nobody really gives a fuck. I've got too many of my own issues to even try worrying about them. She's known to be a neurotin junkie for years since moving in with my parents and was even caught smuggling Adderall at work while the cops didn't give a fuck and turned her loose the next day.
I would've called the cops only if there was another child still in the house, but can't do so otherwise because of the risk of charges being brought against me for slander and libel (APS labeled the case as unsubstantiated). I can't just go around risking all my freedom and housing over sick animals that would more than likely be euthanized anyway. Not that animal control would do anything to begin with, of course. I know it feels redundant to even go over there every weekend in those conditions, but I'm tired of being cooped up all day. I'm tired of not having access to a PC with internet and not being able to breathe due to all the secondhand smoke.
I have finally have regular access to food and meds at the facility, but I'm bored with nothing that makes me feel comfortable anymore. I used to walk around town because of my issues with knocking stuff off tables, bumping into everything, and tripping all the time. I used to play games on my tablet to get through the day, but the internet no longer works since switching it over to a new name and the staffare too lazy to just reset the router (everything is infested with ads). We do have bingo during the week, but most people only play for cigarettes and that's it. I can't hold any kind of conversation with anyone else because they'll just ramble on and on about random shit that happened thirty years ago. I used to play Fortnite and Warframe on my Switch Lite, but it broke after I dropped it and we don't have repair shops where I live. It would only hold charge from 45 minutes to an hour with half the games being broken anyway, so I don't even know if it's even worth saving at this point.
I can barely make use of group therapy (CBT) because of how cold I am and how much my stomach hurts. I try to sit outside when I'm not cold as there's nothing to really do around town anyway, but it's nothing more than cigarette butts and spit everywhere (along with rotten food that attracts flies). There's nothing the staff can really do to make the residents pick up after themselves and they can't ban smoking (even if other residents have health issues) because it's the only reason why anyone gets out of bed. The people where I live don't really believe in PTSD outside of veterans, let alone C-PTSD. The mere concept of it would go against everyone's idea that "family is everything, even if they do things we don't like". We barely have mental health services as it is so I'm basically screwed into staying where I'm at even though I live in fear of being punished. I'll see what I can do to get the medicine lady to up the hydroxozine a bit, but I don't know what else there is to even do beyond that point aside from huddling in bed and freezing 24/7 for the next decade until I'm approved for the waiver.

Yip-Yap-Howdy, y’all!
My name’s Audely! I’m an 18 year old maroon furred fox in Texas! I’m in need of a literate, friendly, and fun partner willing to experiment, write, and hang out with!
I’m fairly experienced, and would consider myself highly-literate to novella in terms of literacy.
Now, I’ll make this little introduction short:
I request that my partner participates, shares ideas with me, actually talks, and isn’t afraid to say “no” to something. For me, I believe it’s crucial to have a happy partner, and will treat you wonderfully! I’m friendly, but if my chatter’s bothersome to ya, please tell me and I’ll shut my muzzle up and focus on the story.
With that being said, if you wanna divert from a story we’re doing, I’ll be happy to hear ya out on the idea! Worst I can say is “no,” but I usually try to make a “compromise” if I’m uncomfortable to do something with ya, whether it be graying out the area I don’t wanna do, or even biting the bullet and going straight into it, I’ll do my best to serve.
The only catch is that I stay as my fox, Audely - who I’ll introduce ya to in private.
I’m interested in military / post apocalyptic plots sets in the near future and am a sucker for enemies to lovers with a bit of romance. Down below, I have a plot written out for us if you’d like to read:
Roleplay: “Rally ‘Round the Flag”
Thunder booms over the desolate concrete jungle of New York City. Loosely standing rubble and structures were mostly all that was left, including a severely damaged Empire State Building that loomed eerily in the hazy distance. A cold, wet female sat watch in her perch overlooking a road. Mortar holes peppered the concrete and old, rusted barbed wire snaked across the middle of the street, connecting to different strong points to hold off a long-lost last defense from years prior. There were multiple destroyed armored vehicles parked in their final destination - some more damaged than others. It was hard to imagine that just 16 years prior, it wasn’t like this… But she still had faith in her government. After all, it is what restored peace.
The NDG - or better known as the “New Democratic Government of America” - came into power in February of 2020. It was ran and organized by General Robert A. Frost. At the time, he was a respected and highly intelligent 33 year old man who was not only an excellent motivational speaker, but the man who promised to restore the United States to its beauty - to revive a righteous, just, and prosperous nation. However, shortly after he brought this new policy into effect, it didn’t take long for him and his party to show their true, wicked colors. However, his rigor in his speeches and passion entranced many people, which kept his motives unharmed and continued with little resistance until a civil war broke out just a month after. However, Frost had managed to deteriorate every single state’s government at such a staggering rate that the little bit of resistance that showed was crushed. From his success and jaw-dropping speed in completely taking control, followers of the NDG fell in love with Frost, which cemented his unyielding leadership in this “New United States of America.”
Of course, he couldn’t wipe out everyone who disagreed, and many were disgusted and hated him to hell and back, but those who were open about it were simply, “Culled so that Progression of Restoring the Nation remained undisturbed.”
Audely Clearwater, a 19 year old fox from Texas, was an HVT to Frost - actually on his most-wanted list. The young, maroon furred fox was born in Texas shortly before the wake of the NDG, and had little memory of the United States or his parents prior to the takeover. His mother, a 24 year old woman, and his father, a 26 year old man who was mutated into a fox in a project named “Project Tail Wag,” were 2 of hundreds of thousands murdered by Frost. They exchanged their lives for Audely’s sake, sending him to live with family friends all across East and Central Texas. When Audely turned 13, he ran away after NDG forces surrounded his caregivers’ ranch in order to “bring youth under the wing of the NDG.” He barely escaped, and went into hiding until he turned 16. Throughout that time, Audely learned how to flee, beg, and fight to escape capture after picking up stealing and robbery to survive. However, he was caught by a group of officers of the State of Texas Army & Marine Corps. Forced to be taken under their wing after begging to not go to jail, he was trained extensively for the inevitable “some day, when we strike back.” And, it turned out, it would happen just a year later. He saw extensive combat, and even as a young and inexperienced soldier, Audely had gained a reputation as an excellent soldier.
Frost did not like this. He wanted Audely’s hide. Especially for his rarity as an anthro. He needed the fox to be exterminated.
. . .
2 years had passed since then, and Audely was still on the loose. At 19 years old, he became an icon for the effort to push back. Frost was furious and put a bounty out for his capture:
“Immediate promotion and Officer School scholarship for next 3 generations of your family for FREE for the capture of Audely Clearwater.”
And, there sat the woman. She had created herself to be an elite soldier of the NDG… and she was one of Frost’s top officers he had. She answered directly to him. The thought of fame and glory nearly made her smile. The NDG was close to catching him after a few weeks of tracking him and his squad down in NDG-controlled Maine and New York. They managed to kill his squad, but he once again miraculously escaped… for now.
If the intel was correct, then Audely should be within 5 miles of her position at this exact moment. She felt nervous, though…
Would she be able to finally clamp his mouth shut, and his limps bound for all to see, the Terrorist finally stopped and morale shattered for the resistance forces? Or, would the last thing she see be his snarl before he ultimately takes her life, marking yet another death for the NDG by the actions of Audely?
If you think this plot’s gonna suit ya, or if ya wanna try me out as a partner, please send a DM or comment for my Discord info!
With Southern Charm, kisses and tail wags -
Love, Audely

I know and do all the things and tricks. Dear god, I have all the visual prompts and reminders and systems in place, and even a LOVELY wife who reminds me of the things I need to do to survive. But like GOD. Why does it require SO MUCH.
Keeping this meat machine running is becoming a whole full time job. For context I have ADHD, ASD, Ehlers Danlos (Accompanied by bouts of Dysautonomia and POTS), and PMDD/PME meaning my PMS phase is EXTRA cooked turning me into a deep-fried werewolf half the month. Oh and i'm trans-nonbinary and have undergone top surgery and low dose testosterone....
So first off there's the BASICS OF LIFE eating breathing sleeping, homeostasis. WELL SOMETIMES MY BODY WONT DO IT AND I HAVE TO STEP IN.
Gotta feed myself every day multiple times a day. Sometimes body won't tell me i'm hungry until its too late. Repeated alarms get ignored /cause me misophonia and rage.
Gotta decide what to eat every time.
Gotta be mindful about getting good nutrition.
Gotta hope i haven't lost a safe food for some unknown reason wherein the sight smell idea and texture makes me suddenly go from pleasure to gagging.
Gotta have variety tho. Brain won't eat the same thing every day so there has to be a variety of "safe food" b/c ASD and "dopamine food" b/c ADHD available.
Gotta get groceries then too. But don't shop when you're hungry b/c thats how you blow the budget. It's worse on T b/c T makes me hungry as FUCK especially once we upped my dose( I'm actually going back down b/c this effect is UNBEARABLE. )
Gotta put water ON my body/clothes in the sun b/c I don't regulate my temperature.. I get cold when its less than 65' outside and overheat when its hotter than 78'.
Gotta wear and manage layers of clothing b/c of said inability to regulate temperature properly.
Gotta put water IN my body too but I don't know what thirst even feels like so i have to do it consciously or else I just....won't drink water. Which means....
Gotta keep enough water bottles of the RIGHT TYPE on hand b/c I just WONT drink out of a normal cup. I'll sip but to meet water need it's gotta be those chewy nip coleman bottles. don't ask me why maybe it's the mouthfeel ????
Gotta take drugs to regulate my HBP b/c i've got POTS. We actually suspect hyperadrenergic POTS b/c I respond well to Guanfacine and Clonidine and watesalt intake wasn't changing it.
Gotta take ALL MY MEDS EVERY DAY SAME TIME. Even with the autoreminder I miss it a lot especially if I flip it and forget to unflip it. or drop the batteries etc.
But if I take the POTS meds then the side effect is that if I forget the meds for even a DAY my body gets rebound effects which debilitate me worse than the POTS itself. So I stop taking the meds regularly and only take them as needed when I'm having more symptoms than usual.
Which is fine and dandy 2 weeks out of the month but the other 2 weeks .....fuck me.
Gotta batten down the hatches every month for werewolf week Because I have PMDD!! And I get POTS symptoms real bad during luteal phase b/c my body decides i'm a topsy tervy WEREWOLF???? and wants to crawl out of my skin. do all the drugs and bite my leg off/harm myself. So then i'm flippy, brain foggy, agitated anxious sensory overwhelmed and brutally insomniatic for 1-2 weeks EVERY MONTH.
Gotta remember tho take the gabapentin it really helps during wolf week. Whoop one more med to manage.
Gotta go to the pharmacy everywhenever. B/c of course they don't pill pack, or autoship and you take 2 controlled meds which must be picked up in person.
Now you might wonder....well why are you still having luteal phases if you're trans and on T? WELL B/C MY OVARIES JUST WONT QUIT. I'm in the male range for Testosterone even when I was at "low dose". My estrogen level is in the guttenearly undetectable but my body JUST KEEPS CYCLING. I even took nuvaring for 6 months no change. and I've tried two types of combo birth control and one makes me sex-repulsed/depressed and the other made me dysphoric and suidcidal. So now we're trying the POP. I don't think it'll work.... But its something to try. Also gotta take topical E for my hoo-ha b/c ....well I don't want atrophy. But that one seems to be treating me okay.
Gotta take my T shot every week and the topical finasteride every day. But T relieves my gender dysphoria significantly, reduces a lot of my PMDD SI/RAGE symptoms, and T is fantastic because it increases my muscle mass which reduced my joint slippage reducing pain? All good right?
Gotta see a derm b/c you're having a scarring alopecia flare up! But then that pesky scarring alopecia comes back. I had it before T, I actually had low T levels back then and i've been on finasteride my whole transition. It seems to run in my family. I've been symptom free for 7 years but something this year restarts the inflammatory process (probably surgery). Typical treatment is topical steroids and topical minoxidil. I have THREE cats. I will not kill my cats for my hair.
Gotta take the minoxidil now too. So they put me on oral minoxidil (and topical steroids). Which lowers my BP great but increases my HR not great. Now i'm constantly anxious about my HR my BP whether i'm fine or normal or having an episode or need to stop my treatment or restart it.
Gotta take more meds and see my GP. Great.
Gotta massage those top surgery scars every night. B/c mobility matters! Adhesions are bad. And the hEDS makes me scar like a weirdo. (hypertrophic and atrophic O.o) plus I want tattoos.
So lets assume i've managed the baseline physiological needs. Fed my body, watered my soul, sacrificed my cats to the three headed god of bendy elbows. Not having insomnia so bad the tech at your sleep study goes ....."is it always like this for you?".
Well then there's the psychological needs and problems.
Gotta take the ADHD meds or I literally won't get out of bed, will doomscroll for hours and watch my life fall apart.
Gotta take the SSRIs or else the crippling rumination, depression and obsessive body checking behaviors interrupt my life.
Gotta take Buspirone otherwise the SSRIS make me unable to orgasm and obliterates my sex drive. Thankfully my spouse's has also lowered these days due to her own meds so it's not causing conflict in the relationship like it used to. Sex is the only place in my life where I haven't experienced trauma and it's important to me personally as well for all the reasons.
Gotta work**.** Thats all i'll say there. b/c that is its own laundry list.
Gotta to do my accounting, pay bills etc.
Gotta do hygiene every single day 2x a day.
Gotta watch what I eat b/c i'm severely sensitive to gluten which limits eating out. So it's harder to do fun things with people/go out to eat with friends or order take-out.
Gotta remember to call/text my friends.
Gotta remember to call/text my father.
Gotta see all the fucking drs about all my fucking medical issues. Schedule and attend the appointments. Yes we hit our OOP MAX EVERY YEAR.
Gotta work out or else risk physical decompensation with increased joint subluxation or dislocations. And also for my MH/because I love acrobatics/aerials. I started decomping after surgery and the pain was atrocious and the injury cycle was beginning. I forgot just how fast the slipping happens.
Gotta attend to my loved ones. my wife and her needs, and my dog and my 3 cats.
Gotta clean the house, gotta wash the sheets, gotta treat the folliculitis infection I gave myself shaving, gotta tidy up after my hyperfixation projects and keep tidying my special interest projects.....
Gotta find/eliminate all the mold bombs regularly. b/c i'm horribly allergic to mold. So you know all the cups of coffee I didn't finish, hidden bowls of half eaten food lost under a shirt, or accidently left in on a bookshelf or in a bathroom, or orange peels dried too slowly or fruit in the fridge left a day too long....
Gotta get my blood drawn again for the 7th time this year.
Gotta schedule more medical tests.
Gotta let the ASD gods rule the weekend and worldbuild for 11 straight hours b/c I may be a sexless angelic demigod but hey at least I ENJOY my special interests again.
All this so that I don't fall apart. So I can get up, work, earn money, make friends, enjoy my special interests , care for myself and my wife and my cats and my dog , and hopefully live on past 30 without succumbing to either my demons or the inevitable progressive worsening of my physical disabilities.
Some days I just wanna be sedated.

