WPA – A Completely Average Roadtrip
Disclaimer: Not canon, and I don’t use patreon so please don’t spoil me. Also, any opinion held by a character is that of the characters and not my own. Enjoy.
Town of Ljosalfington, local time 14:00, week 7
Emma Booker
“Again Illunor, I warned you before that this is a utility vehicle, not a party rated smart-limo. I am already compromising more than I should by allowing you to use the sample cooler as a minifridge, one which I can’t even use!” I said as I loaded the materials I had just purchased into the back of the high-G All terrain fusion-ethanol-electric hybrid 24th-century legacy pickup truck that I had printed out earlier this week, carefully avoiding the heavy ordinance hard point.
“That is hardly an excuse for that abysmally cramped leg space barely fit for cattle, never mind the bare minimum for standard decorum suitable for nobility. If this is what a car is like, then I don’t see why you care for your technology,” complained Illunor, who was sitting around idly with a malformed garish bowl of icecream that he had stashed away from lunch.
“If it bothers you so much, perhaps you could help next time with your ‘bigger-on-the-inside’ magic,” I retorted as I slid the last core sample into the back before covering it up with a tarp and strapping it down.
I had originally planned to visit Ljosalfington by myself to acquire much needed exo-materials to test various mana manipulator configurations as I worked to develop my first wand as not all of the materials I needed were procurable locally from Elaseer. I eventually yielded, much to my regret, to allowing Illunor to come with me as he insisted on wanting to deliver a letter personally in town after Thacea had pointed out the wisdom of not travelling alone.
We continued our back and forth for a bit yet as I finished securing my payload a voice called out to me from the direction of the town.
“Excuse me a moment, I couldn’t help but notice but are you from the academy?”
I turned to see an elf dressed in a plain brown buttoned up tunic matched by a slightly shabby pair of trousers with what appeared to be a lute upon his back and a plain and unenchanted longsword on his belt gesturing at our robes. Mine especially were new and unusual, tailored by the academy to go over my armour and allow access to the anchor points and allow me to exit my armour with minimal hassle. Illunor scoffed at what was evidently a commoner’s arrogance at approaching nobility and turned his head away in disgust. I glanced at Illunor and shook my head before turning to face the new man. I had time to spare, and any opportunity to engage in a hearts-and-minds dialogue with the locals outside the bounds of the managed environment of the academy was more than worth the time to chat. Especially as most of the other locals seemed to be content in ignoring me.
“Yes, we are currently studying at the Transgracian Academy. I am Cadet Emma Booker representing the United Nations of Earth and Luna from Earthream, and my aloof compatriot is Lord Illunor Rularia of the Vunerian courts. We were just about to head back but are in no rush. May I ask your name and what brings you by?” I asked with my hand outstretched in greeting.
“Ah yes, yes. My name is Edhel Redoehdelnif, a wandering bard by trade like my father and his father before him. My apologies, Cadet Emma Booker, I am unfamiliar with Earthrealm,” said Edhel as he grasped my hand with both of his and shook it tepidly yet vigorously. Or rather, tried to, as the motors on my suit resisted his efforts.
“News doesn’t seem to spread all that fast around here, so it makes sense you haven’t heard of us. We’re a new realm, and only just got here. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Edhel Redoehdelnif,” I replied.
“Absolutely fascinating! And a knight no less, or perhaps a squire? I’m sure you have many stories to tell of Earthrealm. Say, by chance are you about to head back to the academy? I have business in Elaseer and the usual coach has been absent as of late so I would rather not go it alone,” said Edhel.
I was hesitant to bring a stranger back in the car with me, even if Illunor was present. However, the opportunity that meeting a bard presented was too good to pass up from an intel perspective and to win the favour of the populace at large.
“That is a great idea. I think I have room for one more…” I paused before gesturing towards Illunor, “provided everyone is ok with it that is.”
Illunor gave a huff and turned his head away in silence.
“Very well, I will allow this. But he will not be joining me in your sorry excuse for a coach,” said Illunor dismissively.
Illunor approached the backseat expectantly and the door opened for him automatically, allowing the dlc kobold to gracefully enter and lounge across the length of the seats, once again ignoring the seatbelts. I sighed as I made my way to the driver’s seat, and Edhel entered from the passenger side as he marveled at the automatic doors and the interior.
“What a strange carriage this is! Although I must say, shouldn’t you be retrieving your horses? I didn’t see any harnesses or sense any artifices,” inquired Edhel as he attempted to make himself comfortable on the car seat, lute in front of him.
“Oh no, this thing doesn’t need horses or magic,” I said with a chuckle as EVI started the car. The elf raised his eyebrows at the sudden hum of the engine and made an expression of alarm when the car started driving itself without my input. “See, purrs like a kitten.”
“Earthrealm must have some large kittens if they purr like that,” noted Edhel, “but you must be concealing the enchantments somewhere. Such a thing as this with such strange yet precise craftsmanship is only possible in the crownlands.”
“Nope, no magic,” I said cheerfully.
“Then how?” Asked Edhel.
“It’s rather simple really. Are you familiar with the workings of a mill?” I asked, deciding to keep things surface level and elementary to avoid provoking the IDOV threshold.
“Somewhat, though I confess to not being familiar with their workings. Are you suggesting this is akin to a mill?” Asked Edhel perplexed.
“It’s the same principal. A mill works by taking a source of rotation such as a waterwheel or windmill, transferring that rotation along a series of rotating shafts and interlocking gears, and finally putting that energy to work by rotating a millstone,” I began as the car pulled out onto the smooth cobbled road in the direction of Elaseer. A notification popped up in the corner of my vision indicating my recon drone swarm had shifted from a holding formation to a convoy screening formation, and while the roads were clear I kept the speed at 60km/h to account for my passenger’s apparent distaste for seatbelts.
“Rotation…” muttered Edhel. He turned to face one of the wheels and EVI pinged an alert for a probable match for a detection spell, “fascinating.”
“Edhel, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, perhaps I should have asked first. Yes, I can see how it all fits together. But the source of this rotation? I see no mighty river or great wind to power this, so where does it come from?” Asked Edhel, not really apologizing. Elven arrogance, it seemed, was not limited by class.
The act reminded me of Sorecar when he inspected my gun, but where the armourer had been respectful with it, Edhel was more flippant. I considered the possibility that he was a spy sent by one of her peers or the crownlands, though this did not mesh with the methods I had seen so far. Edhel may have been just overly enthusiastic. In either case, I quickly decided to only reveal the antique design for the ethanol engine, and not that of the batteries or the emergency coupler to my suit’s fusion reactor.
“Right, well please ask first next time. As to your question, I won’t bore you with the details, but the rotation is generated by creating a periodic sequence of explosions inside of a machine – a manaless artifice – called a combustion engine, said Emma.
“So that’s what that sound is…” pondered Edhel, “are these artifices typical in Earthream?”
“You are awfully inquisitive for a commoner,” noted Illunor as he inspected his nails for dirt, “and rather accepting of something which should be impossible.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a bard if I wasn’t, my lord,” said Edhel shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “perhaps some music might set the mood better?”
“That would be preferable, bard. I have heard enough of the Earthrealmer’s Road Trip Playlist and would like to listen to some music of real culture,” said Illunor.
The bard agreed and proceeded to awkwardly play a ballad about an adventurer who slew a hydra in some frozen wasteland. Partway through, I politely interrupted the Edhel to point out the seat controls much to his fascination and Illunor’s grumbling at their common nature, and after some adjustment the bard went on playing and I half-heartedly listened while I paid attention to the road and my drone feed.
Particularly after EVI detected something unusual and alerted me to its presence.
”Attention Caded Booker. There is a disabled vehicle blocking the primary route to destination. Heat signatures in the woods are consistent with that of an ambush.”
“Damn it,” I muttered.
I glanced at the drone feed to see a broken cart strewn horizontally across a wooden bridge over a brook. On the surface it looked like a pair of civilians who required aid and assistance, but off in the woods were several heat signatures, several of which held weapons of varying levels of enchantments. Occasionally one of the pair on the bridge would talk with them, suggesting they were in cahoots rather than hostages. I recalled crossing that very bridge not a few hours earlier, so the blockade was very recent.
“EVI, did we pass that cart on the way here?” I asked.
”Negative,” replied EVI.
I grimaced. I had been trained to handle road-side ambushes, but it was only something that was a theoretical possibility. Something that should only occur in a warzone or a corrupt and unstable polity. I knew I had the capacity to handle such an encounter, even non-lethally, but that didn’t change the fact that these were civilians and as such were the responsibility of local law enforcement. Combined with the fact that I had passengers I was responsible for and engaging the ambush was a risky option.
“EVI, give me a list of alternative routes,” I commanded.
”Affirmative. Here is a list of routes in order of recommendation,” replied EVI.
I looked over the routes superimposed on a map of the region and quickly dismissed taking a shortcut through the forest and cutting through farmland. A detour caught my eye that extended the journey by roughly ten kilometers and I immediately sent a pair of drones to scout it out before committing to the detour.
“Are you alright, Cadet Emma Booker? You seem distracted,” asked Edhel, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just focused on driving,” replied Emma.
“I suppose it must be quite taxing to command an artificed carriage of this complexity. Perhaps it might ease your mind if you were to regale me a tale of a hero of your realm?” Said Edhel, strumming a complex tune from his lute as he spoke as each and every pluck triggered a low-level spell.
“Well, that may be a problem. We don’t have any monsters to fight, and wars are a thing of the past,” I said while desperately tip-toeing the subject of aunt Ran, the subject of war, and our voyages through the cosmos, “though we are not without the adventurous spirit. We certainly have many stories of grand voyages. Some mythical and fictional such as The Odyssey as told by the Greek poet Homer and some historical such as the race to the south pole.”
“The south pole,” muttered the bard, “so you have explored all of Earthrealm then? I suppose that makes some sense, if you have artifices such as this then traversal of a globe would be quite manageable.”
“You are quite perceptive,” I said, not wishing to elaborate.
“A great performer knows his audience,” said Edhel with a charming, honest, almost human smile.
I felt a pang of homesickness as an intrusive thought reminded me that I could have gone to a real college surrounded by friendly faces my age, engaging in nightly holostreams and dreaming of adventures in the stars from the safety of a college dorm room. The sight of Illunor in the rear camera was the only thing that kept me grounded, as I almost felt like I was back at home on a road trip rather than returning to a fantasy feudal court, constantly evading death at every turn with the fate of humanity on the line. As such, and prompted by EVI, I barely had the wherewithal to take the planned detour.
A fact which did not pass by Edhel.
“I believe you may have taken a wrong turn, Emma,” he commented.
“Nah, I’m just taking the scenic route. I came from that direction on the way here, and you have inspired me to see the other road and I figure it should only add a few extra minutes to our travel time,” I said, gesturing at a paper map which I had referenced exactly once, “though on that subject, you seem to know these lands quite well. Do you have any recommendations on places to visit in the Nexus to scratch that itch?”
Illunor raised his eyebrow at the detour excuse, knowing full well this was not part of the plan. I worried that he might complain about the issue and but thankfully remained silent as he snacked on the contents of the misused sample storage unit. Edhel himself took on a more pensive posture.
“I’m happy to have been such an inspiration, Emma, though I am sure an explorer such as yourself has little need of such. I would normally suggest the skyward fountains of Verdellan or the cloud tides of Asturia, but that may be too casual for someone of your calibre. Perhaps the severed chasm or the fire marsh of Bhandahova may be more to your liking. Or perhaps…” Edhel leaned in, “I have heard rumours of a dragon in the glassy obsidian wastes of Vurcanar.”
I chuckled at that, knowing how I was fortunate enough to fish a dragon scale out of the nearby lake for the ECS. “The thought of going dragon hunting had certainly crossed my mind…” I mused aloud.
“Yet you sound hesitant. Perhaps it is too much for a newrealmer. Perhaps a slime or a dire rat might be more appropriate,” he said with a tease.
“No, it’s not like that! It’s” I stammered, before attempting to change course after realizing I had been goaded, “what I mean is, I was under the impression that dragons were an endangered species. Where I come from, hunting endangered animals is usually illegal, and big game hunting in general is frowned upon. We do make exceptions in the case of problem animals such as if a large predator starts hunting humans, but as a rule we prefer conservation and try to find ways of coexisting with wildlife such as the use of barrier fences and scaring away dangerous animals rather than being forced to cull their numbers. Having a species go extinct would prevent future generations from appreciating them and risks destabilizing the ecosystem they are a part of. Now if this dragon was actively razing villages and eating civilians and livestock, that would be one thing, but this does not look to be the case. I don’t imagine the Nexus has any settlements in this wasteland, and the dragon clearly wants to be left alone. Killing an innocent dragon would be murder.”
I grinned to myself after delivering a diatribe that would have made my tenth grade social and environmental studies teacher beam with pride, though by the expressions of my passengers my view did not appear to be shared. Edhel’s mouth was agape in shock and fascination, while the Venurian in the back seat merely huffed in disapproval.
“I assure you Newrealmer, there are no innocent dragons,” stated Illunor with a hint of terseness breaking through his otherwise regal demeanor.
“Illunor, I understand that Venurians have personal reasons for not liking dragons, but you can’t just extend that disdain to their descendants or those uninvolved just because they are the same species,” I said.
“If I may interject on your behalf, my lord, I believe I can address Cadet Emma Booker’s concerns,” said Edhel with a bow. Illunor nodded in approval.
“Very well, you may proceed,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord. My dear Emma, you must understand that dragons are not simple animals driven entirely off of instinct as it appears to be the case in Earthrealm. They are monsters. Intelligent, long-lived, violent, greedy, cruel, territorial, selfish flesh-eating monsters. They are evil by the very nature of their being, unable to change by their own accord, and unwilling to change when His Eternal Majesty offered them freedom from their nature. It isn’t that they want to be evil. As intelligent animals – intelligent monsters – dragons are capable of understanding morality, and many have tried to overcome their evil nature at great expense to themselves. A well intended and noble sentiment, yet a doomed one as like all animals, they all succumb to their nature in the end. Overcoming one’s nature is impossible,” said Edhel. His eyes took on a stoic, almost remorseful gaze as he spoke, and Illunor nodded with approval.
I was appalled by this claim, not by the contents so much as how blatantly false it was. As a representative of the human race, I was a living counterexample to his whole argument. We had remained physiologically unchanged as a species since the last Ice Age, and yet in spite of that, in spite of our many flaws, we had found peace and balance. If we could do it, anyone could do it.
“Will all due respect Edhel, that is nonsense. Monsters aren’t born, they are made. It is the mark of any intelligent species can adapt their behaviour to their environment for better or worse, and under the right care any so-called monster can grow to be a force for good,” I began, but while I searched for the right words Edhel shook his head.
“I appreciate your race is an empathetic one, Emma, your idealism is unfounded. As flesh eaters, a dragon must take the life of another animal or person to survive, or they will perish. As such, every dragon has taken a life. As long-lived creatures, they will have amassed a significant number of kills. As the land can only support so much animals, a dragon must be fiercely territorial and aggressive to remove competition, lest they starve. As such, even the most kind-hearted dragon alive must be violent and greedy, and their intelligence fuels this even more so if they know a bountiful land of morsels exists just outside their range.
Now perhaps a multitude of dragons may find a way to co-exist together in some settlement, but to support such a venture would require a large territory of prey, or a livestock animal. Perhaps they could support a large colony by farming grain for their livestock, but that would require effort on their behalf. As large animals, such efforts require a great deal of energy. Yet that size makes it easy for them to intimidate smaller races to do their labour for them, and to keep their client race in line dragons must be cruel. And even so, as their numbers grow so do their needs. As such, they must expand into the lands of their neighbours to survive until there is nothing left to devour, at which point they must turn against their own lest they starve. As such, it is the nature of dragons to conquer and devour. That is why there is no such thing as an innocent dragon,” finished Edhel.
I was speechless, not because I believed Edhel had a point, but because I was horrified at how easy he found it to rationalize the extermination of an entire sapient species. If this was how the elves thought, then it wasn’t the dragons who were the monsters. I suppressed that dark thought. Edhel’s thought process was a product of his culture, not a feature of his elven heritage. If there was any hope of peace between our people, I needed to show him there was another way of being. I needed to prove that co-existence was possible, no matter one’s nature.
I took a deep breath to steady myself before replying.
“That- that is a callous way of seeing things,” I began, though the shock was still there in my voice, “you speak as though there is no natural equilibrium with a dragon, that their only state of being must be to be cruel, to devour, to conquer. But I see things differently. In fact, I might wonder if a fledgling civilization might see the presence of a dragon as a boon rather than a curse. Being intelligent, the locals may be able to come to some agreement with the dragon. Perhaps they might leave some land as a hunting ground or offer up a share of their cattle or guard the dragon as it sleeps. In exchange, the dragon might allow them to build a town outside its mountain and protect them in times of danger. An equitable exchange. A civilization might even create artificial lairs to attract dragons for this very reason. True, some dragons may behave tyrannical towards their town, but a well armed populace of a large city would be more than capable of fighting such a threat, and a rational dragon might reason that threatening their own populace would put their reliable source of food and shelter at risk. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective.”
“You certainly are an imaginative one, Emma, to wonder up a quixotic world where the hare and the fox live together in harmony as equals. Even so, you seem to have ignored one key detail to such a society. What would happen should the dragon not be fed for months on end?” Asked Edhel with his eyebrow raised.
“The same thing as stranded a dozen starving, stranded Elves!” I spat back.
[Alert: Vehicle speed above recommended limit for conditions. Recommendation: slow down. ]
“I am driving slow!” I seethed, not realizing I had sped up with manual control enabled.
“I grow tired of this common prattle,” interjected Illunor just in time to prevent an awkward silence, “bard, play us another song.” “As my lord wishes,” said Edhel with a bow before turning to me with another smile, “perhaps a more soothing melody would be in order? A love song perhaps, to honour Cadet Booker’s compassionate nature?”
I said nothing as Edhel began to strum his lute again to the tune of a love story of a pair of doomed lovers named Ramian and Junette, hating his cheeky knowing grin that only served to get under my skin further as I focused on calming down and slowing the car back to a more reasonable pace before investigating a priority alert which I had been blinded to moments prior.
[Alert: hostile roadblock is absent, location unknown.]
Shit.
“Illunor, we may have a problem,” I said.
“Shush, Newrealmer, have you no class? We are almost at the best part! I’m sure it can wait,” replied the contextually clueless lizard.
I had never wanted to throttle Illunor as much as I did now.
“Illunor, shield, now,” I said with a raised voice.
“I don’t see-“ he started, pausing mid-sentence as his ears perked up.
[Alert: Multiple manafield and spell signatures detected!]
I took evasive maneuvers as Illunor tried to piece together a shield spell, fumbling it twice as panic appeared to set in and providing me with a reminder that Illunor was a civilian, not a soldier. A hail of arrows pelted the exterior of the truck, piercing but not penetrating the composite armour. I was tempted to do nothing but just drive away from the arrow fire, but a foreboding premonition of danger filled me as I recalled Sorecar’s hunter-seeker arrows.
Seeking to avoid that fate, I triggered the active defenses.
The smoke screens deployed around the vehicle, obscuring the sight of any who depended on visible light to see me. A barrage of decoy flares equipped with wooden cores shot upward at angles and diffusing to the side like a pair of giant wings which when combined with the MFD, short for mana-field dampener, inside the vehicle meant that the pelting hail of arrowfire softened to a whirr as the arrows whiffed over the top of the truck, retargeted away from the soft flesh of my passengers and even invoking friendly fire amongst the ambushers.
In the chaos, EVI and my drone swarm fed me complete tactical information on the ambush. Of the 26 individuals at the first blockade, 20 were accounted for, and 3 had died from friendly fire. Ahead at the bridge, 5 more of them were at the bridge where a barrier had been hastily erected to cage me in as the river valley was too deep to cross.
“Illunor, we need a bridge,” I said, taking stock of the wellbeing of my passengers.
The bard was huddled down low and suppressing his manafield, but otherwise rather composed. Illunor, on the other hand, was cowering in the gap between the seats with his hands covering his eyes and his tail tucked in.
“A bridge is no small request, Ne- Cadet Emma Booker,” replied Illunor, “and your ‘Emeffdee’ has blinded me to the outside of this moving death trap.”
“If I drop it, can you at least make a ramp?” I asked as I circled the battlefield. Or tried to, at least, as earthen ramparts emerged from the ground from a yet unseen source to cut off other avenues of escape.
“A ramp? Surely you don’t mean-“ he stammered.
“Yes or no,” I said.
Illunor paused, before taking an unsteady breath.
“Yes. But not with that Emeffdee,” he replied.
“Good. Steady your nerves and prepare to make a ramp ahead of us on my signal,” I said, “in the meantime, get your seatbelt on. This is going to be hairy.”
As I circled around to make my approach on the bridge, the final combatant made his appearance on a nearby tree, revealing himself as an elven mage. An alert focused on the air around him indicating he was preparing an unknown high-tier spell, and I locked the predator drone on him indicating the elf as a high-priority target if our escape plan failed, and I was forced to use lethal force.
If I was forced to kill.
It was one thing to know you may have to kill in the line of duty, but it was much harder to reconcile that with reality. No number of simulations could match the real thing, and a part of me wanted to simply offload the responsibility to EVI to keep my hands clean, but to do that would be betraying my duty as a human being. I breathed in deep and tried not to think about it, instead hoping to rely on the ace I held in my sleeve instead.
“EVI, ready the spell jammer,” I said unevenly.
“Acknowledged, the prototype Exo-Radiation Wave-Field Distruptor is primed. High risk target identified and locked, permission to engage?” EVI asked, forcing me to address the dreaded question.
“Negative,” I replied, “hold your fire. If the ramp fails, then you have permission to engage,” I said.
“Affirmative, on your mark,” replied EVI.
I lined up the truck with the bridge and bolted through the smoke, keeping a careful eye on the mage as I went. His spellform took on a more concerning shape as I accelerated, and I realized I could not afford to let him finish his spell. I triggered the spelljammer.
A terrible roar erupted from an array of speakers printed from mana-resistant materials that would have made Godzilla herself beam with pride. The sound was decidedly unnatural, gnarly, dubstep drop composed of an electric eel, a whale, a mountain lion, and a tyrannosaurus rex all being simultaneously assaulted by a swarm of angry cybernetic murder hornets as an equally chaotic wave of mana blasted outwards from the exterior of the truck, with the interior thankfully sheltered by audio and mana dampening.
The ambushing assailants cowered and panicked, and it was enough to cause the Elven mage’s spell to backfire in his face as his form exploded into ashes, meeting a horrific fate which I had tried so desperately to help him avoid. With all the combatants momentarily incapacitated or dead, I lowered the dampener and turned off the smoke.
“Ramp!” I shouted, snapping the lizard back to reality.
The Venerian nodded and hastily formed an earthwork ahead of us right before the blockade, and the truck leapt off the ramp with a not insignificant amount of air beneath our wheels. I braced for impact, regretting skimping on the shocks in the name of preserving materials, but the impact never came.
[Alert: Friendly spell designated ‘Feather Fall’]
Illunor thankfully had enough wherewithal to gently land the steel brick, and I sped off into the distance away from the trap that had unfolded behind us, leaving the interior of the truck in an awkward silence as we each processed our brush with death in our own way. “How many are dead?” I asked EVI.
“6 hostiles confirmed dead,” replied EVI.
I drove on in silence. Those were six deaths I had tried to avoid, and I became lost in thought as I wondered what I should have done differently to avoid the confrontation entirely.
Edhel broke the silence with a bout of laughter.
“Terrific! Absolutely terrific! Why, I can conjure up many a tale from this encounter alone! I live for this kind of inspiration!” Exclaimed Edhel a little too chipperly considering the circumstance.
“I would rather not hear stories about how I bravely ran away,” I moaned in deadpan sarcasm.
“You think too little of yourself, Cadet Emma Booker. It is plain to me that you are no ordinary rabbit. Make no mistake, I see it as a privilege to bear witness to the roar of a vorpal hare!” Said Edhel as he supressed his laughter, “though I am afraid with all the excitement that I must finish my song some other time.”
“How about I play some of our music?” I offered after the elf revealed his thrill-seeking side.
“Splendid, I would like that. Perhaps something of your ‘Roadtrip playlist’ you speak of? It sounds like a collection of your voyages,” said Edhel.
“That would be an improvement on the truth,” said Illunor dismissively as he eased from his state of shock, “it is little more than noise under the pretense of music.”
“Illunor…” I muttered to myself before turning the mic on, “no, no it’s not like that. I have terabytes of pre-recorded songs from various artists back home which can be played by… an artifice called a speaker. A playlist is a set of songs which are grouped together, usually to listen to in specific situations such as studying, partying, or travelling. The latter collection is what Illunor is referring to.”
I very deliberately chose not to reveal my ‘Unfortunate Daughters’ playlist.
“An artifice which plays music, and a magicless one at that. I must say, Emma, I fear for the bards in your realm,” said Edhel with a laugh.
“Your fear is misplaced, Edhel. Entertainers live like kings where I come from,” I retorted with a smirk of my own, “well, the ones with talent at least.”
“Well, well, I suppose I have to hear my competition!” Said Edhel with a laugh.
“Do as you must, though let it be known that I warned you,” said Illunor as he watched a play on his sightseer.
I had EVI compile a list of songs that left out content offensive to Nexian sensibilities or violating OpSec and as it compiled I mused over what type of sample spread I wanted to show off. Then it struck me. What better way to show off our culture than with some good old blue jumpers and nova rock! Sadly, jumpers were unavailable to show but I still had a whole list of modern artists to choose from.
Moments later, the car speakers sprung to life to the tune of ‘Innocent Youth of Mine. Edhel’s eyes lit up like a child visiting a zero-g gravity park for the first time, seemingly star-struck by the antique electric guitar and the synthesizer-drums in particular.
“What… what is this? I have never heard anything like this!” Proclaimed Edhel.
“Dreadful, isn’t it?” said Illunor, doing what he did best and pretending to hate it.
“Oh there is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own, “this one is called ‘Innocent Youth of Mine’ by ‘Cannons and Poppies’. It’s part of the Nova Rock genre.
“And those strange instruments?” Asked Edhel.
“Oh, you mean the electric guitar and the synthesizer. They are electronic instruments, taking advantage of channeled and modulated electricity to create near any sound we can imagine,” I replied.
“Channeled electricity… are you suggesting these sounds were made by some form of lightning?” Asked Edhel.
[Suggestion: Avoid topic of electricity due to OpSec risk]
I nodded at EVI’s warning, thankful that it caught me before I discussed the very thing that all of my equipment ran on.
“It’s not exactly lightning, but close enough,” I said.
“If I had not witnessed to your display of power earlier, I might have perhaps been more skeptical of such a claim, but I suppose a lady must keep her secrets.” said Edhel with a raised eyebrow and chuckle, “but I digress, this music is most interesting.”
“There is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own.
“If I ever have a prisoner in need of torture, I will turn to you first,” replied Illunor, “if you are willing to subject your peers to this madness then I cannot imagine what you would force upon your enemies before dunking them in ice.”
“In your dreams,” I retorted.
I played a few other songs including Astrodesee’s ‘Meteor Struck’, the Martian classic ‘Hotel Cydonia’ and even ‘Switching to Warp’ before Elaseer emerged from the distance, and I pulled up outside the gate to drop Edhel off.
“Here already?” Asked Edhel.
“Well, yeah. I was just running a quick errand, I didn’t want to go too far,” I replied casually.
“That was a distance worth at least five days of walking by foot, and you call that a ‘quick errand’?” Asked Edhel. I shrugged, and he laughed.
“Well in any case, thank you for allowing me passage in your car. I must apologize for my lack of gift or payment…” said Edhel. “Don’t worry about it, it was on the way,” I replied.
“I see, how generous. Perhaps we might one day meet again?” Asked Edhel.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure how likely that is. The academy takes up most of my time,” I replied, “though you never know. I still have a lot of quest hours to complete.”
“Is that so? In that case, I hope we meet again! Goodbye Cadet Emma Booker and farewell Lord Illunor Rularia,” he said. “And good travels to you, bard,” said Illunor.
I waved off Edhel and drove back to the academy, Illunor still sulking in the back seat.
“Perhaps next time, you should steer us away from danger?” Suggested Illunor.
“I tried, but we were tracked,” I replied.
I groaned inwardly at the additional work needed to fix the truck. EVI compiled a list of upgrades for future engagements, batting away my idea for a ‘turbo mode’ and a ‘jump boost’. Though at the end of the day, meeting the bard wasn’t a complete loss. It felt good to talk to someone almost normal for once, and I hoped I met him again.
Edhel Redoehdelnif
I watched as Cadet Emma Booker’s vehicle went off into the distance, getting one last look at the Earthrealmer’s strange artifice before turning towards the gate. The voyage was an exotic experience, not unlike that of a fever dream or a peak into a world completely alien to my own. Indeed, it was a struggle to contain my excitement and enthusiasm and process the experience rationally as I made my way through the southern gates of Elaseer and turned the corner of an alley before entering an impossible structure that did not exist.
“You are earlier than expected,” said the shadowy figure of my handler as I made my way to the meeting hall.
“The Earthrealmer’s means of transportation proved far more expedient than anticipated, my lord” I spoke as I knelt before him, “even with her unexpected departure from the anticipated road and the ambush we traveled for scantly more than an hour.”
“Yes, I will require a full report from you. Perhaps you can shed some light on the ‘smoke dragon’ my men claim intervened on the Earthrealmer’s behalf,” said my handler.
“Smoke Dragon, my lord?” I asked.
My handler responded by activating his sight-seer, revealing how the ambush had appeared from the outside. The Earthrealmer’s uncanny artifice traversed down the road, a pair of manafields displaying proudly from within until the archers began their assault. The artifice then transformed as smoke billowed out from its pores and wings sprung forth above until it was the form of a mighty wrym with a pair of glowing eyes springing forth from its ever extending head where it then gave forth a terrible unholy roar which sent waves of mana outward. The mage working to seal the area and trap their mark vapourized in an instant as his spell backfired. It was apparent to Edhel that his exceptional experience in the carriage was merely a muted rendition of the events unfolding around them.
It would seem the hare had the shadow of a dragon.
“I do have some insight, though I must confess the Earthrealmer did very little in the way of direct action. I suspect she has some unseen means of commanding and scrying through her artifices,” I said, “one which does not utilize magic as we know it.”
“Such a statement is heresy,” said my handler, “but such special circumstances are your reason for being. I will require you submit your memories for verification. What is your appraisal of the new realmer?”
“The girl is far more dangerous than a surface appraisal would suggest, though she prefers to conceal that power rather than utilize it out of a misplaced sense of compassion. Her people appear to have a boundless creative drive through which such artifices are birthed, though again it is misdirected towards more common applications. I believe that if properly tamed, this human animal may provide us with great works of art,” I said with a bow.
“I see. Does the girl know you work for us?” Asked my handler.
“She may harbour some suspicions, though did not voice them outright beyond concealing her knowledge,” I said, “though nothing significant. Provided our next meet is under believable circumstances such as a festival she should view me as cordial.”
“She has indeed proven clever,” conceded my handler, “very well, I will make arrangements for your paths to cross again. Perhaps I will arrange for her to be a contestant at the next inter-academy tournament. In the mean time, prepare your report and don’t wander far. This is a priority assignment.”
“As you wish, my lord,” I said with a bow and a smile.
Emma Booker had proved to be an interesting animal indeed, and I hoped our paths crossed again.

