We have a variety of ways to deal with humans, my favourite is the map freezing the hell out of raiders before they can even come close to the base,
Hostile harmonizers to break their minds the longer they stay inside my "dungeon"
And the variety of toxic gases to weaken them, psychic ships or those gender locked consciousness debuffing structures,
And more!
For mechanoids all we can do is gun them down with turrets and shooters while hoping the front liners can keep them from getting in the defensive line,
I guess it balances it out with biotech's mechanitors but that's still gun and more guns, and neither fire nor gamma rays can dmg the mechs, am i missing out on smt?

I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

In the heart of Chicago, where the skyline pierced the heavens and the streets pulsed with life, there lived a man named Victor Kane. At 26 years old and a startling 6'3" in stature, Victor commanded attention effortlessly. His piercing gaze seemed to see through the very fabric of one's soul, and his knowing, flirtatious smirk hinted at secrets that few could ever fathom. Victor was a man of many faces, each one carefully crafted and expertly worn to blend into any situation, like a chameleon adapting to its surroundings. Each interaction with another human was as if it were another painting to be hung in the Art Institute of Chicago, a masterpiece of social maneuvering and charm.
To most, he appeared unremarkable, perhaps even a bit dim, an illusion he maintained with meticulous precision. Yet beneath this facade lay a mind as sharp as a dagger, honed by years of strategic thinking, manipulation, and the art of emotional deceit. Victor had learned from the best. His father, a man deeply entrenched in the shadowy world of organized crime, had mastered the art of bending reality to his will. A master chess player, he treated people like pieces on a grand chessboard, moving them at his whim, always six steps ahead. Victor had absorbed these lessons like a sponge, his young mind eagerly soaking up every tactic, every subtle nuance of control.
Battles with his father have left their scars, trailing off Victor like a snake's entrails as they slither through crowded streets, scanning for their next meal. They probe the aura of each passerby, tasting their energy, yet to their disappointment, they find no juicy, dirt-filled sponge of pain and suffering. They taste desires, yet nothing hits just right. Empty husks, devoid of the essence they crave. Living memories enshroud him in a cloud of black smoke, a spectral fog visible only to a witch. A demon, masquerading as a homeless man and muttering incoherent whispers, feels the snake's embrace tighten around him. He halts abruptly, turning to Victor with a knowing gaze. 'I see you,' he murmurs, 'Such discipline and composure may deceive the others, yet it's only a matter of time before they find you.' The homeless man continues his walk, pulling a black suitcase along, his tattered white shirt contrasting sharply with his black suit, and no tie to complete the ensemble.
Victor makes no comment, his mind a labyrinth of dark intentions and calculated moves. He viewed the world as a malleable entity, something he could shape and twist to suit his needs. The streets, the people, the very air he breathed; they were all part of a grand, intricate game where he alone held the key. He had no qualms about using others to achieve his goals, seeing them as mere tools in his grand design. It was a dangerous philosophy, one which required constant vigilance and adaptability. As he moved through the throngs of oblivious souls, he could almost hear the whispers of their deepest fears and hidden sins. The scars trailed behind him, living entities of their own, reaching out hungrily, desperate for a morsel of genuine suffering. Yet the city, with all its noise and chaos, offered little more than hollow echoes and fleeting shadows. Traces of happiness. Lost children in the never ending void of their own desperation. Victor's eyes flickered with a cold, calculating light. He was a master of this urban jungle, a predator in search of worthy prey. The demon’s warning lingered in his mind, yet it only fueled a burning hunger. He thrived in the shadows, where power and control were his for the taking. Each step he took was a step closer to his ultimate end goal, a twisted vision of dominance, only he could see.
In the distance, the city’s lights shimmered like false promises, yet Victor knew better. Beneath the surface, in hidden corners and forgotten alleys, darkness mirrored his own. In this abyss, he felt certain he would find what he sought: the true essence of his own hunger, the raw, unfiltered energy he could devour. Victor thrived on the underestimation of others, reveling when people perceived him as lesser. Such perceptions made his manipulations appear as innocent mistakes, acts of ignorance and oblivion. His favorite targets: those with inflated egos, individuals convinced of their invincibility.
"A person with a big ego is like an orgasm," he often mused, speaking as if to his shadow. "It's just so easy. Their first mistake: telling me we're not equals. Afterward, they reveal all the buttons and levers in their psyche. They hand me their own weapon on a silver platter, asking, 'Victor, please send me to meet Anpu. Please show me the gates of my own demise.' Their insanity begs to be freed from this curse of societal norms. Always the first mistake, then the rest follow." Laughter echoed from the snakes twining around Victor. As he whispered these musings, the words ensnared a group of Venezuelans nearby, inciting them into a frenzy of violence without understanding the spark. Victor watched, casually tossing a silver dollar their way as if to say, "Welcome to the sanctuary," his smirk a shadow under the flickering streetlights. He calls to the boys, 'there now before you boys get into trouble remember this, you're only seeing the lions teeth, yet you haven't seen what triggered it.' They stared at Victor, startled, as he bid them farewell with a two-finger salute from his left temple and continued wandering down the street.
A drone sliced through the air, its camera lens capturing the serpentine twists of the Chicago River below. Victor, watching its flight, was transported to his youth, to days spent cobbling together a demonic owl from discarded household trinkets and an owl decoy. He would pilot this macabre creation through his neighborhood, a spectral puppeteer orchestrating nocturnal ballets which both delighted and unnerved his unsuspecting audience. A sinister grin unfurled across his lips, a shadow's whisper, as memories of those simple machines mingled with the sophisticated arsenal he commanded today. In the digital age, Victor had become a maestro of manipulation, his tools refined yet no less mischievous. Social media platforms were his stage, targeted advertisements and spoofed numbers his actors, each one playing their part in his grand, deceptive symphony. With the deftest touch, he planted seeds of doubt, spun webs of misinformation, transforming allies into adversaries, stitching chaos into the fabric of daily lives with mere whispers masquerading as shouts. His schemes were crafted with such subtlety, woven so seamlessly into the warp and weft of reality, that his victims believed themselves architects of their own undoing.
The crowning jewel of his current machinations was a prototype drone, a whimsical homage to the contraptions of his youth yet imbued with the precision of modern technology. This drone, engineered to navigate from the chilly confines of his refrigerator to the steamy oasis of his rooftop hot tub, was a testament to his technical acumen. Crafted to be mended with mere baubles from any corner hardware store, it stood as a symbol of practical genius, a playful yet potent emblem of his enduring craft.
Victor glimpsed a universe of possibilities within this project, each drone a seed from which new opportunities might bloom. "Perhaps I could craft a model for a dive shop in Australia," he mused. "A sentinel to monitor the slow dance of decay among the coral reefs." Such a gift could forge pathways, perhaps even secure an internship, an opportunity to wield his 417 subclass visa before its flame flickered out. The prospect of traversing Australia's vast landscapes, of weaving his influence through uncharted territories and minds, sparked a thrill within him. Beyond the realm of circuitry and code, Victor possessed a profound mastery over the human psyche. He had the uncanny ability to read individuals, to delve into the murky depths of their insecurities and desires. With the finesse of a sculptor, he could mold a woman’s perception, convincing her of a soul-deep connection, crafting mirages of perfect compatibility. Yet, for all his prowess in the art of deception, Victor adhered to his own strict code. He eschewed physical violence, never staining his hands with assault; his dominion was the mind, his influence woven through the delicate fabric of psychology.
In Chicago's suffocating underbelly, Victor's father regarded him not with paternal concern, rather with venomous animosity. Their relationship was a battleground, devoid of affection or empathy, cloaked threats masquerading as concern. "Victor, if you don't see a psychiatrist, I'm cutting you off," he declared, his voice a cold hiss, a deeper wish for Victor's demise lurking beneath. Victor's laugh, hollow, echoing through the night, a sound devoid of warmth, knew well the true nature of the psychiatrist and the deeper machinations of his father's cruel intentions. His father viewed him not as a son, yet as a nemesis, a presence he wished to erase from existence. Surrounded by the oppressive cityscape, Victor stood alone atop his building, the L line screeching past, the lights below mere distant, watchful eyes. "Tomorrow, I bend reality once more," he whispered into the void, his voice merging with the cold wind sweeping the rooftops.
The relentless pursuit of his father's malice shadowed him into the darkest city corners where shadows moved with intent, whispering of ancient, sinister forces. Here, in the corner of his eyes an oozing of black liquid drenched an alley, a tar monster, a grotesque manifestation of the city’s darkest secrets, its gnarled face and gleaming teeth mirroring the twisted relationship endured. Against a backdrop of a city thrumming with malevolent energy, Victor pondered the fragile line between delusion and reality. "It's only delusional till it works, so is it really delusional?" he mused aloud, his words dissipating into the night where the distinction between madness and genius blurred by darkness.
Retreating from the alley, his figure melded into the shadows, each step deliberate, burdened with the weight of a cursed legacy. He was acutely aware of his dual role, both manipulator and pawn in a grander, more malevolent game, a game orchestrated by forces predating the city itself. Every movement influenced by the sinister energy pervading Chicago, a legacy of corruption and darkness intertwined with his own existence. Victor understood his every action overseen by the ancient entity had taken interest in him, an entity finding delight in his struggle, offering protection at a dreadful cost.
Emerging from the shadows back into the flickering city lights, Victor found no solace in the illumination yet his smile stretched reaching his eyes showing his gleaming razor sharp teeth. These lights did not offer hope only humor; they were beacons of a foreboding reality. He resolved to continue bending reality, wielding the cursed power both protecting, ensnaring him, and pointing out the irony of his situation. Day after day, he would play this dark game, a master of deceit entwined with an ancient force more profound and sinister than any could fathom.
With one final, lingering look at the alley where darkness reigned supreme, Victor Kane laughed, a hollow echo fading as he stepped into the nearby pub. Inside, the warm glow contrasted starkly with the night's chilling embrace, yet the shadows seemed merely to lurk at the edges, waiting. At their usual spot by the worn bar, he found Billy Smith, his old high school Basketball teammate, with two pints of beer ready. They clinked glasses, the sound slicing through the hum of conversations around them. "To the unexpected," Victor intoned, his voice laced with a hint of irony. As they settled into the rhythm of their catch-up, the conversation inevitably turned toward the unfolding news, the war in Ukraine, an event that had caught the world off guard.
"No one ever saw it coming," Billy remarked, his tone a mix of wonder and concern.
Victor's eyes flickered with a dark amusement, and raising his glass again, he offered a toast, this time in Latin, a language that carried the weight of history and secrets. "Ad profundis malorum," he declared, which translated to 'To the depths of evils.'
Billy paused, the words hanging between them like a veil being slowly drawn back to reveal a hidden scene. The toast was enigmatic, resonant with Victor’s acknowledgment of the chaos brewing both near and far, a chaos that, perhaps, only he could navigate.
As the night deepened within the grimy confines of the pub, where every corner whispered of misdeeds and the air hung heavy with the scent of stale beer and lost hopes, the laughter and chatter provided a deceptive cover for the profound game silently playing in Victor’s mind. His cryptic toast, "Ad profundis malorum," echoed a darker undertone amidst the jovial noise.
Across the bar, a woman with long jet black hair and piercing grey eyes watched Victor. Clad in a striking red full-grain leather trench coat, her presence was undeniably conspicuous, yet paradoxically, she remained unnoticed. Despite her short stature, she was fit, her features sharply defined, an attractiveness seemingly almost otherworldly amidst the grime of the pub. Curiously, not even the barkeep spared her a glance, as if she existed in a separate realm, visible only to those she chose to confront. As Billy excitedly shared his plans to open a dive shop with a taco bar on the roof, the woman’s lips moved in a whisper, her voice a soft, clear bell in the din, carrying a dire warning. "I know what you are. We found you." At that moment, a flashback surged through Victor’s mind, a haunting image of a colonial girl he once saw in the Fraser Experimental Forest. His girlfriend at the time had turned to him, her voice tinged with unease. "Victor, do you see what I see? The girl? Yeah, the girl. I can feel something following us. As if it knows what we are yet won't approach, yet I can feel it." This vivid recollection now seemed a prelude to the current moment, a chilling reminder the forces he had glimpsed back then were the same now declaring their presence.
The evening wound down with plans made and stories shared, yet the woman’s prophetic words and the ghostly memory of the girl hung unseen in the air, portending looming confrontations between the light she embodied and the shadow following Victor Kane. As the patrons began to drift away, the shadows reclaiming their territory within the pub, the mysterious woman’s figure faded into the background, her message delivered, her purpose yet unclear but undoubtedly intertwined with Victor’s fate.
The end.