Humans are Weird – Hungry

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-hungry
The air tasted warm as First Sister paused in the massive human doorway with its harsh, ninety-degree angles. Outside the sun was setting and sending the last orange rays over the humans’s crop pastures. The light fell against the vertical shades of the broad front porch with its last energy casting a rather pleasing lattice of shadows on the wall of the humans’ deadwood hive. First Sister gave her frill a flap in an absent attempt to cool herself and stepped out onto the porch with a little shiver. The porch itself felt safe, with its clutter of gardening tools, child’s toys, and mysterious items shaped for human hands or human eyes. However the wide empty pastures that sloped gently up to the sand dunes of the beach were something that First Sister could never quite get used to. She understood from her lessons that humans liked, even needed ‘wide open spaces’ as defined by distances far enough to make it difficult to see another human without obstruction, but the searing light of the day and the forceful winds of the night made it terrifying to her.
She eased down onto something that looked sort of like a couch and resumed the simple weaving project she had brought with her when somewhat to her surprise the familiar tread of Human Second Mother approached from within the house. First Sister sprang up and prepared to greet her but Human Second Mother burst out of the door and swept around her, apparently utterly focused on reaching the secure bin that stored the tuber vegetables this hive used on a daily basis. First Sister watched, somewhat perplexed at the intensity in Human Second Mother’s face as she glared down at the tubers, selected a handful of bright purple ones, and rather more forcefully than was needed, reached down and snatched them out. Then, instead of taking them into the kitchen to prepare Human Second Mother brought the tubers up to her mouth and simply bit off a large chunk and started chewing. Her body language instantly changed, the tightness in the skin around her face relaxed, her fingers uncurled slightly, she stood taller and easier as if the bite had relived some distress. The crunching sound filled the porch as Human Second mother let her gaze wander out across the ‘wide open spaces’.
First Sister continued to watch in fascination as Human Second Mother ate an entire raw tuber. First Sister was not entirely certain that the tubers were indigestible to humans raw, but she knew that it was highly unusual for these humans to eat them raw in any mass. After finishing the first tuber, which was easily the size and mass of First Sister’s arm, Human Second mother frowned thoughtfully at the second tuber, gave a low grunt, and took another bite, less frantically than she had before. She glanced over at First Sister and smiled.
“Hey Kid,” she said turning to angle back through the door.
It seemed to be a general greeting, backed up by Human Second Mother idly reaching up to pat First Sister’s head between her antenna, so it didn’t require a reply. First Sister wondered at what she had just seen, but as no explanation seemed likely she turned her attention back to her weaving and the sunset. Eventually the artificial lights on the porch switched on and the sound of Human Friend Betty returning from the beach with Human First Sister drifted up the path. They greeted her joyfully, surprised at her presence, and the three of them entered the house together talking of the swimming conditions on the local beach. The humans decided to stay in their saltwater-soaked clothes until had hydrated and they sat down around the large preparation table in the kitchen to drink some acidic fruit juice. It was more than pleasant with the air rapidly cooling, the sounds of the night drifting in through the still open door, and the exotic taste of the juice. However First Sister stopped talking as she observed Human Second Mother pace by in that same, tense focused way, open the cold storage in the kitchen, and outright scowl at the contents before reaching in and removing several avian eggs. The adult human quickly cracked the shells, revealing the insides had been solidified through boiling, then proceed to eat the eggs with that same quick intensity she had applied to the tubers.
“What’cha looking at First?” Human First Sister asked.
“Is there something wrong with Human Second Mother?” First Sister asked, feeling her antenna curl in concern.
“Mom?” Human Second Cousin Betty asked, glancing after the retreating back of her mother. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”
First Sister explained the behavior she had observed and Human Second Cousin Betty seemed as perplexed as she did, however the older Human First Sister only nodded in confident understanding. By the time First Sister was done Human First Sister was clearly wanting to say something.
“Hormones!” Human First Sister said with final firm nod.
“What does that even mean?” Human Second Cousin Betty demanded with an irritated frown.
“Oh,” Human First Sister’s face contorted in something between and grimace of pain and a smug smile, “you’ll understand in a few years. Don’t you worry.”
“I’m not worried!” Human Second Cousin Betty insisted.
“What specific aspect of her hormones resulted in her eating so much?” First Sister quickly cut in to avoid a cousin argument.
“Its just that time of her cycle,” Human First Sister said with a wave of her hand. “Happens to all of us, eventually. You get one day where they hungry just won’t stop and nothing really satisfies it, but it’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“It’s a mammal moon cycle thing,” Human Second Cousin Betty offered when First Sister didn’t uncurl her confused antenna.
The conversation turned there as they had finished drinking and wanted to seek privacy to change out of their swimming clothes. First Sister waited for them at the table mulling over whether this strange food scavenging behavior was worth further investigation.