If you’ve been following my journey you know that I work in a very toxic environment. Although my principal is leaving, it doesn’t look like it’s going to be any better next year. I honestly was struggling with what to do, I love my coworkers and my students but I just knew I needed out but unsure how to do that.
A few weeks ago I attended a conference held at a private school. Both the conference and school are for highly capable/gifted students. I am currently in school to get my high cap endorsement after seeing first hand the disparity in our those students were served, especially my students of color.
I got to talking to the executive of the school and principal about their mission and beliefs about education and the philosophy of the school. It really inspired me and it was fun to talk to like minded peers doing the work. They had two openings and encouraged me to apply.
I applied and they called me right away for an interview. I passed that and was asked to do a demo lesson. Mind you at my current school my admin does not give feedback on practice, they don’t encourage us to grow our practice nor do they believe or model best teaching practice. Going into my lesson I felt so nervous and scared because I’ve been led to believe I’m a shit teacher and everyone hates me.
Ladies, I rocked the lesson. The head of schools and two other decision makers watch and they were so complimentary of my style, practice and strategies. They offered me the job on the spot.
I’m going to make a bit less and I added to my commute but honestly, it’ll be worth it. I will have admin who actually care. They pay for all of our PD and want us to eventually speak at conference which I think is awesome. I get a full add, two planning periods for elementary.
Yesterday I signed my contract, resigned with my current district while trusted colleagues cheered me on. We cried together because change is scary and they are happy for me. Then after school my teammate and I drank wine.
I feel so proud of myself!

