Every once in a while I stumble across some vocals where I can't even begin to comprehend how a human could make such noises. A couple examples:
Whistle Screams:
First time I heard that was Methwitch - Burn Victim at 27 seconds in. Nylist also does this a lot. From my trying those are very difficult to learn and then still super hard to pull off consistently.
Inhales:
When I first heard In Gloom - God the Animal I was in utter disbelief. Just check out 1:47. I read somewhere (probably in this very sub) that those are inhales.
Raptor Vocals:
Immortal Disfigurement - King at 3:49. It reminds me of what the raptors in the original Jurassic Park sounded like haha.
Bong Vocals:
This post was inspired by another resent post about vocals that sounded like someone was hitting a bong. Urobilinemia - 完全 感覚おち〇ぽこ What the fuck is even happening here?
So now my question: What vocals did you surprise the most? Where did you go "how tf does a human even make this noise?"

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.

Hello! Nice to see you all here. I have a question.
I'm 8th grade student and i want to be storyboard artist and animator.
People who's working (or know anything about storyboarding) in animation as an animator or SB artist, do you have any advices or any other info to get into storyboarding?
I want to start making small storyboards, animations now, so when i go to college or my future job, i already could be aware of what I'm doing, how good I'm doing and what to do to grow in amazing animator and SB artist
Thank you for your attention, have a good day :]

I have had my kitten for almost a year now and he turned 1 in March. I adopted him when he was 4 months old and I got my resident kitty when he was about 6 weeks old. I was in college when I got my first cat and he was absolutely insane (as all kittens are). He stressed me tf out and I definitely played with him with my fingernails (which I later read is not smart to do) as he now bites me and anyone who comes over to get attention. I have moved many times with my cat and he has lived with other cats that do not particularly like him and has played with small dogs his size. He is half maine coon and is about 15 lbs. Most female cats have not gotten along with him in the past even though he just likes to follow them around and watch them or even boop their nose with his paw out of curiosity and maybe social awkwardness as he was raised in my 1 br apartments.
I recently graduated and had a full time job. I did not feel like I had enough time for him as he is very affectionate and playful. He has always gotten along with other animals and showed a lot of interest in other furry friends. Last summer I had recently moved into my own place after living with my roommate and her 2 female cats and had decided I wanted to get him a friend. I went to the nearest animal shelter just to play with the cats. As soon as I got there the people at the shelter told me about a kitten they wanted me to meet. I told them I didn’t think it would be a good idea and that I didn’t think I had the time for another crazy kitten. Long story short, I fell in love with little him and couldn’t stop looking at the pictures I took of him and picked him up the next day.
When i adopted him they assured me that since my resident cat was so relaxed and the kitten was well socialized I would be fine to introduce them a few hours after I got him settled at my apartment and they’d play all day long and blah blah blah. I got him home, played with him, let him smell my cat under the door and eventually let them into the same room. Immediately my kitten was showing signs of aggression which my resident cat was not even responding to. Most of the time when my kitten is being aggressive (puffy tail, walking sideways, ears back, tail flapping) my resident cat is laying down a few feet away. Also, he was so tiny compared to my cat but eventually they slept together in my bed and on the floor.
My kitten plays rough and I thought since my cat likes to bite me and attack my arms (sometimes he is insanely aggressive and very strong) he would be a perfect wrestle buddy. There have been multiple times where I have had to separate them from rolling around on the ground or one pinning the other to the point where they are screaming. It’s like watching WWE they throw each other and chase each other but it always seems to end with aggression from one of them. My kitten will stalk my cat and chase him up the cat trees, wait for him to get out of the litter box and chase him under the bed, or anytime my cat gets near the couch my kitten will shake his booty and run after my cat until he’s in another room. My cat is very chill and he has distanced himself from me. It was unfair of me to improperly introduce them and allow my kitten to bully my resident cat. I do not want my resident cat to hate me and I want him to be able to cuddle with me without fear of being body slammed. My kitten is very affectionate and sweet and I want to make sure I try everything to make this situation work. After initially separating them, my cat started doing some of the things he used to do again but after letting them spend longer periods of time together, my kitten is doing the same things.
My bf and I have been separating them for a few weeks. We live in an 800 sft apartment and are moving to a space that is twice the size in less than a month. I messed up with the initial introduction and have separated them recently as the issues have gotten worse. I have been feeding them separately and worked them up to feeding with the door open just on different sides where they don’t see one another and only letting them spend time together supervised. We have kept my kitten in the bedroom and bathroom, moving him to the bathroom at night and allowing my cat to be in the bedroom and living room at night. I am unemployed and spending all day at home. Both kittens cry when I leave one room and my kitten has even learned how to jump against the door to open it. I resorted to letting them hang out in the living room, separating their food and water, and separating my kitten when he is aggressive towards my cat. I just read about not free feeding so I will pickup their hard food bowls tomorrow. We also have a spray bottle and have been watching them play and spraying the kitten when he bites or jumps on top of my cat to the point he is trying to flee. We are trying to teach boundaries but my cat will let him bite and swat at him until he screams in pain and just runs away. My cat is a lover not a fighter and my kitten is both.
Lastly, we have urgently been trying to work on these behaviors because we are planning on introducing my bfs dog to our cats when we move. I am confident that my resident cat will get along with her but I am fearful my kitten will not adjust. We are planning on keeping the kitten in a room to himself and my cat in another room. We are getting a baby gate to first introduce her to my cat and eventually face to face meeting. We are planning on starting the reintroduction process over again in the new place for a longer period of time. We are hoping that reintroducing the cats and then my kitten seeing my cat and dog interacting calmly and relax with the aggressive behaviors. I have tried to spend time with them playing separately in their spaces and then playing with them together and half the time leads to the rough playing that stresses my cat out. His dog is laid back but he is unsure how she would react to the kitten biting, scratching, or being rough. I want to give my kitten the best life possible. He is so adorable and has so much energy and love to give. He is smart and understands he is being bad when he’s biting his brother!
If you got this far thank you so much and if you have any advice I would greatly appreciate it!!!

Let me begin this post from a small excerpt from my essay because it exemplifies my feelings toward Invaders, as an anime, and as a series;

So what makes it special?
Well, you see. This anime is a lot more interesting than you might think. Not only from within the anime, but in real life as well. This is a story of overzealous ambition, unresolved injustice, and quiet resilience. A story penned by a talented writer who never got the spotlight...

