Wonka*
""
Physicals - [Wears his hat effortlessly, which contains a teacup, carrots, those cloth strips magicians pull out of hats]() - [Jumps off a moving truck on to a lamp post, skillfully sliding down]()
Durability

• [Survives being on the outskirts of this explosion](URL)
• [Is stated to have swam more than 3 miles in cold water directly after the aforementioned explosion](URL)
• Gets hit over the head with a baton, after being repeatedly dunked into frozen water
• [Unaffected by a cold which completely freezes his hot chocolate in seconds]()

Cane

• [Built in screwdriver]()
• [Contains a sweet, that makes people party, have mood swings, and do something reckless, then fall asleep]()

Hoverchoc

• [Makes people fly for about 20 minutes]()
• [Can be used offensively]()

Oompa Loompa

• [Also survived being on the outskirts of the boat explosion, presumably swam the same distance as Wonka]()
• [Hits Wonka over the head, then the foot with a frying pan]()
• [Throws an empty jar at the priest, knocking him out]()
• [Has wings which allow him to soar through the air]()

Planning

• [Plans the perfect heist to steal the Chocolate cartel's records]()
• [Captures an Oompa Loompa]()
• [Decorates an entire store in 1 night]()

OTHER

• [Milks a giraffe. Dont ask me how.]()

What’s in the closet, Kirsty?
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.