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Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist
Date [standardized human time]: July 15, 2160
With boot camp completed, I was free to leave the base in my off-duty hours. My plan for the rest day was to wander the city with Gress, who was eager to see Lecca and Juvre after weeks separated. His daughter had loved the idea of staying on “the human planet,” so we were heading to a hotel room where his ex-wife had planned a faceless handoff. The Krev hadn’t let me out of his sight since my abduction, because we’d yet to receive any leads on Mafani’s hideout. Where could that former black ops prick even be hiding, and why couldn’t Gress’ contact locate him? My exchange partner was worried the Resket would come back for me, and honestly, I shared those fears. I was jumpy and worried about going anywhere nobody had eyes on me.
It was a waiting game to see my persecutors get their comeuppance, and my patience was waning. General Radai was meticulous with his planning, instead of pressing our advantage before they’d have a chance to send another round of ships into our space. On the subject of lingering fears, when an armada twenty-thousand-strong burst in Tellus’ space, it had brought back memories of how the exterminator fleet had come to Earth. The greatest insult was that the bastards had figured out drones, most likely from studying my own species, so they weren’t pushovers we could use psychological warfare against anymore. Despite the advancements, the Consortium vanquished them; my faith was restored.
It’s cause for celebration. The scales—pun intended—are tipped in our favor. Now, it’s just a matter of waiting for the threefold decapitation strike to make the month-long journey; fighting a war across great distances will require patience. Persistence, some might say.
We hadn’t found too many hints in the wreckage, as the drone parts began to disintegrate almost as soon as their seams were undone. In my mind, there was no doubt they’d used our technology to some extent. Why worry about feckless crews when computers could do their dirty work? What we knew for certain was that their trails led back toward the Federation’s border, which left me wondering if our first strike didn’t need to include the Sivkits. This all started with their arrival, so they must be at the root of this conflict. Whatever General Radai might’ve thought, this proved that destroying their fleet was the right decision—who knew what kind of intel they might’ve gotten, if we spoke to them or allowed them any closer to our new home?
As much as I loved spending time with my Krev friend, perhaps the only person I’d ever felt close to, my heart was right in the thick of the war. No day wandering Tellus with Lecca could have a guarantee of safety, not until we convinced those Feddie bastards not to come knocking on our doors.
“I heard Quana was going on a tour of the caverns. She wanted to see how you lived; told Cherise it was insightful to witness a species’ conditions with your own eyes,” Gress said, as we ascended in the hotel elevator.
I tilted my head. “You two talked, voluntarily? Quana’s been less hostile since she was given the clearance to take Mafani out, but…”
“I overheard her talking with Cherise. Your Jaslip friend was interested in seeing the vault of your keepsakes from Earth. My guess is she likes the idea of making one for Esquo.”
“Jaslips had time to safeguard their artifacts, and plan the transition. I’m not sure what they’d need a vault for; they have more than fucking pictures and empty memories.”
The Krev looked at me with sad eyes, as the doors opened. “If we win this war, or are able to stop by Sol, maybe we could save a few artifacts. There has to be something, even if it’s at the bottom of the ocean, that we can save. I want to help, Taylor; my heart breaks for you and your people.”
“I know. I’m just fucked up, and I don’t know what I believe, other than that I don’t deserve you. Our history is me turning on you, doubting you, assaulting you.”
“You gave me a chance to get it right, like I couldn’t all those years ago. I’m going to save you as many times as it takes, even if it’s from yourself. You can’t push me away, or hide how you really feel.”
“How do I really feel, Gress?”
“I, um…you turned on me because you trusted me and were willing to be vulnerable. Because you care…we care deeply about each other. You express pain by blowing up, so you don’t have to admit it to yourself.”
“It’s not blowing up. I want to do something with my feelings.”
“There are other ways.”
That’s a nice statement from Captain Obvious, though he made it sound quite cryptic. Is there something more he’s not saying?
Gress steered me down the hallway, as I continued on in silence. We unlocked the door to Lecca’s room, and my leg was immediately latched onto by the little Krev. Her claws tore the fabric of my jeans, which caused her father to wince. The kid didn’t notice at all, instead bouncing up and down with excitement. Juvre crawled back into his cage, and began shaking it from the inside; of course the obor was acting possessed at the mere sight of me. He was basically a Fed. If it hadn’t been for how distraught Gress told me he was putting his first obor down, I’d suggest he give this primate some night-night syrup. There were better pets out there.
“Daddy, Daddy!” Lecca finally released me, diving on top of her father’s tail. Who made her so hyper? “Tell me something cute about the humans.”
Gress cast a sly glance at me. “Let’s see. Their celebrities walked down red carpets at big events, and pranced right on down the ‘fancy’ color strip.”
“I wanna see! If I make one for Taylor, can he walk down it? He has to show me!”
“Taylor would love to, wouldn’t he?”
“Absolutely not,” I protested. “What next, do I have to get petted by you?”
“You don’t have to, but…I figured out a way that humans will pay me to pet them. I hear you like massages: if I ran a massage parlor on Tellus, work would just be petting humans for hours. Might go for it after the war.”
“You can’t be serious, Gress.”
“That sounds like a great job, Daddy!” Lecca cheered. “That’s what I wanna do. I can’t believe we used to be scared of them; they’re so squishy, and adorable.”
“Yeah, I think I’m done with that conversation. Call me back when you figure out where Lecca wants to go. I’ll occupy myself snooping through your things.”
Juvre poked his head out of the cage as I ambled away, baring his teeth while on all fours. I found myself imagining the obor painted in clown makeup; perhaps I could persuade Gress’ daughter to do that to him, not knowing the true meaning. I rolled my hands into fists, faked a sad expression, then flapped them around near my eyes in mock crying. The primate made the motions of lunging at me, and I leapt away with a hint of fright. My friend’s worthless pet settled back on his haunches, and snickered in his shrieking register.
Demon. Diabolical little shit; I’m gonna rattle his cage in the middle of the night, right when he’s sleeping.
I took a closer look around the hotel, checking out the accommodations that visitors to Tellus would have; we had more guests on our world than ark settlers. The obor backpack Gress mentioned was sitting out on the couch, revealing a popup book about us for kids. I tugged the print media out, but was too lazy to get a visual translator to read the simplistic words. One picture showed a human kid playing on a swing set, and the child appeared on the next slide wearing a triangular hat and blowing out birthday candles. I turned the page, finding images of jump rope and hopscotch.
My hands slammed the book shut, feeling a bit deflated. We’d never done those kinds of things when I was a child in the caverns; our circumstances robbed me of almost every fun experience I could’ve had. I supposed this hardcover was about how human kids played, so that sated my curiosity. Perhaps it would’ve been better if I hadn’t been reminded about certain parts of our culture that I missed out on. Then again, it was never too late to start playing around and having fun, right? Something on the floor caught my eye; I reached my hand beneath the couch, pulling out some kind of puzzle cube.
“Well, what do we have here?” I picked up a four-sided figure with a few movable L-shapes fitted on the outside. Noticing a faint aroma, I brought it to my nose; it smelled fruity, and I wondered if this was some inverse, puzzle version of a Ring Pop. I shook it, feeling and hearing something inside. “Gotcha. Let’s see how to get this open…it’s like a Rubik’s Cube with an actual incentive.”
I rotated the L pieces enough to free one side, working to shift the square underneath into an upper layer. Getting parts of the cube to flip into an outer shell was easy, but the gaps were only big enough to jam my pinky into; it made a bit of a lattice pattern. I tried attacking it from two sides, freeing part of each surface—the contraption still defied me. Growling in frustration, I placed it between my feet and tried to tug it open. The commotion drew Gress and Lecca over to see what I was up to, and my Krev friend immediately morphed into a melty face. He caught himself, eyes shifting back and forth in a conflicted dance.
Stupid thing. I can’t get it open. This is a time waster: you’d have to be Einsteinian to solve it.
“Um, Taylor?” Gress ventured. “I…it’s natural and totally okay, of course, if you would share interests with other primates, but, well…that’s one of Juvre’s toys.”
I threw the cube away like a hot potato, bringing about a collision with the obor’s cage. “It just looked fun. Like a Rubik’s Cube, but it’s not solvable. Shit, I didn’t know. Only Juvre would be stupid enough to keep working on this; it’s a hamster wheel, man.”
The red-furred obor chittered, picking up the unsolvable puzzle. Juvre began unscrewing the pieces, moving certain blocks upward in various intervals. The primate seemed to be making tangible progress on it, and tinkered with it in silent focus. He screeched happily as he made an incision wide enough to squeeze his hand through. The monkey-like creature waved a red, powdery substance in the air, likely the source of the sugary scent; Gress called out, “Good obor!” There was a triumphant glint in the animal’s binocular eyes, as I gestured to him in indignant outrage; he popped the cookie in his mouth, crunching it in his molars.
“That’s not fair!” I shouted. “The bastard critter cheated. How come Juvre could get it open like nothing? He knows some trick, or gimmick you trained him in. He’s mocking me, chomping away at his treat like he earned it. Circus animal. Food thief gremlin!”
“I…uhhh...” Gress seemed at a loss for words; his tongue hung out of his mouth, twitching. “I can give you an obor treat too?”
“What? I don’t want pet food. Who knows what Krev put in that: you guys eat literal rocks.”
“Because we don’t have teeth. This would be perfectly edible, if that’s what you worried about. I don’t want you feeling, um, left out. There’s enough to go around, and it’s not a competition.”
“If it’s a competition, Juvre would’ve won,” Lecca said unhelpfully.
I scowled at the child. “Did your father teach you to lie? I did most of the hard work for the damn obor. He took what I already did.”
“Which is what exactly?”
“You little—”
Gress retrieved a treat bag from the kitchen, jingling it at me. “Will one of these make you stop arguing with my daughter?”
Juvre curled his lips upward, taunting me as he scooped crumbs off the floor.
“Fine. Give me one, just so that no-good obor can watch me eat it. Show him his place,” I huffed.
Gress’ eyes lit up, though he quickly attempted to mask his happiness. The Krev placed one of the cookies in my palm, and I held it up with suspicion. Maybe I should’ve asked if they’d crushed any dried insects in with the fruit paste, since I knew that was what they fed Juvre quite often. However, not wanting the pet to relish his feeling of superiority, I popped the treat into my mouth while staring right at him. My immediate instinct was to brace myself for a retching sensation, trying to hide my disgust. However, I wasn’t expecting it to taste fucking amazing. It was lighter than flour, singing with the juicy flavors of fruit snacks, then full of sodium in the center, reminding me of salted caramel.
“Shit,” I managed through a mouthful of food, raising my eyebrows at the Krev. “That’s…actually pretty good.”
Lecca stomped her foot, pouting. “Why don’t I get to give Taylor a treat, Daddy? You have all the fun!”
“Well…you can if he wants more, I guess. Just don’t throw it on the floor; hand it to him,” Gress ordered.
I searched for a glass of water, before holding out my palm. “If you want something to hand out at Halloween, this would definitely do. Maybe keep what they are on the down low.”
The Krev kid pranced over to me, carrying the bag. “So you want one?”
“Unfortunately for my little remaining self-respect, yes.”
“Okay then. Taylor, sit!”
I gaped at her. “The fuck did you just say?”
Gress wagged a scolding claw. “Lecca! How would you feel, being given commands like an animal?”
“I get told, ‘do your homework,’ take a bath,’ ‘go to bed’ as my whole life. At least he’ll get something for listening.”
“It’s not acceptable to treat my friend—a sapient being who I care about and respect very much—like Juvre.”
“You don’t care about or respect Juvre?”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m saying Taylor is capable of understanding much more than sit—as are you. Juvre couldn’t understand the concept of ‘do your homework,’ no matter the training he gets. Taylor can. It’s demeaning to the humans, and not how you treat someone as an equal, a friend.”
“I just wanna take care of them and be nice. I know he can talk, but look at him!”
“Lecca, what if there was someone out there who thought the same about Krev? Is it fair to disregard everything else about them?” Gress looked flustered, but walked over to me, placing a paw on my shoulder. “To another set of species, Taylor is a terrifying monster. He lost everyone he had in this universe, because they didn’t care about who he was—only what he was. How we treat people shouldn’t—must not be—based on how they look to us.”
I lowered my head. “Your father is right. I’m a primate, but I don’t want to be some caged animal that does tricks. I was that back in the cavern, going up to follow someone else’s commands. It hurt a part of my soul. Please don’t think of me as a pet. That’s not being nice.”
Lecca sighed, before setting the treat bag down. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna hurt you, Taylor. Is it…mean that I think you’re reeeeeeally adorable?”
“No. It’s a welcome change after being treated like a monster that didn’t deserve to live, and having people cower at the mere sight of us.”
“Those aliens’ eyes are broken! I just wanted to see what you looked like sitting down, or rolling over.”
“You could’ve asked. I don’t need a treat. It’s enough to make you happy, as long as you don’t treat me like some object to gawk at.”
“Okay. Could you please sit on the floor? I like watching humans just walk around and do simple stuff, so it’d be cool…and I think everything you do is adorable, if that’s a reason?”
I chuckled. “Fine. After that, would you like to go to the playground with the human kids? I saw you liked swing sets, hopscotch, and some other things; if your dad is okay with it, maybe you could try it in real life.”
“Really? Yes! Please, Daddy, can we—can we?”
“Okay, but you’re going to be very careful on the swings. I don’t want you falling off,” Gress responded.
“Yay! Quick, Taylor, sit down so we can go to the playground! I wanna go right now…um, I mean, please do that because it’d be nice and I’m so excited!”
Deciding to humor Lecca since she was at least trying to make it a request, I flopped down on the floor. I didn’t think much about how I situated myself, bending my legs and placing one foot beneath each knee: the familiar diamond shape shown by children in a reading circle in an elementary school classroom. Gress’ expression changed to the annoying one, which meant I’d inadvertently done something cute to him; Lecca rushed to take a picture, and I made no attempt to stop her. The Krev child squealed, flailing her claws around in excitement at my mundane behavior.
Well, this is a new way to make a kid’s day. By…let me check my notes…sitting cross-legged on the ground.
“Is that a normal way that humans sit? Your legs are all folded up and overlapping,” Gress gushed. “And your feet are like little pedestals for your knees; it’d be even cuter if I could see your wiggly toes!”
I facepalmed, standing up in a hurry. “There’s nothing special about this. You can’t be serious. It’s called criss-cross applesauce.”
“Aw, even the name is the cutest thing. I heard that rhyme…and it mentions fruit mash, if ‘applesauce’ translated. I can imagine it smeared all over your face, replacing that fur you shave away, where you coat your chin in that white foam. That made you look more babyish and harmless! I can’t.”
“You’re horrible; and how can you say I’m harmless one sentence, then go ‘primates are violent’ in the next? You know I’m not harmless, because I literally whacked you over the head.”
“I don’t put continuity between one thought and the next, because I’ll think whatever is necessary to make you precious and pettable! You can’t stop me.”
“Precious? Nope, I can and will stop you; I’ll look really sad if you use that to describe me again. I know how to hurt you.”
“But I can hug you if you look sad.”
I scoffed. “Playground. Now.”
The Krev coaxed his daughter out of the hotel room, and I thought to myself that there were worse ways to be spending this limbo, waiting for news on Mafani and the Federation. Human kids playing together with aliens hadn’t been in my wildest imagination four months ago, but now, I could watch other children have the fun times that I never experienced. That was a reason to press on and keep fighting. It was wonderful to have people in my life who cared about me, no matter what happened, and who could explore the new and improved Tellus with me.
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21M and haven’t even had my first kiss yet. I feel embarrassed and sad. I feel so behind in this department and feel like I’ve already missed out on young love. When I was younger I never would have imagined that I wouldn’t have had a relationship yet. There were actually quite a few girls that showed interest in me in elementary/high school but I was clueless and missed the signals or was too shy to ask out the girls I liked.
I’m decently good looking, in shape and dress well but I think the main problem is my height (5’5). I’m sure some of it is body dysmorphia which lowers my own self confidence but I don’t doubt that it does play a significant role in how others perceive and interact with me. I’d guess that girls would be a lot more forward and flirtatious towards me if I was my dad’s height (5’11). There’s things I can work on and improve but I just feel like the height is such a major limitation. I’m at a point where my self-esteem is so low that I just can’t see myself actually getting a girlfriend. I’ll say that I’ve never actually asked a girl out which doesn’t help lol. I have started dm’ing girls I know to try and talk and get to know them better and most of the time they don’t respond after a couple messages. It’s possible my conversation skills just suck. I’ve tried tindehinge and have gotten some matches over the past 8ish months (around 60 combined for both apps). Still none of them have lead to dates. Farthest I’ve gotten is a couple conversations. Not really sure where to go from here or how to start putting myself out there more. Thanks for any advice. Cheers.

21M and haven’t even had my first kiss yet. I feel embarrassed and sad. I feel so behind in this department and feel like I’ve already missed out on young love. When I was younger I never would have imagined that I wouldn’t have had a relationship yet. There were actually quite a few girls that showed interest in me in elementary/high school but I was clueless and missed the signals or was too shy to ask out the girls I liked.
I’m decently good looking, in shape and dress well but I think the main problem is my height (5’5). I’m sure some of it is body dysmorphia which lowers my own self confidence but I don’t doubt that it does play a significant role in how others perceive and interact with me. I’d guess that girls would be a lot more forward and flirtatious towards me if I was my dad’s height (5’11). There’s things I can work on and improve but I just feel like the height is such a major limitation. I’m at a point where my self-esteem is so low that I just can’t see myself actually getting a girlfriend. I’ll say that I’ve never actually asked a girl out which doesn’t help lol. I have started dm’ing girls I know to try and talk and get to know them better and most of the time they don’t respond after a couple messages. It’s possible my conversation skills just suck. I’ve tried tindehinge and have gotten some matches over the past 8ish months (around 60 combined for both apps). Still none of them have lead to dates. Farthest I’ve gotten is a couple conversations. Not really sure where to go from here or how to start putting myself out there more. Thanks for any advice. Cheers.