Having to teach people how to treat me and having to enter potential conflicts and fights for dominance is exhausting to me and because everyone tests your boundaries (mostly unintentionally) so they can understand you, and so I find it extremely debilitating to be around other people. I often have short fuse with others where if someone makes one mistake to upset me, I feel severely disappointed and like I have distance myself completely from that person. All of this has resulted in me identifying myself as an "introvert" even though I was always naturally extroverted. I just prefer to be alone rather than around other people's exhausting behaviours. I'm conflict avoidant because I find irrational and explosive emotions to be extremely inhuman and unnecessary even though they should be a normal part of human relationships. And when someone gets passionate or aggressive around me, I find it hard to stick up for myself and I kinda freeze or start downplaying their point and invalidating them (perhaps this is really bad) so they give up and stop making my nervous system shut off. My theory on why l'm like this is that I was around a very toxic and manipulative mother and explosively angry father who did not care about my free will or the fact that I'm an individual. When I'd try to set boundaries or voice things to them they'd dismiss or even explode and abusively gang up on me and so i eventually learned to keep things to myself and stay out of the way. While I helped me survive being around them, it doesn't help me with other relationships because I need to be able to trust people and share myself with them, but whenever there is a conflict or the other person seems to have strong emotions towards something, i back down quickly and say sorry and try to calm them down because I'm severely afraid they’ll get angry and humiliate or say something that really hurts me. I even found myself in a relationship with someone for longer than necessary because of my guilt and empathy and feeling like I should do what I said I’d do. I know that it's okay to change your mind about being in a relationship, even if you genuinely loved that person, but it's like I can't apply that validation to myself. And now this partner actually takes advantage of the fact that I just apologise and fawn when I don't need to (l've suspected he might be a narcissist and l'm his favourite supply). I cant live like this because I want genuinely safe and feeling relationships with other people and I don't wanna live my life encountering people who want to exploit me some more and get away with it because I have zero boundaries! Sorry for the long message, there was a lot to say. How do I fix this and how do I build my nervous system so that I can make a stand for myself and vocalise what I want?

Have you ever heard of a magnetic screen door? If not, you're in for a treat!
We will explore what a magnetic screen door is and how it works. We will also discuss the numerous benefits of using one, such as easy entry and exit, keeping bugs out, and saving energy.
We will delve into the different types of magnetic screen doors, how to install them, tips for maintenance, common issues to watch out for, and more.
So, sit back, relax, and let's dive into the world of magnetic screen doors!

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Key Takeaways:

• Easy to install and use, magnetic screen doors provide a convenient solution for keeping bugs out and allowing for natural ventilation.
• With various types available, including retractable, hanging, and sliding, there is a magnetic screen door for every doorway.
• Regular cleaning and proper maintenance can help prevent common issues with magnetic screen doors, such as weakening magnet strength or wear and tear.

What Is a Magnetic Screen Door?

A magnetic screen door is a convenient and versatile solution for keeping insects out while allowing a refreshing breeze to flow through your living space. Typically made of PVC coated polyester mesh, these doors feature velcro strips and magnets for easy installation and use.
These screen doors are designed to fit most standard door sizes, and some models are customizable, allowing you to choose the perfect fit for your specific doorway.
The variety of colors available ensures that you can find a magnetic screen door that complements the aesthetics of your home.
Privacy screens are an essential feature of many magnetic screen doors, providing not only protection from insects but also a shield from prying eyes in busy outdoor settings.

How Does a Magnetic Screen Door Work?

A magnetic screen door operates through the use of strategically placed magnets along the edges that ensure a secure closure after entry or exit. This mechanism effectively prevents bugs and insects from entering the living space while allowing a continuous flow of fresh air through the PVC mesh material.
These magnets act as a powerful force, promptly pulling the screen closed behind anyone passing through. The PVC mesh screen acts as a dual-action feature, filtering out dust and providing excellent ventilation without compromising on security. This combination ensures that homes remain pest-free, while still enjoying the benefits of a constant breeze flowing through the room. The seamless blend of magnetic closures and durable mesh makes these screen doors an innovative solution to keep indoor spaces bug-free and airy.

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What Are the Benefits of Using a Magnetic Screen Door?

Utilizing a magnetic screen door offers numerous advantages, including easy access for entry and exit, protection against bugs and insects, natural ventilation that brings in a refreshing breeze, and energy efficiency by reducing the need for artificial cooling systems.
These doors play a crucial role in enhancing the connection between indoor and outdoor spaces. They create a seamless transition, making it easier to move between the two areas without any barriers. This not only promotes a sense of openness but also allows for better air circulation, improving the overall air quality within the living space.
With the installation of magnetic screen doors, you can enjoy the beauty of the outdoors while maintaining a level of privacy, especially when compared to traditional outdoor curtains. These doors contribute to energy savings by allowing natural light to enter the home, reducing the reliance on artificial lighting during the day.

Allows for Easy Entry and Exit

One of the primary benefits of a magnetic screen door is its seamless installation process that enables convenient entry and exit from your living space without the need for complex mechanisms or tools.
These innovative screen doors only require basic household tools to set up, making it a hassle-free addition to your home. By following the straightforward instructions provided, you can easily attach the magnetic strips to your door frame in a matter of minutes.
Once installed, the magnetic screen door effortlessly opens and closes, allowing for a smooth transition between your indoor and outdoor spaces. Its user-friendly design is ideal for those who value simplicity and functionality in their home improvement projects.

Keeps Bugs and Insects Out

The PVC mesh material of a magnetic screen door acts as a barrier against insects and bugs, ensuring a pest-free environment within your living space. Regular cleaning with appropriate agents helps maintain its effectiveness.
By incorporating PVC mesh in the construction of the screen door, homeowners create a strong line of defense against unwanted critters while still allowing fresh air to circulate. The mesh structure effectively blocks out mosquitoes, flies, and other pests without obstructing the view or airflow.
To ensure continued protection, it is crucial to conduct routine cleanings using gentle agents that preserve the integrity of the material. This not only helps in removing any trapped debris or dust but also safeguards the door's durability against wear and tear due to dirt accumulation.

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Provides Natural Ventilation

By allowing a refreshing breeze to pass through, a magnetic screen door provides natural ventilation that enhances indoor air quality and creates a comfortable environment. Privacy screens can be integrated for added security.
One of the key advantages of incorporating magnetic screen doors is their ability to facilitate the circulation of fresh air throughout your living space. This not only helps in reducing stuffiness but also contributes to maintaining a healthier indoor atmosphere by minimizing the build-up of pollutants and odors.
The option to include privacy screens further enhances the functionality of these doors. The privacy screens provide an additional layer of security, preventing unwanted intrusions while still allowing airflow to pass through effortlessly.

Saves Energy

The use of a magnetic screen door promotes energy efficiency by reducing the reliance on artificial cooling systems, leading to potential cost savings. Combining it with outdoor curtains can further enhance insulation.
When these two elements are paired together, the magnetic screen door acts as a barrier against insects and allows fresh air to flow into the space, reducing the need for constant air conditioning usage. This results in lower electricity bills and decreased energy consumption, aligning with sustainable living practices.
Incorporating outdoor curtains alongside the magnetic screen door creates an additional layer of protection from heat gain or loss, effectively maintaining indoor temperatures during different seasons. Properly sealed windows and doorways play a crucial role in preventing energy wastage, promoting a comfortable living environment without the need for excessive heating or cooling."

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What Are the Different Types of Magnetic Screen Doors?

There are various types of magnetic screen doors available, including retractable, hanging, and sliding options, each offering unique features and installation methods to suit different door configurations and preferences.
Retractable magnetic screen doors are popular for their sleek and space-saving design, ideal for single entry doors or French doors that need easy access.
Hanging magnetic screen doors, on the other hand, provide a cost-effective solution for temporary use or renters, with easy setup and removal.
Sliding magnetic screen doors are perfect for patio or sliding doors, offering seamless operation without obstructing the view.

Retractable Magnetic Screen Doors

Retractable magnetic screen doors feature a roll-up mechanism that allows for easy installation and operation, making them an ideal choice for doorways with limited space or aesthetic preferences.
These innovative doors offer a practical solution for keeping insects out while maintaining airflow and natural light indoors. The unique design ensures that the screen neatly rolls away when not in use, maximizing space efficiency.
Due to their versatility, they can be installed on various entryways, including French doors, sliding patio doors, and single doors. The user-friendly installation process makes it convenient for homeowners to set them up without the need for professional assistance.

Hanging Magnetic Screen Doors

Hanging magnetic screen doors are suspended from a top rail and provide effective insect protection while offering easy passage for humans and pets through the center opening.
These innovative doors are designed to keep pesky bugs like flies, mosquitoes, and gnats out of your home while allowing fresh air to flow freely. The strong magnets strategically placed along the edges ensure that the door snaps shut behind you, preventing any unwanted invaders from sneaking inside. The convenience of simply walking through the magnetic closure without using your hands makes them ideal for busy households with children and pets.

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Their sleek and unobtrusive design adds a modern touch to any doorway.

Sliding Magnetic Screen Doors

Sliding magnetic screen doors glide along tracks to open and close, ensuring a snug fit that keeps insects out while providing a smooth operation for users. Proper installation is crucial to maximize their effectiveness.
Regarding the features of sliding magnetic screen doors, their design allows them to effortlessly slide along the designated tracks, offering a user-friendly experience that blends functionality and convenience. One of the standout qualities is their ability to be customized to fit various door sizes and types, catering to different home setups and preferences. This customization factor ensures that the door snugly fits in place, leaving no gaps for pesky insects to sneak through.
Installing these doors requires attention to detail and precision. Fit accuracy is paramount to prevent any gaps that could compromise the insect protection they provide. An improperly installed screen door may not only let insects in but also hinder the smooth operation of the door itself. Ensuring a precise installation is key to enjoying the full benefits of a sliding magnetic screen door.

How to Install a Magnetic Screen Door?

Installing a magnetic screen door is a straightforward process that begins with measuring your door frame accurately, followed by preparing the components and securing the screen door in place using the provided instructions.
Once you have measured the width and height of your door frame, ensure to double-check the accuracy to avoid any fitting issues later on. Accurate measurements are crucial for a seamless installation process.
Next, clear the door frame area of any debris or obstructions that may hinder the installation. This step will create a clean surface for attaching the magnetic screen door.
Before beginning the installation, carefully unpack all the components that come with the screen door kit and familiarize yourself with the different parts. Each component plays a vital role in ensuring the door functions properly.

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Measure Your Door Frame

Before installing a magnetic screen door, ensure precise measurements of your door frame to facilitate custom sizing and a secure fit, enhancing the door's overall effectiveness.
Accurate measurements play a crucial role in ensuring that the magnetic screen door aligns perfectly with the door frame. Custom sizing allows for a tailored fit, eliminating gaps that could let bugs in and maintaining the aesthetic appeal of your doorway. An ill-fitted screen door may not only compromise its functionality but also lead to potential damage or wear and tear. By taking the time to measure your door frame correctly, you set the foundation for a smooth installation process and long-term satisfaction with the performance of your magnetic screen door.

Prepare the Magnetic Screen Door

Preparing the magnetic screen door involves familiarizing yourself with the components, ensuring all parts are included, and verifying the integrity of the PVC coated polyester mesh before proceeding with the installation process.
Inspect all the elements of the magnetic screen door kit, including the frame, magnets, and fastening strips, to guarantee nothing is missing or damaged.
Check the PVC coated polyester mesh for any tears, holes, or weak spots that could compromise its effectiveness in keeping bugs out while allowing fresh air to flow through.
Address any issues with the mesh promptly by either repairing small damages with a patch or contacting the manufacturer for a replacement if necessary.

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Install the Screen Door

The final step in installing a magnetic screen door is to follow the manufacturer's instructions to securely attach the screen door to the door frame, ensuring proper alignment of magnets for effective closure and insect protection.
Ensure that the magnetic strips on both sides of the door are aligned correctly to allow for a strong magnetic closure.