[First] [Previous] [Next]
Edited by WaveOfWire
- - - - -
Two days… It had been two days that Tracy had gone to sleep while Harrison was working, only to come back in the morning to see him still in the workshop. She knew he was damn productive, sure, but that really couldn’t be healthy. Apparently, it had something to do with the weird bowl of orange… soup… that Cera gave him. No way was it just caffeine; any amount of the stuff would have been filtered out of his system by now. He mentioned a tingling feeling too…
Damn, she did not know enough about drugs to even start assuming what that massive alien had Harrison fucked up on. At least the scanner said he was ‘fine’—if you ignore the other glaring issues the machine brought up. Plus, he said he didn’t mind it. Either way, he managed to complete the weaving component and a few other electrical backbones of the fabricator last night, so the project was practically done, and after seeing the engineer work himself half to death, she was dead-set on finishing it.
She was currently tits-deep into the upper manufacturing portion of the towering machine. It took a tall step-stool—on top of the nearby desk—for her to push her small shoulders through the even smaller access panels high on the everything-printer. It was difficult to fit her torso in, but she managed, holding a flashlight between her teeth as she fiddled with a stubborn series of mechanical ‘hands.’ Nothing new. The situation reminded her of the ‘shop back on Mars; it had the same ever-present scent of copper and industrial sealant. All that was missing was her dad’s ancient tunes blasting through some shitty speakers… Hold on…
The modular component in her grip was successfully attached with a resonating thock. Tracy squirmed out of the dim wire-filled crevice, trying her best to not rip her only tank-top on any bolts or corners, and getting a face-full of the bright flood-lights illuminating the workshop. She scowled and blocked out the searing light with a hand, but she was a bit too late to avoid going half-blind.
“Are the mechanical manipulators in?” Harrison grunted, poking his head out underneath the printer’s floor-adjacent maintenance hatch. She looked down at him as she tried to blink off the spots in her vision. His hair was messy, barely kept in line by his habit of combing through it with his fingers. The areas around his eyes were dark and sunken… Guess that’s what two all-nighters did to a man. He’d be seeing the hat man or start hallucinating if he didn’t get any sleep soon… but then again, the two of them were so close to finishing the fabricator…
“You bet.” She gave him a thumbs up, slamming the panel cover closed. “Feel free to test it.”
He nodded and slid back underneath the machine. “Gotcha”
She gently stepped off the stool and slid off the side of the desk, stretching herself out. If her piss-poor sitting posture or her tank-top puppies hadn’t already fucked her spine up, bending over backward to build this fabricator sure as hell would. She sat down next to the panel where Harrison resided, resting her back against the fabrication tower. Her excited voice broke the muffled noises of the engineer’s work. “So… Harrison?”
“Hmm—”
“—Mind if I play some music?”
The sounds from the hatch stopped, followed by his muffled, shocked tone echoing from beneath the fabricator. “You have music!?”
She smirked at seeing the expression on his face when his head popped out again. “I sure do… Did you seriously not download any to your data pad?”
He slipped out from beneath the fabricator fully, huffing as he took a knee beside her. The scent of melded rubber, wire, and his liquid labor reached her nose not-so-unpleasantly. “You would not believe how much of a pain it is to repair an entire barracks without it… So, yeah, I didn’t.”
“Sooooooooo, whatcha wanna listen to? I’ve got almost everything on here—besides the super niche, of course.” She pulled her data pad out, swiping to the massive music folder
“You wouldn’t like the kinda music I listen to; It’s ancient.”
She gave him a lighthearted, annoyed glare. “Welcome to the club… Now what’ll it be?”
“It’s Old Earth kind of ancient… but alright” He looked up at the ceiling in thought, lips pursed. “Do you have anything from Styx or Sweet?”
She stared at him incredulously, her smirk turning into a fully-fledged smile. “Oh my God. You are an absolute dork! You actually listen to Golden Age music?”
His brows raised, accusatory. “And you somehow know exactly who those bands were and what age of Old Earth music they came from?”
She smugly leaned in closer. “That’s because I’m just as much of a nerd with that kinda music as you apparently are.” She quickly looked upward, addressing the workshop AI. “Sebas, connect nearby speakers to my data pad’s audio.” Tracy elbowed the engineer lightly as the PA system chirped its affirmation. “Now, Mr. Golden Age music, which albums do ya want me to queue up?”
- - - - -
The two of them listened to music for hours, tossing on songs they liked as they came to mind while they worked. Harrison had a ton of recommendations that spanned all over the Golden Ages and some twenty-first century classics. She didn’t even know half of them, but she was vibing either way, adding on her own taste by intermingling some older rock tracks and newer electronic beats. The playlist was steadily built up as the day went on. Thank God her dad showed her a vast array of tunes; she might not have been able to keep up with the engineer if her old man hadn't.
It made the work go by so fast, their conversations blurring as they jumped from topic to topic. They discussed whatever came to mind—old hobbies, old jobs, and old interests. A lot was left behind in Sol… At least she knew that the only other human on the planet was more interesting than a soulless workaholic. It turned out that he was a pretty big history buff, and he apparently read a lot about the colonization of the Sol system and the various wars of independence thereafter. Curious, she asked where the interest stemmed from, and he explained that his grandfather was an admiral in the Slavic-Europan deep-ice submarine fleet, which explained how Harrison’s mother was able to afford to immigrate to Mars from Europa.
He could also play an acoustic guitar, and, unfortunately for Tracy, he wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in printing one out, citing that it was a waste of time and material that would be better used elsewhere. That didn’t stop her from writing a note on her data pad to do so later, though. She hadn’t seen someone play one of those in years—the last time was probably in some old music video from the early twenty-second century. What a shame. She would have liked to hear some of the Europan songs his grandmother taught him.
On the bright side, the man seemed to take an interest in her odd hobbies. He brought up the folder of 3D models that she accidentally uploaded to the inter-module system and asked where she got the inspiration for what was in it. Boy, was he not ready for her ‘WarHalberd40k’ lore dump. Props to the guy for not standing up and leaving the workshop throughout her rambling. He even asked questions about the different factions and their weapons, which she was more than happy to talk about.
She also ended up going over the other franchises and hobbies she was interested in, such as robotics and the like. The only interruptions to their chat were the occasional Akula or Craftsman asking for insight regarding the various tasks he had allotted to them, or Shar coming in to check up on Harrison between guard shifts.
The new dynamic of the group was pretty interesting, to say the least. Tracy hadn’t been out to interact with the whole lot of Malkrin, but she definitely noticed how they treated the engineer. They’d started to look up to him in a way ever since he started showing off technology. In a little over two days, the man had shown them that he could provide the materials for a brick house, fine clothing—especially by the alien’s standards—armor, and delicious food. That wasn’t even mentioning the other benefits the technician heard a few of the ‘banished’ talking about over their meals: heating, electric lights, and other assorted machines.
She’d be feeling pretty happy about herself if she was in his position, having so many look up to him and be grateful at the same time. He seemed to view it a lot more robotically, however, only striving to get the basics done. Luckily for him, his basics were their luxury.
That wasn’t all there was to the topic; the engineer lamented about how the colony was going through food just as quickly as materials. The meals weren’t the direct issue he had, more that he had to start focusing on long-term resource harvesting rather than directly preparing for a literal horde of monsters—which wasn’t exactly ideal. It was a good thing that they just so happened to take on an influx of Malkrin then…
Either way, they finally finished the ‘totally legal modification’ for the fabricator, meaning they could at least partially address the latter half of his worries. The whole process of ripping out an old printer and replacing the parts for a new one felt a lot easier than she imagined… even if it took her at least forty-eight hours to complete it… with help from Harrison. Maybe that was why it felt so easy… She supposed the colony overseers didn’t choose the man for no reason, so his skills made sense.