Now, that's a bold statement I made for an anime aired a decade ago. An anime that barely anyone here have ever heard of. An anime that have been washed away from the sands of time. So, I know what you're thinking. Why?
What did I see in Invaders that the majority here didn't?
To answer that, let me start at its creation, from a subsidiary of a conglomerate, from a man in his late 20s, hailing from Chiba Prefecture, who have recently dipping into the world of light novel.
It's 2009. You have established yourself as a capable ​visual novelist, with works such as From Here and Beyond, Killer Queen and Tsukihime doujin works. You also had just debut your first novel, Ano Hibi Wo Mouichido two years ago, and you are ready to release another one under the same publisher of your previous book, HJ Bunko.
On March 1st 2009, the first volume of Invaders of the Rokujouma ( Rokujouma no Shinryakusha?!) was published. Unbeknownst to him, this series would unexpectedly change his trajectory forever. And ever since then, 47 VOLUMES, including two side stories, has been published continuously for 15 years! Yes, you heard me right, 15 years going! And no, it still hasn't been cancelled, nor gone into hiatus yet!
There is a part of me that still boggled for how long it still going for a light novel series, much lest in today's light novel climate. But I guess it made sense why HJ kept the book going as Invaders have sold 1.5 million copies in Japan alone as of April 2022. Not an impressive numbers compared to other, more established works, but it isn't an obscure LN that on one even heard of. Invaders is one of HJ Bunko's biggest seller in their library. Even more impressive when taken into account that it is made in-house (ie. not acquired from another source).
Hell, even the website promoting the anime is still up to this day!
So, why am I bringing this up? Well, it is about the same reason as to why I chose the word "adored" specifically. Because Invaders is special to me, not for its character-driven story or its cast of colorful characters, but for what it represent. This series dared to defy convention set by a genre devoid of such, and set out to do its own things, not necessarily to redefine it, but to tell a good story regardless of. And it suffered consequences as a result, but it makes itself stands out above the rest. A quiet resilience, so to speak.
Now, I am reserving the full retrospective review of the anime in-depth, and the stories behind the author, and the crew in my essay. But instead, here I will talk about the difficulties of recommending this anime to any first-time watchers. Partly due to being a harem anime (and the stigma that follows it), but also because I think it is suitable for subsequent rewatch to appreciate the slow-paced, two-parter story arc of each main girls, the character development, and the general vibe it gave, crafted by the hands of Shin Oonuma. The first-time watcher don't have that commitment and dedication like I do to see other than the surface level, even if you keep this post in mind. It's hard to discern if you will like or dislike it because the first episode will influence your perception of the series, even if you keep an open mind. I can't change that, nor forced you to watch from my perspective.
Lest I'll have to deal with people like him who misunderstood Invaders as nothing more than a fodder (and an excuse for their laziness). Oh, I am reserving my vitriol for that review specifically in my essay, and I'm not gonna hold back. In other words, Invaders is NOT your typical harem anime. It never tries to, it wants to march at its own pace, with its own feet. And I commend them for it. And to those that says otherwise, opinions be opinions and I have no control over it, but states it with facts, not bullshit.
I don't know what to do for its 10th anniversary, July 12th. Maybe a rewatch thread to expose more people to this anime that I cherished? Or releasing the essay on time, even though I have restarted it four times now? Hell, I'm still weary of posting this in the first place but this post here, that gave me a spark to write this. And a courage to do it. Heh, appropriate, isn't it?
~"~"~"~
I'm Ghost, and I proclaimed myself as a superfan of Invaders. I have watched this anime multiple times, dissecting every nook and cranny throughout its 12-episodes run. And it have opened my eyes to other animes that I would never gave a glance to. It teaches me to be appreciative for what it is, both the good and the bad, and to see it eyes to eyes without prejudice, without expectations. It isn't a masterpiece by any metric, but nor it is being a trainwreck. It has its strength, and it has its flaws. And it want to be seen for what it is, instead of what it isn't.
This is a story of strangers from all walks of life learn to open themselves, and relied upon each other.
This is a story that values appreciation of self, companionship and the media we love.
This is a story of Room 106 of Corona Apartment, and how a high school boy lives together with a ghost, a magical girl, an underground people, and an alien princess inside the small rokujouma.

This is Why I Adored Invaders of the Rokujouma!

Hi everyone,
I'm excited to share with you a project I've been passionately working on: Etymology: The Card Game. This game is designed for mid- to late teens and adults who love words and language. It features 300 cards divided into Latin, Greek, and Loanword categories and aims to make learning about the origins and meanings of words fun and interactive.
I recently created a prototype and would love your feedback and ideas on what to include. Your insights can help shape the final version of the game!
Here's how you can help:

1. Visit Our Facebook Page: Check out the prototype and see what we’ve got so far. https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61560088701645
2. Share Your Ideas: What do you think would make the game better? Any roots, prefixes, suffixes, or loanwords you think should definitely be included?
3. Follow Our Page: If you’re interested in the game, please follow the Facebook page. Knowing the level of interest will help me determine how many sets to print.
4. Spread the Word: Share the page with friends or anyone you think might be interested in etymology or educational games.

A bit about me: I’m David Thomson from Scotland, and I’ve been channeling my energy into this game and writing children’s books as a way to stay positive and productive. Despite a challenging prognosis with glioblastoma multiforme, an aggressive brain cancer, I’m dedicated to bringing this game to life and sharing my love of words with others.
Thank you so much for your support and feedback. I look forward to hearing your thoughts and hopefully seeing you on the Facebook page!
Best regards, David Thomson

Hi, I know this may be against game policy and may bring criticism. But Monster Life is over soon, so I thought those in hurry of making level 40 farm in MSEA and GMS would NEED this. No meso cubes but meso caps, why play nice...
This is a video of what fully scripted auto care & discharge should look like : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZj9XyKVERM&t=1s . However, I'm not a software engineer or any coding related expert; so, my script i'm sharing is only discharge part (you would either have to find a different or make this better if you want it to be fully automatic like the video)
Credits to 경제분석박사 for sharing this script https://www.inven.co.kboard/maple/2302/15022 loooong ago. I edited my scrlpt based on this. Having said this, I don't take any troubleshooting questions; I'm no expert (if I did it, you 200% can fix it)
So before using this, a few requirements and basics:

1. You need logitech mouse to connect to G HUB
2. You need about 12,000,000 Waru in your Monster Life for fully leveling to 40 (More if you don't have Pharaoh Yeti <- btw always lock this to not mistakenly discharge it)

The basics

1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wyg93s_XPdw . watch this video to set up Lua features. I didn't scan and make new profile for Maplestory because when it runs it turns to desktop profile and glitched. So, I recommend using Desktop profile as it is.
2. The OutCount = n (*at 26 now) is how many you want to discharge in one run. Change "n" as per your monsters out
3. You may notice in the scrlpt , there is CarePet function. I used it to hit additional enter after RemovePet function (the discharge), so manually "Auto Take Care" first before using this (buying C-grade box and opening them is also manual)
4. I put the Monster Life in full screen and adjusted the absolute mouse position to click the check box that appear in the center when discharge was clicked. Monster Life is usually 1024 * 768 but if yours is somehow not, then you may need to either adjust screen size or the scrlpt itself "MoveMouseTo(31065, 36865)" <--- it means (x,y) or (left to right, low to high)
5. Hover your mouse cursor to the first monster to be discharge (one right to Pharaoh Yeti) then press 5 (4:08 of the lua intro video)to run it as shown in the photo below

In the lua script code dialog copy the script below and load it
count = 0 -- 조합카운트
OutCount = 26 --돌보기후 펫방출 반복횟수
function OnEvent(event, arg)
OutputLogMessage("event = %s, count = %d, arg = %dn", event, count,arg)
if (event == "PROFILE_ACTIVATED") then
EnablePrimaryMouseButtonEvents(true)
elseif event == "PROFILE_DEACTIVATED" then
ReleaseMouseButton(2) -- to prevent it from being stuck on
end
if (event == "MOUSE_BUTTON_PRESSED" and arg == 5) then--(휠우측 = 펫3회돌보기 후 방출),전환형태
CareAndOutPet(OutCount)
Sleep(60)
end
end
-- 기능함수 작성 --
--마우스 화면밖으로보내기
function GoOutside()
MoveMouseRelative(-120, 0)
Sleep(1)
MoveMouseRelative(-120, 0)
Sleep(1)
MoveMouseRelative(-120, 0)
Sleep(1)
MoveMouseRelative(-120, 0)
Sleep(1)
PressAndReleaseMouseButton(1)
end
--펫방출
function RemovePet()
local _x, _y = GetMousePosition();
PressAndReleaseMouseButton(3)
Sleep(30)
GoMouse(0,18)
Sleep(30)
PressAndReleaseMouseButton(1)
Sleep(50)
GoOutside()
Sleep(10)
MoveMouseTo(31065, 36865)
Sleep(10)
PressAndReleaseMouseButton(1)
Sleep(100)
PressKey("enter");
Sleep(50)
ReleaseKey("enter");
Sleep(80)
GoOutside()
Sleep(10)
MoveMouseTo(_x, _y)
Sleep(10)
PressAndReleaseMouseButton(1)
Sleep(40)
end
--자동 돌보기(_n회)
function CarePet(_x)
for i = 1,_x do
PressAndReleaseMouseButton(3);
Sleep(10)
GoMouse(0,21)
Sleep(10)
PressAndReleaseMouseButton(1);
Sleep(10)
PressKey("enter");
Sleep(30)
ReleaseKey("enter");
Sleep(30)
PressKey("enter");
Sleep(30)
ReleaseKey("enter");
Sleep(30)
GoMouse(0,-21)
Sleep(30)
end
end
-- 공통함수 작성 --
--마우스 상대좌표 이동(_x : x좌표, _y : y좌표)
--양수일경우 y는 위, x는 우측 이동 음수는 그반대로 이동
function GoMouse(_x, _y)
local cx = 1
local cy = 1
if _x > 0 then cx = -1
elseif _x == 0 then cx = 0
else cx = 1
end
if _y > 0 then cy = -1
elseif _y == 0 then cy = 0
else cy = 1
end
for i = 1, Abs(_x) do
MoveMouseRelative(cx*10, 0)
Sleep(1)
end
Sleep(1)
for i = 1, Abs(_y) do
MoveMouseRelative(0, cy*10)
Sleep(1)
end
end
--현재좌표-> 절대좌표값 이동
function GoAbsMouse(_x, _y)
local now_x, now_y = GetMousePosition();
local gap_x = _x - now_x
local gap_y = _y - now_y
local cx = 1 --x방향
local cy = 1 --y방향
if gap_x > 0 then cx = -1
elseif _x == 0 then cx = 0
else cx = 1
end
if gap_y > 0 then cy = -1
elseif _y == 0 then cy = 0
else cy = 1
end
for i = 1, Abs(_x) do
MoveMouseRelative(cx*1, 0)
Sleep(1)
end
Sleep(1)
for i = 1, Abs(_y) do
MoveMouseRelative(0, cy*1)
Sleep(1)
end
end
--절대값 구하기
function Abs(_x)
if _x > 0 then return _x
else return -_x
end
end
-- 마우스 절대좌표확인
function PrintMousePosition()
local _x, _y = GetMousePosition();
OutputLogMessage("Mouse is at %d, %dn", _x, _y);
end
--반복횟수 지정
function SumCount()
count = count + 1
if count > maxCount then count = maxCount
end
end
-- (돌보기1회 + 펫방출1회) * x회
function CareAndOutPet(_x)
for i = 1, _x do
CarePet(1)
Sleep(70)
RemovePet()
Sleep(70)
end
end

Your birthday came and went. And I thought about you, and where we were a year ago. I just have to close my eyes and I’m right back with you in that korean restaurant on your birthday last year, sitting across from you, watching you smile through the steam off the grill, while we share a bottle of soju.
I thought of you. And I wanted to reach out but I didn't. I thought about you like I have thought about you every single day since the day you walked out the door. I think about you every morning when I wake up. At work, I think about you when my mind drifts. I think about you every night before I fall asleep. And Even when I’m asleep, I dream of you. I can’t get you out of my head. And every day, there’s a war in my mind. Between the part of me that wants you back and the part of me that realizes you aren’t good for me.
I miss you. I miss cuddling with you. I miss coming home to you, watching anime with you. I miss falling asleep beside you, or waking up to your coffee you would make me.
It takes everything in me not to reach out. And I wonder if it ever gets easier.
When your next birthday passes, will I still feel such complicated feelings toward you? Will I still worry about you and how you're doing? How many birthdays will it take before it starts getting easier to fight the inclination to reach out?
I guess that’s why I am writing to you here. In a letter I will never send. To tell you what I wish I could say, if the logical part of my brain didn’t stop me and say what a foolish thought that would be. And what I wanted to say was happy birthday.