Science Fiction Books By Betty Adams

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This is a sequel to The Way of the Human!
Prequel startPrequel endFirstPrevious
Memory transcription subject: Thass, Arxur-UN Cooperative Liaison
Date [standardised human time]: 27th of November, 2136
I had decided to leave the camp for the night, still furious at the implication the Zurulian medic had made. To even suggest I would be defective in such a way that I would fall for prey... It sickened me. Barisis was a pet at best, a meal at worst. Agreements with humanity be damned, I would eat her if she also tried to suggest such a thing.
The temporary residence I had chosen was an abandoned home, likely left behind by the prey that once lived there, possibly even killed during the Dominion's short lived hold on this world. The entire building felt cramped for my large frame, but it sufficed. I didn't plan to stay here for long.
Foolishly I hadn't brought any rations with me, meaning that I would go hungry for as long as I was away, assuming I didn't find anything edible out here. While I was far from a stranger to going without a meal for extended periods of time, having once been under the gluttonous Vizz's command, my time with the humans had spoiled me, and now I was starting to get used to always going to sleep on a full stomach.
Abundance can be just as much a curse as it can be a blessing, it turns out. I've almost forgotten what it's like to starve. Maybe it's a good thing that I didn't have good with me. Keeps me from getting pampered.
The home wasn't unpleasant to view, though aesthetics hardly made my hunger any better. Prey were so often focused on form over function. All that was left behind was prey feed, which was inedible to me. The dilapidated bed was comfortable enough, so I doubted I would have trouble sleeping in spite of the gnawing hunger.
But just as I felt ready to try to sleep, or more accurately seethe and stew in my thoughts, I just barely heard the front door open. It seemed some foolish prey had unknowingly stepped into a newly claimed predator's den. Perhaps this was the homeowner, now returning only to find a nasty surprise waiting for them.
By the Prophet, am I hungry. Maybe... just one Harchen civilian won't be missed, will they?
Stealthily I rose from the soft mattress. My drowsiness was gone in a flash, replaced by hunter's instinct. A miniscule part of me felt bad for them, but sometimes fate was just cruel.
Sneaking through the door and into the wider building, I heard the steps approaching my position. I hid in the hallway gap, ready to pounce. As soon as I saw even the slightest bit of movement, the morsel that stepped in here would be dead.
A shadow approached from the side, illuminated through the windows by streetlights. And when they unwittingly closed the gap, I launched myself through the air, triumphant in my catch, and I prepared to bite down on...
"Barisis?"
"Hi..." whimpered the Kolshian. What the fuck was she doing here?! Had she followed me? If so, why? Didn't she understand that I was a killer to be feared!?
She squirmed in my grasp, far more uncomfortable with my jaw around her now than she did earlier today. Fear was in her eyes now. "Um... you gonna let me go?"
I could explain away her disappearance, couldn't I? There are pockets of resistance all over this city, who was to say I'm the one who nabbed her?
But as I looked at her again... Maybe it was a moment of weakness, or a lapse in better judgement. Whatever it was, it made me let her go.
"What the fuck are you doing our here?" I questioned the reckless prey, pulling her up on her two legs with my superior strength.
"Someone needed to go out and find you, and I volunteered," she answered simply. "You can't just fuck off into the city without telling anyone where you're going or how long you'll be."
I snorted in disbelief. "And they let you out here, alone and unarmed, in this highly unsafe city?"
"They did neither," she said, placing a tentacle upon a chest-holster. Doing so made her realise that the gun had flown out when I pounced her, and she grumbled in annoyance before looking around to search for it. "Shit. You're a prick, you know that?"
"You've become incredibly bold, little prey," I commented. "Insulting a superior being and thinking there won't be any consequences."
"Because there are none, you ass," retorted the Kolshian, walking all around the house, trying to find the lost gun. "You're all petals and no pollen."
"What?"
"Aafan term, means you won't follow up on your threats," she explained, a definite cheekiness in her tone.
I couldn't help but chuckle at her behaviour. "You're tempting me to break the trend. And while you've shown you're not defenceless, in theory anyway, you haven't explained how you're not alone."
"We split up, but Hans and Jesper are also looking for you. I'll radio in and tell them I've found you," she said, now kneeling down on the floor, still searching.
She made a noise of accomplishment, indicating that she had found the weapon, but then sighed in disappointment. After the mix of emotions, she tried to reach under a low-to-the-floor piece of furniture which served a purpose unknown to me. Her attempts to reach the weapon had her entire torso on the floor, swiping a tentacle under the tight space. The position she was in resulted in her bottom half-poking up into the air, swaying slightly thanks to her attempts to grab the gun.
I... why do I... like this view? What is this feeling? It's like hunger, but... Maybe it's just because it's been a while since I was this hungry. Yes, it's hunger. The lower part of her is plump, which would make good eating. The lack of food is messing with my head. Yes, that's what's happening. It's just her appetising form that's enticing to my starved mind.
She groaned in frustration, not being able to reach the gun she'd been given. "Help me out here, would you?"
While I wanted to help, I was too enamoured to look away from her form. I was drinking it all in, imagining how her delicious flesh might taste.
"I, ah... Yes, of course," I muttered, grabbing the entire object and moving it somewhere else. The prey doctor had now retrieved her weapon, seeming pleased about it.
Remembering what she said about informing the human command about where I was, I decided to scarf the topic down while it was still bite sized.
"You can tell the humans I'm here if you like," I stated, getting her attention. "But that doesn't mean I'll return."
She sighed, but didn't seem surprised. "I figured you'd say that, actually. That's why I brought this," she gestured at a bag wrapped around her that I hadn't noticed until now.
I failed to see what that had to do about it. "And? What's so important about the bag?"
She opened it, pulling out meat ration cans. She had brought food for me, predicting that I'd decline to return to camp. That was... considerate.
"Uh... Appreciate it," I muttered, grabbing one of the cans and opening it with my claw and quickly wolfing down its contents. Perhaps she had known how hungry I would be, and figured that bringing me food would save her. That was very clever thinking on her part.
Hopefully filling my stomach up a bit will stop my hunger-addled mind from fantasising about eating her.
She then retrieved a communicator from the bag and spoke into it. "Come in Captain, I've found the target. Seems we won't be returning to base tonight."
"What?" Both Hans and I said simultaneously.
"He's refusing to return, so I'm doing to stay with the big idiot and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
There was a moment of silence from the radio before the human responded. "Very well. Good luck with him, Barisis. Call us back in the morning so we know you haven't been chomped on."
I looked at her with great confusion. "Why?"
"I explained it already when I spoke to Hans, which you definitely heard," she sighed, sounding exasperated. "Are you dense?"
"You little-... You think you're so funny don't you?," I hissed, but I was unable to hide my amusement.
I felt an aura of smugness emanate from her as she replied. “You certainly seem to think I am, you big oaf.”
“Get me another can of meat, or I'm taking a chunk of you instead,” I commanded, not wanting to let her feel like she had won.
“Grumpy, grumpy,” Barisis joked as she reached for another ration. “Is the baby hungwy?”
She let out a yelp of surprise as I grabbed her by the torso, holding her up in the air and leaving her face mere [millimeters] from my snout. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
“Yes, okay, okay!” she shouted in panic as she squirmed in my grasp. “Just let me go, you bastard!”
I dropped her to the floor, making her land on all fours, huffing and gasping for air. Apparently I had squeezed a bit too hard when I took her off the ground.
“You're a dick, you fucking know that?” she cursed.
I laughed. “Learn to stop disrespecting me, prey.” She knew what would happen, but still she kept poking me, and now she was upset about the consequences? Such leaf-licker thinking.
“Then be worthy of respect, dammit!” spat the medic. “All you've done is be a massive asshole who threatens to kill anyone who ribs you!”
“Do you forget that my people are of a solitary culture?” I reminded the cocky Kolshian. “All the constant socialisation grinds my patience down to a fine powder. Despite having no obligation toward preykind like yourself, I still allowed you multiple chances to back off on your own.”
She glared at me with pure, unmistakable fury, before hurtling a ration can right into my snout with a surprising amount of force. I roared in pain and grabbed her, pinning her to the wall with one arm more than a [meter] above the ground.
“I should eat you alive for that, I truly should,” I growled, running my tongue across her face, making her shiver. “Do you think any other Arxur would tolerate even a fraction of what you disrespectful little fucker say and insinuate? All of you should be thanking every god, deity, saint and prophet in the Federation that I haven't ripped the lot of you to shreds.”
Barisis whimpered, struggling to speak. “Sh- she was-” she hacked a cough in my face,” -right.”
“Who was? Tell me now and I won't cunting gut you.”
“Hel…” she whispered in pain. “You really do have-” wheeze “-a thing for me.”
I dropped her like she was searing hot, backing away from the mad Kolshian. After what I just did to her, she could say that in seriousness?!
Why won't this accursed appetite leave me? Why do I still want to devour her? I had a filling meal!
“Just fuck off, please,” I half demanded, half pleaded. “You're making my hunger instincts go wild. If you value your own life, you'd leave this entire block.”
She stood up, and walked right up toward me, staring into my eyes like a human would. “No.”
“DO IT!” I roared. “That damn Zurulian is right, I do have a soft spot for you, so fucking leave before I lose control over my instincts… please...”
This admittance to weakness made me nauseous, but it was no lie. In spite of her wretched behaviour and smugness, I’d grown fond of the little Kolshian that had travelled so far from home and nearly got devoured by my former superior.
I should feel ashamed, and yet I don't. I only feel… relief. What the fuck had this creature done to me?
…
FUCKING DAMN IT, I DON'T WANT TO BE WEAK! I DON'T WANT TO EAT HER! I WANT HER TO GO AWAY! I WANT HER TO STAY! ARGH, WHY IS MY MIND SUCH A TERRIBLE MESS?
I was on the floor, doing everything in my power to resist giving in to weakness and bawling. Why had I become so defective? What had gone so wrong? When I came to Earth I was fierce, powerful, strong. Now, on Fahl, I was weak, pathetic and broken. I had become more unworthy than even fucking Vizz.
“Thass…”
Barisis moved towards me with slow, careful steps. Hesitantly, she placed a tentacle on my shoulder. I didn't shy away from it. I couldn't, unless I wanted to look even weaker than I already was and cry my eyes out.
The Kolshian wrapped her other limb around me, holding me in an embrace that I should've found disgusting, but instead craved in a way that did not befit a member of my species. “It's okay, big guy, I'm here. Everything's going to be okay.”
Her head leaned against mine, and I gave in to the weakness. Tears began to flow from my eyes as I remained curled up in a ball, holding my tail tight to my body.
“I'm right here, Thass..”
Why won't that fucking urge to eat her just leave my mind already…?

Need some advice and help. I am from Illinois Back in 2017 I bought 32k mile import sports car. It was fully built for 1000hp. One day I went to race a car and my oil pump took a crap on me making me while racing causing the motor to lose oil and start knocking. My performance/upgraded ecu should have turned off the car to save the motor and it didn’t. Took it to one shop and they were full of shit so I had it taken it to another shop that my friend at the time owned. First shop didn’t touch the car. My friend took the motor apart and took it to a machine shop to have cleaned and half filled wet blocked. I took my manual trans to a shop to make it stronger and to be able to hold all the power. I didnt pay the machine shop because they didnt want money up front. The trans shop wanted money up front so I gave them money. Shortly after sending them out my dad had some serious medical problems so I to put things on hold which everyone was ok with. One day after things with my dad were slowly getting better I decided to resume the build. I went to get wheels for my car. Took them to the shop to put them on to find out the car was sotting outside and to only find out a lot of stuff missing off my car. My front seats that were about $1500 and back seats about $1000 missing, exhaust $700 missing, double pumper $500 missing, front mount $600 missing and a lot of other performers parts. My turbo about $1700 I let an old friend use it but he told me it was blown. I guess it was from that night I raced. The day I found out my car was missing a lot of stuff I had a friend come help me with the situation. I had another car, title and keys at my friends cousins house who owner the shop it was at. Another friend that day was buying it so he went to pick everything up while no one was home at the house. Without asking the friend buying my car went looking around the house and found my gauges, cluster, carbon fiber dash and few other things and he told he all about. When we questioned the friend of the shop and the cousin of the shop they said it wasnt my stuff and it was someone else's which was a lie. Friend who came to help me with the situation said to no call the cops because they don't have money, no cameras that worked and the shop isnt under their name. All that would happen is possibly deportation. The friend helping me said he would tow the car out of there for me and we woukd figure it out on our own. Paid 18k for it which was a steal. That friend who helped me told the friend who owned the shop he is just going to buy car off me. The shop friend had the same car at another shop getting work done to his. That shop told the friend helping me since he knew the owner that they brought an exhaust and double pumper for their car. When questioned they said since his car was sitting for a while i thought he wouldnt mind me using the exhaust. I wouldnt have if I was asked. Then they said the double pumper was one they bought which was a lie. They never admitted to stealing about 8k-10k worth of parts from my car other than the exahsut they borrowed. My friend threatened the shop friend that if you dont give me money for the parts you guys took ill make sure to take them off their car or not have the shop finish their car. My friend who helped me was great friends with the owner of the shop that was working on theirs so he got a 6k check from the shop friend even though they still said they didn't steal any thing. My friend who helped me said we would report the car stolen and you will get the full money for the car. While at the shop I didn't have insurance on the car because I was told the shop had insurance but I found out later it didn't. After it was taken away I put insurance on it. Mind you i didn't want to lie and report it stolen. I'm not that type of person. About 8 months went by trying to get my friend to help me since he promised and nothing was done. Mind you i gave him about 3k worth of parts since anyone who would help would want more. Paying 8 months of insurance for nothing I took it off. Since 2018 when this has happened I been trying to get said friend to help me and he either said I haven't reached out to him about or I've been ignoring him which isnt true. Maybe after the first year to year and a half I slowly stopped talking to him. Finally we slowly talked again and his wife said so and so not giving his name tried so many times to help you out and you been ignoring him. Never once did he. I was the one with the texts and calls. With not knowing what to do about this whole thing after what his wife said i slowly gave up. Now fast forward to February 2024 we sat down and talked and he said with him 1 now selling cars on the side with a business license and a few other things he can really help me because he can't risk his license and also can't with now having a child. I mean with the 6k check he got and the 3k in parts he owes me. He said he has the shell still incase anything comes back and bites him in the ass. He said his friend would possibly be able to help me. He said the market for my car went up and its worth 60k now which is true. He said his friend would get 60k but woukd give me 40k. I paid 18k so I can't complain. Again inside me I know I don't want to do a anything wrong. Im a very good person and have a heart of gold. I would feel like a piece of shit if I did anything illegal. His friend came back and said no to helping. My friend never told me why and never gave me a solution. So I sent him a text like then you owe me the 6k from the check, 3k from the parts I gave you and the amount a shell would cost and he said lets meet up soon and talk again. I asked him when and no response from him. How many times can someone text or call someone about this and I don't want to get the police involved just yet since technically he didn’t break into my. I know he has the shell somewhere hidden so thats all I have on him. 1. I dont talk to the shop friend and his cousin anymore. Stopped talking to them almost the same day we took the car from the shop 2. I am off and on with talking to the friend who promised to help me with getting the full money I deserve
Now last week I spoke with another friend about it and he said I could still report it broken into after so many years and he said maybe just sell the shell for what its worth now which is 10k but 10k wont replace anything 1. How can I still report it after so many years? 2. How can I report it if I can if I don't have insurance on it since 8 months after what happened? 3. Any way to do all this the right way after so many years? Again being from Illinois so Illinois laws and polices?
2024 was the year I told myself to grow the fuck up and do things. I stopped taking to a lot of people, made sure I had no negativity in my life, work tords my goal of opening a business, get a house and take care of my car situation. I want to get another fast car so when I get the money the safe and right way it will go towards a nice car. Could use it towards a house but there will be headaches in the long run. Also I been saving for a house so no need to use the car money for that. Since a car is what I used the money for originally thats what it will go towards
Please help out a good person who always puts others frist before themselves. People who know about all this tell me im too nice of a person and always get taken advantage of and its true. I was raised right to be a gentleman and good person and I think this is one reason why its gone this far and long
Thanks for the help in advance