“So… what do we want to print out first?” Tracy questioned, having finished testing the last major component.
The engineer stretched his arms up into the air and rotated his shoulders, then pulled back the desk’s chair and took a seat. “I’ve had just one thing in mind since the start of this whole project.”
Her brows raised in a mix of excitement and curiosity. She leaned forward, looking at the computer monitor from over his shoulder. “Oh? What’s that, then?”
A smirk formed along his cheek, the computer mouse rapidly clicking through the blueprint folder. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what kind of firearm we need since I started dabbling in belt-fed weapon systems.” He opened one final file, a short loading bar preceding the exploded assembly view of… “An M2 Browning machine gun. It’s more than powerful enough to kill in one shot, while also being capable of fully-automatic fire, with a capacity of however many rounds we want in a belt-box.”
“Uh…huh…” She gave a skeptical nod and took a step back, not exactly sold on the idea. “It looks ancient. It’s kinetic, right? Why aren’t we using energy-based weapons? Don’t we have a gunpowder shortage coming up?”
He moved his chair off to the side to look back at her. “We just can’t; Simple as. We’ll need who knows how many more AI cores before we can get started on that level of equipment, Trace,” he huffed, returning his gaze to the specifications of the firearm. “This isn’t the most ‘modern’ weapon we can make, but its twenty-first century counterpart helps with an improved design… somewhat. And, as I said before, it should be more than capable of killing a bug in one shot, so Shar can just tap-fire it to save ammunition.”
Her head tilted quizzically. “Shar?”
“Yup,” he returned confidently. “It’s the perfect weapon for her.”
She raised a brow. “How so?”
He held his hand up, counting his reasons on his fingers. “She’s always on the front line with a shield, she can absolutely handle the weight and recoil, her four arms make reloading it simple, plus she’ll need something with range and power that isn’t a spear. So, why not? And, if for some reason, she doesn’t want to use it, we can just convert it into a turret—which is something I was planning on doing anyways with however more M2s we print out later.”
“I doubt she’ll say no to any gun you give her,” Tracy chuckled while shaking her head, inadvertently causing her bangs to cover her eyes.
“Fair enough,” he conceded with a bob of his head. “What do you think, then? What kinda weapons do you have in mind?”
She reapplied her goggles into an impromptu hairband, feeling a smirk cross her face. “Thought you’d never ask. What purpose do we need these guns to fulfill? Hordes I’m guessing?”
“That’s the idea, yeah. That doesn’t mean they all need to be machine guns, though.” He tapped the belt-fed shotgun beside him.
“Well, lemme see what we’re working with first.” She suddenly stepped forward, leaning over Harrison’s seat to access the keyboard and mouse. Her arms briefly rubbed against him, forcing him to roll his chair backward. She suppressed a giggle at seeing his incredulous frown.
Her eyes quickly traced the hundreds of individual files, clicking through all sorts of folders, each arranged from pre-twenty-first century ‘antiques,’ to more modern iterations of kinetics and particle weaponry. There was… a lot on there—almost too much to reasonably comb through. Why? Did the colony overseers just say ‘fuck it’ and put whatever they could find on here? Were they expecting the pioneers to make a museum of everything?
She sighed, standing up straight and facing Harrison. “Y’know, I’m actually impressed you managed to find that M2-whatever in there…”
He shifted in his seat, resting an elbow on the desk. “Yup, there’s a lot. I’m almost tempted to just make several of those machine guns and just call it a day, but I feel like that’d be too much of a strain on resources, no?”
“I don’t really know enough about how you fight those spider-crab things, or how to get more gunpowder, so… maybe?” She shrugged, biting her cheek in contemplation. “You might just wanna make a few smaller caliber weapons… like, uh… those old kinetic service rifles. If your pump-action shotgun works fine, I’m sure some normal guns would work just fine for now, right?”
He hardily gripped his firearm, hauling it up to his lap. “Depends on what you mean by ‘smaller caliber.’ The whole reason why the KS-23 here works—” he pulled out a massive shell from the ammo belt, displaying it on his palm. “—is because the twenty-three-millimeter round has enough energy transfer to mess up any bug's shell and insides. I’d say the smallest rounds we could use would be point-two-forty-three caliber to get any similar results.”
Brief flickers of grungy orange shells and gnashing teeth marred Tracy’s sight. She forcibly suppressed them, distracting herself with dry humor and a strained laugh. “Guess those fuckers can really take a punch, huh?”
He shook his head somberly. “I couldn’t imagine going up against them without a gun… Anyway, I like your idea of a standard rifle for now. Then, when we have some product lines up, we can go a little more in depth into personal weapons.”
“So are you gonna take one?” She hopped up on the desk, letting her legs swing off the side.
“Don’t think so, no. I’ll stick with my shotty.” The internals of the heavily modified weapon rattled as he held it up and inspected it. “Doesn’t mean I’ll keep it as is. I’m thinking of printing a laser aiming module so I can point-fire it accurately, and maybe a melee-oriented muzzle brake or a lighter chassis to reduce weight… Not sure though.”
She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her cheeks in her palms. “Melee-oriented? Oooooh, like a chain-sword or something?”
His short chuckle coerced a smirk to her face. “No, not like that. More something to use as a bludgeoning tool. Right before the blood-moon, I ended up getting just as much use out of this shotgun as a hammer than as a… well, a shotgun.”
“That’s pretty fuckin’ metal. So are you just gonna make the barrel into a giant bayonet?”
He nodded. “Not exactly a bayonet, but something more like a door-breaching break.”
A short silence settled on their conversation, the faint sounds of the fabricator’s hum and distant woodwork coming to light. Right, there was an outside world… She’d been too caught up talking to Harrison for however many hours it had been. She wondered how successful the fisherwomen were in collecting, and how things had been for the others working on the wood storage shack. Maybe it was already completed? The sun peered through the cargo bay door, proving that it was only about midday. What else would they work on today?
“Hey,” she ventured.
“Hm?” the engineer hummed, his eyes focused on the monitor beside the technician.
She scooted closer to his keyboard. “What’re we doing after this?”
“What do you mean?”
She leaned backward, propping herself up on two hands. “Project wise; what’s the next big thing?”
“Uhmmm…” he muttered, interacting with the computer for a few more seconds before finally meeting her gaze. “Well, I’ve just allocated the fabricator to print out the M2, three FALs—wood furniture, of course—then there’s the magazines and ammunition, so we’ve got a lot of time to kill. The next big thing is definitely going to be metal procurement, and— Oh, right!” Harrison stopped mid-sentence, reaching into his backpack and pulling out several finger-sized metallic cubes, a sudden fire in his eyes. “Okay, so a while ago, during an encounter with three colossi, Shar and Akula found a cave with some ‘surface’ metal deposits. I took a piece off to analyze, but never got the chance to until last night. Anyway, we don’t have any machines to examine the ore, so I made use of the recycler and broke it down to its baser components.”
She nodded along, seeing where he was going with his explanation. “I’m guessing those shiny cubes are the metals from the ore?”
“Sure is. So, as it turns out, we have a pretty damn close supply of not only iron, but also, zinc, sulfur, and a small amount of cadmium. I talked with Sebas about it and did a little research. We believe it’s something akin to sphalerite, given its composition and looks, which implies it’s a sedimentary exhalative deposit. That means there must have been some volcanic…”
Harrison continued talking about underwater deposits and ancient rock formations, bringing up some theories brought forward by the now 4-AI-core-powered Sebas, delving into the current land mass’ history and possible ore output. A lot of it went over the tradewoman’s head, but she still listened intently… Honestly, she could have listened to the man talk about finding metals for hours. It was sort of like the podcasts she used to listen to while completing colonist training, but even more personal and somehow easier to get lost in…
“…find some other minerals further down like silver, but it also might be an active lava zone. Again, these are all theories and this world could just throw the fundamentals of geology away as it does for physics. Anyway, sorry for going on for so long about that, just thought it’d be important for getting some metals in the future.”