In this post I'll provide a few builds meant to play to a theme. They are not "the best bullshit to teabag on solo helldives", they are meant to be fun and are in my experience very much viable at Suicide Missions ( 7 ) and do not drag their feet at Helldive either. If that's all you want, skip to the first build.
If however you feel the need to ask my "credentials":
I have 129 hours played in about 30 days since buying it, am Level 53 and have every warbond unlocked into the highest tier, without spending a dime more then 40 Euros. I have completed solo helldives including extraction. but never bothered with 100%ing or deathless runs on Helldive.
I think Suicide Mission is the perfect difficulty to play on for fun, as it keeps you on your toes without drowning you in heavies everytime all the time.
I will make sure to provide a free option anytime my first choice is locked behind a premium warbond.
BUILD 1 - The Light of Democracy
ArmorPassive: Democracy protects - Theme and Bling Primary: Sickle or Scythe - The sickle is better, but the Scythe is a perfectly fine weapon to use Secondary: Dagger or Redeemer - The Dagger has more light, the Redeemer more ballots to cast. Grenade: Stun or Impact Support: LasCannon - Kills all bots, cuts through most bugs Backpack: Laser Rover or Energy Shield - The former on Bugs, the latter on Automatons Stratagem: Orbital Laser and Eagle Airstrike
How to play: Make sure you inform yourself on where to hit bots for maximum effect and on bugs leave Chargers and Bile Titans to the AT Guy you'll inevitably meet in every random group. If you stick close to someone with a Quasar or Recoilless Rifle, keeping the chaff at bay while they punch the big guys in the face, you'll make friends really quickly. Never be to shy to pick up an convenient EAT for immediate use either. If you expose something fleshy, your LasCannon suddenly does considerable damage. The Orbital Laser and Airstrike can help with Heavies, but the former is best used to clear out a base or burn away a mass of enemies. Also remember: If you kill the hind sack on a titan, it can't spew anymore and will be mostly neutered.
Build 2 - The Sound of Freedom
ArmorPassive: Engineering Kit or Fortified (Engineering kit gives you more boom for your buck...) Primary: Eruptor or Scorcher - Unfortunately the Scorcher is the only 'explosive' Primary in the standard warbond Secondary: Grenade Pistol or Redeemer Grenade: Impact Support: Grenade Launcher or Autocannon - The Grenade Launcher vs Bugs, the AC vs Automatons Backpack: Supplypack if using Grenade Launcher Stratagems: EAT, 500kg, 380mm Barrage or Precision Strike
How to play: In both variants your Support Weapon will be your main armament. Learn how to animation cancel the eruptors reload to use it more like another grenade launcher. The sensible choice for secondary is the redeemer and I prefer it on semi auto, but this isn't about sensibility, this is about freedom! On bugs you'll be the bane of spewers. Just plonk their behind 2 times and watch them explode - so satisfying. In general, you'll have a lot of wave clear potential and the EAT is there to solve your heavy problems. On Automatons you can kill everything with a few well placed shots and should prioritize as normal. Littering the Map with EATs is always a good practice, you can call 78 of those guys over a 40 minute game, so just do it everytime you remember.
Build 3 - The Bullethellion
ArmorPassive: Fortified or Engineering Kit Primary: Breaker-variant or Pummeler- I would recommend the Breaker Incendiary for obvious reasons, but the base breaker is a wonderfull weapon Secondary: Redeemer - duh. Grenades: Thermite or Impact Support: MG-43 Backpack: Supplypack Strategems: AutoCannon Sentry, 380mm
How to play: Anything in front of you should die by lead poisoning. Thermite and the AC Sentry can deal with or soften up heavy armor for you. On bots your priority is to scrap any and all infantry bots the moment you see them. All of them can call in bot drops, but only if they are alive to do so. Nothing is more important and nobody is more qualified to do this then you are. A tank that never drops is as good as a dead tank. On bugs you will struggle to close holes, while thermit can close them, it takes time and they tend to stick to inopportune spots, so practice your aim. The 380mm can delete a big base by itself.