Sitting here, in this chair, it's hard to believe the view from my window used to be the endless stretch of the city. Now, it's all trees, hills, and the most picturesque town you could ever imagine. They call it Big Sky, right outside Yellowstone, which suits it perfectly. I've been here for six months, and honestly, I've never been happier to be out of the city.
But I don't think I deserve this peace after what happened. Ten years I spent as a cop in LA with little to no incident. That's why they only fired me, I suppose. Ten years and one day, I made a mistake that changed everything.
I responded to a bank robbery call, and half of the force was downtown in seconds. With no clear leadership, chaos ensued. I'm not sure who shot first, but it triggered an eruption of bullets toward the robbers.
We're trained to react in a second to situations like this. So, after only five seconds, every gun was empty. For some reason, I paused. I didn't pull the trigger. When I realized what had happened, I panicked and shot at the first thing I saw move while everyone else was reloading.
It was a mother and her daughter trying to run away from the shots. Everything stopped in my life at that moment. I saw every cop's eyes on me; some were confused, but some who realized what happened had a look of sympathy.
The media frenzy was insane, and I don't think I'll ever fully recover mentally. I've grown my beard, and my hair is longer than usual. I've successfully gone under the radar, except when I tell someone my full name. I can sense their looks of disgust, even though they never say anything.
There's not a night that I don't see the mother and her daughter in my dreams. Their faces haunt me, and their screams echo in my mind.
It's funny how things change, you know? One minute, you're a cop; the next, you're a park ranger. Well, not really a park ranger; more of a forest ranger. The forest's solitude amplifies the guilt that gnaws at me every day. Every rustle in the leaves and every gust of wind feels like a reminder of what I did. And yet, I can't bring myself to leave. It's as though I'm punishing myself, living in this quiet, isolated place where my only company is the ghosts of my past mistakes. Sometimes, I catch myself thinking about what their lives would have been like if I hadn't made that fatal mistake. Would they still be alive, laughing, and enjoying life? The weight of their loss is a burden I cannot shake.
Out here in Big Sky, it's not like dealing with bears and mountain lions; it's mostly just tourists lost in the woods and the occasional poacher. And then there are the kids... God, the kids. They're always sneaking into places they shouldn't be, trying to find a thrill.
The air is clean, the sky is blue, and the trees stretch for miles in every direction. The only time you see a cop around here is when they're escorting a senior citizen across the road.
And then, just like that, everything changed. Two hikers went missing. At first, it was just another day. I went about my rounds and checked in on the usual hotspots. But then I saw their faces. They were young, probably in their early twenties. Their faces were plastered across every news channel and every billboard in town. It was almost as if they were haunting me.
The first few days were chaotic. Search parties were organized, and the entire force was called to help find them. But as time passed, and there was no sign of them, the search began to die. It was as if everyone had accepted the fact that they were gone.
I couldn't help but feel a weight on my chest every time I saw their faces. It was like they were a constant reminder of my own failures. I tried to push the thoughts away to focus on the task, but it was impossible.
The search parties continued, and with every passing day, the hope of finding them alive dwindled. It felt like I was holding my breath, waiting for a miracle. But deep down, I knew that miracle was unlikely to come.
And with each passing day, the guilt weighed heavier, sinking me deeper into despair. Every time I looked at the faces of those missing hikers, it felt like a punch to the gut. Their disappearance was a haunting echo of my failure, a stark reminder of the lives I had unintentionally shattered. The knowledge that my hesitation and mistake led to this tragedy was a burden I could hardly bear. It felt like I was carrying the weight of their absence on my shoulders, and no amount of searching could alleviate the guilt that consumed me.
I decided to go where the hikers were last seen along the trail. They'd passed another group of hikers around the five-mile marker, but who knows how far and in what direction they have gone since their last sighting.
As I get to mile marker 5, I notice a tree that looks freshly fallen. The inside was splintered with fresh, healthy lumber in the middle of the tree like someone or something had pushed or fallen on it. I went to investigate and noticed large footprints leading further into the woods, but I'd never seen anything out in these woods big enough to create something this large. My mind immediately went to dinosaurs, but I quickly shook that off.
The footprint was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Enormous and ominous, it stretched deep into the earth, leaving a chilling impression of what had passed through the forest. Each claw mark was etched deeply into the soil, as though whatever creature had left it had tremendous power behind each step. For a moment, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. It was a footprint like that of a wolf but far larger and more menacing, a stark reminder that things in these woods were far beyond my understanding.
With a shiver, I followed the footprints' trail into the woods, my heart racing. The air seemed to grow heavier with each step, as though some immense weight was pressing down upon me. The trees seemed to close in, forming a menacing canopy overhead, blocking the sunlight and casting the forest into a cold, eerie twilight.
The footprints led me to a small clearing, where I caught sight of movement out of the corner of my eye. My heart leaped into my throat as I whirled around, but there was nothing but a small opening for a cave on the side of the mountain.
I walk closer to peer in, but it's too dark to see anything. I contemplate using my phone light when I hear a huge thud in the trees behind me. I turn quickly, but I can't see anything. Thinking I was too paranoid, I decided to walk back to the path. I walk past the spot where I thought I heard the thud, and it looks like a fresh pair of prints. I have to be going crazy. I return to the path and make it to the station as the sun sets.
I can't stop thinking about those footprints and that cave. As I lay in bed later that night, every time I fall asleep, I dream about the entrance to the cave and the two hikers screaming for help inside. It's like there's an invisible wall preventing them from escaping. I see their faces better as I approach and realize it's the mother and daughter I shot in LA. I wake up covered in sweat every time.
The following day, I asked Lauren, one of my coworkers and the only person who treats me like I'm not an outsider from a secret club.
"You should ask Henry; he can access any record we've ever kept. Maybe he can find something about the cave in that clearing." She told me.
"You think he'll help? Since I've arrived, everyone has been so distant, like they're hiding something from me." I reply, hoping she feels enough sympathy to ask Henry herself.
No luck as she replies, "Yeah! Henry's a good one. Look, you've only been here, what, six months? Give it time; I know people will warm up to you."
"Thanks, Lauren," I say, disappointed, as I head to Henry's office. He's been here longer than anyone, so he must know something. When I knock on his door, he looks up at me over his glasses as wrinkles form inquisitively on his forehead. I wait for a greeting, but it never comes; there is only an awkward silence before I break it.
"Hey Henry, how's it going?" I ask awkwardly
Henry sighs and leans back in his chair as he folds his arms, waiting for me to ask him to do his job.
"Um, yeah, so I found this small cave entrance near the Hart Trail. I saw a tree that must've just been torn down from the middle a few days before I arrived, and I saw these giant, weird-looking footprints. I followed them, and I found the cave entrance. Do you know anything about that cave?" I ask, hoping he'll be more willing to help.
Henry's unamused look faded the more I told the story. He knew exactly what I was talking about.
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk, looks up at me, and says, "Nope."
I waited for him to expand, but once again, he left me to marinade in the awkwardness.
"I mean, can you look at least? And even if it's not recorded, don't you think you'd want to put it on record?" I ask, annoyed at his unwillingness to act like he wanted to help.
My frowns and sits back in his chair and says, "Are you telling me how to do my job, rookie? I've been here longer than most of these townsfolks were even conceived," He started to raise his voice the more he talked, "and you come in here after what you did to that poor mother and daughter. Yeah, you didn't think anyone knew?" I knew people were aware, but hearing him say it, it stabbed through my chest like a serrated knife made of ice.
Realizing that he has lost his temper, he calms himself and cleans off his glasses, "Get permission from Forest Supervisor Reggie, and I'll be your personal Google." He looks back down at his computer and continues doing whatever he does.
Still stunned, I stand there, not knowing how to react to this interaction. After a few seconds, I slowly turn around and return to my desk.
The rest of the day is a blur as I try to focus on my other tasks, but Henry's words keep replaying. Every time I close my eyes, I see the footprints and the tree that was torn down. Everyone in this office knows something they aren't telling me.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I muster up the courage to go see Reggie. I knock on his door, and he calls me in. He's an older man with white hair and a kind smile.
"Sir, I-" I say, but before I can continue, Reggie puts his hand up to stop me from talking and chuckles.
"Please, just call me Reg. Sir, sounds like we're in the military." He said as he placed his hand down on his desk.
A little thrown off, I continued telling him about the tree off the hiking trail, footprints, and the cave I found. Just like Henry, Reggie's face dropped as I explained. He stares at me briefly before fixing his face and responding, "Oh, yeah, that sounds like old Grungers Cave. It's probably recorded somewhere."
"Yeah, that's why I'm here. Henry said I needed your permission to get more information about the cave." I reply
He looks at me, puzzled and weary, "What kind of information are you looking for, exactly?"
"Well, I don't really know yet. Something about it gave me a weird feeling, so I thought I'd look into it." I said
Reggie looked at me briefly before changing gears, "With all due respect, you don't have anything else to do?"
I was caught off guard, not expecting him to shut me down like that, "Yeah, you're right. Sorry sir, Uh, Reggie."
I turned around and left the room. As I thought of how to get information without letting anyone at the station know, I decided to try the library.
The library is quiet, with a few people here and there doing their own thing. I asked the librarian if they had anything on Grungers Cave, and she directed me to the local history section. I spend hours pouring over old newspapers, books, and archives, trying to find anything to help me.
One book, written by a local historian, has some information on the cave. According to the author, Grungers Cave was found in 1917 and nothing in particular sticks out except for a short passage that briefly mentions local tales about a giant creature who is said to live near this cave. After about an hour, I gave up and decided to go out there again to see for myself, making sure to bring a flashlight.
As I drive back to the trailhead, I wonder if the stories about the giant creature were just a cover-up for something else. Maybe there was something else in that cave that people didn't want found. Tonight, I'm going to find out.
It's getting dark as I return to the hiking trail and the cave. I can see my breath as I walk, and the air is crisp and cold. The trees loom overhead, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. I can almost feel the presence of whatever has been haunting me since I found that footprint.
I take a deep breath and steady my nerves as I approach the cave entrance. The entrance is narrow and covered in moss, making it appear almost organic. I flick on my flashlight and step inside, bracing myself for what I might find.
The cave's interior is more extensive than I expected, with jagged stalactites hanging from the ceiling like teeth and jutting stalagmites rising from the floor around me like bones. I move further in, feeling a sense of dread creeping up. There's an unsettling silence here, broken only by the echo of my footsteps and the distant sound of water dripping from above.
I shine my flashlight around, searching for anything unusual, and my eyes fall on a large, irregular shape half-hidden in the shadows. As I approach, my heart starts to race. It's a pile of bones, human bones. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. This is a crime scene.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I carefully move around the cave, finding more and more evidence of foul play. The further I go, the more confident I am that something terrible happened here. The bones of at least four people are scattered about, and there are signs of struggle everywhere. I try to remain calm, but I can feel my breath coming faster and faster.
Suddenly, I feel the air get thick as I hear the rumble of big footsteps in the shadows before me. My heart pounds against my ribs as I realize what's about to happen. Before I can react, the creature lunges at me, its massive form filling my vision. Its skin is pale and rough, covered in dirty and matted fur covered in moss and twigs, like it's been living in these caves for centuries. It's a monster, a beast that shouldn't exist in the modern world.
I manage to dodge out of the way, but it's not fast enough to escape its grasp entirely. The creature's claws rake down my arm, tearing through my jacket and leaving long, deep gashes that fill with blood. I stumble backward, feeling the cold, hard stone of the cave floor beneath me. My heart is racing, and all I can hear is the sound of my own panicked breathing.
The creature looms over me, its putrid breath washing over my face as it growls low in its throat. Its eyes are like two burning coals, glinting in the light of my flashlight. It's not human, not anymore. Whatever this creature was once, it's been twisted and warped by whatever horrors it's faced in these caves.
I try to stand, but my legs are weak and shaking. The pain in my arm is excruciating, and I can feel warm blood trickling down my side. The creature circles around me slowly, claws clicking against the stone floor. It seems to be studying me, sizing me up. I can't move, I can't breathe, I can't even scream.
It turns its back, and I take a moment to get on my feet and run out of the cave, hearing the creature's roar echo against the cave walls. I can hear its giant footsteps getting closer and closer until I finally reach the entrance and throw myself out. The creature doesn't follow as I sigh in relief on the floor.
Shaking uncontrollably, I try to catch my breath as I look at my bloody arm. The cut is deep, but I don't think it's life-threatening. I need to get out of here and call for backup, but first, I must find something to use as a tourniquet. I look around and spot a nearby tree, its branches laden with vines. I rip some of the vines off and quickly tie them around my arm, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
Once I'm sure I've done what I can, I return to the station, my heart pounding. My vision is blurry from the pain and shock, but I manage to make it to the front desk. I collapse into a chair, trying to catch my breath. The receptionist looks at me with wide eyes, concerned for my well-being.
"What happened?" she asks, her voice shaking. "Are you okay?"
I try to calm my breathing before responding. "I...I think so. But I need to tell you what I found." I gesture to my bloodied arm, and she jumps to her feet, looking horrified. "No, no, it's not as bad as it looks. Just...get a first aid kit."
She practically runs out of the room, and I lean back in the chair, closing my eyes for a moment. When she returns, she carefully cleans, stitches, and bandages my arm, all the while listening to my story. I told her everything that had happened, but I could tell that she didn't believe me.
"You're sure you didn't imagine this?" she asks, her voice filled with doubt. You should get some rest and reconsider your story in the morning.
I nod, trying to convince myself as much as her. "I know what I saw. It wasn't a dream, and it wasn't a hallucination. That thing...it wasn't an animal. It was some sort of Monster. And it's still out there."
She sighs, looking unconvinced. "Look, I'm sure you've been through a lot tonight. Why don't you just go home and get some rest? We can deal with this in the morning, okay?"
Reluctantly, I agree and head home, hoping word doesn't get around to Reggie that I went back. The rest of the night passes in a blur of nightmares and restless sleep. I can't shake the image of that creature from my mind, and every time I close my eyes, I see its razor-sharp claws and ravenous yellow eyes.
When I finally muster the courage to return to the station the following day, I find that the receptionist didn't report my little expedition after all. Maybe she thought I was crazy too. I feel a strange relief as if admitting my story would make it real.
I make my way to my desk, still shaken from the events of the night before. The station is bustling with activity as usual, but it's difficult for me to focus on anything but the Monster. I try to convince myself that it was just a dream, a hallucination brought on by stress and exhaustion.
I went through my day on autopilot, trying to make it through my shift. When I went home, it was only 8, but I went to sleep as soon as my ass hit the couch. I had dreams of the creature and what it could do to me. I woke up in a cold sweat; looking at the clock, it said 2:03am. I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so I decided to start my morning early by brewing some coffee.
The Monster still plagued my mind as I showered and groomed for the day. I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, the injury on my arm itching slightly as I pulled a long-sleeved shirt on to hide them. I didn't want to draw more attention to myself than I already had.
I decided to head to the station since I had nothing else to do. As I drive, I start concocting a plan to get the information from Henry. I knew he wouldn't be in for a few more hours so I could snoop around his office. I park my car and go to his office; I take a deep breath and slowly open the door. The room is just like I remember, messy and full of clues. I sit at his desk, feeling guilty but determined to find what I need to know.
I begin by searching through his files, looking for anything that might have a connection to the secret society. Finding a few files with suspicious names and symbols doesn't take me long. As I flip through them, I notice a hidden drawer in the desk. I pull it open and find a stack of even more incriminating files. They're filled with names, dates, and locations of people who have disappeared, all linked to something called The Covenant of the Hound. I feel a mixture of fear and determination as I slip the files into my bag.
With the evidence in hand, I know I have to do something about this. I can't just ignore it and hope it goes away. I decided to see if I could find anything else on The Covenant of the Hound. I search the dusty shelves and find an old, leather-bound book. The title page reads: "The Covenant of the Hound: Values".
I carefully open the book, expecting to find some twisted code or hidden message. Instead, I'm met with seemingly innocuous paragraphs about loyalty, obedience, and protection. As I read on, however, a darker undertone begins to emerge. The Covenant seems to be less about helping others and more about controlling them. There are mentions of ancient rituals and bloodlines and a monster demanding complete submission from his followers. In return, the Monster provides protection from any threats brought to the members. This had to be the Monster I saw in the cave.
Shaken by what I've read, I quickly close the book and put everything back in place. I can't help but feel a sense of dread as I make it to my desk. I know that I have to do something about this, but at the same time, my mind is running about who exactly is a part of the Covenant.
I decided to start with the files I found earlier and see if I could find any connections between the names on the list and Henry's friends or acquaintances. As I searched through the files, I came across Henry's note that he was meeting someone important early in the morning at a local diner. The time said 4:30am, an hour away. I decide to find the diner and wait for them.
I drive to the diner, parking my car discreetly down the street as I wait until I see them. I watch Henry's car pull up, and another person pulls up behind him. They exchange words before Henry hands something over, and the other man leaves. Henry returned to his car, likely heading to the station, so I did the same.
As I follow him, I can't help but feel a sense of dread in my stomach. I don't know what I will do, but I know I can't let him get away with whatever he's involved in. Maybe if I confront him, he'll tell me the truth. Perhaps he's not part of it, and this was a misunderstanding. But then, why did he have those files on his desk? And why did he meet that man at the diner? I decide to keep the information to myself and act like I know nothing as I park my car at the station.
I walk into the station, trying to act casual and approach the locker room. There's a strange atmosphere in the air today; everyone seems on edge. I quickly change into my uniform and head to my patrol car, hoping to avoid awkward conversations.
As I drive through the forest, I can't help but feel a sense of unease. Every shadow, every movement, every sound makes me jump. I try to push these thoughts away, telling myself that I'm just being paranoid.
When I get to my post, I notice Lauren sitting in her car. Was she waiting for me?
I get out and knock on her window to get her attention, and she rolls it down.
"Hey, you okay?" Lauren asks, noticing the look on my face.
I take a deep breath and try to compose myself before answering. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just... I think I might have made a huge mistake." I tell her about finding the files in Henry's desk and seeing him at the diner earlier, giving something to a mysterious person. I leave out the part about the Covenant, just in case.
Lauren listens intently, her eyes narrowing as I speak. "And you think Henry's involved in something shady?" she asks.
I nod, feeling a mixture of fear and anger. "I don't know what to think, but I know I can't ignore it."
Lauren sighs, her expression softening. "Look, I can't confirm or deny anything, but I can tell you this: if you're worried about Henry, you should stay away from him. He's not who he seems."
I nod, feeling a mix of relief and fear. "What about you? Can I trust you?"
Lauren gives me a small smile. "You can trust me. I've been watching out for you, even before all this. I want to help you, but we need to be careful. The people you're dealing with are dangerous."
I nod, still not entirely sure what to think. "What do I do now?"
Lauren looks around, making sure no one is watching us. "We need to be careful. I can help you, but you need to trust me. And you need to understand that this goes deeper than you think. The people you're dealing with are powerful and dangerous."
"How do you know that?" I ask hesitantly.
"Let's just say I have my sources," Lauren replies cryptically. "Now, listen carefully. You need to keep your guard up at all times. The people you're dealing with are smart, and they're watching you. They'll try to make contact again, probably through someone close to you. You can't trust anyone."
As she says this, I can't help but feel a chill run down my spine. "So, what am I supposed to do? Just wait for them to make the first move?"
Lauren shakes her head. "No, you need to be proactive. You need to find out more about this secret society. You need to find out what they want from you and why they're after you. You need to figure out how to stop them. If my research is correct, we need to kill the Monster."
I take a deep breath, my heart racing. "Kill the Monster? What do you mean?"
"The secret society is called the Covenant," Lauren explains. "It's been around for generations, and it's behind some of the most horrific events in the town's history. They're led by a man called the Master, who you saw at the diner earlier. He has a pet name for the creature: the Dogman."
I don't know what to do with this information. Ironically, I trust her less now that I'm aware she has ties to this Covenant; even if they're loose ties, it still makes me weary. I try to gather my thoughts, but my mind feels like puzzle pieces. "So, what's our plan?" I ask, not seeing any other direction to turn.
Lauren leans in closer, her expression serious. "Our plan is to kill the monster."
I get into her cruiser, and we drive toward the cave, not knowing if I will make it past today alive.
"I don't understand why they're after me," I say as Lauren navigates the narrow path to the cave. "What do they want from me?"
"You know too much, James, and they know it. You've been asking questions about things you shouldn't have. You were getting close to something they've been trying to keep hidden for a long time. They want to control the information, and they can't do that if you keep digging." Lauren says as she parks the car, and we both get out.
She takes a deep breath, steeling herself before continuing. "They're not going to let you go easily. They'll come after you again, and getting away might not be easy next time. We need to be prepared. You need to trust me, and I need you to trust yourself."
I nod, feeling a mixture of fear and determination welling up inside me. "Okay," I say, taking a deep breath. "Then let's do this."
We approached the entrance to the cave, and I quickly set up bear traps that Lauren had stored in her cruiser. Lauren watches me intently, offering advice and suggestions when needed. As I work, I can't help but feel a strange sense of purpose, as if everything in my life has been leading up to this moment.
Once the traps are set, we both step back, our hearts pounding in our chests, "Now, we just wait." Lauren said
Hours have passed as we sit in a bush, out of sight, and still no creature or signs of anything. Lauren, ever so patiently, is chewing on her fingernails, making my stomach turn. I look at her, and she looks back at me, worry etched on her face. We've been sitting here for an eternity, and I'm curious if I've made the wrong choice. I should have run away, hidden somewhere, and tried to forget about this whole mess. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm not supposed to leave this place, that there's something more I need to do.
Hours pass as we tell each other our life stories. I must admit, at some points, I'd forgotten the danger we were in and found myself having fun. Lauren's an interesting person. She's lived a life of adventure. She's seen things that I can't even begin to imagine. And yet, here she is, sitting beside me, waiting for a monster to come out of a cave.
My eyes grow heavy as the sun starts to set. It's completely night when I open my eyes, and I panic, forgetting where I was and why. As it all starts coming back to me, I look for Lauren, but I don't see her anywhere. I get up, trying to stay quiet, to look at the traps. One is closed and has a blood trail leading to the cave entrance. I frantically look for Lauren but still don't see her. As I peer into the cave, I can see light flickering like the cave was lined with torches the further you go in. I continued to follow the torches with my flashlight in hand when I heard an uneven sound of giant footsteps behind me. When I turn around, I see the vast creature limping into the cave, so I find a crevasse to hide in.
As I carefully peer out, I see the creature limping slowly, periodically stopping to lick its wound. I try to shallow my breath and stay as quiet as possible. The light flickers brighter as it draws closer, and I can see it better now. It's massive, with skin like burnt leather and eyes that glow with an eerie yellow light. Its limbs are like a twisted and deformed wolf, moving with a strange, jerky grace.
As I carefully shift my weight, a small pebble, just big enough to make a noise, tumbles. The creature jerks its body in my direction and roars. It sounds like a mixture of a human screaming and a lion roaring. It takes a step closer to me, its yellow eyes piercing the darkness. I try calming my breathing, praying it doesn't hear or smell me. The creature takes another step and another, inching closer with each move. My heart feels like it's going to beat right out of my chest. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to face this creature in a fair fight.
Just as I'm sure it's close enough to smell me, I hear what I can only assume is Lauren screaming at the top of her lungs. The creature quickly limps away, further into the cave. I'm momentarily relieved but then realize that I have to find her. I carefully follow the creature's trail, hoping it leads to Lauren. The cave winds deeper and deeper into the mountain, the air growing colder and more damp. As I round a bend, I see a flickering light in the distance. My heart pounds in my chest as I cautiously approach, wondering if it's Lauren or the society.
I enter a pitch-black round room. As I swing my flashlight, I can't see anything in the room until I hear Lauren whisper, "Pssst, James."
I go toward the sound, but I can't find anything. When I turn around, my flashlight catches the creature before me as it lunges toward me. I was able to jump out of the way, just in time, but he was able to scratch my cheek a bit, but nothing life-threatening. On the ground, I frantically search for something to defend myself with, and I find a sharp, long rock and pick it up.
I looked up and saw the creature lunging at me again, but this time, I wasn't fast enough to move as it grabbed me with one hand, tightly by my waist. It lifts me up to its face, but before it can do anything, I plunge the rock into its left eye as it drops me onto the floor.
It roars and stumbles around as it runs into the walls, falling to its knees periodically. I slide my body on my butt until I hit a wall. I get to my feet and follow the wall, making sure to avoid the stumbling creature. I finally found an entrance, but it's different from where I came in. Finally gaining composure, the creature sees me leave and stumbles toward me. I run deeper into the new tunnel, praying it leads to safety.
I hear voices further into it, and I sprint as I make my way into a room of about eight individuals dressed in brown cloaks. Some of them have a hood, hiding their faces. Startled by my entrance, they all look up, and I recognize most faces. Reggie, Henry, Freddy the theater owner, Larry the elementary school principal, and the most surprising one, Lauren.
One of the men I didn't recognize, who looked to be the leader, opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the loud footsteps limping is heard echoing toward us. The man smiles wide and relaxes himself, likely confident he controls the creature. As I hear the footsteps, I run toward what I assume was the exit, but I'm tackled to the ground, and everyone cheers and laughs.
I look up and see Lauren on top of me, the one who tackled me. Her smile is horrifying and not at all like the Lauren I know. She leans close, her breath hot on my face as she whispers, "I'm sorry, James. I had to do it." The creature enters the room, still stumbling as it accidentally crushes two members under its foot, not seeing what it is doing. The leader begins screaming mysterious words that I can't remember, which seems like it snapped the creature out of its destructive ways for a second before realizing the pain in its eye again.
It continues destroying everything in its path indiscriminately, killing most of the Covenant members. Lauren was still on top of me, and neither of us was moving in shock about what we saw. I snapped out of it and used the moment to get the advantage, so I grabbed a nearby rock and hit Lauren over the head with it, causing her to fall to the ground, still conscious but unmoving. I run toward the exit, but I look back one more time and see the creature tearing bodies apart as blood and the screams of something I've never heard in my life fill the room.
As I run, I can faintly hear Lauren begging me to help her, but it turns into a blood-curdling scream that echoes in my ears to this day. Finding my way out took about half an hour, as the cave was like a maze. When I make it out, I head to Lauren's cruiser and dig through her stuff, hoping to find something to help destroy the cave entrance. Finally, after too many minutes, I see a pickaxe, which, thinking about it now, looks pretty odd. But then again, Lauren was never the person I thought she was.
I use the pick and attempt to remove enough rock on the sides so the top will cave in and cover the entrance. I was doing this for about 45 minutes when I heard the faded, limping footsteps of that creature heading out of the cave toward me. I hurried my pace, but I'd already done a good amount of work on both sides. My arms are starting to give, but my mind won't let them quit as I hear the footsteps, which are now accompanied by the roar and growl of the creature getting closer. I only have about 5 more minutes until it makes it to me.
As the growl gets louder, I finally remove enough rock, and it all comes tumbling down on top of the entrance, sealing it shut. I fall backward onto the ground, exhausted and out of breath, as the growling gets louder. When it finally reaches the caved entrance, I can hear it howling and roaring in anger.
Looking around, I see I'm now at the forest's edge. I stand up and walk away, still in shock at what had happened, not knowing where to go.
Walking, I feel something warm and sticky dripping down my arm. I look at it in horror and realize that it's blood. I've been wounded, somehow. I try to remember if it was from Lauren or the creature, but my mind is still reeling from the night's events.
I keep walking, figuring out where to go or what to do. The forest around me is eerily quiet, almost as if it's holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The trees loom overhead, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. I try to remain calm and focus on my surroundings, but the adrenaline from the attack keeps pumping through my veins.
I look down at my arm again and see that the blood is still seeping out, staining my shirt and dripping onto the forest floor. The pain begins to set in, and I realize I have no idea how badly I'm hurt. I can't get to a hospital in time; hell, I don't even know where I am. Feeling weak, I sit with my back against a tree and slowly fall asleep.
When I wake up, I'm in a hospital surrounded by doctors. I feel an immense pain in my arm as they wheel me into the ER. I pass out again and wake up four days later.
Doctors tell me that another ranger found me and brought me in. My heart sank as I thought of the possibility of the Covenant saving me for some reason. I started to panic and asked about discharge, but they told me that they had to do surgery on my arm since it had gotten too infected.
Long story short, I had to be sedated for a month straight, and I lost my arm. Every day, every moment I wasn't sedated was filled with panic. I dreamt of the creature and Lauren. The creature scared me, but Lauren's betrayal hurt me the most. I know I didn't know her for long, but she was the only one there for me. I now realize that she was probably planted to ensure I stayed away, and when she realized I wasn't going to back down, she led me to a trap.
The doctors kept telling me I was lucky to be alive, but I didn't feel lucky. I felt like a failure. A month passed, and I finally fully woke up from the sedation, feeling restless and angry. I demanded a discharge, and after hours of arguing, I was back on the streets.
That was eight years ago, and I still dream of the creature and Lauren every night. Whenever I have trouble with my missing arm, I think of them. At this point in my head, they have become the same Monster.