“No, no,” Tracy assured, alleviating him of concern with a wave of her hand. “If there’s anything the colony overseers emphasized, it was farming and mineral acquisition. Don’t worry.” She smiled, pointing a thumb to herself. “I just wanna know how I can help.”
“Actually, I’ve a few things only you can do. I’d like to make use of your impressive drone-making expertise for a few applications, if you don’t mind.”
The task of keeping eye contact slipped into an impossible feat in the span of a singular second, planting a pang of embarrassment on her reddened face, forcing her to inspect her fidgeting hands. “I-I wouldn’t say ‘impressive’… b-but what do you have in mind?”
She could see him raise a brow out of the corner of her vision. “Well, after what you’ve shown me with the reconnaissance flyers, I’d like your help in setting up a more permanent ‘net’ of them to scour the meadow and parts of the nearby forest to look out for any approaching hordes. I don’t want to be snuck up on… again…”
‘Again.’
She noted his small frown and sunken eyes, both a little more exaggerated than they already were. It wasn’t like she’d deny his request, but the pangs of empathy over their shared situation all but solidified her resolve. It was the least she could do. She could help him. She would help him.
The technician exhaled slowly, taking on a more serious and understanding tone than before. “I… can do that. For sure. What else?”
“I appreciate it.” He gave a wane smile. “I’ll help you with whatever you need for the project. For the other drones, I’m thinking about a small exploration vehicle to map out caves around us and mark any minerals, as well as a submersible to look for potassium deposits in the ocean.”
“So… search bots?” She crossed her arms, confidence growing; those were her specialty. “Depending on how long the fabricators take and what kind of base drones are in the blueprint folders, I should be able to get those done in no time. All I need to know are the search cues for potassium and how many drones you want.”
He quickly shuffled a few folders on the computer, turning the monitor for her to see some scientific documents with various images and walls upon walls of text. “There’re plenty of resources for that on here for what to look for, and there’s always Sebas, so feel free to ask him since he can just sort through the data for you anyway. If you can, I’d like it if you could focus on the submersible after the reconnaissance drones.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll be right on it, then.” She gave him a thumbs up, slipping off his desk and toward her own.
“I’ll bring you lunch in a bit. Imma go check on the others,” he called.
Her stomach grumbled at the mention, her head turning to give him an appreciative smile. “Oh! Thanks!”
\= = = = =
Avian creatures chirped from their perches in the trees nearby. The wind softly rustled red leaves as grass gently gave way to calculated footfalls. A warm sun laid its light on Shar’khee’s neck. It was surprisingly pleasant, were one to take the time to notice. The mainland was a confusing place for the paladin, with its disparate representations of nature contrasting so heavily. Some days were filled with blood and ravenous beasts, while others were left within the domain of simplicity and beauty. She was content to have the latter, yet it felt like a facade veiling the former—a soft exterior covering the maliciously spiked interior. Never could she leave herself to carelessness, no matter how welcoming it might be.
Hence why she worked to ensure the safety of the star-sent’s castles and their inhabitants, her days largely spent patrolling for any roaming swarms that may wish to cause them harm. She typically used the routine to think, but today offered little in the way of solitude. This time, she was accompanied by the previously banished guardswoman, and was tasked with instructing the new one, though the specifics of what such lessons should entail were vague. Still, Shar’khee did all that she could so as not to disappoint Harrison, so she could only attempt to meet his expectations of her.
She told the yellow-skinned female of the threats that the settlement faced, how one was to defeat them, and what to expect from the beasts. The guardswoman was directed to practice her form with the spear in both thrusts and throwing for some time afterward, proving herself to be well-built. Such was expected of her profession after all.
It was pleasing to have another capable of patrolling the settlement’s outskirts for swarms, as it would greatly impact how effectively the colony could react to such a threat. If her routine was to suffer for the colony’s well-being, she was happy to show the new one her patrol route and note what to look out for.
The guardswoman was not a perfect student, however. Shar’khee never addressed it directly, but the yellow-skinned female obviously discredited the danger posed by the abhorrent, not-so-subtly shrugging off any warnings.
…That was until they stumbled upon the ‘hyena-boars,’ as Harrison called them.
The beasts resided in a clearing not too far from the castles, carelessly meandering across the sea of tall grass. Shar’khee quickly crouched, dragging the guardswoman down with her. Once she assessed that the creatures were not an imminent danger, she decided it would be an excellent opportunity to show the new one how to properly engage a threat. She was about to propose the idea, yet her speech was silenced just as swiftly.
Orange flashes darted through the trees around the glade. Taloned feet and gnashing teeth tore across the ground toward the unsuspecting beasts at the center. It was much too late for them. They were slow. Surrounded. Unaware. It was as quick as it was vicious, the forest’s reds turning a deeper crimson hue in a moment's notice underneath the abhorrent’s brutality.
Gangly monstrosities gnawed and ripped at the dead creatures, brief glimpses of raw flesh and white bone protruding from the small spaces between the clumped-up beasts. Repulsive wet splatters of blood and gore overlapped the calm noises of the forest, the grisly scene serenaded by the softest of nature’s symphonies. It was a sickening juxtaposition.
Shar’khee bit back the unease and steeled herself. They were within twenty paces—close enough to smell the abhorrent’s vile stench of rot and bile, yet far enough so as not to be noticed. She briefly considered backing away and retreating, her focus bouncing between the different avenues of escape, or how to cover her footst—
Crack.
Several sets of feral, eyeless maws snapped in their direction, the blood dripping off freshly dampened teeth. The guardswoman gasped, Shar’khee’s gaze following to see the mistake: a singular broken branch crinkled as a yellow-colored foot raised off the splintering twig.
The paladin exhaled sharply and smoothly stood up, brandishing two spears and her shield. Her glare settled on the still crouching guardswoman. “You are to stay behind my shield and let them appr—ch. Rem—ber what I have told you. Aim for their maws when you thrust y—r lance.”
The other female nodded, shakily pulling out her own weapons with unsteady placement hampering her grip. There was an obvious nervousness to her gaze. Hesitance. That would not do.
Shar’khee faced the prowling abhorrent her knuckles shifting hue as she prepared for their advance, for there was no chance that they wouldn’t. True to her experience, the stalking turned to a gallop with several clicks of grotesque tongues, the swarm bolting toward her as one. She snarled and slammed her bulwark into the ground, letting the approaching beasts skewer themselves amongst its spikes.
There were only ten—a paltry amount. She had defended against magnitudes more, and yet she still stood. What is more, they were mindless. Uncoordinated. They would be but stains in the cloth she used to clean her armor. Perhaps, if they were fortunate, they might leave a furrow in her shield to remember them by. Her arms tensed as the first leapt.
One by one, the abhorrent fell, their repulsive green blood splattering under her thrusts. Each awaiting corpse tore across the grove’s grass, lunging to their deaths with gaping maws and unfeeling hunger, yet she did not yield. Their shells were crushed by her shield and impaled by her Goddess-blessed spears, becoming but one more smear across their surface. Ten motionless lumps lay before her, seeping their ichor into the soil, none having passed the barrier she became. Dead, just as the Creator intended. She remained vigilant for a few moments longer, watching for any more of the disgusting creatures.
None showed themselves, finally allowing blood to flow to her fingers once again. The shield’s heavy presence weighed down her back, the blood flicked off of her spears before she returned them to their place.
“Are y–u well?” Shar’khee addressed the frozen Malkrin, wiping away the splatter on her bracers. The guardswoman stared at the small pile of deceased creatures, her heavy breaths and widened eyes moving from the spear from her singular kill. The paladin huffed. “We are fort—ate that there were so few.”
“F-Few? God help us…” Her horrified, stunned gaze slowly met the paladin’s. “Y-You said there were hundreds on the crimson nights? H-How do you… They were s-so fast.”*