I slept fine, I didn’t fall asleep so nicely. I don’t know why, I felt perfectly adequate all evening and then bam I cry myself to sleep. I don’t know how or why, and I didn’t even cry over anything in particular it was just any and everything. And I just kept crying and crying, like a baby. I had to switch pillows twice because I drenched it, but I got to sleep on my favourite pillow by the time I was almost asleep thankfully. I can be so picky with pillows, another thing mum tends to call me, even to this day - the princess and the pea. Or rather she likens me to her… I can’t entirely say I disagree tbh. I just like things a particular way, not all things, I can be relaxed about plenty, but there are some things I just to be just so. My pillows when I sleep for example, how the dishwasher top rack is stacked etc. Entirely inconsequential things really. But anyway. I didn’t fall asleep so nicely. I woke up feeling better, still a bit sad but nothing I couldn’t ignore.
It’s now 12:58pm and I’ve done next to nothing. I’ve been watching BT, I’m not writing the name of the show because I feel like that might be search heavy at the moment? So I’ve been watching that, I’m midway through the third episode now and there are four out so far. I’ve also painted some of my lil clay things with primer. And that’s about it. I really need to clean and tidy my room but the idea of it… ugh. I don’t want to :(
I’m loving BT so much. I like the stories and characters and stuff, but I mostly love the sets and costumes. They’re just so luxuriously opulent and uggghhhhhhh I want to just stare it all. Sometimes I wish they would clear out the cast and just give us a tour of the rooms and show all the details of the gowns. But like I learned in therapy, beauty is something I value highly, not in a vain way but in the way I utterly adore beautiful things whether it be a stunningly ornate wallpaper, a sparkly bead encrusted gown or even a leaf that is the perfect shade of green. I just love it all and it brings me so much joy, more than I realised now that I’m conscious of this value of mine. But the BT house itself, particularly the drawing room ommmmgggg. The blue? I think it’s called wedgewood blue from memory, with the creamy/white detailing. And all the light streaming through. It’s so dreamy. And it makes me love my blue and white bedroom more. And the gowns!!!!!!! I wish I could roll around in them, they’re so sparkly and detailed and beyond beautiful. Particularly the ones crusted in beading and with the luxurious silks and satins and velvets and taffetas and organza and all of it. And the colours! It’s all so dreamy. I don’t overly love the style of a lot of the gowns, that sort of empire line, mainly because it only looks good on women with fewer curves and a flatter chest, they can look gorrrrrrrgeous in them. But otherwise if you have any kind of cleavage it looks so weird and bleh. I love Penelope so much, she’s always been a favourite character and she honestly deserves the very best. And Colin definitely got a glow up prior to this season. His brown coat is so delicious. I’m beginning to wonder if I should read the series…? I do love a lil historical romance. Anyway I don’t even Penelope and Colin to end up together, I mean Lord Debling is so lovely and Colin is off sleeping with hookers… like? Then again I know I am wrong in how I think and feel about all of this. I know I have expectations ghat are unfair, I mean maybe not for everyone but if I’m nothing special and therefore not enough then can I criticise. This doesn’t make sense. Anyway. Actually nevermind I just watched the fourth episode and I am very much Team Colin. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!!!!!!!! But now I have to wait for part two in mid June :(
I’m going to the office tomorrow. I don’t want to. But oh well. I’m going to make a concerted effort to get back in twice a week - I’ve been slack with it and it doesn’t help me become better. Leaving the house more is important, so this shall be one of the ways. I’m also going to get some new sneakers and a walking jacket so I can go for walks more regularly. I’d like to go several times a week, but I’ll work up to that. I love my walks, I love them a lot but I just get filled with every negative emotion when I go for them around my house, to the point I’ll start having tears running down my cheeks or shaky trembly hands - it’s pathetic. I think environment is everything, and purpose. When I walk pups at my parents I don’t feel these things, I’ll be a little anxy but nothing I can’t manage. But here? It’s so hard. It’s so stupid I know. But I love walking, I feel better when I do it regularly, so I shall keep forcing myself to do it until I feel okay about it. I know this is what I have to do, but the way it makes me feel inside… it never feels worth it. To be 20 minutes walk from home and feel on the verge of a panic attack is NOT a good feeling and it only makes my panic worsen. So baby steps. I’ve been considering on and off moving to a different area, I think I would feel more comfortable in other areas, I don’t know why I don’t here but I don’t. But moving elsewhere is no different to running from problems so I will sort it out here.
I broke his little bowl. I didn’t mean to :( I feel kind of upset about it, it’s been two weeks in the making with time to shape, dry, prime and I was doing a final layer of primer pre paint and my stupid finger went through the base. So I guess it would never have been a good present anyway because it broke so easily. But I bought a really pretty coloured paint because I thought he might like it and I just feel upset. I showed him it, idk why, I just messaged him a picture of it now and I already wish I hadn’t. I shouldn’t have even made anything for him in the first place, he’s made it abundantly clear he doesn’t care for homemade things - cards, presents, whatever. If he did like them he would comment on them, and he never does, so maybe it’s a good thing this broke. I just like sharing things with him, like when I draw and I like a tree I’ve drawn I want to show him, except I don’t because I’m utterly rubbish at drawing and it makes me look like a five year old. I at least appreciate his honesty, or transparency rather. It means I can understand what he does and doesn’t like. I just think his likes don’t mesh with my like of making homemade cards and presents. It’s not like I only give him that though. Anyway it doesn’t matter, plus it’s probably better for me to not share things like this given I don’t have any skill or natural talent with it. Just because you enjoy something doesn’t make you good at it.
I don’t feel so great this afternoon, mood wise.
I’ve done the absolute bare minimum with my room, and the bar was set very, very low today. I tidied the floor up a bit, I made my bed, did a lazy tidy of my vanity desk thing.. that’s about it. I’ll do more across the week.
I feel.. detached today. This afternoon, rather. I know I love my family, Andy, puppy… etc. I just can’t feel it. I know it’s all in there, but I feel detached and I can’t reach it. This isn’t unusual, I just always try to describe the feeling and always fail. I think knowing I care but not being able to feel myself care sums it up as well as I’ll ever be able to.
I found a little notebook of my early days of therapy, well with this current one, maybe not that early actually but idk. It was just me writing down who I am. The first is “I am a human” because I had to start with the basics. The last line is “I try my best to be friendly” - I think I will continue with this. No one really comments much on me so I will just write it as things feel write. From memory it was also a way to force myself to speak more kindly to myself, ie I am a woman vs I am a monster. And things like I’m generous, I love animals, I am quiet, I try to be patient, I love romance, I appreciate attention to detail, I like to care for others, I am a homebody, I love reading etc. And then scattered amongst it was some honesty, like I can be a control freak, I am quite particular about some things, I am indecisive, I am sensitive etc. And then next to I am a friend I have a question mark. But I want to continue writing these things, I think it’s helpful when I feel lost in myself to be able to read through a list of things I’ve written and be reminded. That sounds so silly to not know who you are sometimes, but sometimes I just feel so unbelievably lost and unmoored from everything, even myself. So I’ll write all the good things, and the bad. I’ll write things that I like, things that I don’t. I’ll write things I want in my life, things I feel like I should want but don’t, things I shouldn’t want but do etc etc etc. It’ll be a little tiny notebook of everything me. I wonder if sometimes it’s possible for me to get any lamer? Unlikely.
I’ve been thinking about stopping journaling here more and more. I get more out of posting it here, it feels like a release, like I’m letting all the thoughts go which is especially helpful with my negative ones, I don’t know.
It’s 5:23pm. I need to wash and blowdry my hair, as it’s still damp in the morning lately. I need to have something for dinner, I guess. I’ve been struggling with eating lately, I feel so ugly and it makes me not want to eat and then that sets off a bad string of things. I’ll have something little, vegemite toast maybe. I need to pack my bag for tomorrow. And that’s it.
I feel better after a shower and chat with Andy, I still feel not good but he perked me up on the outside. He makes me laugh so much :) It’s kind of weird to think I’ll be living long term in Australia, like I’ve always intended on living there - until my mental health and covid messed things up a little for me timeline wise. But to think I’ll maybe say Australian things…? That I’ll say thongs? And I definitely will because I cave quickly, like I was only in the UK two years and I said crisps and trainers and I still do to this day, which I’m actively trying to stop. I wonder what my accent would sound like after like ten years… I really doubt I’d ever lose my accent. It’s funny how I do probably sound a bit different when talking to him versus my mum. I just talk more softly with him, I naturally do anyway to the point I have people comment semi regularly on how soft spoken I am, but idk, I don’t even mean to speak to him a certain way, I just do? And then he hears me talking to mum and I probably sound like I’m wearing Jandals and stubbies while loading up the ute as I prepare for a tramp in the bush. Christ. I do love being from here though, in theory I would rather we live here than Australia, and never say never… but it makes more sense to be there. I don’t really have anyone here other than my parents whereas he has family and friends and his payments and all of it. I don’t really have any ties here. Anyway.
I get to spend time with him tonight :) Night night