• Start by positioning the door at the top of the frame and lining up the magnets on the screen with the corresponding magnets on the frame.
• Check for any gaps or misalignments, adjusting the positioning if necessary to guarantee a snug fit.

Following the guidelines meticulously will help in achieving a seamless installation and optimal performance of your magnetic screen door.

What Are Some Tips for Maintaining a Magnetic Screen Door?

To ensure the longevity and efficiency of your magnetic screen door, it is essential to clean it regularly using gentle cleaning agents that do not damage the PVC mesh. Avoid harsh chemicals that may compromise the door's integrity.
Regular cleaning not only helps in maintaining the overall appearance of the magnetic screen door but also ensures proper functioning by preventing clogs and blockages caused by dirt and debris. Insects, such as mosquitoes and flies, are common nuisances that can get trapped in the mesh, affecting the door's performance. By using appropriate cleaning agents, you can effectively eliminate these unwanted visitors while preserving the durability of the PVC mesh. It's crucial to keep in mind that harsh chemicals can deteriorate the materials over time, leading to tears and damage that may affect the door's effectiveness.

Clean Regularly

Regular cleaning of the PVC mesh on your magnetic screen door, using mild soapy water and a soft brush, helps remove dirt, dust, and debris that may impede the door's functionality. For vinyl magnet screen doors, gentle wiping is recommended.
When cleaning PVC mesh screens, start by removing the screen from the door frame, if possible, to clean it more thoroughly. Fill a bucket with warm water and a small amount of mild detergent to create a cleaning solution. Gently scrub the mesh with a soft brush or sponge to loosen any stubborn dirt or stains. Rinse the screen with clean water and allow it to air dry completely before reinstalling.
For vinyl magnet screen doors, use a damp cloth or sponge to wipe down the surface. Avoid using harsh chemicals or abrasive cleaners that can damage the vinyl material. Regular wiping will help maintain the appearance and longevity of the magnetic screen door.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

Avoid Harsh Chemicals

When cleaning your magnetic screen door, refrain from using harsh chemicals or abrasive cleaners that can cause damage to the PVC mesh material. Opt for mild cleaning agents to preserve the door's structural integrity.
This is crucial as harsh chemicals can lead to discoloration or weakening of the PVC mesh, which could compromise the overall effectiveness of the door in keeping bugs out while allowing fresh air to flow through.
By selecting gentle cleaning solutions, you not only maintain the aesthetic appeal of your magnetic screen door but also extend its lifespan, ensuring that it continues to function seamlessly for years to come.

Store Properly During Winter Months

During the winter months, it is advisable to store your magnetic screen door properly to prevent damage from harsh weather conditions. Consider removing and storing privacy screens and outdoor curtains for added protection.
Proper storage of your magnetic screen door involves more than just taking it down and leaving it in the garage. To ensure its longevity, protecting it from the snow, ice, and winds is crucial. Opt for a clean and dry storage space, away from moisture and extreme temperatures. If possible, store it in its original packaging or cover it with a sturdy material to prevent dust accumulation.
For those who have privacy screens or outdoor curtains attached, make sure to remove and store them properly as well. Clean them before storing to avoid mold growth during the months they are not in use.

What Are Some Common Issues with Magnetic Screen Doors?

While magnetic screen doors offer numerous benefits, common issues may arise such as magnet strength variations, fit and installation challenges, and wear and tear over time that can impact their performance and durability.

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One potential problem associated with magnetic screen doors is the inconsistent magnet strength. Due to variations in manufacturing or environmental factors, the magnetic attraction may not always be uniform, leading to gaps or ineffective closure.
Another common challenge lies in fit adjustments, as the screens may require precise installation to ensure a tight seal. Improper fit can result in insects sneaking through or the door not closing securely.
Long-term durability concerns come into play as the constant opening and closing of the door, exposure to elements, and normal wear and tear can degrade the quality over time, compromising its functionality.

Magnet Strength

One of the issues that users may encounter with magnetic screen doors is inconsistent magnet strength, leading to gaps in closure and reduced insect protection. Ensuring optimal magnet alignment can help address this challenge.
Proper magnet alignment is crucial in ensuring a secure and tight seal when the screen door is closed, preventing insects from entering the house. The strength of the magnets plays a key role in maintaining the integrity of the seal. Strong magnets help keep the door closed securely, maximizing its effectiveness in keeping bugs out. To enhance magnet strength, users can consider options like upgrading to higher-grade magnets or adding supplementary magnets along the door frame to improve closure reliability.

Fit and Installation

Proper fit and installation are crucial for the optimal performance of magnetic screen doors. Issues with fit and installation can result in gaps that compromise insect protection and airflow control, necessitating adjustments for a secure seal.
Ensuring that the magnetic screen door fits correctly is essential to prevent bugs and insects from entering your home while allowing fresh air to flow through. A common challenge during installation is getting the measurements right to avoid gaps that can undermine the door's effectiveness.
When facing fit issues, consider adjusting the tension of the screen or checking the alignment of the frame. Improper installation can lead to the door not closing properly or tearing prematurely. It's crucial to follow the manufacturer's instructions meticulously to ensure a snug fit and proper functioning.

Wear and Tear

Over time, magnetic screen doors may experience wear and tear due to frequent use and exposure to elements.
Regular upkeep is essential for ensuring that these doors function smoothly and efficiently. Dust, dirt, and debris can accumulate on the magnetic strips and mesh, causing them to deteriorate over time.
It is recommended to clean the door regularly using a gentle soap and water solution. Checking for loose screws, damaged components, and tears in the screen is crucial. Addressing these issues promptly through maintenance and timely repairs can significantly prolong the life of the door.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

Conclusion

In conclusion, magnetic screen doors offer a practical and efficient solution for enhancing indoor-outdoor connectivity, protecting against insects, and promoting natural ventilation. Coupled with the option to include privacy screens or outdoor curtains, these doors contribute to a comfortable and energy-efficient living environment.
These innovative doors not only keep bugs at bay but also allow for uninterrupted airflow, creating a refreshing ambiance inside the house. With the added feature of privacy screens, magnetic screen doors offer the flexibility to control visibility and enhance security without compromising on the aesthetic appeal. The incorporation of outdoor curtains provides an extra layer of insulation, helping maintain a stable indoor temperature throughout the seasons. Whether for a cozy reading nook or a lively patio, these doors cater to various preferences and seamlessly blend functionality with style.

Frequently Asked Questions

1. What is a magnetic screen door?

A magnetic screen door is a type of screen door that is designed to easily open and close using magnets instead of traditional hinge mechanisms. It is often used as a temporary solution for keeping insects out while allowing for easy access through the door.

2. How does a magnetic screen door work?

A magnetic screen door works by using a series of magnets that are sewn into the edges of the screen. When the door is opened, the magnets automatically align and close the screen behind the person walking through. As the person exits, the magnets separate and the screen opens again.

3. What are the benefits of using a magnetic screen door?

There are several benefits to using a magnetic screen door, including allowing for easy entry and exit without the need to constantly open and close a traditional door. It also helps keep insects and pests out while still allowing for fresh air and natural light to enter the space.

4. Can a magnetic screen door be used on any type of door?

Generally, magnetic screen doors can be used on most types of doors, including single and double doors, sliding doors, and even RV doors. However, it is important to check the dimensions and compatibility of the screen door with your specific door before purchasing.

5. How do you install a magnetic screen door?

Magnetic screen doors are typically easy to install and require no tools or drilling. Most models come with a velcro strip or adhesive tape that allows the screen to be attached to the door frame. It is important to follow the manufacturer's instructions for proper installation.

6. Are there any downsides to using a magnetic screen door?

While magnetic screen doors have many benefits, there are also a few potential downsides to consider. They may not be as durable as traditional screen doors and may not hold up well in extreme weather conditions. Some models may also not provide as much protection from strong winds or heavy rain.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

i have observed that following a vegan diet may lead to health problems in humans, including some that are quite severe. despite being advised to rely on pills and plants exclusively, we witness adverse health effects
it makes me question whether a herbivore diet is suitable for an omnivorous species

The biggest mistake my parents made was bringing me into this world. I find life utterly uninteresting. Everyone is just an NPC, destined to work their lives away and sell their soul to a corporation. That's all life is: you're born, you go to school to prepare for wage slavery, and then you grow up and become a full fledged wage slave. I just wish I was never born, because the truth is that my existence is not needed. The company I slave away for 40+ hours a week could easily hire a million others if I weren't here. My existence boils down to being a mere replaceable drone.
At this point I don't know why I'm even still here. My existence is just work, work, and more work. What an interesting life, where you have to work to even have basic necessities like food and water. When an animal wants these things, they just go up and get it. We are the only species that has allowed a piece of paper to determine whether we live or die, and it's honestly pathetic. Everyday I get jealous of animals and plants that live a simple existence.
I'm just so done and exhausted from this rat race. Everything in life revolves around money, a fucking piece of paper. Everyone competes for money, and everyone judges each other based on how much money they have. This life is just a joke. No other species on Earth allows a piece of paper to define their value. We are the only ones. In my next life, I hope I'm a cat or a bird. Anything but this garbage really. It's such an unfortunate thing to be a human being.

When I was 19/20, I was involved sexually and romantically with a woman I went to university with for a brief period of time. It was a horrible experience, full of humiliation and abuse, that (due to a very lonely and abusive upbringing) I felt responsible for “correcting”, as though it was on me to stop this person mistreating me. As a result I fell into the worst depression of my life to date, which included self-harm, both physical and things like reckless driving. I wanted to die. Eventually I cut this woman off and never spoke to her again for many years.
Later on, about 3 years later, she felt remorse and apologised to me. I felt as though she was doing this to absolve her own deep guilt, and told her that it was really nothing to do with me and that it was between her and her own guilty conscience to resolve this. I wished her the best and closed the chapter there.
From the time I cut her off, I went on a decade-long journey to heal myself. I changed everything in my life. I repaired relationships, worked on my faults, grew, learned, and truly blossomed into myself. I left home for many years and lived abroad, but I’ve been back now for a while and I’ve been dating someone for a year (M20s) who is truly my forever person. But he works with this woman. As of now, he doesn’t know about that very dark chapter of my life, or about the history between the two of us.
We live in a place with a small population and I know there are people who know of this aspect of my past. This woman, my abuser, openly told many people and said some horrible things about me while also outing me at the time as questioning my sexuality, in a conservative Muslim country. This endangered my safety and was a big part of why I left the country for many years. I was recently catching up with a professor of mine from uni, who I haven’t seen in 10 years, and she brought it up out of the blue. This gave me an actual physical reaction, almost like finding out someone leaked your nudes. I struggle with this aspect, but more than anything I have anxiety about my partner hearing about my past.
Lately I literally cannot sleep at night thinking of him potentially finding out about it. He knows I questioned my sexuality for a time, and never asked for details of any sort as he’s a progressive guy. I feel like I shouldn’t have to relive a horrible part of my personal history from over a decade ago just to tell him about it, and because of the professional relationship between them there’s no way it won’t affect things. At the same time there’s a small chance he hears it from someone else. She’s the only woman I’ve ever been entangled with and the most toxic, horrible, cruel experience of my life with another human.
I wish I could go back and change it. I wish I could go back to my young self and say: you deserve more. You deserve to be loved. But I can’t, and now I worry that it might somehow affect the love that I’ve found, that I’ve been looking for my whole life. It’s become a very heavy burden and I don’t know what to do.
Please if anyone has any advice, I would love to hear it.