”As I h–ve warned,” Shar’khee affirmed.
“You are a paladin! You all exaggerate your feats… I thought it was just a facade!”
“I have no r—son to lie,” she returned tersely, shrugging off the insult to her station and shaking her head. “The mainl—d is far more dangerous than ten gnash—g beasts; more so than that of your island hamlet. Pick yourself up. We m—t inform the others of this incursion.”
The yellow-skinned female snarled, furrowing her brows at the ground in frustration. At whom…? Shar’khee? Herself? Regardless, the female promptly gathered her composure, pushing air through clenched jaws. A step forward had her feet splash in the small pool of blood, the Malkrin nodding toward the paladin to continue back to the castles.
“…for the village.”
Shar’khee paused in her stride and faced her, frowning at the determination and anger leaking through the intent. “W—t was that?”
Her question was returned with honesty, a huffed voice marred by vexation. “Paladin, how am I to defend my village-mates as I am now?”
“‘As you are now?’ What do you m—n?”
The guardswoman stared down at her spear, wood creaking under her grip. “I have faltered before what you deem a paltry threat, and the thought of an even greater one sows dread deep within my bones. I wish… I wish to be better prepared to defend those of my village. I cannot help but see their faces on those of the furred creature in the clearing, and yet, even if I am so close, I am just as unable to protect them.”
Shar’khee stared down the yellow female, a long gaze taking in a rare showing of sincerity. “Y—r fears are one we all share, new one. Do not be ashamed of them. All t—t matters is that you do not let them rem—n mere fear, but make them your strength. So tell me, do you wish to impr—e? To ensure they do not fall while you are support—g them?”
The yellow-skinned female released a shuddering breath that bled off the worst of her indecision, a newly invoked flame flaring within her visage. “I do, paladin. I seek to protect and to be of use.”
“Then, if you wish to make y—rself resilient in the face of all that opposes us, it would be my undertak—g to forge you anew. Fortunately, Harrison has ordered such already, and his guidance shall prove ever useful, should you pursue it.”
The guardswoman shuffled in place at the star-sent’s mention, her eyes slipping downwards. “He is of a great many resources, but I would rather receive your teachings than those of a craftsman… or that of a male, deity-sent he might be.”
She placed a palm on the female’s shoulder. “He is far more than you might ever k—w. Regardless of if you ac—pt his guidance, I commend your conviction. However—” Her hand gripped tighter, though not enough to instill hostility. “—understand that you are protecting more than just your vi—age-mates.”
The new one nodded, staring up at the paladin with stallwart resolve. “Of course. I shall be in your tutelage, then.”
Shar’khee smiled. “T—n let us begin.”
\= = = = =
Akula was becoming increasingly certain that she knew how her parents once felt. The green-skinned fisherwoman was currently rotating between the many tasks placed upon her, guiding the newcomers through the minutia of their tasks so they might live up to the potential Harrison saw within them. She was gratified to have her own talents recognized by the Creator, but it also placed a great many responsibilities in her talons. Of course, she handled each new addition with finesse befitting her heritage, never once balking from the increasing demands. If anything, she felt validated; it was required of her as a female anyway, was it not? The more feminine-appropriate labor and management one undertakes, the higher authority they were granted.
It began with a simple assignment to oversee the chef’s introduction to the star-sent’s provided cooking appliances. As fascinating and convenient as utilities were, she held no interest in preparing any more food than she already had, but teaching another to operate the machines would alleviate such requirements of her. She reluctantly accepted the task when it was proposed, especially considering the fact that Harrison was much too busy with his other projects to bother with something as benign as cooking. His work was more valuable elsewhere.
The task itself went well, and the pink-skinned chef was quick to pick up on the use of the various kitchen devices, as well as the smoker. A grin had grown when she considered the possibility of all males understanding such domestic things readily, yet her mirth at removing the masculine job required of her was short-lived. Despite the newly initiated Malkrin’s success, Harrison had Akula frequently return to oversee the numerous cooking operations being conducted. That was in tandem with the back-to-back fishing trips made by both herself and the newly acquired females.
…Which was something else the green-skinned cycle-worshipper was ordered to oversee.
She had left the chef to his devices after producing another batch of partially seasoned meals, returning to the Creator with hopes of a break. He applauded her efforts with a nod and tersely spoken appreciation, then quickly pushed two spearguns into her hand and directed her to the ocean, where the twins were ‘working with jack shit,’ as the busy male said. She was to give the fisherwomen the tools and make sure they were used properly, and offer additional assistance in acquiring ‘enough fish to have us fed for a little bit.’
So, she left to complete the given task, feeling somewhat appreciative that her speargun was of superior quality to those she would be delivering—the newcomers were only afforded the lesser, roped-bolt version. It was only natural that she was in possession of their greatest assets, of course; the star-sent saw her as the only one capable of wielding such fantastic ammunition, showing trust that was rightfully placed in her. That did not mean the gray-skinned females were unsatisfied with their own gifts, however. The twins were swiftly caught up on the ‘manual of arms’ and sent to work, somehow managing to keep up with Akula in spite of their land-based origins. The two were fast enough to outpace the cycle-worshipper in sheer speed, but their lack of numerous winters spent traversing deeper waters meant they required frequent rests, breaking the ocean’s surface after every third captured fish or so.
Still, she had to appreciate their dedication to their task. They never complained about Akula pushing them further to reach the star-sent’s vague objective. Such a task was entrusted to her—and by proxy, the other two—and thus it would be completed, no matter how much her comfortable bed… couch called her tiring muscles.
The group of three hauled net after full net of fresh meat to the chef—and sewist, who later joined him—forcing him to relegate much of the catch to long-term storage as the kitchen simply could not deal with the surplus. At least three-quarters of the fish were put to slow cook in the now Malkrin-sized smoker. The craftsman had upgraded it with a kit provided by Harrison, who had recycled much of the dining room and workshop furniture to accommodate it. The Creator’s showcased urgency to gather materials was clearly not unfounded… It was admirable how he used what little he had left to ensure food would not be scarce. Additionally, the apparatus exuded an excellent scent for all the survivors to enjoy, the earthy aroma drawing in some of the other Malkrin for their breaks or meals.
Those were not the end of the cycle-worshiper’s tasks, however. She was also required to report on Shar’khee’s progress in training the guardswoman—helping to recycle the small swarm of abhorrent they cleared earlier—as well as the wood storage building’s progress. Indeed, she was advising and assisting however and wherever applicable. To say she was seen all around the settlement would be an understatement.
Nevertheless, she was appreciative to see her efforts bearing fruit by sundown. The processing of their meals from sea to plate was quite efficient, and those that Akula taught were now well-practiced in their duties. The twin fisherwomen dove from wave to wave, bringing fish back to the barracks, where the cook and sewist swiftly worked to transfer the meat to pans and smoker hooks alike. Then, the remnants of the Sea Goddess’ aquatic gifts would be subsequently recycled and given purpose anew as biofuel or perhaps future fertilizer.
The endless onslaught of duties and responsibilities had enlightened her, in a way. She could see where Harrison came from now; having a working project go from one point to another without input nor difficulty was a sight to behold, and it made her swell with pride. It was a surmountable feat to teach the barbaric ground-worshippers to do something properly.
…Well, they were not horrible Malkrin, so perhaps simply calling them ‘uninitiated’ was a more apt descriptor…
No matter the tribulations faced, and no matter how draining her new authority might be, her rest at the end of the day would be one that was well-earned, and it would be had with a sense of satisfaction. She deserved it, and perhaps that extended to the rest of the settlement as well.
- - - - -
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Next time on Total Drama Anomaly Island - Mine! Mine! Mine!