Need some advice and help. I am from Illinois Back in 2017 I bought 32k mile import sports car. It was fully built for 1000hp. One day I went to race a car and my oil pump took a crap on me making me while racing causing the motor to lose oil and start knocking. My performance/upgraded ecu should have turned off the car to save the motor and it didn’t. Took it to one shop and they were full of shit so I had it taken it to another shop that my friend at the time owned. First shop didn’t touch the car. My friend took the motor apart and took it to a machine shop to have cleaned and half filled wet blocked. I took my manual trans to a shop to make it stronger and to be able to hold all the power. I didnt pay the machine shop because they didnt want money up front. The trans shop wanted money up front so I gave them money. Shortly after sending them out my dad had some serious medical problems so I to put things on hold which everyone was ok with. One day after things with my dad were slowly getting better I decided to resume the build. I went to get wheels for my car. Took them to the shop to put them on to find out the car was sotting outside and to only find out a lot of stuff missing off my car. My front seats that were about $1500 and back seats about $1000 missing, exhaust $700 missing, double pumper $500 missing, front mount $600 missing and a lot of other performers parts. My turbo about $1700 I let an old friend use it but he told me it was blown. I guess it was from that night I raced. The day I found out my car was missing a lot of stuff I had a friend come help me with the situation. I had another car, title and keys at my friends cousins house who owner the shop it was at. Another friend that day was buying it so he went to pick everything up while no one was home at the house. Without asking the friend buying my car went looking around the house and found my gauges, cluster, carbon fiber dash and few other things and he told he all about. When we questioned the friend of the shop and the cousin of the shop they said it wasnt my stuff and it was someone else's which was a lie. Friend who came to help me with the situation said to no call the cops because they don't have money, no cameras that worked and the shop isnt under their name. All that would happen is possibly deportation. The friend helping me said he would tow the car out of there for me and we woukd figure it out on our own. Paid 18k for it which was a steal. That friend who helped me told the friend who owned the shop he is just going to buy car off me. The shop friend had the same car at another shop getting work done to his. That shop told the friend helping me since he knew the owner that they brought an exhaust and double pumper for their car. When questioned they said since his car was sitting for a while i thought he wouldnt mind me using the exhaust. I wouldnt have if I was asked. Then they said the double pumper was one they bought which was a lie. They never admitted to stealing about 8k-10k worth of parts from my car other than the exahsut they borrowed. My friend threatened the shop friend that if you dont give me money for the parts you guys took ill make sure to take them off their car or not have the shop finish their car. My friend who helped me was great friends with the owner of the shop that was working on theirs so he got a 6k check from the shop friend even though they still said they didn't steal any thing. My friend who helped me said we would report the car stolen and you will get the full money for the car. While at the shop I didn't have insurance on the car because I was told the shop had insurance but I found out later it didn't. After it was taken away I put insurance on it. Mind you i didn't want to lie and report it stolen. I'm not that type of person. About 8 months went by trying to get my friend to help me since he promised and nothing was done. Mind you i gave him about 3k worth of parts since anyone who would help would want more. Paying 8 months of insurance for nothing I took it off. Since 2018 when this has happened I been trying to get said friend to help me and he either said I haven't reached out to him about or I've been ignoring him which isnt true. Maybe after the first year to year and a half I slowly stopped talking to him. Finally we slowly talked again and his wife said so and so not giving his name tried so many times to help you out and you been ignoring him. Never once did he. I was the one with the texts and calls. With not knowing what to do about this whole thing after what his wife said i slowly gave up. Now fast forward to February 2024 we sat down and talked and he said with him 1 now selling cars on the side with a business license and a few other things he can really help me because he can't risk his license and also can't with now having a child. I mean with the 6k check he got and the 3k in parts he owes me. He said he has the shell still incase anything comes back and bites him in the ass. He said his friend would possibly be able to help me. He said the market for my car went up and its worth 60k now which is true. He said his friend would get 60k but woukd give me 40k. I paid 18k so I can't complain. Again inside me I know I don't want to do a anything wrong. Im a very good person and have a heart of gold. I would feel like a piece of shit if I did anything illegal. His friend came back and said no to helping. My friend never told me why and never gave me a solution. So I sent him a text like then you owe me the 6k from the check, 3k from the parts I gave you and the amount a shell would cost and he said lets meet up soon and talk again. I asked him when and no response from him. How many times can someone text or call someone about this and I don't want to get the police involved just yet since technically he didn’t break into my. I know he has the shell somewhere hidden so thats all I have on him. 1. I dont talk to the shop friend and his cousin anymore. Stopped talking to them almost the same day we took the car from the shop 2. I am off and on with talking to the friend who promised to help me with getting the full money I deserve
Now last week I spoke with another friend about it and he said I could still report it broken into after so many years and he said maybe just sell the shell for what its worth now which is 10k but 10k wont replace anything 1. How can I still report it after so many years? 2. How can I report it if I can if I don't have insurance on it since 8 months after what happened? 3. Any way to do all this the right way after so many years? Again being from Illinois so Illinois laws and polices?
2024 was the year I told myself to grow the fuck up and do things. I stopped taking to a lot of people, made sure I had no negativity in my life, work tords my goal of opening a business, get a house and take care of my car situation. I want to get another fast car so when I get the money the safe and right way it will go towards a nice car. Could use it towards a house but there will be headaches in the long run. Also I been saving for a house so no need to use the car money for that. Since a car is what I used the money for originally thats what it will go towards
Please help out a good person who always puts others frist before themselves. People who know about all this tell me im too nice of a person and always get taken advantage of and its true. I was raised right to be a gentleman and good person and I think this is one reason why its gone this far and long
Thanks for the help in advance

I (18f) have been diagnosed with autism since i was 5, and growing up i would get these anxiety/panic attacks when i was in busy places, for example, when i was 8 there was an event at my school and it was so busy and loud, it made me feel so nervous in my stomach/nausea and dizzines, along with an irritated bladder (i have had bladder issues all my life because my bladder muscles are too tense). I can't really remember any instances of this happening after the aforementioned school event, until today. For some context: i had exams last week, and even though these weren't my first exams i was still nervous. Then on saturday it was "family day", this was a really long and busy day with so many activities, i was fine but i was suuuper tired at the end of the day and my legs were super painful. I thought i spend my sunday relaxing and recharging but i had multiple arguments with my parents, and because i was still a little tired and overstimulated from the day before i couldn't keep myself calm and i screamed back at my parents, which only made it worse. It was really bad, i cried so much. Then today, i met up with my friend (this had been planned for a while) i was excited but nervous because we met online and this was only the 3rd time of meeting each other irl. We were supposed to go to a big mall and i was looking forward to shopping but when i got there i started to feel thar nausea again. My friend got lunch but i decided to eat the sandwiches i brought, partially because i wanted to eat healthy and partially because i wasn't really hungry. For context i struggled with eating in the past and my friend knows this, so they encouraged me to eat my lunch. I genuinly tried but the moment i took a bite i got even more nauseous. This continued for 2 hours, i also had to go to the bathroom a lot and i just felt miserable. Thankfully my friend is super understanding, and we sat down a lot but it didn't help. So eventually i decided to go to their home with them and i was able to eat something and i had fun!!! Then when i got home my parents got angry because i spent a lot on the train tickets, so that's great. But this wouldn't have happened if i never had this anxiety ish attack... i feel so guilty. I'm also just really dissapointed in myself, i genuinly thought that was a thing of the past but apparently not. I'm also really sad that i don't know my own limits iykwim... i guess i know now, but i went to busy malls so many times before and i always enjoyed it... Has anyone else experienced this, and if so what helped you? (Apart from going somewhere quiet) Also to my friend if you see this (they know my reddit username) hii! You're so sweet and I'm super grateful for you haha