So recently my tenth result had come out and it told me I had got 94.4%. I expected 98+ (as well as my teachers and family) so I was very shocked. I got my result when I was at Allen from my parents who had screenshot and sent it to me via WA along with a few 😘 emojis, which made my day. However, I still felt deep down that I had not even got 95 and maybe they were only pitying me. When I reached home, I saw how happy they were, they kept hugging me and said I had done very good, and dad even brought home a cake from me.
Most of my relatives and teachers called to show their appreciation, some teachers said they expected a bit more for me but they are happy nonetheless, which I took in a good way as they genuinely cared. I was surprised to see that many of my toxic relatives who had openly challenged my parents that I would not do well even congratulated me.
Except one.
This person is my uncle by relation though his grandson is my classmate (Indian blood relations go crazy sometimes). Well, I had always overperformed his son academically and their family always put the pressure on him as they did not like that. They failed to realize how good their son was in sports and athletics, and kept pressurizing him in studies which killed his inner athlete.
He had scored 81% in boards which was outstanding as he rarely used to cross 70% mark.
Anyways, this uncle called and started by telling my mom that I had done good but tenth marks don't matter and it all comes down to being a good human being. He said that his grandson though was growing up to be a great person. My mother said that I too was empathetic and kind, to which he said, 'Hope so'.
Today he came home and my mom called me to greet him. I touched his feet as is our custom, and he started as soon as he had blessed me. He told me, 'You have done a good job, no doubt, but your 'good job' isn't good. Everyone gets 90+ nowadays so it is no big deal. Back in my day even 60+ was a great deal. However, my grandson has done very good according to his level but you have not done anything great.' He continued rambling while me and my parents listened awkwardly.
Please suggest ways to murder him.