I'm a freshman at one of the universities na under ng UAAP, for a clue, blue ang isa sa mga colors namin. I ended up being in this university kasi honestly speaking, hindi kami mayaman pero hindi rin mahirap, nasa gitna. My parents wanted me to have a good education and I love them for that naman. Hindi ako pumasa sa ni isang state univ, and ito yung university na kaya namin at kahit papaano, maganda rin naman ang turo.
Anyway, as the title said, my college friends suck. Isa akong introvert na mabilis mag-adapt, siguro isa na sa reason for that is kasi ilang beses na akong nag-transfer ng schools. Nung elementary ako, nung high-school alo, tapos nung shs ako. Ngayong college, I can confidently say naman na kaya kong maging mag-isa, kahit walang friend group. Kaya lang someone told me na "Mas madali kapag may kahit isa kang kaibigan na solid." So I immediately thought of befriending kahit isa lang sa blockmates ko that time.
Yung una kong naging kaibigan ended up not being my friend now, sa ibang group siya napunta, but then I met someone na blockmate ko (let us name her Joan) and we clicked naman sa chat. Nung first day namin, nag-vibe rin naman kami. And then nung mag freshman week or parade something, we additionally met one of our friends din, let's name her Dan. So basically kaming tatlo yung naging trio for a long time, almost the whole first sem, kami yung magkakasama. Okay naman nung una, not until I started to notice yung competitive side ni Joan. Ako kasi, competitive rin naman. But not to the extent na I ask someone straight up kung anong nakuha nilang score sa ganito, kung anong grade nila, kung anong gawa nila. Si Joan, ganon siya, and nung una it was fine; tolerable pa naman. Seemed like she was just genuine on cheering us kapag mataas kami, not until one time nung may quiz kami, I got a failing score. Since may dalawa pa akong friends na 2nd year, I'm thankful na sila lagi nagc check ng paper ko like, nakikipag unahan talaga sila para sila ang mag-check para hindi mag-make fuss si Joan about my score when she sees. And when I saw na bagsak ako, I accepted it na kagad kahit medyo sad, kasi I didn't study too much - kaya I knew na babagsak talaga ako. But then binalik mga papers din namin sa prof, and nung I was called, I got my paper, and then hindi pa ako nakaka-upo Joan immediately grabbed it.
Yun yung first time na I felt off about ganong mga bagay, kaya I followed my mom's advice na next time, huwag talaga na magsabi kay Joan ng scores ko or anything. Si Dan naman on the otherhand, laging mataas sa quizzes. She's booksmart, and napansin ko sa kanya na hindi siya gaano kagaling sa essays or words, pero sa memorizing, okay na okay talaga siya. Then I let the situation slide nga, not until it happened again. I got a highscore for my midterm exam, I remember it was like a 42/50, kasi nag-aral na talaga ako ng maayos. Si Dan, naka 45, tapos si Joan naka 36. I didn't show them my scores actually, instead, it was announced kasi (which I hate when profs do this btw). So ayon, I was happy syempre pero kapag masaya ako about stuff like these, I just smile and mentally cheer myself up. Kaya lang nasira na naman mood ko when Joan told me this: "Huy ikaw ha, anong aral ginawa mo at halos same kayo ni Dan ng score? Siguro nangopya ka noh?" No one in the right mind would like that joke especially muntikan akong bumagsak sa subject na iyon, and kahit na gusto ko nang mainis sa kanya, I just smiled and laughed a little. Nakakainis kasi ang daming instances na kapag mas mataas ako sa kanya, kay Joan, ng kahit 1 point lang - she always points out na "Ay, isa lang lamang mo." or "Ikaw ha, nangopya ka siguro?" Okay lang naman sana if joke joke lang eh, pero paulit-ulit na kasi to the point na I just question myself sometimes kung nagopya nga ba talaga ako sa kabilang universe, putspa. For Dan naman, wala naman akong problem sa kanya. Just that, minsan nagbubulungan silang dalawa and ayun... I feel left out na. Personal issue ko na siguro 'to pero, madalas kasi kaming magsabay pauwi at minsan naiiyak ako internally kasi sila lang yung nagkaka-intindihan sa usapan nila most of the time.
And then nung mag 2nd term, we became friends with 3 more girls. Si Aubrey, may mom siya na nagw work sa univ namin. Si Mari, she's a very funny person na mayaman (yata). And si Lim, she's just chill, na medyo maingay. So obviously okay naman silang kaibigan, kasi I won't come with them din naman kapag niyayaya nila kami kung hindi ako comfy sa kanila. At first, they were great naman, since hindi namin sila nakakasama sa groupings and acad stuff kasi may dalawa silang boy friends na mas close nila. But then nung magspeerate ways na sila, kami na yung kasama nila lagi sa groupings.
And god, batak sila mag ChatGPT. Okay lang naman ang pag gamit ng AI, kung gagamitin mo ng tama. Kaya lang sila, hindi talaga. Generate ng sagot, copy, paste, bigay. Ganyan sila lagi, na kahit ako mismo, inaaayawan na minsan kapag sila yung kagroup, may one time na nag indiv na lang ako tapos hinayaan ko na lang silang lima mag-sama. Nung mag 3rd sem, I got so fed up when may presentation kami and ako gumawa ng PPT. Yung mga answers nung tatlo, AI generated na naman, so inayos ko pa bago ilagay sa PPT. I chose to do it kasi ayoko na sana mag-report the next day. Kaya lang guess what, they ghosted us nung presentation. Ako at si Joan lang yung nag-uusap, then si Dan nagising so kaming dalawa na nagreport while si Joan ang nag sharescreen. I was so annoyed na I put my messenger into mute tapos nag report na lang para matapos na, itong si Lim, nagsabi na pwede rin naman daw siya kung kailan tapos na kami. Si Aubrey at Mari, wala talaga - nasa meet, pero walang paramdam. Sama tuoy ng loob ko na iisang score lang lahat, kahit naman hindi sila talaga halos tumulong bukod kay Joan (na I was still annoyed at). Kaya after non, I made sure na hindi na talaga sumama sa kanila kapag groupings, kaya lang sa subject na iyon kami parin ang grupo. So the next time, what I did was nagreport na lang ako at lagay ng answer sa question. #LessonLearned
To specify why they suck na, is kasi the three of them are kind of dependent na sa amin. Kumbaga, oras ng pasok, oras ng quiz, paano magpasa, saan ipapasa, simple things like that - tinatanong pa nila. Si Mari, she always brags (as in brag talaga promise) about how rich she is. Pero nung pumunta kami sa bahay nila, I was sad, kasi ang daming mga aso na nakakulong tapos may mga tae sa loob na parang ilang araw na yon don pero hindi pa nalilinisan. Idk din pero she has all the gadgets pero walang sense of digital literacy. Si Lim, super close kay Joan kaya minsan kahit naiinis na ako sa answers ni Lim na AI generated, dine-defend pa nitong si Joan, other than that, okay naman siya tbh.
To sum it all up, I'm already planning to cut them off sa next school year, which is easy to do. I have other friends na nasa ibang block, and kahit naman mag-isa lang ako, kakayanin ko. Hopefully, I learn how to easily cut off people na para next time hindi na ako tumagal ng ganito sa toxic na friendship. Bye!

https://www.baltimoresun.com/2024/05/14/scott-dixon-campaigning-primary-maryland-baltimore/
By Emily Opilo eopilo@baltsun.com PUBLISHED: May 14, 2024 at 3:51 p.m. UPDATED: May 15, 2024 at 12:56 a.m.
Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared victory in his bid for reelection Tuesday after opening what appeared to be an insurmountable lead over his chief opponent, former Mayor Sheila Dixon.
The Associated Press called the race for Scott at 11:24 p.m. Taking the stage minutes later at his South Baltimore election night party, Scott thanked Dixon for running a hard-fought campaign, but said it was time to “turn the page.”
“I think it’s safe to say we’re destined for a second term,” Scott said, prompting loud applause from a celebratory crowd.
Dixon, who left her party before 11 p.m., said before her departure that the race was too close to call.
After Scott declared victory, Dixon spokesman Luca Amayo said that “regardless of how the votes fall, there will always be people in the city who consider Sheila Dixon the forever mayor of Baltimore.”
The race pitted the first-term Scott against Dixon, the city’s mayor of three years, in a rematch of the 2020 contest that put Scott in office. Both are Democrats.
This time, the field was half the size of the crowded 2020 race and the upper tier of candidates shrank. Former prosecutor Thiru Vignarajah dropped out of the race in the first week of May, less than 24 hours ahead of the start of early voting. Businessman Bob Wallace, an independent candidate for mayor in 2020, ran this time as a Democrat, but failed to gain traction.
Returns from the early voting period, mail-in ballots cast ahead of the election, and almost all of the city’s 295 precincts showed Scott with 50.9% of votes cast to Dixon’s 41.3% — a difference of about 6,200 votes. Vignarajah, who exited the race too late to remove his name from the ballot, still received 3% of the preliminary vote. The returns do not include at least 13,500 mail-in ballots that have yet to be counted by the Baltimore Board of Elections.
When early returns first became public, Dixon jumped to an early lead. However, Scott quickly became the frontrunner and continued to widen his margin Tuesday night as additional returns from primary day were posted.
Cheers broke out at Scott’s party at Baltimore Peninsula earlier Tuesday as initial returns hit two television screens showing Scott slightly ahead of Dixon. Diana Turner danced joyfully as video clips of Scott played on the newscasts. Turner admitted she was unnerved to see the numbers so close between Scott and Dixon, but said she learned from Scott’s previous campaign that initial figures don’t tell the whole story.
“It’s going to fluctuate depending on where the polls are,” she said.
Dixon supporters said they expected the race to be close and the early returns gave them hope that she could, unlike last time, end up victorious.
“I think it was too soon last time,” said Kim Bangs, 64, of Canton said of Dixon’s 2020 bid for the office.
The city board of elections tallied about 11,700 mail-in ballots from Democratic voters ahead of primary day. The canvassing of remaining mail-in ballots will not resume until Thursday.
The 2024 mayoral contest, like many before it, focused heavily on crime. Scott touted the city’s reduction in homicides in 2023 — fewer than 300 people were killed for the first time in nearly a decade. Dixon argued Scott focused only on the homicide rate, allowing quality-of-life crimes to go unaddressed and chasing residents from the city.
Scott, 40, and Dixon, 70, represent different generations of City Hall leadership, but at times, their plans converged. Dixon’s crime plan, rolled out in January, called for a focused deterrence model of policing which would attempt to identify violent offenders and offer social supports in an effort to redirect them. Scott implemented a similar program, known as the Group Violence Reduction Strategy. That approach, piloted in the Baltimore Police Department’s Western District and since expanded, aims to intercept those vulnerable to becoming shooters or victims and provide social supports. The mayor credits it in part for the reduction in homicides.
Both Scott and Dixon’s housing plans call for tax increment financing or “TIFs” to be used in various neighborhoods to address vacant properties.
Dixon and Scott opted to cast their ballots in person Tuesday morning, Dixon near her Hunting Ridge home in West Baltimore and Scott in his Northeast Baltimore neighborhood. Dixon said she was “at peace” as she entered her polling place at Thomas Jefferson Elementary. Scott carried 5-month-old son, Charm Scott, nestled in a car seat into his polling place at Engine House 56.
Some heavy-hitters threw their support behind both candidates, wagering political capital on the close race. Democratic State’s Attorney Ivan Bates joined Dixon’s cause, endorsing the former mayor and calling Scott out for what Bates said was a lack of partnership between the prosecutor’s office and Scott’s City Hall. Sheriff Sam Cogen, too, said Scott has failed to be a partner to his office.
U.S. Sens. Ben Cardin and Chris Van Hollen both backed Scott, as did numerous unions that represent city employees. Some, like the unions representing the city’s firefighters, took shots at Dixon’s treatment of the fire department during her time in office. Unions backed a PAC that supported Scott with voter outreach and online advertising.
Scott led in fundraising and spending, dropping almost $1 million on the contest since the start of the year. Dixon has spent $653,100 since January. A PAC supporting Dixon’s campaign (funded in large part David Smith, a co-owner of The Baltimore Sun and chairman of Sinclair Broadcasting Group) supplemented Dixon’s effort, running ads that tried to paint Scott as an inexperienced leader. Scott’s ads sought to remind residents of Dixon’s criminal past. She was forced to leave office in 2010 after an embezzlement conviction.
The results of the race showed Vignarajah’s exit did little to tighten the contest. Running his fourth campaign for citywide office in the last seven years, Vignarajah threw his support to Dixon after conversations with the camps of both leading contenders. Scott said afterward that Vignarajah asked to be named police chief or CEO of city schools in exchange for his support. Dixon said no deal was made with Vignarajah for a job, although she declined to discuss potential positions in her administration that he may have suggested. Vignarajah said he offered to be “helpful” to the Dixon administration.