The mysterious and tragic disappearances of entire planetary civilizations aside, I would say things were looking up. It was no longer a battle for every breath, only a small skirmish. My shoulder was regaining mobility, the monsters were small in comparison to Brad, and Ted was giving me yet another silent treatment. Bliss is the word of the day. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Not the Ted part; he wouldn’t talk to me.
The gravity in this place decided to do its own thing yet again when the far wall in front of me quickly turned into a floor. I was headed towards it fast. There was nothing I could do but brace for impact. Being knocked out this many times in a row can't be good for a guy. I’m going to have some serious issues when I’m older.
I wish I could say I had another dream while I was out, another insight into a lost civilization or microorganism like before, but no such luck. Whoever sent it last time was either asleep on the job or simply had nothing more to show me. That’s fine. I’m more of an active participant type guy when it comes to the creation of life. Never was the type that could just watch.
Thankfully, the Jim-bobs didn’t fall for the same trap I did. They waited for me. When they were sure I wasn’t dead, they stomped and chittered from their position, far away from me, and the sudden shift gravity decided to inflict upon me.
“Urgh,” was all I could manage as I rolled over to stare up at my friends. There they were, clung to a wall, or... the floor? Fifteen to twenty feet away from me. They didn’t want to take the dive, and I don’t blame them. We sat there, staring at each other, wondering how we would reunite before we each decided this would be goodbye.
I waved, and they sent their vibrations to feet that could never comprehend their meaning. I was going to miss those ugly guys. One by one, they turned back and crested a corner until I was left staring up at nothing. To be honest, I would have left earlier, but I twisted my ankle something fierce. I had to give it a moment.
“Welp, guess I should hobble away,” I prompted to Ted.
Nothing: Ted was really giving it to me this time.
With a grunt and a heave, near stability came to me, and I shambled along, back on my path. That brought a swift end to my good times. Especially the sore feet.
Have you ever read the book "1984"? Of course you haven’t. You haven’t even hatched yet. There’s a quote, and I find it particularly appropriate in times like this.
“Of pain you could wish only one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain, there are no heroes, no heroes...”
Yeah, seriously, ouch. I’m going to have to buy myself a new pair of feet: these two are good and truly shot. You know what I need? A good shot of adrenaline to remind me pain is only physical. Hey, guess what happened next.
I found there was only one way to go, so I went. The usual wet sticky sounds one's foot made when walking were unusually loud here; that isn’t good, and the sounds of clicking along the way weren’t comforting either. Sounds, in a place like this, are never good. Either friend or foe, the maker of sounds, should always be avoided. They are either the cause of harm, or lead harm to you.
The effort to lift my foot increased proportionally to the increased volume my feet made. Just what you need with a bad ankle. It was like the floor was crawling up my foot and biting down on rubber soles. I had to tear it free every time. First, I lost a boot. That’s fine. It was threadbare by now, but then came my socks. I can’t get new socks in a place like this, so naturally, I fought to keep those. It was a losing battle. I hated to leave behind anything from Earth. I kept losing familiar things to the unfamiliar. Then I was rendered completely immobile.
“The heck?” were the words that came to mind, then “oh crap!” came after. Both figuratively and literally.
The cause of the “oh crap?” Along came a spider. About half a million of them. I suppose “spider” wouldn’t be accurate. You know, I heard once, that the human mind can capture and process the image of a spider before it can do the same with food. Priorities, right? Probably why every conversation about spiders devolves into “BURN THE HOUSE DOWN!” Personally, I liked spiders, but these things were worse. They triggered that same mental reflex, but upon further examination, if you can bring yourself to linger on them, you could see they were nothing like spiders. Even a spider would look upon one and say “that’s way too many legs.” Or perhaps they too would ask “WHERE'S THE FLAME-THROWER!?” if unlucky enough to capture one in its web.
“Kaboom,” went the Tedidian gun, and about a thousand of them were vaporized, along with a good chunk of floor, and a thousand more took their place.
“Kaboom! Kaboom!” It was no use.
I turned the gun on myself. What was it? Hamlet's conundrum—"to be or not to be." To suffer the slings and arrows of the mob, or to die by one's own hands. I think that’s what it means, though I never was good at subtext. More of a Michael Bay type of guy. Give me explosions. Have a cool guy walking away as he flicks out a spent cigarette. Macho—can’t get enough.
That’s twice now I’ve waxed poetic out of loneliness. I’ve made it nine hours through a Ted-imposed silent treatment, and I’m already contemplating nobler things. I need a hobby.
If I had a greater cause, I might be quoting something different. I might stand tall blasting and shouting, “ask not the reason why, ask but to do and die.” I’m not that man, though. I was left staring at a literal wave of incomprehensibly terrifying monsters, wondering, “Should I pull the trigger?” I suppose it makes me a coward. It’s not my fault. Being a coward was something that happened to someone, not what they are. Bravery has happened to me plenty of times too, maybe it’s time cowardice happened to me.
I suppose you’d like to hear what happened next. You aren’t interested in philosophy, are you? Neither am I, to be honest. “Eat me after I die,” I always thought. “Not before.” But these things looked like they could multitask.
I heard a mechanical clink of metal, over the swarming chatter of sharp legs, then my whole world went ablaze. I shut my eyes to keep the outrageous light out, but the smell of burning hair? The smoke and charred meat? That was stitched into my nostrils for the rest of time. Was this the creepy-crawlies' doing? Are they cooking me alive? My finger wrapped around the odd alien trigger and began to squeeze, but I realized I hadn’t actually felt pain yet.
I was waiting for the cue. With eyes shut, waiting for the feeling of sharp pointy fangs, the expanding pain of heat, or paralysis-induced venom, if these things were equipped with such weapons. I would feel that, and know it was time to end my travels, but it never came.
Tentatively, I opened my eyes. The fire still burned, but in broad sweeping motions. It was being sprayed outwards as if wielded by a small exterminator. Was I rescued? Did someone gaze upon this ugly damaged ape and deem him worthier than all the other creatures of the crypt? Did someone break protocol and save prey from predator on this safari? It seemed someone had.
Small white robotic things torched every living being in sight, save for me. I stood motionless. Perhaps they hadn’t seen me. Perhaps this giant pillar of a crypt monster is unseen or unseeable by their robotic eyes. Did they even have eyes? I never saw any. One did see me, and it approached me.
It moved to me laterally. If I were the engineer in charge of building these things, I would have turned them ninety degrees. They walked sideways, though who am I to determine which way is front on someone else’s robot. It was squat like a crab too, had many little claw-like manipulators, and an ever-burning torch about its midsection, which it expanded into a stream, using it to free me. I expected pain, but it had an apparent masterful knowledge of fire and its practical uses. It did not burn me, only what it was intended to burn, the sticky sap-like floor.
“Uh—thank you?”
The largest white metal plate on top illuminated in a short blink.
“I’ll take that as a ‘you’re welcome.’ Stick with me, and maybe I can return the favor.” I pointed to myself with my thumbs.
I know. Presumptuous of me to ask them to stick with me when they were the prepared ones. They thought to send robots capable of saving themselves. Or—what if they weren’t robots? Is there a little man inside piloting them? Are they living creatures themselves, growing metallic exoskeletons? Perhaps—if I could just pry one open and look inside, my curiosity could be sated. I wonder if they tasted like crab too. No—I—I shouldn’t. It might offend them. They were all I had now.
In total, I counted five of them, and they did a professional's job at clearing the path. No bug was safe in their line of fire. No bug smaller than three inches, that is. There’s always a bigger one. I should have expected as much by now.
There was, of course, only one way forward. This being right into the path of mamma and pappa. Yeah, those things the crabs destroyed were babies. Imagine how the parents reacted. Pretty much exactly how you’d expect.
I was still in no condition to run, but when the robots found that fire was ineffective against the bigger ones, they left me behind.
“No, it’s okay, I’ll fight them off on my own!” I shouted. After them.
Forward, into their gaping maws, was still the only way to run, regardless. The crabs zipped around, confusing the stomping, stabbing appendages of the beasts, until one, then two made it through. The third wasn’t so lucky. It swerved left, then right, then right into the waiting jaws of the beast. It smashed to pieces. Goodbye new friend. Is it bad I'm jealous of the monsters? I haven't had crab in a very long time. I doubt aliens would taste anything like crabs, but if I closed my eyes, just maybe—
“BANG BANG!” went my gun. With the crabs out of the way, I dropped the two monsters like a sack of potatoes.
“Told ya I’d pay you back!” I shouted.
The mechanical retreating clinks paused, then slowly returned. It must have been a cool sight: me with a smoking gun standing over the dead bodies of two incomprehensibly terrifying monsters. Total 180 from where I was moments before. I was back, baby. Yeah—I know it helps when you've been given alien technology.