More misery bird? More misery bird. Really miserymaxxing with these fics I have going, but hey, this one is not that miserable actually! Krekos is back and ready to be dense and downcast, but maybe not quite miserable? Read and see!
Big thank you to NoP community for being great and supportive of my endeavors!
Also, obviously, big thanks to SpacePaladin15 for creating this universe and allowing fanfiction well to flow free!
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Memory transcription subject: Krekos, Krakotl Refugee
Date [standardized human time]: May 6th, 2137
I stare at the foul creature before me. Normally staring at something directly head on like that would be too predatory for me to do, but after nearly dying of bread yesterday, I didn’t feel patient enough to be gentle. The creature stared right back, though in a much more natural, prey-like way, tilting its head slightly as it looked back at me with one eye and let out a long bwok.
“Are you doing this now? Really?”, I ask, knowing full well it cannot respond.
Well, it can, if another bwok it made is any indication. Of course, translators aren’t yet advanced enough to translate non-sapient speech, but the intention behind sound is intuitively clear. It’s telling me to back off. Well, I tried the diplomatic approach at least.
Raising my wing I begin sliding the bird out of its nest, careful to keep any delicate joints out of its reach. It started clucking in upset indignation, struggling back and even trying to peck at me, but after realizing that I will not relent, it hopped out of the box and rushed out of the cattle house, revealing a single dead egg in the nesting box.
With relief, I finally pick up the last egg and head back to leave them at the house. Turns out that while Reginald didn’t forget to both lock them up yesterday and let them out today, he did neglect feeding them both times, as well as collecting the harvest. So when I was driven back here in early morning, the first thing I did was making sure they were taken care of. I can’t say the horrid birds looked in any way hungry, but the moment I poured the feeding grain for them, they attacked it with more viciousness than I’d expect of an actual predator. And yet only thirteen were present at the feeding, as the one that’s usually the target of flock’s ire remained in the cattle house yet again, Reginald leaving it to it, being unaware of its undesirable habit of trying to hatch dead eggs.
With eggs delivered, I flew my way to my usual spot atop the cattle house and could finally relax. The loner beast first made its way to feast on the scraps of the grain that other birds already all have had their fill of, so I wasn’t too concerned. Instead I tried to reflect on the morning I had so far.
Waking up at the hospital did make me momentarily panic before I remembered the precluding events. Not that I could properly panic, feeling the most starved I’ve been my whole life, and too weak to try flying out of the window. Thankfully, the breakfast they provided was actually well made with krakotl needs in mind, algae soup alongside a few slices of bread, this time without any horrid human ideas like putting eggs in there. Eggs! Turns out they put eggs in some kinds of bread! That’s how I got sick! Eggs! The thought of what I consumed even now made me queasy, and it definitely made breakfast a much less appetizing affair than it would have been without that knowledge, but back then the hunger won over the disgust.
Lena did keep her promise and came to pick me up extra early. Her being a staff member at the hospital gave her some extra privilege, I assume, hence why I was released without any forms needing to be filled out personally. She did have important business today too, which probably explained the earlyness and urgency of her driving me back to her house.
That did not mean I escaped her ire, however. While I couldn’t pinpoint anything to identify the man, as Bob was apparently a common name, that offered me bread, we did come to understanding that he was likely either unaware of the nutritional contents of it, or of extent to which the Cure-induced allergy would be affecting a krakotl. Yet, Lena seemed much angrier at me for failing to take any precautions. Turns out that was the purpose of medicinal injectors, epipens as humans call them, that were provided to me. I was supposed to have them on me in case I accidentally ingested contaminated food. Nobody told me that, I was just handed them back when I first received the necessities at the refugee camp and I had no clue what they were for. Then she also berated me for eating random food from strangers and ignoring bad flavors. Turns out that brioche bread isn’t actually bitter at all, and that was my body reacting to an allergen in it. Reaction that I unwisely elected to ignore, to further ire of my host. By the end, several new rules of my stay here were made, including not eating things I don’t know and always having at least one epipen on me. Thankfully, these rules would be ones I’d start following even without them being established, so I won’t have to concern myself with being kicked out over accidentally breaking them.
As if following the rules will be enough to make them like you.
Trying to distract myself from thoughts of yesterday’s incident, I focused my attention on the flock. All birds accounted for, so at least I knew that my absence did not result in the predator coming to snatch one of them. I do not wish to insult my hosts, but Reginald is far from most attentive people in matters unrelated to his job, and I am not sure the birds were watched at all while I was out. Speaking of, my scannings of surrounding treelines revealed no sign of the predator today. Perhaps it departed to hunt elsewhere, or maybe it ventured too close to a more populated area and exterminators dealt with it.
Actually, did human exterminators work similar to Federation ones? I knew for a fact they had them, although they seemed like a market of private organizations if advertisements are anything to judge by. Still, what methods do they use? I know humans oppose fire, and do not believe in predatory taint, but surely they have measures to protect themselves? They are, by self-admission, far from the best natural predator, and I doubt Earth’s non-sapient predators would just leave humans be. Maybe I should call one of those human exterminator agencies and call them in to deal with that predator? I haven’t told Lena or Reginald about it, as I didn’t want to bother them, but it could pose a serious threat to the cattle, but maybe that’s the way I could resolve it without involving them?
I have not done nearly as much research into human culture and lifestyle as I should have, considering that I’ve lived on Earth for over half a year now, but the sheer width of the topic always overwhelmed me the moment I opened internet search app to the point where I just closed it right away.
And you expect to start studying again with that attitude? You’ll flunk out even from this primitive predator education course.
Extra loud call from the flock made me refocus my attention on them, but it was nothing. Just the loner getting pecked extra hard and lashing out against assailants, causing a small aimless stampede as all the birds ran around in circles, puffing up at one another. The assailants now looked a lot more like victims. I could understand those birds more than I could humans at least. The loner bird is clearly an odd one out. It’s the only one repeatedly trying to hatch unfertilized eggs it lays, and it seems to always avoid the rest of the flock. Humans may deny the existence of Predator Disease, but they can’t deny that prey and predator both can and will sometimes behave in unnatural ways that may threaten the herd's safety. Or pack’s, in case of humans. Birds must know on instinctual level that the loner’s behavior is unnatural and are attempting to combat the Predator Disease on instinctual level. And since that is natural, I still will not interfere in this, unless the loner bird actually becomes a threat to others or will start getting too injured. The first time I attempted to pick one of the birds up was the only time for a good reason, as I have learned their viciousness all too well.
DING-DING
The sudden loud ring startled me enough that I nearly tumbled off the roof. Who would be coming over now? Lena and Reginald have left together and shouldn’t be back until afternoon, and they’d never use the bell. That means someone must be here for them. But wouldn’t they warn anyone to not come over? Especially with their plans for today.
With nobody to answer these questions, I had no choice but to go and discover the answer myself, flying up and over the house, towards the entrance gate. The moment I passed the house roof, I already saw a familiar silhouette. It was the human child from a few days ago.
Thankfully, Lena’s insistence on me carrying an epipen at all times meant I also carried my satchel at all times too, so I didn’t have to go grabbing my holopad, and took it out. But before I could even launch the translator TTS app to type out a greeting, the child was already hopping in place with excitement.
“Mr. Krekos! Hi! I came over to visit!”, she exclaimed, showing off her teeth in an unnerving expression of human joy. I simply tried to avoid that and focused on the pad, typing out my response.
“Hello, Rosie. Why are you here?”
The question was genuine, as the child was not carrying any more of that honey substance from last time.
“I just came over to visit you! Is that okay? Are Mr. and Ms. Vince okay with it?”
Visit... me? Why? While I was confused, I did instinctively type out a reply.
“They did tell me visitors are allowed as long as there’s no trouble when I first moved in.”
And before I could type a followup message asking her why she’s here, she already let out a joyous roar and ran past me.
“Can I see the chickens?”, she asked, and not waiting for an answer, rushed past the house and towards the cattle yard.
“Wait! You’ll scare them!”, I yell after her, but of course without a translator she can’t understand me as she runs like she already knows where to go.
And indeed she has, quickly rushing up to the open field where the birds were grazing. Thankfully she didn’t start chasing them, instead just approaching the flock from a distance and swaying in place, watching them with what I assume was some sort of predatory excitement at the sight of prey. Maybe that’s where the contained hunting instinct of human children showed themselves? In chasing small birds? I was still more subdued, considering she stopped shy of causing a small stampede, but still.
“Grandpa used to take me with him! He helped watch this farm until Mr. and Ms. Vince moved in. I like chickens! I think they’re cute.”, the child told me innocently as she kept swaying and watching as the beasts grazed upon insects of the pasture.
That revelation was... interesting. I suppose it makes sense that between the original owner of this land dying in the bombings and Lena and Reginald moving in, it would be unattended. With nobody to feed and watch over those things, they would be long dead for sure. And it was Rosie’s grandfather... Speaking of. I typed out my words.
“Does your grandfather know you’re here?”
She seemed to get a weird look as she stopped her excited swaying, fiddling with her hands instead. Looks like I asked the correct question.
“...he knows I am out visiting neighbors.”
That did not answer my question. I squinted at the human child, and she dipped her head as she continued.
“...he doesn’t know I’m here specifically. Or that an alien even lives here...”, she explained, her tone suddenly more sullen.
I couldn’t help but squint at that, and it appears that my expression was readable enough that even a human could see the suspicion, as she continued.
“I’m sorry... But if I told grandpa, he’d tell me I’m forbidden from talking to you, like he forbade me from talking to hedgehog people in town... But I want to talk to you! You’re nice and you’re a space bird!”
The child was actually working around the rules established by her guardian to come see me. I don’t know if I should be glad or concerned. Clearly, the man is anti-alien in his opinions, and I’d rather that kind of man not know about how close he lives to one. At the same time, I’d rather not encourage a child for lying to their guardian in order to meet a stranger they know they aren’t allowed to interact with... So I just took the middle path with my next message.
“I see. What did you want to talk to me about then?”, TTS speaks for me.
Her stiffened body language disappears, replaced again with earlier excitement.
“I wanna know more about space! And aliens! It’s all so cool but grandpa says it’s all dangerous because mom and dad died. But it’s not! The hedgehog people were nice, and you’re nice too!”
I wasn’t sure about that logic, but my self-preservation told me I shouldn’t try convincing her to go confessing. Instead I focused more on her chosen topic.
“I am not sure I am the best person to ask about space. I am not a scientist or traveler.”
“But you’re from there! You know way more than me. I don’t even know what you are called. And there’s gotta be cool things out in space!”
I let out a sigh. I suppose it’s childlike curiosity at its finest. So unfamiliar with mundane that it is a wonder. I remember being like that about becoming a doctor.
And then you let your teacher die.
I quickly tapped on the pad.
“Okay, I can answer questions, but I may not know everything.”
The noise that came out of the girl was like a squeal of a panicked dossur as she started hopping and spinning in place.
“Yes! Yes! Thank you, Mr. Krekos!” Sudden movement did cause me to recoil a bit, which in turn caused her to cease her happy flailing and adjust her little dress. “I dunno where to start though... Hm... What are you?”
...for all my trepidation about not knowing answers, I should have anticipated that the questions she asks will be rather age-appropriate and on the same level as we learn in our first school classes. At least I won’t disappoint her then.
“I am from a species called ‘krakotl’. We’re avians, as is obvious. Our home is...” dead, gone, reduced to glass and ash by our own hubris “...was Nishtal. A beautiful planet...”
Thankfully she did not question my hesitant pause. Instead she just nodded along.
“What about the hedgehog people? I already know venlil, but they’re the only ones I know name of.”
Hedgehog people in town she mentioned earlier. The only species I could think of that could be seen there would be the gojid. I have no clue what hedgehogs are, but probably some creature with visible similarity to them.
“They are called ‘gojid’, and they’re from gojid Cradle. Both of our species are... well, used to be known for our might and protecting other species of Federation.”
I am not sure if that’s something to brag about, considering... everything. But I didn’t want this child to get brought down with depressing regrets of our species. Let her know something nicer instead. She clearly lost a lot, but there’s still joy left in her. I wouldn’t want to be the one to ruin that.
“Cool! What about other people? I wanna know more!”
And so I went on, telling her about various species, although I mostly focused on ones in this new human-led union, only mentioning kolshians and farsul beyond that. It’s weird explaining to a child what a tilfish or a harchen looks like, but thankfully my holopad isn’t just a method of communicating with implant-less children. With access to interstellar web, I could easily pull up pictures of various alien species to show to her, even if she struggled to believe that some of them were even sapient purely based off of looks. With how varied species in Federation are, and how some of us admittedly aren’t too far physiologically from our more primal ancestors.
Among other topics, she asked me to tell her interesting things, which I didn’t know much of. I told her about Venlil Prime’s tidally locked status, a rarity among habitable planets, much less homeworlds for species. I told her about the unique architecture of Mileau, designed to accommodate both species of regular size and dossur themselves. I told her about Colia medical academies, some of the most beautiful medical facilities in the galaxy.
I wish I was more well-travelled, but I just wasn’t. My whole life, I never left Nishtal until the extermination fleet took me despite my protests. That may have been what saved my life...
Not that I, of all people, deserved it...
“Hey! Stop that!”
I flinched as I heard the child yell, but quickly realized that it wasn’t directed at me. Instead, Rosie was rushing down towards the chicken flock, breaking up the fight in which the loner was being pecked by a few larger chickens. As the human child approached, the birds stopped their infighting and scattered in different directions, crowing in loud panic and discontent. On instinct, I found myself rushing towards the child, forgetting about translation entirely.
“What are you doing?! Don’t touch them!”
I didn’t want her to hurt the cattle accidentally, and I didn’t want her to get hurt by the angry birds in return. But, it seems like the moment the birds scattered, she was satisfied with her actions and turned back to me, wearing another one of her happy smiles.
“Sorry, Mr. Krekos, I just saw chickens being mean. Bad chickens.” She explained.
I was baffled. Why would she interfere like that? When I tried that back when I was just starting, that got me pecked! But with her, the birds just scattered. What if they pecked her?
I took the pad out again and started typing quickly.
“That was dangerous. Why did you do that? What if they attacked you? Why are you even interfering in their natural dynamics?”, questions flowed out of my pad with an artificial human voice.
The girl simply giggled.
“They’re chickens! They aren’t dangerous. They don’t peck that painful and I’ve been scratched worse before. And I have to stop it because bullying is wrong.”
Then she actually noticed that the one that was being attacked wandered close. She casually approached it from behind, the blind spot and just reached down and grabbed it, picking the bird up. I was ready to rush to help the bird when...
“Mwah! There, all better.”
She did a human ‘kiss’ on the back of the cattle bird’s neck before releasing it, the surprise of it causing it to rush off. I knew what kisses were, I’ve seen enough of them between Lena and Reginald, but I believed they were gestures of intimate affection, not... what was even that?
It seems Rosie noticed my confusion as she explained.
“You gotta kiss it so it heals better! That’s what mom taught me.” The child displayed that smile of hers shamelessly. With how much I was being exposed to it, it almost wasn’t unnerving anymore. Still, it was interesting to learn that kisses are seen as something that helps wounds. I guess some species do have saliva with mild antiseptic properties, wouldn’t be too out there to assume humans are the same. And if that’s the case, maybe that’s how the kissing tradition started? Exchange of protective fluid between lovers?
“I see. I did not know that.” I responded before letting my puffed feathers relax. Okay, this whole ‘watching a human child’ thing is turning out to somehow be even more stressful than I expected at first.
“Wait, Mr. Krekos, what time is it?” She suddenly asked, looking up at the sky.
“It’s nearly twelve.” I respond, holopad having a convenient clock for local time.
“Oh no! I need to be home soon! Was nice seeing you Mr. Krekos gotta go bye!”
Before I had even a chance at typing out an answer or my own goodbye, the child sprinted away and back towards the entrance. I had to take flight just to keep up, and even then she just turned around, waved her arm at me and then kept sprinting down the road after leaving the gate. I simply offered a small wave of a wing back before locking the gate again. I suppose it is hard to keep track of time without a device or clock nearby...
Well, at least I had the usual peace and quiet now. And learned a bit more about the creatures I was in charge of. I should really try to deal with my aversion to looking things up on the human internet...
Just as I was about to head back out towards the yard, I heard a loud car horn, a familiar one, getting my attention. Lena’s car. There they were, signaling me, probably having spotted me at the gate from afar. Deciding to make use of my presence here, and hoping to avoid needing to explain that I had a surprise visitor earlier, I went ahead and opened the large gate, allowing the car to enter.
Once it was parked in the usual space, the doors opened and three people came out. Lena and Reginald were both looking a bit disheveled, but their faces carried these smiles that seemed wider than ever before. And third person... Was a stranger. A human I knew of, but never actually met. As he exited the car, a large bag in one hand, he just stared at me, standing in the front yard...
“...okay, I expected many things when I was told you guys housed a refugee, but not this.”
Oh no. Oh no, he was not one of the ones that was willing to overlook an invader that partook in bombing of his planet being allowed to walk free, of course, Lena and Reginald were the weird ones like that, doesn’t mean their son won’t be... I felt the panic rising as I realized I’d need to return to the camp. Why was I upset about that? This was supposed to just have been a way to make money, but now I have a free education program. Do I need to stay? No, but... Why?! Why do I not want to leave?
“Ken, you said it’s going to be alright no matter what it is, right? Wanted us to keep it a surprise to meet a new friend?” Lena’s voice. She should have told him, that’d give me time to prepare why didn’t they give me time why.
“No, no problems, just, really surprised, that’s all... uh... hey, buddy, you okay? You’re really... trembly.”
He was approaching me, and instinct took over as I recoiled, before stuttering out my answer.
“I-I’m fine...”
...thankfully translators don’t translate voice cracks. I hope, at least...
“Hey, relax... I have no problem with you being a krakotl, I just didn’t think...” He looks over at Lena and Reginald. “Calm down... I can wear my visor if you want?”
Right. Those things humans use to hide their scary faces from us.
“I... I’m good...”
Why would it last? It almost felt good after all.
There was some emotion I struggled to read on the young human’s face, as he sighed and shook his head.
“I screwed this up, I’m sorry. Let... Let me try again.” He straightened out, and adjusted his clothing, before slowly approaching me and giving me a small smile, no teeth showing. “Hello. My name is Kenneth Vince and I'm son of Lena and Reginald Vince. I was told you’re a refugee they took in to help out. It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
That... snapped me out of it. Right... He was... not upset at my existence. He was just very surprised that Lena and Reginald weren’t. That’s a reasonable thing to be surprised about, considering I was surprised about it to this day. I tried to compose myself as I responded.
“My name is Krekos. I live here as... hired help with the cattle. It’s... nice to meet you?”
The smile on Kenneth’s face widens, though he still refrains from showing his teeth. Instead, he extends a hand towards me. A handshake is a human gesture that I found far from comfortable, but I didn’t want to give him a reason to change his mind on acceptability of my existence, so I took it with a wingclaw. He gently took it and held for a few seconds before letting go and sighing again, turning to his parents.
“You know, I always thought you guys would be empty nesters, but I never thought it’d be that literal.”
That got all three of them laughing, as I just tilted my head in confusion. I was fairly sure there were no empty nests in the house until after I adjusted the attic room for my own accommodations. Still, I took the laughter as a sign that the tense moment had fully passed and let my ruffled feathers slowly rest.
“Let’s head inside. Krekos, we’re having dinner, you’re welcome to join us.” Reginald said, picking up Kenneth’s bag. I tilted my head a little and he followed up with elaboration. “We will be having meat... But there’s still going to be stuff you can eat too. It’s a celebration, so I prepared a bit of everything.”
“Dad, you shouldn’t have!” Kenneth responded with embarrassment.
“None of that! Our son returned from the war, alive and a hero, and we can have a celebration. Krekos, I know you’re still... uncertain about meat so you don’t—”
“I’ll join.”
Wait, who said that? And why did they say that in my voice?
Wait, that was me. Why did I say that?
“That’s great to hear! I’ve got some nice steamed broccoli and some vegetarian fried rice as sides that you’ll enjoy!” Reginald smiled at me and I felt myself shrinking into my feathers. That the humans didn’t notice at least, proceeding into the house instead.
Well, looks like I signed my warrant. At least my bag and my epipen were on me in case something at the table triggers the allergy again. Would be rather unfortunate to have it happen two days in a row.
And that’s how, in just ten or so minutes, I found myself sitting at the dining perch, while humans took seats in chairs, all consuming chunks of roasted flesh and somehow managing to also stuff pieces of equally roasted plants in, and converse with one another. You wouldn’t be able to tell on first look, but despite their mouths being relatively small, especially for a predator, it seems they compensate for it by having those be near bottomless in both hunger and small talk.
I am not sure how I managed to shift my focus away from them consuming animal matter in front of me, however vat grown it might have been, and onto their conversation instead, but I succeeded. I suppose that was just part of me going native around predators. Soon, I’ll be the one feasting along with them before I know it, and snacking on those epipens to not die of it.
Like you could ever be on the same level as humans.
“So, Fahl? That’s where you were sent after the Battle of Earth?” Lena asked.
“Yeah. From what I heard, we got a light posting compared to guys at Sillis or Mileau. The most I had to deal with was some exterminator insurgents.”
That’s right. Since harchen participated in the Extermination Fleet, they were one of those who were occupied by humans during the war. It makes sense that there was at least some ground resistance.
“Honestly, the worst thing out there was the heat. Not the flamethrower kind, the climate. The place was so damn dry and hot. At least exterminators you could subdue or evade. Not so much with the scorching sun!”
I couldn’t resist a small chuckle at the idea of a predator being more afraid of hot weather than flamethrowers as I slowly pecked at the vegetables on my plate. Thankfully it was set far enough aside from any meat dishes that no contamination should occur, but I was still examining pieces before putting them in my mouth just in case.
Seems like reacting was a mistake though, as that brought Kenneth’s attention onto me. He finished chewing latest piece of flesh and pointed a fork at me.
“So, Krekos... Where are you from? Cradle was my guess, but I do know there were refugees from other places like Sillis too.”
That’s a weird question. Isn’t it kind of to be expected for a krakotl to be from our actual homeworld?”
“I’m from Nishtal.”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Kenneth chuckled, tossing a piece of broccoli into his mouth and swallowing before continuing, “I meant, where did you live? I kind of assumed you were born there, but it’s not like Nishtal had a chance to send refugees out, and if they did, this is the last place they’d be.”
Oh... I caught concerned looks of Lena and Reginald, looking between me and Kenneth from both sides. Not only did they not make him aware that I was a krakotl, they also neglected to mention just how I came by my refugee status... Which was just a legal workaround to grant me asylum without unnecessary complications or establishing undesirable precedent. Legally, I may be a refugee, but practically... I am a defector. Lena and Reginald know that, I told them my story before. And while they were weirdly accepting, Kenneth... Fought extermination fleet here on Earth. Personally.
Still, I wasn’t about to lie. It took a few moments and gathering mental strength to steel myself, and averting my eyes, focusing on the plate of warm vegetables in front of me rather than the human’s anticipating stare before I answered.
“I did live on Nishtal. I... I came with the extermination fleet.” I responded, doing my best to avoid looking at him. I did not want to witness his reaction, for some reason the thought of seeing it weighed heavy on my mind.
“Oh.”
The response was simple, and had no followup. There was no more clinking of cutlery against plates, or chewing. The only thing hanging in the air of the kitchen was silence, weighing down on me. It dragged on and on... until it just got so unbearable I couldn’t take it.
“I-I’m full... Thank you for the meal.” I quickly said, hopping off the perch and stepping out of the kitchen, quickly making my way to the yard and taking flight.
Fresh air of the outside and rush of it as I flew up and gained speed... I missed that. I knew it’s not safe to just fly over other people’s territory, so I corrected my course into doing large sweeping circles over the cattle yard and simply let my wings carry me.
Flying away from any danger is the only thing I’m good for anyway. The only thing I ever do.
I closed my eyes. With them closed and not focusing on my angle it feels like I’m actually flying away from all the troubles. Away from humans who barely tolerate my existence, away from gojid who see me as worse than a predator, away from Earth and all its incorrigible customs, away from horrid cattle, away from constant memories...
Flying feels nice. It may be a bit harder than it was home, but it’s still possible. I heard that on Venlil Prime or Mileau it’s much harder. But here? Just an extra flap of wings for every few paces and you’re just fine, free to soar the skies...
Alone. With no one to ever share it with me again.
Slowly I let my eyes open back to the bleak reality. Greenery of surrounding pastures and woods, bright blue skies and farmhouses dotted about here and there greeted me. I lowered my gaze down, focusing on what’s below. There they were, fourteen brown and black dots spread around the enclosed portion of the farm territory. I am not sure how much time I’ve spent flying in circles and trying to forget things but my wings were feeling a tad sore. Then as I just began slow descent, in same circular motion, I noticed that one of the birds, a familiar one, was being chased by several others. Recounting the morning, I tried putting the knowledge to action, and shifted direction of descent, swooping down. To my surprise, that actually worked, as the moment I got close to the ground, the cattle birds all got much louder and scattered in all directions, including the loner. Who, at least this time, got off unharmed. I suppose such pathetic flightless creatures would fear a flying one much more than they would when I just run up to them...
Swooping at them from the sky like a predator to intimidate them into behaving... Like an arxur warden.
With the fight preemptively broken up, I flutter up to the roof of the cattle house, to my usual position and rested my wings. I didn’t see any movement from the direction of the house, so I suppose the family is still busy unpacking. Since Kenneth joined the military just before the Battle of Earth, and Lena and Reginald only moved here after their actual house in city of New York got destroyed, it’d be the first time the human is seeing what is basically his new home. There was a room set aside for him since before I even moved in, and while there is also a guest room... That one did not have a large enough window to fit through, which did not feel comfortable. So when I asked for a space with a bigger window they only had an attic to offer. They seemed uncomfortable letting me live in a tiny room with slanted roof, but I found such space more comforting than I would have a large room with a window not large enough to fit even one fully spread wing through.
I wonder if Kenneth will need as much renovation as I did? The house is built for humans, but he never lived there before. Will he need to buy a more comfortable bed? Getting a proper nesting setup in place of a bed took a bit of effort, but I figured something out. Human sheets were comfortable enough for such, and sitting perches were thankfully not that hard to get thanks to help from the refugee administration. Maybe that’s the things that Lena went to buy yesterday? Kenneth’s preferred room decor?
I looked up to the sky to see the sun beginning to dim. I am not sure if it was me flying that long, or me losing track of time in my thoughts again, but the sun was beginning to set. I began my usual chores, putting out an evening meal and water for the beasts, and while they feasted, ate some myself. I was a bit hungry, having not properly finished lunch and about to skip dinner, but after the earlier conversation, I’d really rather avoid giving them the opportunity to talk to me.
After the birds had their fill, and by that I mean they emptied the tray as they always do, I let out the call, and they started funneling into the cattle house. The lonely straggler being first to go and hop into its nesting box. I bet tomorrow I will have trouble with getting her out of there again...
I took the moment to gather some eggs the birds left over course of the day, and once that was over and all of them were accounted for, I closed it up. When I flew down over to the house, there wasn’t anyone by the back door thankfully, so I just left eggs there, returned the basket, and returned to my room through the window.
Well, at least I didn’t get nearly killed today... That’s nice I guess?
I was about to check my holopad when there was a knock on the door. I approached and opened it to see... Kenneth. Standing in the doorway.
“Uh, hi, Krekos. I just, uh... Wanted to apologize again. I really wish mom and dad told me everything ahead of time... I just want you to know, I have no problems with you whatsoever, yeah? It’s just. Surprising, I guess, to hear all that. I didn’t think there were any defectors from the fleet at all... Just. Uh, please don’t worry about me?” He offered me a small smile, showing his canines before quickly correcting himself and doing a closed-lip one. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories or make you feel unwelcome.”
I had to take a moment to contemplate his words. Was Lena and Reginald’s weirdness hereditary? He almost reminded me of how Reginald talked to me early on, with constant stumbling over the words, as well as constant reassurances that he is fine with me being here. Couple that with failing to avoid predatory mannerisms like eye contact and smiles like Lena tends to and you get this human. But most importantly and least understandably, there was the general fact of him and them just... welcoming me. I couldn’t understand why. I should be one sorry to them.
“N-No, it’s fine... I’m sorry for... intruding on you and your family.”
“No, no, dude, you’re fine! I mean, hell, I was considering entering one of those exchange programs before the bombings happened, and even after, well, I did my best at Fahl to be the perfect friendly soldier just there to make sure no more bombs drop on my home and not kill or conquer anyone. And then mom told me your story, and I can’t believe it... Just... If you have any issues, feel free to tell me. I’m not one of those racist pricks that are too pussy to even call themselves HF anymore because they know they’ll get their teeth knocked. I get that there aren't good or bad species, just people. And you seem like a decent guy if mom and dad’s judgment is to be trusted.” His smile widened, though it was clear from tension on his face that he had to take conscious effort to keep teeth hidden. “So, what I said earlier stands. Friends, right?”
He extends hand forward, for a second time today. I wasn’t sure if I knew this human long enough to call him a friend... Any human really. But it also seems like human definition of ‘friends’ is anyone they’re cordial and peaceful with. Which is weird. You’d think translators would properly use ‘acquaintance’ for that.
Still... We will be living in the same house now. I can’t just say no, and... I can’t come up with a reason to say no. Even him being a predator and a human is not something I could really say I object to, considering how... mundane that became to me over my time here.
So, with naught on my mind but acceptance of the situation, I extended my wing and grasped his hand with my claw. This time he actually gripped it tightly and moved it up and down, as I saw other humans do occasionally.
“Yeah... I guess that’d be for the best.” I responded, shrugging off the hesitation. Fresh start for a third time, I guess?
The human grinned, forgetting to hide his teeth entirely, but I was ready for it somehow and avoided outwardly reacting.
“Cool! Anyway, I’ll try to get some shuteye early, I couldn’t sleep on the overnight flight home. See ya!”
And with that he left. Well... That meeting went well I suppose?
I returned to my nest and picked up my holopad, returning to what I was doing. And there it was, something I awaited every day. A notification that I was messaged on mailing app. Opening the letter revealed the schedule for the study program. Which... only had one day marked on it. And a note that the rest of it will be figured out ‘as we go from there’. So it’s not a schedule, it’s just a mark for the day of the first meeting.
While a bit underwhelming, it was still exciting. It would be an all-alien class so I wouldn’t have to deal with humans’ incomprehensibility nearly as much, and it would allow me to finally return to pursuing what I actually dreamt of. Even if I wasn’t entirely sure that was precisely what I wanted after everything that happened, it was at least something for me to move towards.
...just two days until start. I wonder if there’s some required reading to prepare?
[First] - [Prev] - [Next]