Just another fun little story idea I had. I am still working on Humans are the violent ones but I like to bounce around and experiment with ideas to see what I really like. I also suck at writing more casual stories, as they give me severe writer's block as I try to map out how to make a scene feel genuine in my head, but I promise I'll update that soon. If you like this story and want to see more, then like and comment. I'll gladly continue this series as well.
Start of Personal Log
Humans don't like being told what to do. They don't like being commanded, put in their place, or snubbed. It was an inexorable, inalienable trait of humans, at least any noteable humans, to go against any authority that they believed was against their interests.
Humanity would not fit amongst the stars. Few ever did. It was a trait of most successful species to be willful, ambitious, and to desire more. But once they reached the stars the new (and simultaneously very old) pecking order either quashed any spirit such species had or simply eradicated them. Countless tomb worlds and diaspora served as painful reminders of what became of the nails that chose to stick out. The hammer of order would always strike. There could be no compromise, the very soul of the authority that held the Jurisdiction together relied on a show of unmatched power, or at least the illusion of item.
In reality, the Jurisdiction was an old, fat, and lazy beast. It filled its belly on the corpses of empires far and wide, and sated its bloodlust on the shattered dreams of hopeful cubs. It had every right to, for none could challenge it: there were no new frontiers to explore, nor were there any other enemies to conquer. The Milky Way, as humans had so strangely dubbed our cradle galaxy, as well as Andromeda, had long since been warred over and settled for millennia before humanity had arrived, bright-eyed and with familiar yet otherwise foolish dreams of cooperation and prosperity. The Jurisdiction did not cooperate, nor did it ensure prosperity. Oh, it claimed it did, but in reality it simply took. The rest was just the peace that came with not being the direct target of the biggest fish in the pond. The humans didn't like that, but they had no choice.
Slavery was a common tribute. The Jurisdiction had no use for other resources: it simply took. No, it wanted those who could facilitate that unequal exchange, those raised in a world where the only morality was the one set by your lord. The Jurisdiction was held together by expectations, obligations, and dury more than any kind of shared dream, so when you were ordered to take you did so without question. Humanity was new: they had no niche or value that set them apart, but they had a penchant for killing and taking, so the Jurisdiction gave them a taste of how the galaxy worked. They killed and they took. The humans didn't like that, but what choice did they have?
Humans were strange. They learned, but not in the way most species learned. Most species learned to adapt in a passive way, to adhere to the world around them. They flowed like water, moving past and around obstacles and confirming to the boxes they were assigned too. Humans didn't confirm, nor did they adapt: they made their circumstances fit their desires. They would not move around obstacles, but rather smash through them, and they refused to stay in one box for too long. The Jurisdiction merely saw them as a particularly loud nuisance, but those who faced their wrath knew better.
It is said that when a beast seeks to make an example, it shall humble its rival by killing it's cubs. Children were one of those universal constants that brought entire communities together: the Sok’klar saw their hatchlings as gifts, shaped by the fruitful currents of the universe in perfect harmony. The Yarrack saw each and every newborn whelp as an uncut gemstone, ready to be shaped into something magical. Humanity oftentimes referred to their offspring as angels, or spirits of unbridled good sent by the gods themselves. Children were seen by most of the galaxy as gifts.
The Jurisdiction saw them as a lever to inflict suffering. It had become quite effective at enacting psychological punishments on those that stood up and spoke out. You dare to disobey? You believe you can speak out? Your gifts shall be taken from you, and you shall be without joy.
Humans didn't like this, but the Jurisdiction would have their pound of flesh, and humankind would kneel. And they did. But humans were patient creatures: most species who retained that trait of willful spit also lacked patience.
I had long since become desensitized to the Jurisdiction’s actions: it was simply how the universe worked now, as if it were a constant akin to gravity. Cruelty was the unspoken rule of this seemingly unending age, where our lives never appeared to move forward or backwards, only lay dormant. The Jurisdiction had been the unyielding authority that ruled the galaxy for thousands of years, venerable yet feared all the same.
And for the longest time I was just another cog in its wheel. My name is Kalnuracht Sedjuur-Noumar VII, and was the scion of the noble house Sedjuur-Noumar. I was born into what most would describe as veiled apathy, living a life that could be attributed to the privileged class of feared scribes that enacted the will of those above. I was an administrator and nothing more. And now I am doomed to be far less than that in the eyes of my former constituents within the endless administration. I am the only scion, as is tradition, and without an heir I am the last of my house, our name to be scrubbed from the records, worthless, meaningless, and forgotten.
I am merely Kalnuracht, nothing else and nothing more. I have seen from their eyes, the eyes of the downtrodden, and it makes my crimes of association with the Jurisdiction feel all the more damning on my worthless soul. I am worthless to the world, and this is my story.
End Personal Log #1
Start of Neural Lace Narrative Log #1
They came from the black like carrion birds in the night, encircling our convoy as if it were a dying animal ready to be picked clean without remorse. There was no warning, no list of demands sent out as civilized peoples did, nor was there either any requirement for unconditional surrender nor chance to parlay, as was done so under letter of marque: this was an unmistakable call for violence and nothing else. They sought to reduce us to slag and scavenge the rest.
So, as one would expect, the entire bridge of the ship was nearing a panicked state. This was not the actions of those practicing civility, but rather the common behaviors of despoiling barbarians, the kind that tore their way through the dark reaches of the galaxy as if they owned it.
“Wayfinder, what do your probes see?” Shouted the ship’s sovereign. He was an older Kar’Rowmach, an amphibious cephalopod species with a venerable history within the Jurisdiction going back thousands of years. Normally one such as him would be above me if it weren't for the fact that I was under the authority of the Jurisdiction’s seal of office. He didn't like me very much, but most of his kind shared the same sentiment.
“All dark, honorable Sovereign: the sensor arrays are wailing but the feedback we're reviewing is beyond incomprehensible,” the wayfinder replied with a certain restrained temper in his voice. The Sok'klar wayfinder swayed gently, his tentacled limbs grasping different metallo-liquid braille output arrays, the liquid gallium flexing and reshaping unnaturally to allow him to to take in multiple different sources of sensory output at once, with the primary navigation computer plugged into the cybernetics surrounding his opaque, gelatinous head and plugging directly into his tube-shaped brain.
The Sovereign cursed in Loskat and pointed to his bridge crew while I simply sat in the back, near the Sovereign’s symbolic throne. “Prepare countermeasures and spool up the warp drive, we cannot allow the amanuensis to be taken! He carries sensitive information that only he can translate and transcribe!”
As the bridge crew nodded and began fiddling with their own systems, I preened my feathered hide anxiously. I wasn't a fighter: us nobles of the cloth were the educated minority above all else, not those who waged war or partook in hard labor. Special cybernetics in my brain allowed me to translate triple-encoded messages that usually took a ducal signet codekey or above to parse, but even without that I was a skilled mathematician and logician. I had terabytes worth of knowledge stored within the hardware installed in my head, all well protected of course, but if I were to die it would still be a waste. I could only imagine the damage any malcontenders could do with it if they were able to get their filthy hands on me.
Suddenly, the ship rocked, and the gallium overhead display began to form crescendos like I'd never seen before. “Sovereign, decks A-3 through C-12 are venting atmosphere and our coolant systems have been obliterated,” the Wayfinder spoke in an almost serene voice, as if he was completely unconcerned by current events. I knew they were simply incapable of tonal displays, but it was unnerving nonetheless. “Once we jump, we will not be able to risk another until the vacuum of the void can reduce temperatures to acceptable levels within the plasma capacitors.”
“Damn them,” the armored nautiloid hissed, his barbed feelers coiling in frustration, “May the currents take them. What are our options? what can we see? This fleet cannot fall to the void today, not with such vital cargo.” My hackles rose lightly at the Kar’Rowmach referred to me as some object rather than an esteemed amanuensis of the Jurisdiction, but I bit my forked tongue. Now was not the time to squabble with the sovereign over who was what and what titles I deserved, not while he was so desperately attempting to keep what semblance of order within his fleet that he had left.
I could not blame the crew for being panicked either: wars were practically mythologized now, having been long since rendered obsolete with the rise of the Jurisdiction, and that felt like an eternity ago. Now, either being levied into or joining a ducal naval force was simply another career, more akin to serving as an officer of the law rather than a fully fledged soldier. Minimal training was required, most of it being the technicals of one's duty rather than any kind of combat conditioning, so expecting a fleet to actually be prepared for a combat scenario in a universe where peace was the norm was laughable.
“We are practically blind, Sovereign,” stated the Sok'klar Wayfinder, “our probes are offline, and shipboard graviton displacement sensory arrays have been rendered unreliable at best.”
“What about the particle emission array? Has there been a spike in radioactivity where we were hit?”
The Wayfinder seemed to think for a second, his gelatinous form flexing and morphing a bit before answering. “Affirmative, a jump from negligible to forty billion becquerels along decks A through E-5 on our starboard side.”
“Torpedoes…” the Sovereign hissed, stroking his barbed feelers, “Human Torpedoes. Only those primitives would rely on crude nuclear warheads.” He then turned to his militant leaders on the ship. “Noddos, Rel’ads: organize your phalanxes and prepare to repel boarders. We are bound to be assailed by those rancorous primates, and I want their skulls piled at my feet if they dare set foot on our ship.”
“Your wish is our command, Sovereign,” the two militant commanders spoke as one. Noddos, a large bipedal with multiple sets of curved spines running down his back, a pair of graceful horns sprouting from his head, and multiple rows of sharp teeth in his snout, bowed first, followed by Rel’ads, a marsupial with long saberteeth and thick fur. They both must have been fierce warriors in their own right to each lead a phalanx. They wore thick, semi-powered armor and held dueling polearms alongside their usual plasma casters, and seemed completely unfazed by the situation we were in. As they stomped out of the brightly lit bridge, I let out a quiet squawk of discontentment. “Sovereign, why haven't we jumped again? We are wasting precious time.”
“I am working on it, you spineless beaurocrat!” He warbled back, his feelers tensing in anger, “besides, it's not as if you're the one who will be spilling blood today, amanuensis, so flatten your wretched beak or I shall weld it shut with a plasma torch.
I was about to reply with something indignant, but the ship rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker and the air to become… thick. The skin under my feathers began to blister, and I became lightheaded and confused. “Seal the damnable vents, initiate radiation scrubbers, and activate secondary life support!” Shouted the Sovereign, “Their nuclear weapons are rendering the ship inhospitable!”
I coughed up magenta blood accidentally, and I could feel more seeping from under my eyes. Some of the crew was in a similar position, but others were more resistant to radiation than I. The Sok'klar seemed completely at ease as he ran his tentacles across his morphic braille arrays before calmly announcing the ship’s status. “I've regained some control over our probes: ten, twelve, and seventeen are active and fully functional, the rest are either still malfunctioning or permanently inoperable. A rapid rise in localized radiation is also interfering with the detection of graviton displacement; we can't sense photon redirection, thus readings will remain inconclusive.