The mysterious and tragic disappearances of entire planetary civilizations aside, I would say things were looking up. It was no longer a battle for every breath, only a small skirmish. My shoulder was regaining mobility, the monsters were small in comparison to Brad, and Ted was giving me yet another silent treatment. Bliss is the word of the day. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Not the Ted part; he wouldn’t talk to me.
The gravity in this place decided to do its own thing yet again when the far wall in front of me quickly turned into a floor. I was headed towards it fast. There was nothing I could do but brace for impact. Being knocked out this many times in a row can't be good for a guy. I’m going to have some serious issues when I’m older.
I wish I could say I had another dream while I was out, another insight into a lost civilization or microorganism like before, but no such luck. Whoever sent it last time was either asleep on the job or simply had nothing more to show me. That’s fine. I’m more of an active participant type guy when it comes to the creation of life. Never was the type that could just watch.
Thankfully, the Jim-bobs didn’t fall for the same trap I did. They waited for me. When they were sure I wasn’t dead, they stomped and chittered from their position, far away from me, and the sudden shift gravity decided to inflict upon me.
“Urgh,” was all I could manage as I rolled over to stare up at my friends. There they were, clung to a wall, or... the floor? Fifteen to twenty feet away from me. They didn’t want to take the dive, and I don’t blame them. We sat there, staring at each other, wondering how we would reunite before we each decided this would be goodbye.
I waved, and they sent their vibrations to feet that could never comprehend their meaning. I was going to miss those ugly guys. One by one, they turned back and crested a corner until I was left staring up at nothing. To be honest, I would have left earlier, but I twisted my ankle something fierce. I had to give it a moment.
“Welp, guess I should hobble away,” I prompted to Ted.
Nothing: Ted was really giving it to me this time.
With a grunt and a heave, near stability came to me, and I shambled along, back on my path. That brought a swift end to my good times. Especially the sore feet.
Have you ever read the book "1984"? Of course you haven’t. You haven’t even hatched yet. There’s a quote, and I find it particularly appropriate in times like this.
“Of pain you could wish only one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain, there are no heroes, no heroes...”
Yeah, seriously, ouch. I’m going to have to buy myself a new pair of feet: these two are good and truly shot. You know what I need? A good shot of adrenaline to remind me pain is only physical. Hey, guess what happened next.
I found there was only one way to go, so I went. The usual wet sticky sounds one's foot made when walking were unusually loud here; that isn’t good, and the sounds of clicking along the way weren’t comforting either. Sounds, in a place like this, are never good. Either friend or foe, the maker of sounds, should always be avoided. They are either the cause of harm, or lead harm to you.
The effort to lift my foot increased proportionally to the increased volume my feet made. Just what you need with a bad ankle. It was like the floor was crawling up my foot and biting down on rubber soles. I had to tear it free every time. First, I lost a boot. That’s fine. It was threadbare by now, but then came my socks. I can’t get new socks in a place like this, so naturally, I fought to keep those. It was a losing battle. I hated to leave behind anything from Earth. I kept losing familiar things to the unfamiliar. Then I was rendered completely immobile.
“The heck?” were the words that came to mind, then “oh crap!” came after. Both figuratively and literally.
The cause of the “oh crap?” Along came a spider. About half a million of them. I suppose “spider” wouldn’t be accurate. You know, I heard once, that the human mind can capture and process the image of a spider before it can do the same with food. Priorities, right? Probably why every conversation about spiders devolves into “BURN THE HOUSE DOWN!” Personally, I liked spiders, but these things were worse. They triggered that same mental reflex, but upon further examination, if you can bring yourself to linger on them, you could see they were nothing like spiders. Even a spider would look upon one and say “that’s way too many legs.” Or perhaps they too would ask “WHERE'S THE FLAME-THROWER!?” if unlucky enough to capture one in its web.
“Kaboom,” went the Tedidian gun, and about a thousand of them were vaporized, along with a good chunk of floor, and a thousand more took their place.
“Kaboom! Kaboom!” It was no use.
I turned the gun on myself. What was it? Hamlet's conundrum—"to be or not to be." To suffer the slings and arrows of the mob, or to die by one's own hands. I think that’s what it means, though I never was good at subtext. More of a Michael Bay type of guy. Give me explosions. Have a cool guy walking away as he flicks out a spent cigarette. Macho—can’t get enough.
That’s twice now I’ve waxed poetic out of loneliness. I’ve made it nine hours through a Ted-imposed silent treatment, and I’m already contemplating nobler things. I need a hobby.
If I had a greater cause, I might be quoting something different. I might stand tall blasting and shouting, “ask not the reason why, ask but to do and die.” I’m not that man, though. I was left staring at a literal wave of incomprehensibly terrifying monsters, wondering, “Should I pull the trigger?” I suppose it makes me a coward. It’s not my fault. Being a coward was something that happened to someone, not what they are. Bravery has happened to me plenty of times too, maybe it’s time cowardice happened to me.
I suppose you’d like to hear what happened next. You aren’t interested in philosophy, are you? Neither am I, to be honest. “Eat me after I die,” I always thought. “Not before.” But these things looked like they could multitask.
I heard a mechanical clink of metal, over the swarming chatter of sharp legs, then my whole world went ablaze. I shut my eyes to keep the outrageous light out, but the smell of burning hair? The smoke and charred meat? That was stitched into my nostrils for the rest of time. Was this the creepy-crawlies' doing? Are they cooking me alive? My finger wrapped around the odd alien trigger and began to squeeze, but I realized I hadn’t actually felt pain yet.
I was waiting for the cue. With eyes shut, waiting for the feeling of sharp pointy fangs, the expanding pain of heat, or paralysis-induced venom, if these things were equipped with such weapons. I would feel that, and know it was time to end my travels, but it never came.
Tentatively, I opened my eyes. The fire still burned, but in broad sweeping motions. It was being sprayed outwards as if wielded by a small exterminator. Was I rescued? Did someone gaze upon this ugly damaged ape and deem him worthier than all the other creatures of the crypt? Did someone break protocol and save prey from predator on this safari? It seemed someone had.
Small white robotic things torched every living being in sight, save for me. I stood motionless. Perhaps they hadn’t seen me. Perhaps this giant pillar of a crypt monster is unseen or unseeable by their robotic eyes. Did they even have eyes? I never saw any. One did see me, and it approached me.
It moved to me laterally. If I were the engineer in charge of building these things, I would have turned them ninety degrees. They walked sideways, though who am I to determine which way is front on someone else’s robot. It was squat like a crab too, had many little claw-like manipulators, and an ever-burning torch about its midsection, which it expanded into a stream, using it to free me. I expected pain, but it had an apparent masterful knowledge of fire and its practical uses. It did not burn me, only what it was intended to burn, the sticky sap-like floor.
“Uh—thank you?”
The largest white metal plate on top illuminated in a short blink.
“I’ll take that as a ‘you’re welcome.’ Stick with me, and maybe I can return the favor.” I pointed to myself with my thumbs.
I know. Presumptuous of me to ask them to stick with me when they were the prepared ones. They thought to send robots capable of saving themselves. Or—what if they weren’t robots? Is there a little man inside piloting them? Are they living creatures themselves, growing metallic exoskeletons? Perhaps—if I could just pry one open and look inside, my curiosity could be sated. I wonder if they tasted like crab too. No—I—I shouldn’t. It might offend them. They were all I had now.
In total, I counted five of them, and they did a professional's job at clearing the path. No bug was safe in their line of fire. No bug smaller than three inches, that is. There’s always a bigger one. I should have expected as much by now.
There was, of course, only one way forward. This being right into the path of mamma and pappa. Yeah, those things the crabs destroyed were babies. Imagine how the parents reacted. Pretty much exactly how you’d expect.
I was still in no condition to run, but when the robots found that fire was ineffective against the bigger ones, they left me behind.
“No, it’s okay, I’ll fight them off on my own!” I shouted. After them.
Forward, into their gaping maws, was still the only way to run, regardless. The crabs zipped around, confusing the stomping, stabbing appendages of the beasts, until one, then two made it through. The third wasn’t so lucky. It swerved left, then right, then right into the waiting jaws of the beast. It smashed to pieces. Goodbye new friend. Is it bad I'm jealous of the monsters? I haven't had crab in a very long time. I doubt aliens would taste anything like crabs, but if I closed my eyes, just maybe—
“BANG BANG!” went my gun. With the crabs out of the way, I dropped the two monsters like a sack of potatoes.
“Told ya I’d pay you back!” I shouted.
The mechanical retreating clinks paused, then slowly returned. It must have been a cool sight: me with a smoking gun standing over the dead bodies of two incomprehensibly terrifying monsters. Total 180 from where I was moments before. I was back, baby. Yeah—I know it helps when you've been given alien technology.