Note: I do not encourage any self harm or dangerous ideas, don't ban me thanks.
If you want the truth about the toxic alcohols, here I am.
Methanol is roughly twice as toxic as Ethanol but also causes mild and temporary to severe and long term vision damage at the same time.
Despite what everybody says, I'm going to be genuine about this topic.
Pure Methanol, ingestion at 3 ml or less will be harmless long term in adults, as long as the exposure is not constantly repeated.
A one time oral dose of 60 ml of 20% Methanol in adults will be harmless long term, but short term will cause bodily aches, mild visual disturbances and a tight feeling.
But not to be fooled, if an adult human were to treat Methanol like Ethanol and get intoxicated off it, they would go blind and would die...
Do not drink Methanol at home!
Similarly, Ethylene Glycol ingestion in adults can be fatal, but if an adult human were to ingest 20 ml of pure Ethylene Glycol or less, in most adults this is not a medical emergency if this exposure was a once off..
If someone were to drink enough EG to become intoxicated, they would eventually have seizures and die of either heart or kidney failure.
In terms of Ethylene Glycol...
Ethylene Glycol itself is a harmless CNS depressant but in humans, Ethylene Glycol is metabolized to Glycolaldehyde which is also a CNS depressant and is even less toxic than Acetaldehyde aka Ethanal, but... Glycolaldehyde is rapidly metabolised mostly into Glycolic acid which is processed very slowly in humans hence would build up to toxic levels, which would lead to seizures and possibly cardiac arrest.
If the victim survives this stage, the Glycolic acid will be slowly converted into Glyoxalic acid which is in-between mild to moderately toxic, then the Glyoxalic acid in large quantities will metabolise into Oxalic acid which binds to Calcium to form Calcium Oxalate crystals in your brain, liver and mostly kidneys, resulting in lethal kidney and other organ damage and would lead to brain death.
Despite what Google has to say.. in adult humans, Ethylene Glycol is harmless in very small amounts as our body can deal with its metabolites in tiny amounts, but in large amounts this chemical becomes extremely dangerous.
The only types of intoxicating alcohols that are safe for humans to ingest in larger amounts are: Ethanol if it's non-denatured and is diluted, or Butane 1,3 Diol which is also a Glycol.
I'm not going to mention anything more about 1,4 butanediol... don't drink that shit but there is only two safe forms of drinking Alcohol that I have listed above.
If a child has ingested wiperfluid, antifreeze, racing fuel, or any potentially dangerous chemicals, Immediately call emergency services or take them to the hospital right away.
Other toxic alcohols are DiEthylene Glycol, isopropanol, propanol and some others.

She left me on "good terms" in December. We both said that we were special people at the end, and I was convinced that we could stay on good terms. She told me that she would start seeing a psychologist to solve her problems and that it wasn't anyone's fault.
She tried to keep in touch for about a month after the end of the relationship, telling me she felt lonely at university. I was still very hurt by the end of the relationship and tried to keep a distant tone. To be honest I was devastated by the end of the relationship, and was trying to heal.
In the end, we didn't write to each other for 4 months, from January until the day before yesterday. I wrote to her to see how she was doing and to apologize for not wishing her a happy birthday (I didn't want to reopen contacts to avoid suffering).
Initially, she sent me a long message explaining that I was an important person for her, her first boyfriend, etc. However, she specified that she had moved on and understood that we were not meant for each other.
At that point, I asked to call her, to hear her voice after a long time. It seemed like a humane thing to do. And she started being extremely cold and treating me like a stranger. I couldn't believe what I was reading, mostly because of the coldness and cynicism with which she said certain things. "Relationships change," "we're nothing anymore," "you can't accept that I've moved on," etc.
In the end, it came out that during these months, she realized that our relationship was toxic (she surely came to this conclusion with the psychologist). She said that some of my behaviors were unhealthy and that at the end of the relationship, she blamed herself for everything to avoid making me suffer. When I tried to ask her what she meant by toxic, she said that I was exhausting for asking, and could not be bothered to explain. I couldn't even ask for explanations. I want to emphasize that I insisted on calling her, but I didn't judge or insult her. In the end, I told her that out of respect for myself, there was no point in writing to her again because I found the utmost indifference in her attitude, and I was hurt by her behavior.
What do you think?