Hey all hope you're having a great day :)
So like most people i'm missing that special person in my life and it would be really nice to find someone that i can relate to, be 100% honest and open with and generally find my best friend.
Hopefully this would start out as friendship and if we click then we click, open to anyone from anywhere :)
Some stuff about me/hobbies
Video games, this is my biggest hobby by far, i play have an pretty big library of games i play so if you game, there is a high chance we would share stuff we could play, a few games i play often, League(i question it too don't worry) soulsbourne games (unga bunga builds) fallout's, i mainly play pc but have a switch and ps4 too.
TV/Film, if not doing the above, you can find me binge watching shows or films, such as B99, the office HIMYM, GoT (we can discuss how shit the last season was forever), Star Wars, Marvel stuff, SAW.
Animals, i have 2 dogs (yes i'll show you lots of pictures) and in general i love animals so much, so i'll probably spam you with pictures of random animals i think are cute or funny :)
Music, i listen to a wide variety of stuff, from rock and metal to dance/pop some electro swing, rap and other stuff, in general if i like a song i'll listen to it on repeat till i hate it but still listen to it anyway.
I try and be witty and funny most the time, I have a stupid sense of humour but will try and make you laugh most of the time, I can be shy to start with but i open up pretty quickly when i get comfortable with you :)
Don't be shy and hit me up if you think we would get on :)

Long story short, I started playing Genshin the day it came out and basically lived my life in it for a year with two accounts (AR58 and AR56). Given my ADHD, it was pretty amazing for me to be able to focus on it for such a long time and actually dedicate time to something, but then I quit for two years. Life happened, and I kept logging in once or twice because I had to for some characters (Nahida) but I am back now, mainly cuz of Father. The time back reminded me how much I love the game, not just for the Cough Cough ASSests Cough Cough and Lore. Which leads to my main point.
I WANT TO WRITE A GENSHIN ISEKAI NOVEL
The plot, flow, and mechanics are mostly done, and the progression and JOURNEY are set. But I want to know what you would like to see or what you would do in a situation where you've been isekai'd. Be wild, and imagine what you wish you could change or make happen in the story or in the background where many NPCs don't get the spotlight. Or certain things to try out that you never could do again or ever. Or something you wish would happen that maybe it might happen. Any relationSHIPS that u wanna see or be apart of. Can be anything. Also things that u dont want to happen.

• It's not going to be an "I got reincarnated into another world with a smartphone" type of story.
• I will be sticking quite close to the Genshin world and accurate while not trying to change it.
• It will take time because I need to catch up with the story (I've only just completed Sumeru) and I need to catch up with the events. What's up with locking lore behind time-based events?
• This point is just to thank the Genshin Fandom Wiki for existing and being a great help, and if anyone has any suggestions for finding lore or theories about Genshin, please suggest them.
• No, it’s not a manga/manhua/manhwa/anime/animation or anything besides a novel. I will publish it somewhere on the internet (a web novel site).
• Thank you for your time!

ps. If it wanst clear, I will be taking a shot at this "Journey" thing that everyone keeps saying in the game.

Before I go any further with this I know I have done some pretty stupid things over the years and I never really believed in the paranormal until this incident happened.
So about when me and my best friend were in highschool (year 11 to be exact) I was staying over at her place for the weekend after I had finished my work shift, it was around this time my best friend had an art project that was due soonish and she didn't have any inspiration to help her create something original. Then she came up with the idea to do a freaky photo shoot to see if that would help inspire her to create something ( and I ended up being her muse you could say) and mind you she is very much into special effects and stuff as she is a make-up artist in the making. So by the time she was finished with the make up you could say I looked like a decaying and walking corpse.
We decided to take some photos out in her backyard and then go analysis the pictures some got her attention and some didn't, so then I cleaned myself up and then we tried again, but this time an elf like character. That's when I got the "brilliant"(not so brilliant ) idea that maybe we should got to the nearby lake since there was some awesome places there that would be perfect. Mind you it was already 11:30pm at night.
The first mistake we made was actually going through with that idea at 11:30pm at night which well it was pretty stupid to begin with since will all the bad things happening around our local area ( missing people/ animals, murders etc), that alone should have been a clear indication that we shouldn't be going.
That wasn't a thought to us in the slightest,
So when my best friend drives us there and parks in the big empty car park( which was another clear indicator that we really shouldn't be there), we just sat in her car for a good minutes just discussing how the photos should be taken.....then that's when I got a chill down my spine and the sensation that we were being watched from somewhere. That feeling never left and to this day I can't believe my stupid self had just blantanly ignored that altogether. I wasn't the only one ,my best friend also got the exact same feeling I did and then we proceeded to get out of her car and start taking photos like we discussed. She has fake realistic swords and other weapons so we were using those as props and Everything was going perfectly fine (besides feeling like we were being watched).
What happened next still makes my heart stop, because the place we were at had hiking and biking trails as well as being surrounded by a woodland area. What we heard whilst in the middle of taking some more photos was the sound between a strangled and drying animal mix with a high pitch human scream and when I tell it sounded way too close comfort, I mean it sounded to close for comfort. That sound lasted for a good solid minute (just one singular sound with no breath in-between it) then it stopped and went erriely quiet. Way too quiet.
Now looking back on it, there was no sound of insects making any noise when we got out of the car and there was very certainly none after that sound. Which only means that there was a predator or something of the sorts nearby. I thought I was just hearing things or thought it possibly was just a native animal of sorts.
At this point me and best friend were starting to freak out a little bit, because then we heard the sound of sticks on ground snapping in half to the right of us near one of the hiking trails (which wasn't too far from where we were not that long ago) We tried to not panic and finish the last of the photos.(That was dumb idiotic idea know, but at this point we have made a few.)
I think I was zoning out and focusing on what she wanted me to ( for example,like hold the sword in a swinging position like you were about to slay down beast) I sensed that my best friend had stopped giving instructions and looked to her to see that she was standing and looking terrified to say the least
(This was our conversation in that moment)
Me:"uh... You good??"
My best friend:" slowly come over to me, but whatever you do. Don't .look , behind you."
When she said those words I instinctively and very stupidly looked behind me. To see that standing about a good 10 metres or so from me was a tall stocky but lean black figure that wasn't quite human nor animal from the looks of it ,but at first I thought I was a kangaroo ( yes I forgot to mention we live in Australia) with the way it was carrying itself. A very big kangaroo in this instance.
I then wished that I hadn't looked and now looked back at my best friend and now realised we needed to leave immediately. Because whatever the hell that thing behind me was, definitely wasn't friendly at all.
But we couldn't just bolt off back to the car as that would definitely cause the thing to chase down and it definitely would catch up with no trouble at all, so we had to as calmly as possible,pick up our belongings and slowly go back to the car. But since I didn't know what hell we were dealing with I didn't want to keep my back it as that would have very very stupid and I wanted to make sure it was still there. Thankfully it was but as soon as we got to her car and quickly got in(making sure the doors were locked), I look out the windshield and saw that it was no longer there.
We quickly high tailed it out of there and once back on the road, I then looked in the side mirror on my side of her car and saw the figure standing motionless in the middle of road watching us leave. That we when me and my best friend finally could process what just happened.
Then just before we got to the main road again, there was an actual kangaroo standing in the middle of the road which freaked us out more( but we didn't have a car accident from it) and went the car horn was beeped the kangaroo went on its way and so did we.
Once her place we quickly got inside and locked the doors, shut any open windows and locked as well as closed the curtains.The rest of the night and early morning we could hear scratching and tapping on the windows which we ignored and decided to go to bed.
Needlessly to say always trust your gut feeling or you may not live long enough to tell the tail.