Chapter 1

Concept art for Sybil
Of Men and Ghost Ships, Book 1: Chapter 20
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After settling in, Alen was heading to the dining area to test the mint-flavored goo they were apparently supposed to live off of. Most of the crew from the ship were still using the rations they'd had onboard the escape pods that they'd brought with them into their temporary living quarters, but he figured he might as well test the waters, so to speak.
Walking into the dining hall, Alen wasn't too surprised to see Erik and Vanessa there, though he wondered what in the world the larger alien was grilling. It smelled...pretty decent, all things considered.
Apparently, Vanessa said something to the alien viking because Erik turned around and flashed his usual grin as he held up a spatula in greeting. Alen waved back before asking the question that was on his mind. "What in the world are you grilling?"
Erik's smile widened, showing far too many teeth, though Alen couldn't help but feel himself grin a little in response. Perhaps he'd been spending too much time in the alien's presence, but Alen realized the toothy grin wasn't quite as intimidating as it had once been as Erik pointed to his concoction. "Well, it's the same goo you get from the dispenser, but on Carter's advice, I'm trying a different flavor blend and cooking it up. He said it almost tastes like steak, 'if the steak was poor quality, a little burnt, and you'd almost forgotten what steak tasted like!' I figured I might as well give it a shot! If nothing else, it might make for a decent change of pace after you get tired of the mint stuff!"
Alen nodded. "Well, at least it smells decent enough."
Erik laughed and shook his head. "You humans really have a poor sense of smell if you think this smells 'decent!' However, I suppose edible is edible, and I won't complain so long as my belly is full!"
Alen shook his head as he tried to figure out how to pour himself some of the goo while one of his hands was tied up, holding onto his walking cane. Eventually, he gave up, put most of his weight onto his good foot, and leaned the cane against the machine while pouring out a small bowl of the stuff. It didn't look all that appetizing, but apparently, it was nutritious and safe to eat, which was enough for now.
Erik watched the whole ordeal with a bit of a smirk that Alen couldn't read. "Still getting used to that new foot of yours?"
Alen shrugged as he held his bowl and silverware in one hand and grabbed his cane with the other. "Eh, kinda. It doesn't feel quite right, but it is only supposed to be temporary, so I guess that makes sense."
Looking over at the dish Erik had cooked up for himself, Alen wondered about the man who'd recommended it to the large alien. "So, you spoke to that Carter guy while I was out, right? What do you make of him?"
Erik cut off a piece of the dish and chewed on it while apparently thinking. "Well, for one thing, his description of what this tastes like is pretty accurate! It almost reminds me of steak, or maybe more like the smell of steak while eating something completely different. All I can say for sure is it makes me want the real thing all the more!"
Alen looked down at his own dish and scooped up a spoonful but delayed taking a bite by responding. "That's not really what I meant..."
Erik cut off another chunk and shoveled it down without hesitation. He chuckled as he responded with a mouth half full. "I know, I know... What do I think of the guy? Well, he seems alright, I guess. He doesn't strike me as the kind to go out of his way to help someone he doesn't know, but neither would he just ignore a person in need if they crossed paths. In that sense, I suppose he's like a lot of people. A bit pragmatic, perhaps, but that's not necessarily a virtue or a vice. Could be either, I suppose..."
Alen pointed at Erik with his spoon, still uneaten. "I don't know. He left a lot of people hanging back where he picked us up from, nor did he seem all that friendly telling us all how we could get killed if we so much as stepped outside our designated area..."
Erik shoveled another piece into his maw as he shrugged. "Well, what would you have him do, stay and fight to the death for a bunch of people he didn't even know? I'm not saying he handled everything perfectly, mind you. Maybe if he'd acted sooner, he could have saved more people, but it's far too easy to judge someone after the fact. And even I've turned tail and run when the odds were too stacked against me! And as for the ship, that struck me as more of a warning than a threat..."
Alen furrowed his brow. "But as he's the captain, isn't that the same thing? Or do you believe all the talk about this ship being haunted?"
Erik's smile disappeared for the first time in a while as he got strangely contemplative. "I don't know, but there's definitely something off about this ship. It doesn't...smell right."
Alen, who'd been about to finally taste the goo, stopped. "It doesn't smell right?"
Erik nodded. "Yeah... I don't know how to describe it to you, but while every ship has its own unique feel and smell, there are always a few consistencies. This ship is weirdly...hollow? Empty? It's like the smell version of an echo. And I'm not just talking about the dust covering everything. It's a distorted, weaker scent than I'm used to aboard a ship."
Then, turning to Vanessa, Erik asked. "What about you? What's your take on the ship and its captain?"
The spider-like alien, who'd been shoveling away spoonful after spoonful, stopped and considered before responding. "Well, Captain Carter strikes me as clever but not particularly driven. It's more like he's caught up in what's happening as much as we are. As for the ship...you're right. There's definitely something off about it, though I find it hard to quantify into words."
In the unsettling quiet that followed, Alen finally took a bite of the goo. The texture wasn't great, but the flavor was surprisingly...decent. Mint was definitely the prominent flavor, but it was complimented by something he'd describe as an almost nutty flavor, though he'd be hard-pressed to name any specific nut. It wouldn't be his favorite dish anytime soon, but as far as something he might have to live off of for the immediate future, it was slightly better than most of the emergency rations he'd had in the past.
Thinking about what Erik and Vanessa had said about the ship feeling off, Alen thought back to his room when he'd first walked in. It looked as if it had been a museum piece, with stuff lying about as if someone had been living there, but all of it was covered in a thin layer of dust. It had felt a little eery as if he was stepping into someone else's world, someone who was now long gone. He dusted the room and tidied most of the stuff lying about, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to pack everything up and leave it in the closet. Instead, he treated it as if it was someone else's room, and he was just staying for a bit, though he couldn't help but wonder about the person who'd lived there before him. What had happened to them? Were they survivors like them? Were they held captive by the supposed ghost ship? Or had they been the original inhabitants from before this ship gained its notoriety? How long ago had that been? Years? Decades? Longer?
Alen shook his head. Letting his mind wander like that would only lead to him spooking himself out. Looking over at Erik, it seemed as if whatever had been bothering him had passed, and the large alien was all grins again as he winked at Alen. "Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much! The captain said we'd be fine so long as we followed the rules, and they didn't seem all that hard. Just don't go wandering or making weapons, and we'll be fine!"
Alen nodded, but then again, there was that last rule...the one about listening to and obeying anything that "seems like an AI." That was an odd choice of words. What would seem like an AI but be different enough to warrant a distinction? Alen thought back to the woman in red who'd operated on him. Come to think of it, her outfit hadn't really been what he would call sterile, and she hadn't ever really touched him. Hadn't her name been Sybil, like the ship? Was she an AI? Or rather, something that "seemed like an AI?"
Before Alen could dwell on it too long, there was some loud commotion out in the hall. Alen, Erik, and Vanessa looked back and forth before getting up to see what the commotion was about.
Several heads were poking out of various rooms, and one of the crew was standing out in the hall, pointing back toward a room and shouting at another. "I'm telling ya, something was moving in there!"
The person he was addressing shook his head. "But it disappeared every time you turned your head? Your mind is playing tricks on you. Don't listen to Old William's stories if you're gonna get jumpy like this!"
It looked like whatever had happened, things were already winding down as people were already headed back to whatever they were doing, and the guy who'd been shouting shook his head. Not many people probably heard him, as he muttered to himself. "I know I saw something in there..."
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Alen, trying to get a feel for his new "temporary" home. What's that? What do those quotation marks mean? Oh, don't worry about that. It's not important, I swear!
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I stepped through the double sliding doors and then into an office that almost seemed to be shouting at me.
There were Crusher Media posters everywhere as well as newspaper articles photocopied and then expanded 100 times to fill whole walls. There wasn't a patch of wall, flooring or coffee mug that didn't proclaim Crusher Media's greatness.
And right at the centre of it, like a god in the middle of his newly created universe, was Richard Balls.
The man looked much shorter than he did in his pictures and he had a slight bald spot at the back of his head that wasn't shown in any of the photographs that coated the walls. But when I looked past those things I saw the grinning teeth of the coyote just before it eats you for lunch and the laser-like eyes of a shark-eagle-snake-bat-octopus-killer-whale-hybrid.
'Mr Hill' he said in a deep, polished voice, 'Take a seat. Have you met each other?'
The woman sitting opposite him didn't even turn her head but instantly I knew it was her - Lazy Cultivator. Brown, half-brushed hair and a pair of glasses she probably used for burning whole villages of ants on her off days. I sat without saying a word.
The chair was a piece of shite. The way it was angled made me sit up straight, and the base was rock-hard. It took half my mind off the conversation that followed. No doubt a man of Richard Balls status and wealth would have no problem purchasing a decent chair so obviously, it was some sort of intimidation tactic. To be fair, the joke was on him, I'd spent a good portion of my recent life either in homeless shelters or cooped up in a grey concrete prison without so much is a pillow to ease my pain.
'Eli.' Mr Balls said, 'Well done on making it this far. I have to say I was a little...' he licked his lips, '...apprehensive about your story to begin with. Non-fiction, or at least hyper-inflated non-fiction isn't the sort of thing we usually do here at Crusher Books. But since the beginning of this company, I've always said give the customers what they want. And so if people want your book then we’ll damn well give it to them. But Mr Hill, my advice for you would be don't bite the hand that feeds you.'
He narrowed his eyes at me like he was trying to take a shit on his brown leather chair.
'Now...' a business-like grin appearing on Balls’ face, 'I brought the two of you here today to talk about this “beef” between yourselves and perhaps more importantly between your fans.’
Lazy Cultivator rolled her eyes 'Mr Balls I would not call this...' she gestured to me, ‘...a beef, this guy, he's been obsessed with me, constantly writing and fantasizing about getting more reads than me, writing about weird, boxing fuelled dreams. I gave him a small mention, he's obsessed, this is very much a one-way street and a one-person problem.’
I frowned, 'That's not the way I-'
‘-That's exactly the way it's been happening.’ she said, 'You, you're obsessed, you seem to think you're the Moriarty to my Sherlock Holmes, but in reality, you're just the cab driver who thinks he can do what I do because he's read a few books. You can't do half the things I've done, Mr Hill.'
Balls watched this all go on and I swear he didn't really hear a single thing we said. The only sound in his ears was the cha-ching cha-ching of money falling into his pockets. 'You see,' Mr Balls said, 'I love your passion, both of you are so passionate about what you do. That is what makes...' he gestured to Lazy Cultivator '...your work the most read work of literature of any living author.'
Then he pointed to me 'And you Mister Hill, trying to take on an almost godlike figure of our time. That is something to be commended. That is something I myself faced when I was getting started,' then he held out his hands, 'And look at where I am now. The reason why I succeeded is I was prepared to do things other companies would not do and I was prepared to carry out experiments and take risks that other companies could never take.'
He laced his fingers together. 'And that is why I want the two of you to keep up this...' he raised his fingers again, '...“beef”. Over the last 18 hours, Lazy Cultivator, your story more than tripled its daily read count. Mr Hill...' he laughed, '...your results are even more impressive. You have achieved 40 times your daily read count. 40 times Mr Hill and that's after just a single mention from your good friend Lazy Cultivator,'
He clicked his teeth, 'And the plus of all this is more money for the company and for you.' Lazy Cultivator didn't say a thing. She seemed to be almost shimmering like she was going to go super saiyan. I was just glad I wasn't going to be executed or forced to shave an apology into the back of my head or something like that.
An insanely high-definition hologram on Balls’ desk flared to life and gave a little ding. Mr Balls nodded to it, 'That's all the time I had for the two of you today.' He licked his lips, 'But I've enjoyed this, it's not often I get to meet with the farmers who grow the produce we sell at this business.'
He pointed to Lazy Cultivator 'That one's a metaphor.' She gave a slow groan-like nod, 'Very good Mr. Balls.' And he laughed, 'Anyway that's the time I have free today but let's do this again. Don and Marty will show the two of you out.'
We left Balls' office and honestly I felt good. I was there with the best damn writer in the world and just spoken to the CEO of the largest private company in the world, never mind the fact that it was also the company that had held me hostage for what was probably coming up two years. I flicked a glance at Lazy Cultivator. She seemed extremely disinterested in me, I bit my lip, 'So it was like really good to meet you. And sorry about everything I wrote.'
She glared at me, we were in a little waiting area just outside Mr Balls’ office with a table, plush chairs, and a quarter-filled jug of water. One of the security guards, I couldn't remember their names, peeked out us from behind the window. He had a phone in one hand and held up his other hand to us with five fingers spread out. Five minutes he mouthed to us.
I nodded and the guy gave a thumbs up and went back to his conversation.
'I don't care about you.' Lazy Cultivator said, 'The moment I'm out of this room you will be out of my mind, hopefully forever.' She pulled a purple pill bottle from her jacket and flicked the lid with a deft, practised motion. She put a pill between her teeth, crunched it, and swallowed it down. She grabbed the almost empty glass jar of water and poured it into two glasses so all the water was gone.
'The thing is, Richard wants us to have beef. The more beef we have, the more money we make. Creating beef is like creating drama in stories. You've got to have pacing. You've got to have high points, low points...' she held the jar in her hand, ‘And most importantly... escalation. If nothing escalates, well chances are your story's going to be a little dry.'
She rolled her eyes, 'But why am I telling you; a b-class hack all this, well I guess it's just an example of foreshadowing. If you were a writer, a proper writer, you would have seen this coming.’
She swung the glass jug full force into the side of my head. It was one of those fancy, thin walled ones. And it smashed into a hundred pieces as it came in contact with the bumpy parts of my skull. Instantly the pain knifed through my head, down my spine, and back up again in the form of a string of drool. My eyes watered and I spun in a slow circle onto the ground where more glass awaited me like a little goose feather pillow. All those cuts started leaking blood. I guess it must have looked kind of dramatic because the security guard on the phone had ended his call and was running over to me. A couple of Balls' secretaries arrived with wet towels and even Balls himself made a brief appearance to laugh and to slap Lazy Cultivator on the back, 'That's the sort of thing I'm talking about.’ he said, then he winked at me, 'Just don't kill each other.'
Balls left to go back to whatever meeting me being beaten over the head had interrupted. And all through this Lazy Cultivator, just sat there, tablet in hand, typing out her next chapter.