*CONTAINS SWEARING*
This is gonna be a hefty and most likely triggering post for specific groups of people out there (meaning people who struggle with anger, people who don't want poltical content/opinions etc), so please stop reading and leave if you figure this is gonna be rough for you. This will (mainly) be about the conflict between Palestine and Israel. (and apparently a long one) No hate towards any specific groups of people, but I do have a lot of *frustration regarding behaviours*.
Before I start, I want you to remember some facts about me as you read;
I am autistic
I am heavily influenced by world peace, hate, racism and other unfair situations
I have incredibly high standards for myself that I strive to not break, including, but not limited to, being kind and respectful *always*, despite being in a bad mood, not liking someone, or disagreeing, especially political disagreements
I have always, and will always, stand against widespread hate, racism and other discrimination towards any specific religions, ethnicities, nationalities, cultures, etc.
I also want you to know that I named this throwaway accordingly.
So let's get this shitshow started then, shall we.
As the details of the conflict stands, it is beyond obvious to me that this is racism and, literally, a Holocaust. Not *the* Holocaust, but *a* Holocaust. Oxford Languages has the term defined as a destruction or slaughter on a mass scale, especially caused by fire or nuclear war . I'd say that's very much accurate. Proof to come.
Regardless, this situation has had me very pressed the last almost 8 months, as I know most other people have been too. Without getting too much into the conflict itself, I want to talk a little about what I've seen from the Jewish community.
This is where I advise anyone who struggles with anger especially to leave and try to keep your day positive. If you have a magical potion to stay stable after this, who am I to stop you...
Alright, onto the dreaded part. And yes, I am stalling.
I have never, and I truly mean *never* had any hateful thoughts or opinions about religions (other than Christianity but that's one for another time), and as we are all aware of, The Holocaust had massive effect on the world some 80 years ago. I have always seen Jews as victims due to this, but in recent times I've realised that a lot of them, too, see themselves as victims. The issue is that they aren't the victims right now. They (Israel) aren't defending themselves, they have nothing to defend themselves against. Israel is currently doing the exact same thing as Germany did to them, to Palestine. Sure, maybe at some point who knows when, Palestine *was* the land of Jews, but since then, multiple religions have been thriving together on that land, including Jews. They were never excluded. From what I've understood, there weren't any wars or conflicts going on within the country that didn't happen elsewhere. The issue began when in the late 1940's zionists brutally murdered families to steal their homes. I'm sure the situation was so much more complex than that, but in a nutshell that is basically it. The fact that everyone today have been so desensitized from the travesties happening around the world is depressing and hope-killing. I truly am well on the way to giving up, and at this point in time I'm so angry all the time due to the Middle East's situation.
So a few weeks ago, probably closing in on months at this point, I randomly got a notification from reddit about someone posting on /Jewish. They didn't say anything explicit, so I pressed the notification and I was met with the worst victimization and ignorance I've ever seen. I truly believed most jews would see this for what it is, and not let some racist maniac spoon-feed them propaganda and hate, but I was brutally and humbly proven wrong. They were mocking proPAL parades, hating on news anchors and civilians alike calling this a genocide, insisting that Israel has no other choice, saying "casualties happens in war", convincing each other that zionism is a good thing, and feeling sorry for themselves when friends and families cut contact because they said they supported Israel and saw this as the only solution. Some might have been genuine problems, idk, but for the most part, that subreddit seems to only be about hating the rest of the world because their great grandparents were killed. I know I sound like a complete asshole, but the world isn't antisemetic anymore - they are actively looking for it and then using that one person telling them to stop feeling so sorry for themselves as proof that everybody in the world wants to throw them back in gas chambers.
I commented on my personal once where I mentioned that judaism and zionism are two separate things and got downvoted to oblivion. Someone replied saying that my comment was very much exactly what they too feel, but I got downvoted *simply because* I referred to them as separate entities. That is another criticism they've recieved lately; the pure idea of zionism is on the complete opposite side from what Judaism stands for. I've seen so many of the members there calling Jews protesting against Israel "self-hating" and traitors.
I've also made so many replies that I never sent because I know for a fact they would do anything in their power to ban me from ever using reddit again, and I wouldn't be surprised if I got doxxed and harrassed IRL from it. I saved them all, though. I found that it was kind of therapeutic to get it out, but it still bugs me that I never found a way to say it to them. I once also made a post about my rage for their behaviour connected to this genocide, but I thankfully stopped myself before I posted it. I'm so enraged by their sheer ignorance and hypocritical behaviour, all the while Gaza is still being eradicated and slaughtered, war crimes happening day in-day out, inhumane atrocities by the IOF being posted and hailed, and they have the audacity to say that they are the victims? That Israel has no other choice but martyring tens of thousands of CHILDREN? Starving the entire Gaza Strip, segregating West Bank, literally teaching their young in school to hate and attack arabs? That last one might not be true as I don't speak Hebrew or Arabic, so anyone could've just made up the translation, but I still feel it's worth mentioning in case it actually *is* real.
My point is that the guts they have to claim to be so moral, yet still be so unfaced from what's happening in Gaza is beside me. Sure, for those living near the Gaza wall, I'm positive that hearing bombs and screams were traumatizing as fuck, but to then leave for work the next day and claim that "shit happens"? It's insane! It's inhumane. They can leave whenever they like, children can play football (soccer) in the streets and not having to worry about shit, hotels and restaurants with 5-star ratings thriving, plants and flowers still blooming, absolutely no threats on a daily basis. The fact that people are still calling this a war, something necessary, is beyond devastating to me. There are millions still siding with zionism, claiming there's nothing wrong with the belief that you have an innate right to some dirt simply because your holy book says that thousands of years ago, your religion lived there, and simply because of that religious fact you are rightfully owed thousands of young lives, the death of an entire country with its own culture, just to feed the irrational religious political system? How in God's name has that ever, *IS* that still okay? If Muslims were the ones saying that shit, they would've been completely destroyed by now, today's generation wouldn't know what the fuck Islam was. They are still being slaughtered though, because they're saying it's *not* okay. How is that not racist again?
My brother and I got into a heated argument a few days ago about this. I am very much *for* Palestine to have human rights and to own their own land - he is very much *against* "ugly blackies" having any rights because they're *not* human. Boi when I tell you I got so angry I started crying. And the worst part about that fight? He claims that Jews aren't any better, however they still deserve to defend themselves against children running on the beach. "But Hamas-" is so over-used and outdated by now, it just proves that he doesn't follow up on statistics and evidence. Even if there only were one-sided news (from Gaza), the fact that the ICJ ruled Israel's actions a genocide and war crimes still proves everything he claims to be "n*****'s propaganda". And the fact that he so underminds my autism and *need* for factual evidence before discussing it also goes to show that he genuinely does not care about anything other than the black "terrorists" being eradicated. I said "So you're not just a racist, you're just plain racist?" he just scoffed and looked at me as if I just said the most nonsensical bullshit gibberish ever, practically saying "I'm not gonna say anything, but it really took you that long to realise?" Either that, or he actually didn't comprehend the words coming out of my mouth, like it was a foreign language or something. Because he genuinely does not have a single reason to be racist.
He can't even blame suicide attacks because 1) not all are carried by muslims, and 2) between 1981-2015 around 45,000 were killed by suicide attacks worldwide, where in 2019 the total death toll was only 1,699 more than amount of attacks; whereas in Gaza, between Oct 7 to present there are about 34,000 confirmed palestinian deaths, and assumed around 42,000 with unconfirmed deaths. If, in 36 years, "muslim terrorism" killed about the same amount as Israel has in almost 8 months, how on earth are Arabs the terrorists?
And I've also seen the argument that 30,000 is nothing compared to the total population in Gaza, as if that makes it okay. I will, again, make example of The Holocaust. When 30,000 Jews were martyred, people were already catching on, and this was without the technology we have today.
How have we been allowing this to happen to Palestinians *with* our technology today? Why haven't people been doing more; striking our jobs, cummute chauffeurs striking, proper permanent boycotts, more coverage from news anchors and private people alike? Even if it is to officially reclaim your love for white supremacy, you're still talking about it. Why are people still not reading up on this? Why does millions still not know that this *didn't* begin on October 7th? And why are there still those who claim that the past doesn't matter today? I have so many questions, and if I do get an answer I will only end up with more questions. How hasn't the world stopped over this? Why are people so okay knowing that there are children being intentionally murdered every single day? How can you go to work and talk about Dave's new tie? Or your 6 year old's birthday party with 15 other 6 year olds? Hasn't it crossed your mind that if the roles were reversed, your precious princess would be the one burried under tons of rubble, dying slowly while simontaniously starving, dehydrating, suffocating and crushing, and *knowing* that absolutely no one cares because you're [skin color] and it's normal for your kids to be horrendously massacred? "Oh but the Taliban-ISIS-Al Qaeda" OKAY so what are you gonna do to help save innocent lives and suffering??? How are you gonna contribute to STOP these organizations that have manipulated and murdered to rule their country and are intentionally making the citicens miserable? Are you even aware that your own govurnment is essentially the same fucking thing, just disguised as a well dressed, polite gentleman? Aren't you sick of all those ads on TV showing brown children with flies in their eyes? Or your mama telling you to think about the starving children in Africa? Because I am.
I am so sick and tired of how inhumane humans have come to be. You don't see animals (and I'm trying my best to not mention how humans *are* animals, guess I failed) intentionally kill another animal simply because they're that animal. They kill prey; polar bears kill seals, seals kill penguins, penguins kill fish, fish kill amoebas, and you can get to that result from absolutely everything. What you don't find as a natural event is a golden, brown mane lion attack and kill an albino lion simply because it's albino. You don't see a school of fish swim away from one with two heads, because "*omg Jared is such a freak with his two heads*." So why the FUCK DID WE START DOING THAT? Where did this hunger for power come from? You *will* see a female lion tell the king that enough is enough, and he *will* accept that. I could go on and on for DAYS if I got the chance, but I don't wanna get too off topic here.
I've started a list of all the universally illegal shit Israel has done, and once I'm satisfied with it, I'll make one comparing Israel to Palestine, and then Arabs/Muslims as a whole. I can guarantee that I will still hear "on-sided sources" still, or "You can't trust Wikipedia!" Have you ever tried to edit or create an article on Wikipedia? I have, and I had to confirm that I had a degree or a current valid work ID to prove that I was elgible to speak on the topic. I tried to make a site for myself... Sure, there are more trustworthy sites, but even in a discussion about wether or not being trans is a mental illness, where I quoted and linked all of the most well known official sources like WHO, I was still slapped with "but this shady ass article from a random Deutch website that explicitly says everything I've said, yet still isn't actually saying the same thing because I misquoted and mixed the words to form my own sentence says that it is" when they literally linked a website called "disabled world". I will say though, I agree with that name. Today's world is so non-funtional for neurotypical, hetero, white MEN, it's no fucking wonder everyone else are classified as disabled or whatever. Also, on that disabled topic, if you've made it this far, please don't say "differently abled". A quote unquote quote (heh geddit? cuz it's rephrased and I don't have the book near me rn to directly quote) from Devon Price's "Unmasking Autism" that I really like: "You wouldn't say "a person with Asianness", you'd say "an Asian person"." We are disabled because today's world isn't made for us, and for the most part isn't even accomodated or accessible to us. We are different, yeah, but literally everyone is. We just got that term because we can't do the same things as you (assuming you're neurotypical) without aid. We are able, just not like you. Of course, if an autistic person tells you they prefer "person with autism", listen to them! But most of us embrace it as a part of us because we can't just get rid of it. Autism is what make me me, I wouldn't be me without my autism, so I *am* autistic, for better or for worse. :)
I find it kinda ironic that I started this as a venting about a lot of Jews' hypocritical behaviour, and now ending up on autism. Yaknow, cuz Dr. Asperger during WW2 experimented and tortured autistic people, and found out that some where more alike him than others, which then coined the term Aspergers for the Autistic Community.
Anywho, I feel better now, so thanks for letting me vent a little (a lot). I want to finish off by restating my intro; I have not, and will not tolerate any hate, racism or discrimination towards any religion, ethnicity, nationality, culture etc. This post is not intended as a rant about how aweful jews are, because they're not. I just wanted to air some frustration over their behaviour regarding I/P genocide. This is also not about *all* Jews, but that's the same discussion as "not all men" so I'll leave it at that.
I will delete this account in a week, so if you have any questions, be fast ig. If you find I've mis-phrased, used irrationally insensitive wording or any other complaints that calls for a repost, I will fix it and post an updated version. My DMs will also be available if that should be of interest, but I will not be responding to hate or personal attacks for my opinions. If the issue is my wording, again, tell me and I'll fix it.
At this point I've written so much that I don't remember if I found anything myself that I figured was worth fixing, and I've proof read it so many times that my eyes are crossing and giving me a headache lol
Gosh I'm scared of posting this. I don't want anyone to read this and think I support what A. H. did in 1940 cuz I cannot begin to describe my hatred for that man