If it’s a world class performance then sure.
But if you’re at your nephew’s elementary school play, your friend’s band show, or whatever, don’t do it. Everyone is clapping, thinking that it was pleasant to watch people giving their all after some hard work. Then someone starts a standing ovation which makes us think “OK it wasn’t THAT good.” Of course everyone stands anyway because they don’t want to be jerks.
You took a nice thought and turned it into a negative one by giving the highest possible praise. A clapping, cheering crowd is more than enough for 99% of performances.

Link to original nosleep post:
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/1akrt76/my_friends_and_i_went_on_a_hike_to_watch_a_total/
It was August 21st, 2017, and the future was...
...Dark. Literally dark.
That day, the first total solar eclipse visible from anywhere in the mainland United States since February, 1979, which some media outlets were calling “The Great American Eclipse,” was due to cast its shadow over America.
And it just so happened, that my city, and the surrounding area, would be in the path of totality that afternoon, putting us in its umbra - its darkest shadow, and allowing us to witness the moon completely block the sun and reveal its corona.
"You packed light." My best friend Josh pointed out to me that morning, gesturing to my obviously lightly packed backpack, as we walked from the parking lot to the trail.
"Don't these things only last a few minutes?" I replied, having only barely researched the lunar event.
But why should I have? After all, it had been Josh's brilliant idea, to propose to his girlfriend, Allison, during the total eclipse, and bring me along for the ride to take photographs, aka third wheel.
As a city guy, I never had any desire to go hiking in the wilderness, and had been dreading the trip ever since he told me about it. But Josh had been my best friend since elementary school, and had done more than enough favors for me over the years. So, I just swallowed my pride and went along with it.
"They're saying about two and half minutes from where we are, specifically." Allison corrected.
She's always been the best kind of nerd. I thought to myself, enviously.
But I tried not to make eye contact with her. There was too much history there, too many emotions. And on top of all that, she and Josh were about to get engaged.
"Got it." I replied, staring down at my feet, as I trudged along the rocky path, my boots crunching into the ground with every step.
What were you thinking? Agreeing to this? I internally kicked myself, immediately regretting the decision.
"You okay?" Josh asked. "You were pretty quiet in the car."
"Yeah, I'm okay, thanks."
I was not okay. But what was I supposed to say? "I'm still in love with your future wife?"
Let's take these photos and get the fuck out of here. I thought to myself, before sneaking a few shots of Josh and Allison holding hands, as they walked ahead of me, careful to not make Allison suspicious, and while also throwing up in my mouth a little bit.
—
But when we finally made it to the summit of the hill, where Josh had chosen to host the two-pronged occasion, I was pleasantly surprised to discover, that I was not third wheeling after all.
There, sitting side by side in beach chairs, each with a beer in hand, were Bob and Cara, a married couple that Josh and I had befriended at a bar one night a couple months prior, and, in a very short amount of time, had completely infiltrated our friend group.
"There they are!" Bob called out.
"Eclipse party!" Cara yelled out even louder.
"At least I have other people to talk to." I mumbled to myself, before turning to Josh and asking, "You didn't tell me Bob and Cara were joining?"
"Thought I'd surprise you." He said, with a cheeky smile.
"Theme of the day." I replied sarcastically, before immediately heading for the cooler, opening it, and reaching into its deepest depths, for the coldest beer I could possibly find.
But after I removed a bottle, and opened it with my keychain, I looked down, and happened to notice, that my finger was bleeding.
I didn't think much of it, so I just held up my bloody finger to the group. "Hey, anybody got a bandage?"
"Already?" Josh teased, shaking his head, "We can't take you anywhere."
"Take him anywhere?" Allison chimed in, "I blame Bob and Cara. What kind of weapons are you keeping down there, at the bottom of your cooler?"
The married couple simply sat there in silence for a moment, before turning to each other, then back at us, and bursting out laughing.
"Got us!" Cara said.
"Busted!" Bob added, before Josh tossed me the first aid kit and pivoted the conversation.
"Speaking of Bob and Cara. I just want to shout them out, for coming up with the eclipse party idea in the first place."
Everyone raised their beers, and cheered, as I wrapped a bandage around my finger.
Fucking Bob and Cara. I thought to myself, as I faked a smile and raised my bottle.
—
A few hours, and a lot of beers later, we were all sitting at the top of the hill, doing as friends do, and bantering about absolutely nothing of actual significance, when Bob looked down at his watch, and made an announcement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've all been waiting for has finally arrived!" He declared, slurring his words a bit.
"Everyone, get your sunglasses!" Cara added, as she stumbled over to her backpack, and removed five pairs of cardboard sunglasses, specifically made for looking at eclipses, or so they claimed in the ads.
We all put them on...
...And looked up at the sky...
...But nothing happened.
Then, Josh lowered his sunglasses and started winking profusely at me.
"Oh, right!" I said, before reaching for my camera and pointing it at Josh, just in time to catch him getting down on one knee, removing a ring from his pocket, and holding it out to Allison.
At first, she was completely confused, and looked around at everyone, as if to ask, "What's going on?"
But then Josh uttered the words, "Allison, you're the love of my life... The apple of my eye... The moon to my sun."
Allison, Bob, and Cara all chuckled at the timeliness of the joke a bit, but I couldn't bring myself to laugh at it. I just stood there, hiding behind my camera, snapping photos, hoping it would end quickly.
Just get it over with already.
"Will you marry me?" Josh asked, to a dramatic pause, before Allison finally replied.
"Oh my! Yes! Of course I will!"
And like that, Josh placed the ring on her finger, hopped up, and the two kissed, still wearing their sunglasses, just as the moon began to eclipse the sun.
I snapped one last photo, which I'll admit, was pretty beautiful, before I couldn't bear to take it anymore, and had to put my camera down.
And that's when, things got...
...Weird.
As the moon continued to pass in front of the sun, the sky grew darker and darker, and, in combination with the eclipse sunglasses that I was still wearing, caused me to lose visibility.
Suddenly, I felt what I assumed was a raindrop...
...Before realizing that rain would have been impossible, given the clear visibility of the eclipse that day.
I removed my sunglasses, and whipped around, to see what the droplet could possibly have been, only to witness a gruesome sight...
...Bob, dimly lit, being hacked away at, by a shadowy figure holding a strange object...
...Blood spraying everywhere.
That's not rain.
It must have happened so fast, that Bob never even had a chance to scream.
But Cara, on the other hand, had a chance.
She immediately began wailing and crying at the top of her lungs, so loud that Josh and Allison were jarred out of their loving embrace, and began calling out to her.
"Cara?" Josh yelled out.
"What's wrong?" Allison added.
But then...
...Cara went silent.
I tried to will myself to warn Josh and Allison, to shout out, "Run!" but I was so paralyzed with fear, that I couldn't bring myself to utter the word.
So, I just followed my own advice, and darted away as fast as I could, knowing that whoever had just killed Bob, and seemingly now Cara, was close by.
But before I could get far, I heard what sounded like Josh grappling with the shadowy figure, and immediately stopped in my tracks.
I turned around, and tried to make out what was happening, against the sky, but it was still pretty dark, and the only thing I could see, was the glowing corona of the sun encircling the moon, the total eclipse now at its peak.
"Get away from her!" Josh cried out, before I saw what looked like him charge at the man.
But something must have gone terribly wrong, as the next, and last word, I ever heard out of Josh's mouth, was "No!"
As the moon began to move out of the total eclipse, and pass by the sun, enough light began to pour in, that I was able to see my best friend's body tumble to the ground.
And then...
...Silence...
...Until I heard Allison begin to scream.
"Help! Help!"
Now able to see her, dimly lit, and cowering in fear on the ground a few feet away from me, I jumped in front of her.
For a brief moment, we locked eyes, in what felt like four parts horror, one part longing, before we both looked back and saw, now fully illuminated....
...The slayer that had just wreaked havoc on our party, his face and body, covered in blood, his hands gripping what I now saw... was a scythe.
A fucking scythe!?
He slowly began to approach us, weapon in hand...
...Until he got a few feet away...
...And suddenly stopped, to look up at the moon...
...But it was gone.
In the moment that followed, he appeared to process what that meant, and what to do next, before...
...He simply turned around and walked away.
Allison and I sat there on the ground, shaking violently, as we clung to each other, paralyzed with fear, and watched him drift away into the distance...
...Until he was gone.
When we eventually conjured enough energy to stand up, we hobbled back to the parking lot, and drove Josh's car, to the closest police station we could find, remaining silent almost the entire time.
And after finally arrived at the precinct, it took us a good while to bring ourselves to speak, and describe to the authorities, the atrocities that had occurred in the shadow of the eclipse that day.
The cops immediately raced to the trail, and recovered the bodies of Bob, Cara, and Josh, but the man with the scythe...
...The eclipse killer, as the detectives joked...
...Was never found, left to roam the world and live amongst us, likely waiting to strike when the next eclipse arrives.
And as for Allison and I... while the events of that day could just as well have bonded us, or been taken as a sign that we were meant to be together, we never talked about it again, and slowly drifted away...
...Just as the moon had drifted away from the sun on the afternoon of August 21st, 2017.
Still to this day, whenever I hear that an eclipse of any sort is coming, I think back to that hike, and worry for those who dare to venture out of their homes to observe it.
While, I, however... stay the fuck inside.

this year i decided to come out to my former elementary teachers. i've been in contact with them for years since i graduated. they'll be the first adult i come out to. i just wrote a short letter in case i don't have a gut to say it in person. and i'm ducking crying rn. it's more scary since i'm panromantic aro ace and i absolutely do not want to explain my identity. i just don't. i'm planning to just say i'm bi tho i don't feel much romantic attraction. happens that there are quite a few people who are just like me!
to me the best outcome would be my teacher happening to be queer just like me. and worst... idk hearing some maybe you haven't met the right person yet bullshit. getting kicked out feels better than hearing that.
i always thought it wouldn't be too hard. that i'd maintain a calm attitude. well i was wrong😂 i hope this goes well! cheers to any queers who are or are not planning to come out!

I'm afraid that my friends think that I'm too dramatic. They went out of their way to protect me and I can't understand why they would do that over something so silly.
Yesterday was one of my best friend's commencement ceremony after graduating college. I went with our other best friend to cheer as loud as we could. We ended up cheering so loud that the group in front of us ended up giving us a lecture about "being disrespectful." We weren't the only group screaming our heads off so we didn't pay them much mind. The commencement took place in a big stadium so you had the option to tweet a special shoutout to put on one of the screens. I ended up spamming twitter to get a photo of my friend on the big screen which was super fun. My friend's last name was towards the beginning of the alphabet but we were planning to stick around until the end of ceremony so we could meet up with them afterwards. About 10 minutes after my friend's name was called their photo came up on the big screen. YAY WE DID IT! Maybe two minutes after seeing their name on the big screen the friend that I came with messaged me that she got her period and had to leave ASAP. We rushed out of the stadium to the ladies room and everything seemed fine. I texted the friend that was graduating about leaving early and they snuck out of the ceremony to give us hugs. Apparently they were aching for an excuse to sneak out because they were starting to get bored. (There were a TON of names left so I get it) My graduating friend leaves with their family. My other friend and I go back to my place because it's closest. (DIY toilet paper pads don't work too great so best to get that sorted)
I didn't realize this was all a rouse until I had lunch with my mother today for Mother's Day. For a bit of backstory, I had this "friend" growing up who my mother used to compare me to CONSTANTLY. This girl was stunning, talented, smart, and was well liked. Unfortunately the constant comparisons led to us developing a very toxic elementary school friendship/rivalry. I don't have much against her now but her accomplishments still seem to be a priority of my mother which puts a bad taste in my mouth. At lunch today my mother asked me if I saw my "friend" at the graduation too. I failed out of college my first semester after a battle with a nasty ED... My mother likes to bring up this lack of higher education often. I was really confused at this question because I honestly had no idea that my dear old frenemy was there at all. According to my mother she graduated with a whole list of accomplishments and even gave a speech. I ended up finding the program online and found out that my mother was right. I didn't take a physical program home because the friend that I went with suggested we only take one program to save paper. She also tossed it in the first trash bin as we were rushing to the bathroom.
I considered that this was all a big coincidence until I called my friend to talk about how I felt like the universe was "looking out for me." I was then told that the friend I came with came up with the "plot" in advance because she remembered how much of a hard time the "frenemy" gave our friend group in high school. This seems like a lot of work over something so silly.
Do they think I would've ruined my friend's celebration if I knew who was speaking? I'm quite a sensitive person but I don't think I would've done anything inappropriate. I would be a little sad for maybe ten minutes but I think that I would've gotten over it. I'm really proud of my friend. It makes me upset that they assumed I couldn't handle seeing the final speech because of an old feud. I can't tell if this was just a nice gesture, or if I am to reevaluate the way I normally react to things. I know my "frenemy" also gave them a hard time (because they hung out with me) so I'd understand if they were leaving because they also disliked her, but they hid it from me which makes me think it's something else.

Hello. I am roach, this is my story about me ditching this girl: I was still young. But not on elementary. I was friends with this girl, let’s call her Ava. Ava and me were best friends, we always laughed, and had sleepovers together. I always told her secrets and she told me hers. Our relationship started going downhill though. There was this other girl, let’s name her Sofia. Sofia was my new best friend. But I still hung out with Ava. We were all a trio. I felt like Sofia was copying me though, because I did cheer, soccer, and sometimes basketball. And she started doing that aswell. Now I know that isn’t that bad. But here is where it gets worse; When I started dying my hair, cutting it, and I told them where I was from, and languages I spoke- Sofia instantly had to agree and copy me. I told her I was Mexican and spoke Spanish. Next thing you know? She learned Spanish. Not because she had to- because of me. Timeskip to about 3 months later. I was telling Ava about how I felt Sofia was copying me. She started agreeing but behind my back told Sofia I was calling her a fat b-word. And how I said I hated her. This obviously wasn’t true. Because I don’t/wouldnt do that. Sofia started giving me crap and pushing me around. Telling everyone how mean I was. Of course no one turned on me because; I was popular, had tons of friends, and everyone HATED sofia. Now, Ava wasn’t on my side and kept sending me threats on text. Here is something similar to what she said (the texts were on messenger, I deleted the app because I didn’t need it): “I don’t get what’s you’re problem. But you’re such a bad friend. That’s why you’re so fat. And that’s why no one likes you. Now Sofia is crying because she thinks you hate her.” My reply: I don’t hate her. I’m just living my life. “Well I don’t care: you’re a bad friend and I hope you have the worst luck ever.” My reply: uhm. Okay? But I didn’t do anything. “You know what you did. Stop acting so innocent.” My reply: okay. ——————————————————————— After that, I blocked her. Because that made- no sense. Then, Sofia tried to call me. Basically on call she explained (crying) how she didn’t copy me. And wasn’t trying to. I instantly hung up and blocked her. They both are trying to make me look bad. I’m not dumb. So, one day we had a break. Or- recess. I was on the monkey bars with my new friend, we will call- Aaliyah. Aaliyah and me were just yapping when out of no where Ava pushed me and started yelling at me: I screamed at her: “what’s you’re problem? You aren’t even involved.” Then I just walked away, my friend laughing. I stuck my tounge out at Ava (which yes I know wasn’t a good idea) and walked away. I started ignoring her and walking away from her. Later I found out that Sofia and Ava weren’t best friends anymore. When I went home I looked at my messages and figured out that Ava texted me. Here is what the conversation looked like: “Hey.. I’m sorry (my name). Can we talk?” My reply: leaves her on read. “You’re such a great friend and I regret everything.. you’re like my therapist and without you I’m nothing. I’m actually crying so please.. come back to me.” My reply: nope. You spread rumors about me and told on me for unnecessary things. “Please (my name)! I promise I’ll be better. I guess I understand if you don’t wanna be friends with me..” My reply: then you’ll understand why I’m about to block you. ———————————————————————— I blocked her. And we never talked again. The next year I moved due to other problems. I switched schools and now there is even MORE DRAMA! But oh well.

WI -> SD
Hi all, Looking for recommendations on a trip from the west side of WI into SD, perhaps the Badlands or Custer Area. 22’ travel trailer. 2 elementary age kids. Route across MN would be I90.
My initial plans - either early or late July, I’ve got a 10 day window to play with. Find a State park in MN near the SD boarder, spend a day or 2. Then on to SD, Black hills. Somewhere in or around CusteKeystone.
Goals - Zero agenda, see nature and explore. I’ve never been west to SD. (However recommendations on activities are appreciated)
Needs - Electricity, swimming.
I’ve spent the morning researching and have found a lot of amazing options, but the state/national sites only offer so much insight. My hope would be to be hooked up to 30a at minimum. There is a KOA near Mt. Rushmore that looks like it’s got all the things, but I’m really only after power. No dig at KOA, or any other private campgrounds - we just prefer state parks.
On the trip home, we will likely make the trip to pass through the badlands.
Can anyone with any insight make recommendations? Tia! Cheers!