“Wayfinder, damn you, get me some kind of out here! We're easy prey until we can respond in kind!”
“Negative, something has gone awry with our processing hub, I am attempting to troubleshoot-”
And with that, the Wayfinder’s bulbous head exploded in a cascade of opaque lavender blood, covering the front half of the deck crew like a morbid art piece. Some of the crew screamed and shouted in terror before removing their cranial adaptors and choosing to interact with their displays manually. Others died just as quickly, unable to unplug in time as their brain stems fried or their blood boiled. It was a horrible way to go, having your insides neutralized by your own cybernetics, so I was glad I wasn't connected to the system.
“Cybernetic warfare! All systems are to be considered compromised, switch to manual settings or you'll be killed!”
The lights in the bridge flickered again, and the displays went haywire. The bridge crew, which obviously weren't acquainted with working without being hard-linked into the mainframe, moved at a much slower pace.
“Launch missile pods A through F and set to self-target after five hundred kilometers, then rely on their ballistic coordinates to begin firing broadsides! If we can't see the humans due to their meddling, we'll just have to feel them.” Shouted the Sovereign, “and got me a detailed report on the ship’s diagnostics readings. I need to know if this flagship is still capable of escaping or if we'll have to scuttle it and retreat on another.”
“Acknowledged, Sovereign, launching now,” affirmed another deck officer as he swiped across his own gallium output array. I could hear the dull thunk, thunk, thunk of missiles pushing out of their pods before racing off to their intended targets, then the mechanical whirring as the pods rotated to be reloaded by slaves in the lower decks. I was regaining my bearings as the many horrible sensations of being overwhelmed by radiation poisoning were beginning to subside, but I still felt as if I had been microwaved. The air was stale, the crew was horribly sick as well, and even the sovereign himself seemed to be on his last leg. I was beginning to believe that I might die here.
“Sovereign, a message from the lower decks,” shouted a communications officer, his chitin scraping against itself as he turned quickly, “they're requesting reinforcements, something about being overrun.”
“Impossible,” the Sovereign hissed out in a vain attempt to exude confidence, “We must outnumber the humans, they always go for bigger targets out of arrogance.”
“I've received reports that it's not just humans: the primates seem to make up only a third or so of the assailing force, along with some Phaeldaer and Vrex.”
The commander slammed his clawed hands down on his own output array in a fit of rage, obviously overwhelmed by the circumstances, “Then this wasn't just a typical assault, but something more sinister!” The nautiloid warbled, blood seeping from his shell as the full effects of the radiation took hold, “Get Rel’ads on the line, have him divert all spare lances to the lower decks or else we'll lose the only offensive capabilities we can use.”
“Rel'ads has gone dark, Sovereign, his vitals are critical.”
“Then either get me Rel'ads tail-leader or get me Noddos!” He screamed in rage, “don't give me this nonsense! If we don't pick it up we're all going to die, is that what you want?”
“No, Sovereign, I'm simply overwhelmed-”
“We're all overwhelmed! By the tides, I'm dying of radiation poisoning you nincompoop! Get me something I can work with!”
The officer didn't even acknowledge the Sovereign after that, simply turning back to his display. Eventually, the Sovereign was able to get Noddos on the line.
“Sovereign, two thirds of my phalanxes have been decimated by combat with the primitives and the radiation, the rest are in shambles. We must retreat and fortify elsewhere!”
“Then the ship is compromised! Rel'ads is unresponsive and the lower decks are swarming with intruders. We must evacuate the amanuensis to another ship.”
Just as the Sovereign spoke, I heard several gentle thumps rattle against the bridge’s door, and it made me uneasy. Some of the bridge crew seemed to feel the same, as they looked incredibly nervous and some even drew their sidearms. Just as the sovereign turned to give further orders, the door blew inward with a deafening explosion, followed by shouting and gunfire. Several of the bridge officers were dispatched quickly, brain matter and blood splattering against the delicate electronics. Others were shot in the legs, the torso, or in any other exotic yet non-vital body parts. The humans poured in, brandishing primitive ballistic firearms and jury-rigged energy weapons while wearing scavenged, legion-grade powered armor.
The Sovereign was the next to go, but he wasn't afforded an honorable death. He was shot along the arm with a particularly potent plasma caster, burning off his clawed hand and cauterizing the wound, the acrid smell of roasting chitin filling the already hot and cramped bridge. He fell back against his output array, the gallium reaching new highs and lows as more diagnostics and casualty reports were delivered, and he clutched his stump angrily. “I'll burn every last one of you in the foundries! I'll tie you to stakes, cover you in wax and set you alight! Your screams will be broadcasted all over the galaxy!”
One human warrior stomped up and slammed the butt of his rifle into the sovereign’s face, shattering his facial plates and causing blue blood to splatter across his section of the bridge. “Shut the fuck up, you mutant lobster,” the human said before dragging him by both antennae towards the center of the bridge and receiving a stained breeching axe from one of his comrades. “Emmanuel, start recording. We need proof.”
The other human nodded and pressed a button on his armor before lifting up his gun again. The rest of the humans fanned out, holding everyone else at gunpoint. I tried to get up and sneak out, but a human grabbed me by my neck and nearly wrung it out as he forced me to my knees and pointed a sidearm to my skull. “Get down, you piece of shit, before I blow your brains out too.”
“Damnable primate,” I hissed, but he bashed me in my skull with the base of his sidearm’s grip and sent me sprawling, making my already pounding headache worse. Another human shouted at him in a language I didn't recognize, but he sounded furious. The first brought me back up to my knees again, and I complies with a hiss and a groan, blood still leaking from my eyes and mouth and my world was spinning.
The Sovereign struggled, but he was weak from the radiation poisoning and he couldn't exactly resist on account of his lost arm. The human with the breaching ax kicked the Sovereign down and forced him to kneel before lifting up the breeching ax and splitting his chitinous head down the middle with one powerful swing, sending more blood and brains across the floor. “Execution confirmed, take his antennae just in case and we've got ourselves a bounty. Now all we need is that ugly cat’s teeth and the fat hedgehog-thing’s grimy spines and we'll be in business. Although, they do have skulls… we might as well just take their heads.”
The real horror of the situation dawned on me at that moment: they were going to kill us all, or maybe worse. They mentioned a bounty for the commanders, and multiple of the higher ranking ship officers were already dead, their brains splattered against the walls or their bodies torn apart by gunfire. I wasn't dead yet, but that didn't mean much since I wasn't an immediate threat.
“Alright, round them up and bring all the grunts to the hanger bay, then kill the rest,” the leader of the humans said in such a lackadaisical manner that his complete disregard for life almost made me sick… almost. I had seen worse from the Jurisdiction before, but usually that was from me delivering some kind of ordered judgment on a world that had sinned against order. I might have simply been the messenger, but I had seen many of the outcomes. “And make sure to collect whatever proof of bounties you can, we'll need to deliver them to the office to get cashed out. Don't let this be a repeat of last time where Juarez fucking forgot to take a few heads and it ended up cutting our profits in half, the fucking retard.”
Some of the humans chuckled at that as they dragged more of the senior officers away, out of the room and into the hall,where I heard gunshots. The rest of the bridge crew froze in place, different fear instincts kicking in. The remaining Sok'klar corralled together into what seemed to be a singular, semi-congealed mass as if to try and trick the humans into believing that they were much bigger and much more threatening than they actually were. The one Thei’chi on the bridge, an ensign who had clearly thought this would be a simple mission, bore her curved fangs at the humans and growled as they approached, her hackles completely vertical and her eyes dilated. They quickly muzzled and bound her before beating her over the head with a gun stock, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Many others simply cooperated, eyes wide and yet simultaneously empty, as if they couldn't quite process that the ship had been taken and the commanding officers were being executed as the rest were escorted to the hangar.
“Get the damn messenger down to the hanger as well, we need whatever data's in his ugly lizard head, then we can decide on what to do with him.”
I spat at him in spite, as if to try and seem brave, but it was clearly an empty gesture. “You won't get anything, primate! You couldn't possibly crack the encryption!”
The human holding me seemed to wind up for another swing, but the commanding officer simply held up his hand to stop my tormentor before strolling over to me. He knelt down and removed his helmet, revealing a beige-colored face covered in scars, wiry black hair cut down to the scalp, and multiple tattoos. “You're really fucking mouthy for a hostage,” he said before punching me across my beak faster than I could register. I heard a sharp crack as his fist connected, and my head spun again as the metallic taste of blood pooled into my mouth. “I'd advise you to shut up, but I'm sure you won't listen: you aristocratic types are so full of yourselves. Maybe I should have you flogged in the public square until your vocal chords give out once we rip those cybernetics from your head, huh? How's that sound?”
“It won't matter… it won't change anything… the Jurisdiction will hunt you down.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it will happen for some time: they really suck at doing anything that requires effort, even when they're mad enough. They just keep sending their rabid lapdogs to try and smoke us out, and they always end up full of holes,” the human officer said with a smirk, his yellowish-white teeth and green eyes sending shivers down my spine as he drew his knife. “They're just horrible at their job, you know? You've all gotten so lazy and incompetent after being able to just take what you want without resistance, and now that you've met people who are angry and crazy enough to fight back you act as if we're committing some grave injustice,” he placed the knife against my throat, the flat just underneath my now bent beak, “No, we just took a few pages out of your book, ‘cept we've got standards. No kids, for one…” he seemed to look off into the distance as his sneer deepened, “but it's more than that, we don't attack the defenseless in general and we still win against you all in fair fights.”
I went to say something else snarky, but he quickly grabbed my thin tongue with his fingers and yanked it out, blood from my mouth pulling to the floor as he held the blade of his knife against it. “No no, none of that. Say one more thing and I'll cut that rancid little tongue of yours out of your mouth and feed it to you,” he hissed at me, pressing the blade down just hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what it's like to see a planet turn into a tomb?" he asked me, gritting his teeth, “Do you know what it's like to see everything you've ever known crumble to ash and glass, all the life and the green stripped away leaving nothing but bones? I do. I've seen it happen to countless worlds, and my grandfather always told me stories of how you bastards did it to Earth. He still prays in its direction five times a day, to Mecca, but he knows the Kaaba is gone now, or maybe it's still there, buried in the bones of those who sought refuge there.”
I didn't care for the human’s nonsensical beliefs, but I did care to correct him. “I've seen it before, and I'll see it again. And so will you, it's inevitable. The Jurisdiction will always have its judgment fulfilled, there is no alternative.”
“One day, I hope we can rectify that,” he said, then he sheathed his knife and slammed my head against the metal floor with enough force to nearly knock me out. As I lost consciousness, I could hear him speak. “Take him to the Chop Doc, and make sure the cybernetics don't get damaged: they're supposedly more valuable than any bounty on this ship.”
Warning: Severe radiation poisoning detected. Flush system immediately.
Warning: Neural Lace removal detected, chance of neurological damage high. Proceeded with caution.