Of all the anime I've seen (not a whole lot), I am enjoying this anime more than any anime I've seen. The rewatch ability for me is huge for this anime. The tough topics such as depression and ED that it deals with, I am honestly surprised on how well it was done. And honestly, it's refreshing to see an anime where when two people are of adult age and are in love, that actually sleep together. I don't care that they don't show the act but it's just the fact that the anime isn't being shy on the fact that people in love and are together sleep with each other. I am so tired of the extremely bashful and shy couples that never do it because something. When if this was real, in reality, they be fuckin.
Then there are just the holy shit moments in the anime. 2 stick out the most. In the beginning of season 2 after Rudeus gets drunk with Soldat after the incident with Sara and Sara overhears the less than nice things Rudeus had said about her, even though what Sara did the night before was SUCH a bitchy thing to do, I wasn't until my second watch where I see Rudeus try to kill himself right there. It was so fast, but my mind was like HOLY SHIT!! Very few anime gets that reaction from me. The second holy shit moment was in the last episode that aired where Sylphie says she is pregnant, you should have seen me, I automatically stuck a victory pose in excitement for the two of them. Then afterwards when he got the letter about Zenith, I was like, oh no. This situation sucks for both Rudeus and Sylphie.
There are multiple things I am excited to see that I accidentally spoiled for myself when I was trying to learn the characters on the Wikipedia page. Like all of Rudeus' children and with who. I am extremely curious how those conversations are going to go in the future when Rudeus runs into two specific people. Especially Sylphie's reactions. I'm currently so worried how she will react in the future.
I am so invested in this anime's future. I want to know if Rudeus takes Roa back form the slime that took over after killing Eris' grandfather. I hope Rudeus becomes the leader of Roa. I think it would be cool for Rudeus and Orsted have a chat like Al Pacino and Robert De Niro in HEAT where Rudeus and Orsted come to a truce/understanding.
Super excited about this anime. Will watch until the end and eagerly so.

Hi everyone! I've only been hanging out here a couple of weeks, but I love the vibe. Just wanted your thoughts on something. This recent lore.fm drama just got me thinking.
I'm in my 20s right now, and I've been participating in fandom spaces since I was 12/13 years old. My first real experience with a community was on deviantart, in an anime fandom with a relatively young, female audience (think 13-17). It felt like it was easy to make 'friends' (only one has survived the test of time, but they were all fun while they lasted), and people were making fun, indulgent stuff and didn't seem to take themselves too seriously.
I've got a tumblr blog now, which is my main 'fandom stuff' avenue. And everyone seems so isolated from each other, even though interaction features are better than ever; or they're just sending each other asks that honestly seem performative. I get 100-150 likes on my posts, a handful of reblogs... and actual communication like once a month. So... someone's reading it but no one SAYS anything, in the replies, in their reblogs, wherever.
I love the comments I get on AO3, because they're very thoughtful, and seem genuinely so happy to read my work; but we all know the etiquette seems to be comment-> reply-> done.
And then I saw some of the screenshots that were shared re: the comments on lore.fm tiktoks, and it just felt so consumerist. Calling our work 'content', being annoyed that the authors wanted some say in how their work was shared, and all that. I know the tiktok audience skews young, but I just don't think I'd ever have said these things at 13 years old.
So... is this the online equivalent of becoming best friends in elementary school because you both have the same favourite colour vs struggling to move past small talk with acquaintances in adulthood; or has the way people interact online really changed?
It's just a little disappointing, because I used to love sharing the things I made, but it feels pointless to make that effort sometimes. Are there still places that are both conducive for writing AND have community features?