Hi all, Hope this is an appropriate sub for the question… Looking for recommendations on a trip from the west side of WI into SD, perhaps the Badlands or Custer Area. 22’ travel trailer, 21’ Silverado. 2 elementary age kids.
My initial plans - either early or late July, I’ve got a 10 day window to play with. Find a State park in MN near the SD boarder, spend a day or 2. Then on SD, Black hills. Somewhere in or around CusteKeystone.
Goals - Zero agenda, see nature and explore. I’ve never been west to SD. (However recommendations on activities are appreciated)
Needs - Electricity, swimming.
I’ve spent the morning researching and have found a lot of amazing options, but the state/national sites only offer so much insight. My hope would be to be hooked up to 30a at minimum. There is a KOA near Mt. Rushmore that looks like it’s got all the things, but I’m really only after power. No dig at KOA, or any other private campgrounds - we just prefer state parks.
On the trip home, we will likely make the trip to pass through the badlands.
Cab anyone with any insight make recommendations? Tia! Cheers!

made this for my narrative essay in american literature, but one of my friends said i should share the story
“But I Still Need You” Throughout my life, I had always fallen easy for girls. The elementary mindset of, “she’s cute, so I have a crush on her,” prevented me from developing a legitimate relationship with any girl I tried to talk to. The few times that my feelings were reciprocated, I had no idea because I was already on to the next girl, and this continued until I was left with a multitude of friend-zone situations and a list of “crushes.” My charisma already lacking, it seemed each year that passed, previous to 3rd grade, I grew in weight and therefore awkwardness. The struggle to interact with women lessened as I grew up, while the fat remained. So, by the 8th grade I was the ideal guy friend; easy to talk to, kinda funny, understanding, and unintimidating. My approachable “funny fat friend” nature had its ups and downs. While guys, for reasons I still don’t fully understand, suspected me to be gay, girls found it intriguing and it made them want to be friends with me more. Back then I didn’t know, but now I know that by being forced to be friends first, after finding out I was in fact not gay, the right woman for me would want to be with me for my personality. In the winter of 2021, I fell hard for a girl named Madeline. Maddie was no different than many of the other girls in that she had a bland personality and I thought she was cute. She had brunette hair with bangs, big glasses, way too much makeup on, and a unique fashion sense. Her sense of fashion was one of the few interesting things about her, yet it was disregarded by the public. Not too many guys found her appealing, but I did, for whatever reason. I was dead set on getting to know her better in hope of becoming more than friends. Unfortunately, she hardly paid attention to me, but I didn’t give up. I merely slowed down because of my interest in her friend, Isabella. Isabella is the Spanish and Italian variation of Elizabeth (derived from the Hebrew name Elisheba). The meaning of Elishiba can be translated to, “God is my oath.” In Arabic, the beginning of Isabella, “Isa,” is the classical Arabic name for Jesus, while in the French language, the shortened version of Isabella, “Belle,” translates to “beautiful.” I had met Isabella in the sixth grade, and grew a tiny crush on her, in the elementary sense, before we all went into hibernation (COVID). I barely knew her though, and she had no idea who I was, so when we interacted in my last two classes, if we did at all, it was like two strangers who kept running into each other. I sat by her in my sixth period, and one seat up and to the right from her in seventh. We only ever made small talk and the occasional joke, but when I spoke with her I felt content. Still barely knowing her, all I could admire was the little things in the way she laughed and spoke. I longed to know more about Isabella, she was mature, intelligent, and very opinionated, but still light-hearted and made time pass at the speed of light. It wasn’t until she was in my group in sixth period one day that she began to open up a little by sharing the details of her current long-distance relationship. The shards of my heart stabbed and crushed my stomach; hope, the oxygen to my mind, depleted faster than the air of a broken space shuttle; palpitation, nausea, asphyxia, and neurosis bombarded me like Persian arrows on the Greeks. Then, all at once, the excruciating tidal wave evaporated, but instead of calm waters, I was left with a drought. Every emotion muted or gone, my body went numb while everything I cared for vanished from my mind. I didn’t speak throughout the rest of that day, and went directly from the bus to decaying in my bed. I was devastated, so I retreated to my pointless crush on Maddie. Unrelated to the rather sad lovelife, my anxiety and depression worsened throughout 8th grade, and while I was going to therapy, most of my issues wouldn’t and still haven’t been worked through. Throughout the school year I had developed a toxic system of self pity, in which I would spend hours a day cycling through the feelings of hope, anger, and despair- never that of joy. I knew what I was doing, gathering enough hope to face the school day just before I reflected on the doubts and grievances going on throughout my life. I’d bring myself up just for a greater fall because honestly, overtime I became numb to the natural pain. If I were going to fall into the pit that is depression, the higher I peaked in terms of optimism the more excruciating the freefall of nausea and the heavy flow of salt water. At that point in my life, I saw no point in getting out of bed to do anything, school or even my own mother’s birthday. By the end of eighth grade I had spent almost a total of six weeks absent, two of which were from me being quarantined. Typically over the span of one or two days, others up to four, I would be in my bed “sick.” During these mini-vacations I would sleep all morning, if my mom let me, and stay up all night, oftentimes listening to Radiohead or Cigarettes After Sex while staring at my ceiling. I wanted to stay up, I wanted to feel the bags grabbing and pulling towards my cheekbone, I wanted to feel empty, emotionally and physically. During the day, my anxiety attacks became panic attacks and I would get sent home for vomiting. I'd throw up to give Mom a reason to let me stay home. I’d throw up to feel something, anything. I’d throw up to keep my stomach empty. I’d throw up because I had to, because the nerves and overthinking forced me to. Every morning, I’d drag my black air force ones across cement, carpet, tiles, and marble, each step leading towards Mrs. Clements’ homeroom. For every step, a different worry or insecurity flashed through my brain. But then, out of the blue, I’m “Lincoln” again. I walk into homeroom with an ear-to-ear grin and dap up “the boys”. I’d spend the morning building up hopes of making Isabella laugh today, or maybe calling her once I got home, but I knew that nine times out of ten my hopes were delusional. To “Lincoln,” this was no problem, he would make a gay joke, join the boys with teasing a cute girl in my class, and laugh until just for a moment, the despair was gone. Finally, the sixth period would come and I’d get to see Isabella. In here I got the least work done out of all my classes as I would find myself strategically planning my next interaction with her, just for said plans to go out the window when I was brought face to face with her. Typically seventh period followed the same pattern except Ms. Shirley Davis could never allow small talk in her classroom. When the last bell rang, I went straight to the buses. I’d sleep on the way home, dreaming of a call that would hardly happen. On the off chance my phone didn’t reach its feared 11th cry, we’d talk for hours at a time. On a weekday or not, it seemed that, when we did call, it was guaranteed to go into the early morning. It’s hard to put my finger on a specific topic, or even general. In our conversations, we discussed anything and everything. Everything, except her own love interest. I admired this, as my inability to keep who I’m thinking about at the time a secret is a major flaw of mine. The more that me and her spoke, the more I grew to love her. Our talks were so honest, so raw, that the secret I held began to eat away at me. My core collapsing like a dying star, each day it felt like the pain got worse. To cope with the feelings I had buried deep inside me, I’d turn to my friends. At first, they said to come forward with my feelings, but I knew that’s what any friend would’ve said. The relief I got from venting the conflicting hurricane within me was brief. Overtime, their words of encouragement turned to annoyance, and understandably so. When people grew sick of the same old sadistic untold love, I turned to Isabella. I wrote a text so full that, to read it, one needed to tap on an arrow at the bottom right corner of my message. The essay was compiled with the confliction I had, developing feelings for a friend, and the sorrow that filled me each day that passed without her. I described the perfect imperfections that I admired about her, how life was complete when I spoke to her, the beauty that paralyzed me every time I saw her in person, and the character that I felt God had curated specifically for me. Sitting there unsure if I should press send, a fear grew within my chest that Isabella would see right through me. I could hear the music that so often triggered tears; the vocals of Thom Yorke or the beats of Kanye West, they faded in and out. What if she didn’t even respond? What if she thought I was a creep? What if- then she responded. Suddenly, the ominous 808s & Heartbreak pounding vanished, my respiratory chaos became paralyzed, and time stood still. I couldn’t breathe until I finished reading, and once I did, my sigh was all but relieving. Isabella explained to me how unhealthy my habits were; even in comparison to the anguish that would follow, I’d suffer far more and far longer should I suppress my emotions. She told me how that level of affection, in the context of the warped concept of romance most men had, was something she had only dreamt of. Isabella said that holding these feelings would eat away at me, exponentially increasing in severity, until I broke. Not only would I be hurting myself, but I would be depriving the person I care about most from the appreciation they deserve. I became bloated with fear of the friendzone, those insecurities, all based upon inference, became a reality with Isabella’s last piece of advice. She said, “If she doesn’t reciprocate those emotions, then don’t worry. I’m sure there’s a girl out there who can appreciate your compassion.” The blame had no other place to go than my shoulders, after all, I got what I asked for, advice on another girl. Isabella, even if she saw the crush I had on her, is far too kind to address it. She cared for everyone, and to her, she was merely boosting up a friend who’s down. For the rest of the night her text echoed through my mind; pain, regret, and admiration caused my mind to sporadically leap from conclusion to conclusion. Two years later, those words still haunt me, reiterations of that phrase torturing me when I least expect them. The school year progressed, but my aspirations with Isabella didn’t. Over time, the frequency of my writings grew to be weekly, at times reaching two a week, and the weight of my confessions depleted. I opened my audience to a mutual friend of Isabella’s, Miley, with the intention of acquiring useful advice. Eventually, my choice to try concealing what I felt for Isabella became too heavy of a burden, weighing down on me in forces I had not endured before. Soon, the love I had for Isabella turned to hatred for myself. I was relentlessly criticizing every aspect of myself and my mind. I hated how fat I was, my smile, my voice, my laugh, and most of all my personality. What I had thought was my greatest strength, was revealed as my worst trait. The gullibility I exhibited when thinking for a second Isabella could possibly like me; the lack of confidence that caused me to chicken out of confessing my feelings to her; my insufferable need to make people laugh; the hyperfixation I would develop for those that I love. Everything about me was wrong. I stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped caring, and eventually I stopped living. The “Lincoln” my friends had grown to recognize, the only remnant of the joy I felt when I was younger, died, and I was left with only my love for Isabella and resentment for myself. I began testing the limits of what was left of me, praying for relief. At first in the middle of the night, an anaconda would find its way to my throat, wrapping around my neck. Its cold black scales gracefully gliding across my skin before silencing my cries with the swift tug of its metallic USB head. The snake would maintain pressure until I let go of it, the entire time whispering into my ear, begging me to hold on. Some nights it came with what must have been a full stomach for it was drastically wider, it was brown these nights, with leather skin, and a slight warmth, but it behaved the same. Most visits from the snake ended with my vision blurry, my breath short, or my head dizzy. The only consistency of our transactions was Asia’s Death Lake that streamed down my face from start to finish. Eventually, the snake seemed closer and closer to silencing me forever, but I also became used to its visits. I began writing letters to everyone I loved so that, should the snake come out victorious, they’d have a final goodbye. Once I had sorted out my notes, I called the snake to my room. This time it came striped with shades of blue, its skin a soft fabric. For once, I controlled the snake, because our intentions finally aligned. I locked the door, sent out my texts, placed the written notes on my dresser, and joined the snake at my closet door. Holding onto the doorknob, the snake wrapped itself around my neck just as it had done in nights of the past. It whispered to me, “let go,” for I had been on my knees in hesitation. I followed the snake’s order by making a sort of plank with my body, the bottom half resting on a stack of dirty laundry and pillows while the top was supported by my elbows. Pressure swiftly fell down on my neck and didn’t stop. “This is it,” I thought to myself. My eyes seemed to pop out of my skull, and my tears, falling down like summer rain, became blurry dots as my vision went dark. Next thing I know, I’m waking up, snot, saliva, and tears strung between my face and the carpet floor. My head pounding and my eyes burning, I looked up at the “snake” that was the tie my mom had gotten me for Sunday service. Although my mind was more clear, it was not out of revelation, but from a muted sense of the world around me. Other than Isabella, nothing mattered anymore, and the little emotion I felt was squashed by my immortal love. The following day I get called to the counselors office on charges of suicidal thoughts and self harm. I said what I had to in order to escape her grasp, but left infuriated. Not only had my own friends betrayed me, but the lady who was supposed to guide me essentially scolded me for being sad. Throughout the day my anger faded out and my focus became making an excuse as to why my parents got a weird call from my counselor, then I’d find the traitor who sold me out. That afternoon, I lost two friends, and for the first time ever got mad at Isabella. Apparently, Miley, Maddie, and Isabella all reported me to the counselor that morning. They said I had been traumatizing them with what was going on in my life, being normal and messing around at school, then detailing my thoughts and actions to them outside of school. I felt like I had been tricked. I thought they were my friends. I thought they understood me. They asked me if I was okay, they said they wanted, cared, needed to know, but now I had scared them? I addressed what had happened with Miley first. She immediately lashed out at me, saying I should be thanking them, not be mad. While I didn’t want to accept it, I understood the core of her choices. On the other hand, Maddie’s response to my confrontation was disgustingly cruel. She said I had been unfair and just seeking attention, that no thirteen to fourteen year old should hear about what I was going through because it was unnatural. Before she continued, I apologized, that’s all I could think to do, because deep down I believed her. She told me it wasn’t all my fault because my brain was messed up, and that opening up to the girls would only make them not want to be friends with me. The one word that rang through my head then, and still does today, was “creep,” she claimed that what I felt wasn’t love, but I was just mentally unstable and creepy. Any remnants of the sweet kid from elementary school who just wanted a friend and loved everyone were obliterated. Maddie was right, all I had done was hurt and scare them, it didn’t matter what I thought. I told her all I could, that I didn’t know what to say other than I was sorry for the damage I had done, and I would try and get better. Her response, like a branding iron on my mind, was, “It’s not damage, it’s baggage. Imagine if the roles were reversed.” It was only then that I stopped texting back. I wish I could say it was out of frustration or self respect, but the reality of my manipulative traits is what silenced me. Shockingly, the response that hurt the most was from Isabella, yet it somehow meant the most to me too. Isabella told me that she needed me in the world. She told me that if I ever got those thoughts again, to think about her as well; to think about the pain I’d be causing her; to think about the trauma she’d live with for the rest of her life. After repeating the phrase, “I need you in my life,” she acknowledged how selfish it was, but still didn’t care. Isabella continued elaborating, she didn’t care because no label of selfishness outweighed the value of my life. What she said that night has been vivid in my mind since, but my only wish is that she had needed me as I needed her. Tears began to hide my freckled cheeks as I texted her about how much her words meant to me, how much she meant to me, and I apologized to her. I said sorry for the baggage I caused, the “creepy” behavior, and any other ways I had wronged her. I said sorry for loving her, and told her I’d do better. She disregarded my apologies, telling me that I could always talk to her because no matter the baggage she could carry, it’d be worth taking the smallest bit off of me. Her words meant so much to me, yet hurt me just the same. I hated myself for it. I couldn’t see a life without an affection for her, it was pathetic. If I truly loved her, I’d let my feelings go, right? What kind of person did that make me? Summer came and went. Hoping that time would kill the crush I had on Isabella, I prohibited myself from contacting her. Instead I spent time with my family and a few friends, but Isabella never left my head. Even when accompanying my dad to Berry College for the Governor’s Honors Program, she’s what filled my head. At first I felt frustrated because before I had come forward to her, she had known about the feelings I had. I came to the conclusion that she had been dragging me along, but even then I knew how easily that thought would be abandoned. First day of High school, I got in touch with her. For maybe two weeks, I maintained a platonic relationship before free falling into the ominous pit once again. This time felt different though, it felt like what I had thought about everyday, for what seemed eternity, could be more than a daydream. We texted each other throughout the school day and facetimed after her cheer practice and my band practice. Eventually, Isabella was falling asleep on call. Before, we’d talk long into the night, and it began to drain the energy out of the both of us. Now, we were listening to music, playing Roblox, watching Netflix, or just sitting in silence. I had never felt comfortable with silence, but she made it seem better than having a conversation with anyone else. It’s a beautiful thing when words aren’t required to appreciate someone. The moment I had the courage to do so, I asked her out to Steak n’ Shake. It’s just my luck that the restaurant was hardly a shell of what I remembered as a kid. At first the conversation was awkward because we hardly spoke in person, but as time progressed so did we. I still remember the tightness of my cheeks as I failed to suppress my ear-to-ear grin. The euphoric nausea and beating heart that disappeared throughout our conversation. I remember the booth we sat in, the fact that she wanted me to swap seats with her because of her creaky seat, the way she giggled, how I fought tooth and nail to pay for such a small bill, the way she smiled when she said, “next time you’ve gotta let me pay,” and the shared excitement for our next hangout. Even though Isabella and I were still friends, even though the restaurant was a disaster, even though the fries were stale and the milkshakes chunky, that moment is one of the best in my life. With how well things were going, I thought that it was my best chance at making something more out of this friendship. So, I shot my shot. I told her that despite my efforts the summer before, she still held a special place in my heart. Isabella responded with her own struggles with recovering from a past relationship, detailing the trust issues and pain she still felt almost a year later. I was yet again, devastated. Then she added that despite her own feelings, she had to be careful and the risk of losing our friendship scared her. I understood her reasoning, but it made me sick to think of how close I was. In response, I expressed how I could relate to those feelings, and the conflict I had with them. It felt ridiculous having opened myself up once again, to just be friendzoned. Her response struck me with both hope and devastation, “I f*cking love you a ton Lincoln, but I’m struggling to differentiate my admiration as a friend and as something more. I’m terrified of losing you.” Previously I would have seen this as a sign to keep trying, but at that moment, I couldn’t see past the blatant friendzoning. After pursuing her for so long, it felt cruel of her to continue dragging me along like this, even though she was being honest. My reaction to the straw that broke the camel’s back is one of, if not, the biggest regrets in life. Homecoming was a little over a week away and she was going (as friends) with my buddy, Davis, so in a storm of hatred for myself and the situation I was in, I gave up on her. Our conversations grew to be minimal and far apart. Soon, I started to resent her. Each day since then, I have somehow felt more remorse than the last for not asking her to Homecoming. Homecoming night is when I began flirting with Claire, a sweet redhead from gym class. We connected on not going with the person we had hoped for. All it took was me joking that I should’ve spent more time around her, instead of leaving the dance early, for Claire to lose her mind. Over the next month or so, I was becoming closer and closer with Claire, despite her irritable “quirks”. I only spoke to Isabella if she reached out to me first with the only exception being when I would ask her for “advice” about Claire, which was a shameful habit I started as petty revenge on Isabella. Eventually, Isabella blocked me on Snapchat, but it didn’t matter. Things with me and Claire were going great, she made me feel like I didn’t need to starve myself to be good enough for her. She made me feel like I was enough. For the next two and a half months, life was great. After the first couple months of ignorant bliss, I was sick of her. Sure, there were a variety of reasons to find her annoying, most people I knew could list more than they have fingers and toes, but she didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have gotten into the relationship in the first place not only because of Isabella, but also the speed at which me and Claire started dating. She was still growing out of the elementary relationship phase, so while it was nice to connect with someone so quickly, it was rushed. Another issue being that I was her first real boyfriend, the baggage that followed me was detrimental to her and I couldn’t give her the attention she needed. As me and Claire began our month long drift apart, I was unblocked by Isabella. She and I caught up, and we quickly began to talk trash about Claire while on call. It was unbelievably toxic, and I’m embarrassed of how I handled things to this day. Eventually, with the support of Isabella, I decided it was time to break up. The only issue was the guilt I had in such a terrible choice, I could never do it. So I began to get more distant by the day, ignored texts and calls, and stopped walking her to classes because “I had to pee.” Eventually she caught wind of my plans and called me after school one day. Sobbing, she told me what she had heard and how she knew it wasn’t true, but it still worried her. I began to get ready to break the news, but she was already crying so what's the worst that could happen? I wish I had never asked myself that, because next she told me she’d been cutting herself. My heart sank in remorse for what I knew I would do. If I led her on longer, the aftermath of my cold actions would lead to even more catastrophe. I was scared, but knew the lesser of the two evils I had to pick from. I calmed her down, quickly notified her friends to be keeping an eye on her, and then dumped her. To this day, I am disgusted by my actions. Throughout the past three months, Claire expressed how she had loved and trusted me, yet I threw that all away. There are so many ways I could’ve handled the situation differently, but two stood out the most. Showing respect by speaking to Claire the moment I realized my feelings had fleeted was the bare minimum that I disregarded, but the second was far simpler. I had known from the start that I was still in love with Isabella and that love never faded, but was only suppressed. The entire relationship we developed, while we both enjoyed parts of it (her more than me), was a lie, and essentially a cruel joke played on Claire. There’s no excuse for my actions, and even worse, I could’ve cared less back then. It was only when time had passed that I began to understand the damage I had done. Without Claire holding me back, my newfound freedom led to a closer friendship with Isabella. I dove headfirst into the familiar pit all over again. A friendship was not enough, I appreciated every interaction I had with Isabella, but my life depended on a future with her. It’s likely she felt this as she slowly began to drift away from me. Before I had stayed up speaking to Isabella, but now I couldn’t sleep out of the tormenting absence of her voice. The only path to good health was time; distance was best for the both of us, and I knew it. For the rest of that school year, everything around me was going, but I stood still. It was like my life was just a sitcom, and I was no longer the main character. The summer that followed was just the same, I was living but dead, moving but still, speaking but silent. I was dissociating from my friends and family, but the absence of that violent snake made my depression insignificant. Living a life without her was more punishment than death itself, and I didn’t deserve relief. Even now, I think of that summer and remember almost nothing, for my life isn’t worth remembering without Isabella in it. Sophomore year began, and so did my conversations with Isabella. This go around, I was subtle with my feelings for her. The excitement I had for speaking with her was under control, but it was because the spark inside me had faded, even when it came to Isabella.The years of self pity and depression had left a toll on me that could never be reversed, and it didn’t help that Isabella began to build a relationship with another guy. When we spoke, if we did, Isabella’s concern for my mental state outweighed the friendship we were struggling to preserve. I had come to the conclusion that pursuing Isabella would only make things worse, and I needed to just be her friend. Since I couldn’t lose the feelings I had for her, I just sat in them. While I sat in the pit, Isabella and I had one particular Facetime call in which I brought up how much I regretted dating Claire. To that, Isabella added, “Yeah, she’s so annoying. I can’t remember if you told me why you got together in the first place, what led you to her?” I paused with the thousand-yard stare of an American private fresh out of West Point. “I guess I was just so disappointed with myself for not being able to go to homecoming with you and being stuck on you for so long that I impulsively got with another girl to forget about my shortcomings,” I said with reluctance and stuttering every few words. She told me that she would’ve said yes to homecoming without a second thought, but I knew she meant as friends. Then, to my dismay, Isabella revealed that whenever I got with Claire, she still had feelings for me. It was me talking to Isabella about how great things were with me and Claire that led her to block me and cut contact with me. The piano melody from “No Surprises” by Radiohead began looping through my mind as tears ran down my face. I forget how I ended the call, but once I did, I broke. I lost my breath, my head got light, my eyes became blurry, my stomach was nauseous, and my insides sank as far as they could. Everything I wanted, dreamed of, needed had been so close, and I blew it. Everything was my fault. Later I would ask her why she lost them, and her answer proved how much better she was than me. Isabella answered, “I had been hurt, so I moved on. Just got over it.” We hardly spoke anymore, but one text message has found a permanent home in my mind. After asking me how I was, Isabella wasn’t satisfied with, “it’s complicated.” She asked that I explain it to her so that she could try to understand. I told her about all the issues going on in my life, except the torch I still held for her. She wrote, “I know you’re not religious, so it may not mean anything, but I pray for you every night, Lincoln. Even though it sounds bad, I think that I've known you weren’t in the greatest mental place for a while. I want you to know I'm not judging you, I want you to feel comfortable enough to share that with someone. You have to be able to recognize how you’re feeling in order to even fix it.” These words broke me despite their simplistic appearance. Reading that she prayed for me hit me hard as she had always tried to get me to believe in God again. I’m agnostic, and nothing has come closer to bringing me back to faith as Isabella did. The idea that if God were real and I could see her in heaven was appealing, but should Christianity be the wrong choice, I wanted to be wrong with Isabella. In the following days, Isabella told me about Alex, a guy she had been talking to a lot, and how they were at most a month away from being together. I hated everything about Alex, which is a stupid name in the first place. I hated his choice of friends, I hated how white-washed he was, I hated how he dressed like a conservative cowboy, I hated the underbite that made him look like a pug, I hated his short curly hair, I hated the fact that he was a diehard Trump supporter while people of his race were being oppressed, I hated how he pretended to be someone else when he was around Isabella, I hated how he hid unhealthy habits from her, I hated that a guy like him garnered Isabella’s affection when I couldn’t. I barely knew the guy and I was wasting my energy with hatred for him, when in reality, he was just a mind-numbingly basic douche among the hundreds just like him at our school. Isabella regularly complained about Alex, but hardly did anything. Instead she stopped bringing it up, saying that talking about her issues with others only makes it worse and that she was just wining. The monotone delivery of her reasoning hurt my soul, it was like she was reciting a text from Alex. Each day that passed, I felt the urgency of expressing my feelings one more time rising. Soon Isabella and Alex would be official, and I would lose my chance to try and express how I felt one more time. I reached out to Isabella and asked if she was free to hangout that friday. On November 10, 2023, Isabella picked me up around 5:30 in the evening. She kept the inside of her SUV looking brand new in contrast to the familiarity of her smile. My nerves left me winded after every sentence and shivering in her passenger seat. Quickly our conversation became more natural as I cracked jokes to ease my anxiety, but my shaky breathing never stopped. We went to Publix to grab some snacks and drinks and headed right back to my neighborhood park. At the Grove Point Park, we found a swinging chair to sit in. Due to the time of the year, the sun had already set, but Isabella’s beauty was indifferent under the moonlight. I haven’t the slightest clue how long we sat there together. When I’m with Isabella, even Father Time gives me grace, for he knows that he is as powerless as I am to the frequency of these moments. After a while, I mentioned that it was getting late and she agreed. On the ride back to my place, I mustered the bare minimum of strength it took to confront my feelings. As she drove over the speed bump before entering the roundabout, I began to open up. I briefly told her that I still felt the same way I did two years ago, that I had tried to forget about the feelings I had with no success, and that I was sorry to once again ruin our unstable friendship. She told me it was fine and my feelings were natural, nothing to regret or be ashamed of. Her words meant nothing to me this time because I had already heard them. Defeated, I paused for a moment, then said, “Isabella, you reciprocated my feelings in the past, so after Alex, do you think that maybe we’d have a chance?” She looked at me with pain in her eyes, not for herself, but for me. She quietly said, “I- Lincoln, you know I can’t answer that. I’m with Alex now, it wouldn’t be fair.” All I could get out was, “Oh- I- I’m sorry. Uh yeah no, you’re uh- you’re right.” Everything in me pulled and begged at my lips to say what I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I still look back on that night and wish I had said the few words I never got to tell her. What if saying them could’ve changed something? Realistically, it wouldn’t have, but the regret remains. I doubt Isabella would have even remembered where my word choice stemmed from. Regardless, the words rang in my head then, and never stopped. All I wanted to say at that moment was, “but I still need you.” Today, 1,725 days since I first saw Isabella, 822 days since I first facetimed Isabella, and 178 days since that heartbreakingly beautiful night, I still love her the same. Looking back on my experience with her, I regret many things (oversharing, Claire, the snake, etc.), but the one thing I have never regretted was meeting and loving her. It was only recently that I realized that loving her has been one of the biggest mistakes in my life. For three years, day in and day out, I’ve thought about her. Three years where I could have met other people, worked on myself, enjoyed my friends and family, but instead I’ve loved her and nothing, nobody else. The one lesson that was essential for me to take away from my experience was impossible. In eighth grade I was 5’7 and 215 lbs, today I’m 5’10 and 165 lbs. In eighth grade I spent time with my parents, today I hide in my room. In eighth grade, I told people how I felt, now I’m too scared. In eighth grade, I talked about my depression, now I am left alone to deal with it. In eighth grade, I had many friends, now I rarely speak to them. In eighth grade, I needed Isabella, but the one lesson I should’ve learned never took effect. I still need her.