This is THE best free AI STILL. By far. There is NO competition.
I am currently making it write a short science fiction story. I asked it to make a plot, with mid story twist and ending twist.
Next, I asked it to add two supporting protagonists to the story. Next, I asked it to add three minor characters to the story.
The twist in the middle is great. The ending twist it came up with is fantastic. Action is on a colonizing spaceship flying to another planet.
At first, it wrote a short story with literally 6 paragraphs, divided into chapters. I asked it to write "OK, just write chapter 1 scene 1", asked it to write location descriptions, dialogue between characters.
And it did so. And how.
Here's how I work with the AI to develop the story, lets jump into the middle of it.
Me: Good, but the banter between Maya and Alex should be more joking, less on stressing importance of mission. Make the "alien life form" banter into some form of a joke? Also, the bit about contributing to humanity's future is not necessary.
Pi: "So, what's on the docket for today?" Maya asked as they walked toward the genetics lab. "Oh, just a bit of genetic sequencing, some data analysis, and maybe a game of hide-and-seek with a rogue gene or two," Alex quipped. Maya laughed. "Ah, the glamorous life of a scientist on a generational ship! Sometimes I wonder if there are alien life forms out there having more fun than us." "If there are, they better have some killer dance moves, because our moves in these lab coats are interstellar," Alex joked, striking an exaggerated pose. Maya chuckled, playing along. "Can you imagine? A galactic dance-off between humans and aliens? Now that would be a mission worth signing up for!" As they reached the lab, they were still laughing, ready to tackle the day's work with a lighthearted attitude and a renewed sense of camaraderie.
Me: Continue the story as Alex and Maya work together in the genetics lab. They use future science fiction machines, which are based on real science. They now only talk to each other to further their work. What specific task are they both working on today in the genetics lab?
Pi: Inside the genetics lab, Alex and Maya focused on their task for the day: analyzing a newly discovered genetic anomaly in one of the ship's food crops. Using state-of-the-art equipment, such as the Quantum Gene Sequencer, they were able to delve deep into the plant's DNA, searching for the cause of the abnormality. "Alright, let's start with a complete genetic mapping," Alex said, powering up the sequencer. Maya nodded, carefully placing the plant sample into the machine. "I'll run a comparative analysis against the original genome while we wait for the results." The sequencer hummed to life, its holographic display showing a flurry of data as it worked. "Interesting," Alex noted, studying the preliminary results. "It looks like there's a significant mutation in the photosynthesis gene cluster." Maya glanced over at the display. "That would explain the decreased yield we've been seeing in the hydroponics bay.
Me: Both are somewhat puzzled as to how the mutation could have occured. A small mutation like that is understandable, but to them, this is a big mutation, and should not have occured. Continue the story, please, in that lab.
Pi: Maya furrowed her brow. "I don't understand how such a significant mutation could have occurred. The genetic safeguards in the hydroponics bay should have prevented this." Alex scratched his head, equally perplexed. "You're right. A small mutation here and there is normal, but this... this is different. Could it be a result of a systems malfunction?" Maya shook her head. "I doubt it. The environmental controls are constantly monitored and adjusted. It just doesn't make sense." Alex's gaze drifted to the sequencer's display, which was still churning out data. "Maybe we're missing something. Let's dig deeper into the genome and see if we can find any other anomalies that might explain this." Maya nodded, her fingers flying over the control panel. "Good idea. I'll cross-reference these results with the data from our long-term genetic stability studies." As they delved further into the mystery, the genetics lab hummed with the sound of their focused determination, both scientists refusing to give up until they had an answer.
The only "bad" thing, if I can call it that, is that every paragraph ends with cheesy "lets help each other" paragraph. Take that out, and I literally have a (fan fiction level?) human written science fiction story.
And it is read to me by voice number 4.
And that voice changes its tone and inflection, depending on the character's dialogue and situation. Yes, really.
This is insane.
I don't think you guys have an idea how powerful this (old? bad? soon to be replaced?) Pi AI is.
And I am not hitting any token limits. At all. EVER. This is insane. And free.
PS Sorry about the formatting of Pi entries - on my screen it is formatted like a proper writer would do so.
To the devs of Pi - THANK YOU.
To the people keeping Pi going - THANK YOU.

TW for discussions of psychotic delusions
​
This happened August 2023 and lasted about 3 and a half weeks. I was diagnosed with bipolar II in 2022 and had never had a manic episode before at the time of diagnosed. But in August a lot of things stacked on top of each other. It was the end of my summer semester at college, I was cleaning and packing to move rooms, and a lot of other stressors which my therapist and I think contributed to the mania.
​
For two weeks I had no language to describe what was happening to me, and have only just realized that psychosis was a large part of my experience. I remember feeling like I was invincible and had evolved past human needs for regular consumption of food, water, and medication. I had auditory hallucinations of music playing. I'm not sure if I was having any visual hallucinations. I've had them on and off as a kid but grew out of them as I got older. A lot of my memory of this time is blurry due to my dissociative disorder but I still remember the panic I felt.
​
I've been reflecting on this experience recently and it's scary to think about how I wasn't experiencing reality clearly. Now I'm with a new psychiatrist and I'm on mood stabilizers so my mania is a lot better

Audio log
Patient: Mina Paraan
Medically Recommended Therapeutic Journal
Entry 1:
I was told by my psychiatrist to start a journal to put my feelings and thoughts form. Well I guess first off, my name is Mina and I'm a T'thuul. Our species are 2 yar tall. About 1 segment on most sentient lower limbs. While we do have claws, they are meant for fruit. We have thick fur, well, I used to until the incident... I think I'm done for now... I don't want to think about them or I might lose more fur from stress.
Entry 12:
My psychiatrist again told my to put all my thoughts into the journal. What I'm feeling, what I'm doing. I just want to hide under my blanket. It's made of woven varn fur, super soft and warm, and most importantly safe. There's this new fruit at the market today, it was really sweet. Its rind was kinda fuzzy, it tickled my nose. I think the merchant said it came from Sol. I...I think I'm done for today.
Entry 35:
During the bi-weekly visits to my therapist, they try to get me to talk about the incident. But when I think about that day every thing starts to turn red. It's not because I'm angry or anything, it's...Well, we are not the strongest or the fastest, the most intimidating. All we have going for us is a type of psychic ability we gained from millennia of hiding from predators. We can sense the potential for violence in others. We were actually asked by the council to determine if a new race would be able to join without too many problems. I have that very same ability, though mine is slightly different from the norm. A type of synesthesia. I can see the level of potential violence as the color red. The same color as the poison rachu fruit. So far as I have seen, even the most passive races have some potential for violence. From the Shu, a plant race who, when I looked at them, had red coloring on their leaf fronds, to the Jeer, a reptilian swamp species, who's claw were dripping with red. They were the worst I had seen, until them... I'm tired... I don't want to talk any more.
Entry 59:
The therapist was being pushy today. I didn't want to talk about them but here we are. Fine...Human, Terran, Earthling, Solarian... Whatever they want to call themselves. They have the most potential for violence I have ever seen. Remember when I said I could see potential as a red light on the person in question. Well, I was commissioned to go and meet the human emissary as a good will ambassador and to secretly see how much potential they have.
I didn't even get through the front door of the embassy. Great plate glass windows lined the front of the building. It just looked like a bloody aquarium, I could even swear I saw gigantic shadows swimming through that ocean of red. Apparently, someone inside saw me standing out on the lawn, they went and got the ambassador... I saw a shadow moving closer in the inky red, closer and closer. Hyperventilating, as I watched my death approaching. As he opened the front doors, all the red in the building came flooding out across the lawn. I could almost feel the slick feel of blood on my fur, teeth at my throat.
The ambassador asked if he could help me. I fainted. And that's why I have to talk to a psychiatrist two times a week.

Party: All level 17, using level 16 starting treasure, free level 16 item, 10k bonus gold plus some items to be bought at half price
Myself the Human Nephilim Commander with Undead Master Archetype for 3 feats (about same power level in Commander, chose Ghost to not have free Strides). Ritualist dedication feat for fun at 12th, and multitalented at 13th for Summoner Dedication with Plant Eidolon for Dex and Wis. Used Scythe and had banner attached to it, worshipped Urgathoa to have a vendetta against the Gray Gardeners.
Ally 1, Human Guardian with Bastion archetype and a shortbow, bastion shield feat to use a shield with the bow for shielded taunt, ranged taunt, and the multi-target taunt. first 2 combats bodyguard target was alchemist, final combat was Commander
Ally 2, Orc(?) Fighter with Glaive, lunging stance, and ability to change size. Psychic dedication to use acid splash with ready, aim, fire
Ally 3, Human Chiurgeon Alchemist made as a last hour join before we started.
First fight against the guillotine construct, I used Plant Banner and Piranha Assault tactic which nullified most of the difficulty of the fight. Guardian's intercept foe and intercept strike with 3 reactions brought manueverability and surviveability to the Guardian which when combined with the plant banner temp hp; they felt very strong and useful. Alchemist and Fighter added persistent damage from multiple sources which helped take down the construct, before it went down from persistent damage, it got a hit and two nat20s against the Commander. Guardian blocked the damage but the wording of the ability gave the Commander the fort save to avoid beheading, which were successful.
Second fight against the triple Lesser Deaths, as we were messing with runes, I planted banner since there was nothing stopping me from having it planted in the middle of the room before combat that we saw. I used nearly every round, Ready, Aim, Fire! No one went down during the entire combat but I got close to 8 hp from the LD's using their in game meta knowledge to target my eidolon at -6 AC. Chiurgeon participated in RAF once with Spirit Charge and the LD ignored the damage. My rounds as the commander primarily consisted of using Fortunante Blow with a runeless fist dealing 1d4 +5 + 4 damage with 1-2 successful hits, using RAF, and if the LD next to me tried to teleport to hit an ally I used Reactive Interference to just deny it since their level was not greater than mine. Chiurgeon healed, and their Spirit Charge granted enfeebled 2 which when combined with guardian taunt for 1 round prevented over 150 damage from multiple strikes including a keen 19. Guardian was kinda dancing between 2 party members at any time and taking hits for the rest of us.
Third fight was against a GM anti-party after destroying a final blade, the anti-party was a reach fighter, a water kineticist, and a Guardian. I went first and used Form up to help party march to the enemy faster so we could use reactions since most of the party went before most of the enemies. The kin did very little, and the Guardian's reactions were destroyed by a combo of Piranha Assault reducing their resistance to 2, and Reactive Interference preventing one from happening in the first place every round. Our Guardian made me the body guard target since I was getting hit a lot and the alchemist not at all, and it helped to reduce my near death from being heavily targeted. The GM had bad rolls on this fight so once the fighter went down we all agreed it would just be a number of rounds to victory rather than any question of winning so we ended it there.
Overall, I think the Commander has certain abilities that are too strong, and with so few learned tactics slots there is little reason to pick other abilities.
Plant banner is too weak in the beginning but too strong in late game, 2 until level 5, then it's 4 until 10, 5 until 15, then it becomes 5 + level which is 20 at 15. And given that the temp hp from it is when you plant the banner, and at the start of each of your ally's turns makes it too strong at 15, but not something that worth taking before.
Ready, Aim, Fire! is when combined with a party who optimized for being good at ranged attacks/cantrips, can be frighteningly good, we still had good results with very minor synergy with it.
The Guardian player felt good, with the increased damage resistance, the temp hp, the multiple reactions, and ability to move quickly across the battle field they felt like they did contribute to the fight. The sheer amount of actions from reactions and the free stuff from them plus the action compression from shielded taunt is amazing. But compared to the 5th level play, it felt good here and bad there, which is not something one wants to see since lower level play is much more frequent. The multiple reactions should probably come earlier, and the ability to go later in combat without delaying since that loses your reactions until you come out of delay would be appreciated. Something similar to Swash's After You.
Since this is focused on the playtest I didn't talk about the Fighter or the Alchemist much, but the alchemist's healing came in quite clutch to prevent party members from going down, and the Fighter was the main source of consistent damage with their feat that gives flat damage on a failed attack with the press trait.
The fights took longer IRL and in combat than most of our like 4-5 other run throughs from the home game and the several playtests since then. Kin being the fastest at LD due to TPK in like round 4 thanks to the manipulate and concentrate trait on everything Kin back then.