(Edit: fair warning, this is a game centric theory so no Andrew or jake or anything. I am simply posing ideas)
So,
In the Curse of dreadbear DLC, the titular character is an obvious play on frankenstein’s monster: specifically the one popularized in the 30’s film adaptation.
And what exactly happens in that film? A scientist named Henry creates a monster composed of multiple combined dead things, then vows to destroy it in a fire.
Once laid out like that, it’s a pretty obvious hint. It lines up with Henry’s story in virtually every continuity, at least half of it. Desk guy (also from a Halloween DLC) was theorized to be Henry and his whole deal is that he made Baby, regretted it, then died. Book henry made baby, regretted it, then committed suicide. Who’s to say that pattern doesn’t extend to game Henry as well?
Basically what this boils down to is that Henry made the funtimes. Ryetoast talked about it in a video, in the insanity ending he goes on to describe molten MCI pretty much verbatim. With the added support of Henrystein, it’s very possible the “prisons of my making” were the funtimes. What is Ennard if not a monster made of several dead things stitched together?
It’s very likely that Henry had no idea what they were for. He said that he “unwillingly helped to create” them, and that he “doesn’t know how those tiny breaths of life came to inhabit those machines”.
The funtimes are The only things that you could reasonably trace back to Afton given what they’re for and the huge ass bunker with his name plastered on everything. A strong connecting thing throughout the short stories is the idea of fazbear entertainment hiring out independent roboticists to make animatronics. What if Afton was pulling a Steve Jobs?
Afton is cited as a “local entrepreneur” in the canceled due to leaks teaser, and seems to derive a great amount of pleasure in being the genius behind the beloved characters. William made Henry make the funtimes and took all the credit. But why stop there?
In the novels there is a bunker directly under Henry’s house, similar to the sister location facility. That facility is also where the twisted animatronics are stored, which are essentially the nightmares. That is everything detailed in the sister location building map all belonging to Henry. It would also make a ton of sense for Henry, someone characterized by being too wrapped up in his work to be a present father, to want to have surveillance on his children. It’s also a point that in both the movies and the novels Henry, or someone equating Henry, has a bigger family while Afton only has one daughter. In game as well, Elizabeth has green eyes and red hair while Mike, BV, and Charlie have darker hair. All this to say, Elizabeth has some rare traits that would be recessive if she was really Mike or BV’s sister
You know what other game has a Halloween DLC? Fnaf 4. You know what other game has a Halloween DLC containing the aforementioned desk guy with the same general arc? Fnaf world. Both games largely dealing with the memories of the bite victim. There is this weird connection between Halloween, bite victim and Henry. It likely has something to do with Fallfest.
Speaking of fallfest, Carnie is just a reskinned rockstar Freddy. This leads me to believe that the rockstars as models are old as hell. And with old as hell models, they may be springlock animatronics. The 5 fingers would certainly suggest that, though their endos are pretty barebones. My own mechanical dissection of springlocks aside, look at the nightmares and the rockstars side by side.
You can definitely see it with rockstar foxy, ditch some of the pirate decorations and the face shape is nearly identical, including the lighter ring around the eyes. Same with Bonnie and Chica, same chunky face shape with similar eyeholes. Same jaw mechanism. That, plus the 5 fingers and 4 toes (except for rockstar chica for some reason). You can see how the rockstars could be reasonably warped into the nightmares.
The one outlier here is nightmare Freddy, who doesn’t have a solid look alike. Rockstar Freddy looks more like nightmare fredbear, complete with purple accessories. Rockstar Freddy also has a darker recolor with strong connections to the puppet in LEFTE. If the rockstars (or at least a model using their molds which likely would have been mass produced) and the nightmares are one in the same, that would mean that Henry made them too.
Furthermore: the Twisted animatronics, which are one in the same with the nightmares, were explicitly made to kidnap people from their homes. We litterally see them in the opening screen coming out of the woods towards a house. The trailer for fnaf 4 also says “what have you brought home”. This would imply their aim was not too dissimilar to the funtimes, but they’re their own thing. I raise you: yendo.
Yendo is a very oddball character, which very well might not even be canon. He is an endoskeleton of Funtime Freddy who was made to store kids in his stomach. What do we see on nightmare fredbear and nightmare? A stomach mouth.
Nightmare Fredbear and yendo also behave in ways similar to golden Freddy. Throughout the various books spirits are also known to induce audiovisual hallucinations. What if instead of illusion discs, or whatever, bite victim: Henry’s son, had his supernatural properties weaponized by Afton in an early attempt to automate the kidnapping of children. Afton had Henry make a prototype for Funtime Freddy, and dressed it in a rockstar costume.
I’d also really like to shout out this theory by dual process theory, I think they hit the nail on the head: https://youtu.be/7ykDrYPAkkw?feature=shared
Summary: altered text/bite victim’s name is Cassidy, Charlie is faded text, and Mike is the vengeful spirit; pissed enough to literally reanimate his own corpse and hunt down Afton in order to put him through the same stuff he tricked him into doing for all eternity, all the while taunting him with the visage of Cassidy. The HW2 death order as the MCI and Charlie dying in-between the week when when Cassidy was bit and when he died; this gives William the info necessary to conclude that throwing Cassidy into fredbear will bring him back. 10/10, no notes in my book. Though, the SL night 4 springlock suit being fredbear is a bit of a stretch imo. Just kinda copy paste the bits that fit.
He starts with Henry’s oldest and only remaining child: Michael. Bite victim’s spirit would contort onlookers perception of the frame into how he remembered the characters in the week leading up to his death: scary, grotesque, and full of teeth. Afton would exploit the spirit’s desire to get revenge on his brother, to lure him out and capture him.
Henry was now belligerent from losing 2 children in the span of a week, and being convicted for the disappearances of 4 more. Not only that, but Afton was completely undermining him and taking over his robotics company while he did all the work. His life was falling apart at the seams. He had been keeping a close eye on Mike to ensure nothing happened to him as well. At this rate he couldn’t stand another tragedy, even if he did blame the kid.
Mike was lured out to the visage of fredbear, and ran out to his brother’s unmarked grave out of repentance. It was there the thing captured him and took him to the nightmare chambers. Henry assumed he would be back soon enough, and that he’d be sorry when he got back.
From there, Afton would use nitrous oxide (as seen in RUIN and the gas canisters all around the sl facility) to sedate Mike and make him more susceptible to hallucinations. He would use the rockstars to conduct experiments on the effects of prolonged fear à la Dittophobia. at the end of it he could brainwash mike into believing that he was his father, everything was his fault, and he needs to do everything he says to atone.
At this point, Henry assumes mike is dead. Out of his grief for losing all 3 of his children, his reputation, and his whole livelihood, he made Baby in the likeness of Charlie with the intent to kill himself with it (see Fuhnaff’s video on baby being a recreation of Charlie). He doesn’t, but he abandons robotics altogether and falls off the face of the earth Until Fnaf 6.
At this point for Afton it was only a matter of hiring technicians to reverse engineer yendo and baby, as well as add a few of his own modifications, to create the Funtime series of animatronics. Elizabeth dies, etc. etc.
Id also like to stop and appreciate the narrative depth this adds to the story.
(Edit: I originally said some stuff in support of frights fiction, I removed it because I don’t want people to fixate on it. TLDR: I think it’s a cool meta way for the stories to remain In a vacuum while maintaining their utility as providing anchor points and a glossary for the more supernatural stuff, this is a game centric theory after all)
Also, mike being vengeful spirit gives such a cathartic ending for this character we’ve been playing as for most likely all of the previous games.
I also really like the Afton that this story paints. It keeps in line with his novel characterization of trying to surpass Henry, going so far as to steal his entire family. He is this ever present perverting force, it’s allegorical in a way. He’s a caricature of the power hungry CEO: sitting at the top, pushing ideas in the name of reckless expansion and innovation regardless of the consequences. extinguished the spark of life that his partner was able to imbue into his creations, so he took it upon himself to recreate that spark by any means necessary: substituting metaphorical soul for literal soul. He takes a keen interest in his legacy, he believes he is on the brink of discovering the secret to immortality. The ends justify the means but his means are deeply flawed. He’s not a tragic father. He expands, infecting every part of the company (figuratively and eventually literally) like a virus.
This theory props up something I like to believe: spring lock suits were William’s idea. Henry simply had to make them despite his better judgement; a brilliantly executed absolutely terrible idea by a man trying to save money. It adds even more potency to William’s death, because he was so insistent on them. He was killed by his own hubirus more than anything else.
Henry also becomes a far more poignant character. His passion to create was being actively used to sap everything away from him. All of his incredible advancements in artificial intelligence and Servo motor technology being used by one greedy man looking to prolong his life and legacy. His creations were accomplices in the murder of his family and so many others. And all for what? We don’t even know if William recorded the results of any of his “experiments”, he just kept literally industrializing the production of agony in a business supposed to produce joy. He was unknowing of the full scope yet complicit on the promise that he could regain his children. He held onto that tragedy, as many else did. He let the memory fester and tear him apart. It would take years to realize, but it’s best to move on. Let it fade, as the agony of every tragedy should.
Frankenstein has to deal with obtaining forbidden knowledge. While I don’t feel like we as a society shouldn’t pursue that knowledge, Scott probably intended it as Mary Shelly did. We shouldn’t play god, especially in pursuit of profit or glory.
Is Scott a good writer? Who knows, I could be completely wrong.

Hey everyone,
I'm sorry for the upcoming wall of text, but i really need to get it off my chest and hope to maybe get some advice.
So three years back we got a puppy from the animal rescue. She looked like a rough haired collie mix, I grew up with a French Bulldog and then later had a Cane Corso with my ex boyfriend till she was 6 and they moved away to a different city. Both dogs turned out amazing.
An important side note here: as I am still a student, we made a family decision to get a dog together with my parents. So it had to be a dog that we were all comfortable with. I really didn't care what breed of dog we would get, as long as it wasn't tiny, and not a working breed. This excluded most shepherds.
Well, as life has it, my mom fell in love with our girl from the pictures the animal rescue posted online. I warned her that she would not grow up to be a smaller dog like my parents wanted, and that she looked like a shepherd, albeit a rough collie. My mom grew up with a rough collie and said they were very trainable dogs and quite calm. I was so desperate to have a dog in my life again that I agreed, and a couple of weeks later, our girl was here.
She was brought to us in pretty bad shape, kennel cough, and a huge flesh wound on her tail from where someone had accidentally slammed it in the door (and apparently not treated it?).
Behavioural difficuties started almost instantly. We managed to work through most of them though: food aggression/ anxiety (she would even gobble up water, the first and second bowl of it, as if scared someone would take it from her) and generally scared of everything. Once we got past the fear though, the guarding instinct kicked in. And they kciekd in bad. There is a big field that here where dogs are allowed to run free. At some point, she started attacking people who would dare walk by the field wihout their own dog. She tried to intimidate any guests we had. I once went to the bathroom and left my friend in the living room. When I came back he was clutching his ears while sitting on the couch. I asked him what the fuck happened, apparently while I was gone, she first "bullied" him till he sat down on the couch, then started biting his fingers when he tried to text me. Other friends had to go through similiar fates, weren't allowed to stand up from chairs etc. We got through all of that, and we also had two trainers come by who gave us some good pointers.
However, today, we have similiar but different problems, and i'm at my wits end. By now, we also did a DNA test and found out she is mostly a bohemian shepherd, which is the forefather breed of all German Shepherds. She is a spitting image of the breed too. So avoiding getting a workign line breed didn't work out at all :')
She recently attacked a dog who "charged" my mom because he was apparently a bit too excited to say hello. He had to get stitches because she put two holes in his shoulder. When we go outside, I usually bring her ball and we play fetch throughout the park (and avoid the dog park so there isnt any conflic potential), however, too many assholes just do not care when I ask them to keep their off leash dogs from running up to us when we are playing fetch (mind you, we purposefully go to places where there is nobody around). My dog's recall is perfect, and i put her on the leash and take the ball away, but the other dog often ignores their owner and runs up to us and starts harassing my dog. She becomes aggressive towards the other dog in this setting. We've had a couple of fights blow up like this.
If I dont bring her her ball, we walk through the dog park, and sometimes she even invites other dogs to play. However, there are other days when she decides to find something else to guard instead, and then shit hits the fan. A couple of months back, she was eating a piece of dirt, then lost interest and walked away. However, then another dog came and started sniffing that space, and my dog instantly ran over and started fletching her teeth. The other dog didnt back down, and they got into a fight. It ended up with me having to go to the hospital because the other dog bit me while I was pulling them apart, because the other dogs owner was this old lady who only stood in shock while opening and closing her mouth silently like a damn fish out of the water. Also, if I dont play fetch with her, she is often even more restless at home than she already is.
That is the next problem: she is so, so fucking high energy, and I just dont know how to deal with it. I walk her for an hour three times a day, during each walk we: do obedience, do impulse training, i make her do nose work (hide food in tall grass or tree bark and make her search for it), and then play fetch. About an hour after we're home, she starts showing all signs of boredom. Brings me her toys, nudges me, or stops just sits and whines. As soon as I stand up from my chair, she jumps up all excited like we're going somewhere. I just dont know how to fucking tire her out. I feel like i'm failing her and at the same time, I feel like having her is taking more from me than it is giving back. Each walk is a damn stress test and like playing russian roulette to see if some idiot is going to let his off leash dog try to take her ball, or if she will just simply be in a bad mood and attack another dog for looking at her wrong.
We sometimes go to the forest near our house and i let her dig there because she loves it, but God forbid someone else walks by, she completely starts raging. Yesterday some dude with a huge banddog happened to walk by (thank God the other dog was on a leash) and my idiot tried her best to slip out of her collar to try and attack him.
It's like literally every damn day she's bringing me to my wits end. Today, some dog on the other end of the field squealed and she ran over, completely ignoring my recall (usually never happens) all while barking aggresively the whole way (around 800 m). She has a habit of "stepping in" when two dogs are fighting and protecting the "underdog". I'm just so fucking stressed out by her its insane. Right now, I was sitting writing my thesis, and after she was nudging me all day demanding attention (yes, I send her away, then she starts whining), she suddenly lets out this high pitch bark because once again some random fucking noise three houses away scared her. I now have a tinnitus in my right ear and funnily enough, this was for some reason my breaking point that nearly brought me to tears.
Anyways, I apologize for my ramblings, and would be very grateful for any advice you have.
Oh, and before you wonder about her being a "family dog", my parents are often abroad for a couple of months of a time, but this was all discussed beforehand and was fine by me. Its jsut none of us saw her becoming the way she is. Also, she managed to break both of my mom legs (one each on a seperate occasion) because she reacted to something and suddenly pulled my mom. She then proceeded to threaten anyone who tried to come close to my mom to help her, until I came.
Yes, I am currently looking into a trainer, but I am kind of scared this time. The first trainer we had was a completey dumbass who just drenched her in water without warning us beforehand for barking. My dog had a phobia of plastic bottles after that for months till i managed to get her past it. The second trainer was amazing but unfortunately moved away to the other side of the country.