Hey everyone, in the early stages of just planning a short tour for this winter, my pal and I were thinking we could meet up with some other groups of friends as we head south as they will be going down to Central America for hollidays. Any visa requirements or anything strange about crossing boarders through the countries in between? Do we have to have return flights booked out of Panama for entry into any countries there(I’ve heard of this) . We weren’t going to have a schedule so perhaps wouldn’t have return flights yet so that could be annoying.
In the very elementary stages of planning, in fact we don’t really plan much, usually just figure it out as we go. But I would appreciate any logistical advice or experiences!
Cheers

In the area that I lived in, there were a lot of abandoned buildings and houses. There were old theatres, restaurants, motels, and houses that had long been vacant for whatever reason. The most interesting was a high school three blocks from my house.
The high school was built in the 1940s, however, in 1977, it was destroyed by a fire and sadly, 45 students and 12 adults, including my mom, who was a lunch lady, and my dad, who was the vice principal, lost their lives. I was only twelve and my sister was eight. We had an older brother named, Mike, who went to that high school, however, after the fire we didn't hear from him for several hours. We eventually caught up with him and we all moved to a relative's house. It was Mike who helped me and my sister through our parents' deaths because it tore us apart. Sometimes he would take puppets he made out of his backpack and just put on a silly show and very often it cheered us up. After some years passed, Mike finally left the house, due to the relatives we lived with, ignoring him all the time and we didn't really see him much. We would occasionally get letters from him and as years went by, and we would get the occasional phone call to see how we were doing and such.
My sister and I, today, were urban explorers; we searched through long forgotten, vacant buildings and sometimes bring souvenirs from the past. Some examples were: a film reel of King Kong from a 1930s theatre, a calendar dated 1959 from an old office building, a record player from a house, hell I even took and restored a 1940s pickup truck which I still drove today. My siste and I had expressed interest in going to the school, however, just the memory of that school being the last place my parents were at, kept us from going. We decided though that once we both had spare time from working, that we were gonna go. And the next time we both were available was next weekend.
When the weekend came, my sister and I gathered our flashlights and everything we needed. As we were getting ready to head out, I got a call from Mike saying he heard that we were gonna go to the school and he warned us that we may not like what we see. I didn't understand what he meant but we were gonna go anyway. As my sister and I arrived at the school, the destruction was still evident. We held back tears as we went through what was once a window. Everything was charred and you could still see things like shoes and burned remains of school supplies in some of the classrooms. I spotted at least four classrooms that were unaffected by the fire and you could still see what the assignments were for that day. One classroom had been reading MacBeth by Shakespeare. In that classroom were articles of clothing like jackets and several backpacks. One backpack in particular caught my eye so I decided that would be my souvenir, the rest I left alone.
We went to the cafeteria and boy was it a mess. There were still plates on the tables and several patches of graffiti as neighborhood hoodlums had been known to gather in the cafeteria after it burned down. Some hallways are also clearly marked with graffiti but the deeper in the school you go, the less common it became till it just disappeared. In the areas with no graffiti, it ranged from severe damage to the unscathed classrooms mentioned earlier. We headed to our dad's old office and saw it suffered little damage. His table and chair were still in good condition but old. We saw photographs on the floor and when we picked them up; we saw they were old family pictures of us. One was me, my sister, and Mike making a snowman the one time it snowed when we were young. There was another where my dad was holding me as I went to my first day in elementary. The rest was of him and my mom looking happy.
Tears were coming to me and my sister's eyes as my sister took the pictures and put them in her backpack carefully. We decided we had enough and went straight home. When we got home, I went through the backpack I picked up. Most of it contained just random drawings but as I went through it more; I discovered puppets that looked extremely familiar. I looked at the school assignments and read the name on all of them. Each paper said Mike Duran. It couldn't be. I called Mike but there was no ring. I then called one of the relatives I lived with after my parents' deaths and asked where Mike was. Her response chilled me to the bone.
She said, "Bobby, I thought you knew? Mike died in the school fire along with your parents. I thought it was strange when you and your sister would mention him but I thought it was something that would help y'all cope so I never said anything. He's buried in the same cemetery as your parents. Go six headstones to the right and you'll find him. I'm so sorry."
This could NOT be true, I told my sister and we went straight to the cemetery, and sure enough, six headstones to the right of my parents, was Mike. We both broke down in tears as we realized Mike was never with us, that he died with my parents.
My sister said, "So everything was just us being so heartbroken and all that bullshit huh?"
And that's when behind us, we heard, "It wasn't bullshit." We turned around to see Mike, looking like a teenager. Looking just like he did the day the school caught fire, now transparent like a stereotypical ghost. He said, "It wasn't bullshit because I knew that if y'all found out I died too, y'all would go nuts. So I asked the Big Man upstairs if I could at least stay with y'all until y'all were ready. He agreed, however, he said that until y'all find out the truth about me, I shall remain on Earth. Don't you see? I didn't want y'all to be alone, to suffer through the death of the whole family. But my work here is done and now you know the truth. I must go now, take care. I love you two."
We told Mike we loved him too and watched him vanish into thin air. We both knew that we would never hear from him until we too passed away. But instead of grieving, we accepted that our older brother stayed with us to take care of us, and even up from the heavens, he would always watch over us.

My wife and I have been married 30 years. We are that 'old couple' that does everything together. We rarely ever have an argument, and have really never had a true fight in 30+ years. We watch almost all our shows together, enjoying this evening time to wind down and relax our brains. We've watched all the episodes (except for the finale, of course) and during the last 2 or 3 episodes I have found myself getting annoyed about certain things... things that my wife isn't annoyed with, which has caused us to have some fairly heated discussions.
If you don't want to know who is still in the game by episode 11, don't read further...
I have noticed that the contestants don't seem to understand the good/bad of pulling high (or low) numbers on the briefcases. Unlike the regular DonD game, where you want to eliminate all the low cases, in Island, contestants actually hurt their cause by removing too many small cases. As the episodes piled up and I began to recognize trends in how the odds would work, I have begun to question whether or not a) the contestants reactions are spliced from other events, or b) the contestants have been told by producers to 'cheer on the contestant' as if they were playing on prime time television. My constant frustration in watching this has led to my wife being irritated with me, and arguing that my points are not valid (primarily because I am just being an ass and yelling at the TV).
For example, in the most recent episode, Aron was knocking off small cases left and right, and the screen would pan over to Rob, who definitely wanted Aron to stick around, and he was gleeful in seeing the small cases go away. Then Rob would look really upset when Aron opened a big number, even though getting rid of big numbers helps you survive (albeit you don't raise as much final money, but who cares about the total winnings when you get kicked out of the game). The absolute best case scenario would be to have $0.01, $1, $10, $100, and $1,000,000 cases still unopened. The offer of $85,000 (or whatever) would be an 80% chance of being a good offer. NO ONE DISCUSSES THIS!
When Aron had 3 cases left (2 on stage, one of his own) he had a 66% chance of making a good deal. He made a comment to Joe, something like "I don't really like my odds here" and I lost it. I screamed at the TV "How can you say that!!! 66% is the best odds you've had all night (previous offer was at 50% odds) and if he opened 1 more case his odds would be 50/50 no matter what. My wife thinks it is all natural banter and commentary going on, but I don't buy it. I think the tape is being heavily edited to make it seem like there is real drama, when there is actually very little drama at all.
The final straw for my wife was when we paused the show to argue whether or not every single 'offer' is simply a percentage game, and not really a consideration of a money offer. For example, no one will EVER take an offer if their odds are less than 50%, because all they have to do is keep playing until they get to 50%. Always. Even if you get all the way down to 2 cases, you're at 50/50. So why would anyone take the offer if there are (for example) 2 cases smaller than the offer, and 3 cases larger. No one would do it simply because of the odds being less than 50%. This seems SO ELEMENTARY to me and yet no one ever talks about it in the game. Seems like Rob would have figured this out right away. Certainly Aron. But no... they go on pretending they are actually thinking about it when there is no decision at all.
We love reality TV, but this show is dividing us. I want to just enjoy it, but it is seeming more and more contrived as the episodes continue. I am not saying it is fixed or anything (I've seen those conspiracy theories), but the editing for drama seems so fake.

Someone posted a video of Donald Trump talking about the 144,000. ( a spiritual term which varies in interpretation ) His voice and sound did not match the video that I was posted. I then looked on YouTube Twitter and tick tock for a real video of what was being said, but couldn't find any. Regardless if the information is true or not I expressed to this person how it is wrong to use ai to impersonate someone. These are screenshots of our conversation. I feel as if he is just completely avoiding accountability and his ego is not allowing him to admit that he is wrong. I'm completely open to the possibility that I could be wrong in ANY way, hence I am here seeking a third party opinion on this disagreement. Thank you guys. I'm not trying to put anyone down, I enjoy his content. It's just so crazy to me how this teacher is incapable of understanding such an elementary concept. If his followers run with that information as truth, (yes a video is also information, CONTEXT) and then converse with others about it, they then end up looking stupid by their own naivety along with his carelessness also contributing.(( Either his story expired or he deleted it. But this ( https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLXq7Xcn/ ) is the video he posted and I still can't find any real ones))
It's really not even that big of a deal. If he knows it's fake and doesn't care that's different and that's fine. It's just the fact that he can't even acknowledge the error in impersonating someone. Especially as he's promoting himself as spiritual and righteous. That's crazy. I just thought he had a higher bar set for the acknowledgment and realization of Truth altogether.
I hope that he can drop his ego so we can come to a peaceful understanding of each other . But I have a feeling that he will either block me, ignore me, or continue to avoid the point at hand. But if I am wrong, I will come back and show my apologies. Cheers.
Screenshots : https://imgur.com/gallery/LASpweN