This is something I've been working on for a while, and I'm excited to be able to share it with other people who enjoy card creation.
I realize most people won't read most of this post, so I'll put the important parts first. I am grateful for and open to any feedback you have on individual card designs, mechanics, and set design!
This is my first time creating an entire custom set, but as someone who has long enjoyed and played Limited, my goal was to make a fully draftable set with archetypes for each color combination, the right distribution of cards at each color and rarity, etc.
The set, created with MSE, contains 285 cards (259 excluding basic lands and alternate printings) and 14 tokens.
This custom set is an adaptation of the Netflix anime "DOTA: Dragon's Blood" animated by Studio Mir. (Why this show? The color design, loose magic system, epic scale, and different factions in the show were perfect for adapting into cards. I acknowledge that some of my design choices might make less sense without knowledge of the show.)
The best way to view the cards is via this PDF (Google Drive), which includes all the cards in one place, sorted into the same categories listed below.
Alternatively, you can view each category by itself either on imgur or in Google Drive:

• Rares and Mythics: imgur, Google Drive
• Three-Color Sagas: imgur, Google Drive
• Three-Color Uncommons: imgur, Google Drive
• Two-Color Signpost Uncommons: imgur, Google Drive
• Commons and Uncommons (by color): imgur, Google Drive
• Lands (all rarities): imgur (nonbasics), imgur (basics), Google Drive (all)
• Alternate art special printings: imgur, Google Drive
• Tokens: imgur, Google Drive

You can also just find all 299 images, in alphabetical order, here: imgur, Google Drive.
The set is on PlaneSculptors so you can do draft/sealed with it there:
https://www.planesculptors.net/set/dota-dragons-blood-v3
A few more notes:

• While each color pair has a theme/mechanic (see below), I designed this set to support three-color decks. Each three-color combo has its own saga and signpost uncommon, and each loosely represents one of the factions from the show.
  
• I made this set according to the old set design format, i.e., the way draft was before play boosters and Murders at Karlov Manor. (Hence why I wanted to post the set before people forget too much about the way things used to be!)
  
• I did not think much about how these cards would interact with the rest of Magic, break other formats, etc., because my main goal was to make a draftable set. There were times I meticulously checked the power of my cards against historical precedent and times I intentionally pushed the boundaries of what Wizards usually makes. I'll be curious to know if anything is obviously and egregiously broken (besides the three versions of The Invoker).
  
• As of this post, none of the cards have the same name as real MTG cards, so you should be able to import them into Cockatrice without issue (Cockatrice package in Google Drive).
  
• The show I adapted is based on the game DOTA 2 by Valve. I have not played this game myself, so, with only a few exceptions, these cards solely represent the characters and events as portrayed in the show, not the game.
  

New mechanics:

• Mourn – you get special benefits if a permanent (often a creature) you control leaves the battlefield this turn.
• Assault – you get special benefits if (or whenever) damage has been dealt this turn. Often, these benefits apply to combat, so you need to deal damage before combat
• Command – activate useful abilities by tapping your own creatures
• (I also reused Convoke)

Color pairs archetypes:

• WU (Azorius): “Mourn” mechanic
• WB (Orzhov): “Command” mechanic
• WR (Boros): attacking. Simple aggro, with ways to remove or tap your opponent’s stuff. (Add U or B for evasion, G for poweramp.)
• WG (Selesnya): Convoke, tapping your creatures for mana.
• UB (Dimir): create tokens and make opponents discard. Pairs well with BR (sacrifice) and WB (Command)
• UR (Izzet): noncreature spells (not just instants/sorceries)
• UG (Simic): scrying and drawing extra cards
• BR (Rakdos): sacrificing things. Can be aggro (add W or G) or control (add U).
• BG (Golgari): likes it when stuff dies and when stuff is in graveyards.
• RG (Gruul): “Assault” mechanic

The mechanics (and the way I made the cards) primarily reflect the flavor of the show, which was one of my main goals.
If you want to read more about the set, see this PDF (Google Drive).
While the card designs are all mine, the art is all taken from the show and thus belongs to Netflix and Studio Mir. The names, events, etc. belong to Netflix and Valve.
I am very happy with the story and art I got to work with in making this set; some of my favorite art includes the special printings of Mirana, the Sun Ascendant and Temple Ruins; Tower Rebuilt; the special Treasure token; Draconic Confrontation; Moon Rupture; Remember; Astral Realm; all the sagas; and all the land, especially basics.

Heya everyone who may be reading this!! I'm here looking for a genuine connection, and taking things slow to get to know each other is fine by me! I'm mainly looking for a friendship where we can both be open with each other. :)
Gaming is definitely my main hobby as of now, and I play a variety of different types. From horror to casual I'm usually up for whatever. I also happen to be a streamer! Vtuber to be specific. I ain't big or anything as I take it casually, but I love my community to bits and I've made so many great friends because of it. It's helped me play more games and get to stuff I may have missed before. For example, I played through all the 3d Zelda games, and I also am playing Paper Mario which I am loving! I'd love to talk more about it and the games we love later, as I love learning about new people!
I quite enjoy TV shows, anime, and movies and have a bunch of hobbies I'd love to learn like art, but...here comes the big caveat with me: i suffer from pretty extreme depression that's made it hard for me to do things I used to enjoy as I can barely focus unless someone sits down with me to do it. The main reason I started streaming is so I'd be able to play games again as it was so hard for me to so so otherwise. I don't have a job and have lived with my mom for the past 8 years, and while I'm trying my best (currently trying adhd meds), it's been rough. Don't get me wrong, though. My mood is relatively stable and I'm actually quite positive and optimistic, though my current meds are messing with my head a bit. I may need some pokes if I don't respond right away and patience would be super appreciated. I've grown so much as a person over the years and have learned a lot about myself and how to be comfortable with who I am and embrace it. So yeah, I totally understand if you don't wanna deal with my current situation and all that. I just wanted to be upfront about it so you know what you're getting into.
ANYWAYS!! I consider myself a chill, goofy, and caring person, and I genuinely love helping people and hope to make it my career someday and be something like a social worker or counselor. I just really enjoy making other people happy, ya know? I can also be relatively shy and awkward, but at the same time I have the energy and enthusiasm to make up for it. I like to consider myself an 'extroverted introvert' if you will. I also really try to be open with my emotions and approach things upfront, and loyalty is a HUGE thing for me. I am loyal to a fault and will stick by someone's side even if it's probably not good for me if I care about them enough.
Let's see....besides having a cat named Roo who I love a ton, I think that's it! I'm probably missing a few things, but I'm not always the best at organizing my thoughts haha. I'd love to chat and get to know whoever is reading this more, but if not that's fine as well as I totally understand. I hope you all have a great day and find what you're looking for! :)

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