please share your thoughts!!!!!!!
alright, ive finished the game around a month ago but have spent the past month LIVING off of hl memes and ominis content, so i still remember most of the game vividly.
i think theres foreshadowing to a sequel, here's why:

• if you dont turn in sebastian and talk to him, he'll understand your pov on the goblins and listen. if you do hand him in, ominis will talk to him and report that this has only made him angrier (..for whatever reason). this made me curious, because, well, by the time you do this quest it should be almost endgame, hell for some people they do the 'in the shadow of the...' quests AFTER endgame. it just seems an odd detail to add rather than 'oh yeah i talked to sebastian and he understands and hes sorry, the end'. maybe the devs set this up for a conflict point in the future, if you hand him in, for a sequel (or more likely a dlc).

-anne sees what sebastian has done to solomon, and this deathly sick (!!!) girl runs away to... where, exactly? again we get conflict that hasnt been resolved.
-less glaringly important but we get almost nothing about ominis. in the house cup bit hes just sitting down despondently because hes just lost his only friend and has to go back to his abusive family, who used crucio on him. also, ominis is quite vague about said family. leaves an open space that can be filled in with a sequel, because i would actually give my right eye to learn more about the gaunts ;)
-the MOST obvious plot hole - sebastian, in his usual delusions, seems to convieniently forget our emotional undercroft heart-to-heart about 'ill use ancient magic to save anne', before he goes and harnesses the power of a dark relic that causes only desctruction. (i ADORE seb but ominis is just so much better im sorry ;-; )YES i know theres the whole 'theyll become husks with no emotion if you take away pain', but sebastian hasnt been TOLD that. for all he knows, WE are the answer!! but nooo he must control the inferi because he is a teenage edgelord and nobody understands him. so yet again, unresolved conflict that could be saved for another time!!
-another huge plot thing - i personally went mostly goodie-goodie (except the unforgivables because come on!) in my first playthrough as a slytherin (going as an evil gryffindor next, lol). so this means i left the power of the resevoir alone. BUT! i have seen playthroughs where the resevoir is taken for the players own personal gain. is there any difference?... ...literally no. which is just ??? so maybe in additional gameplay, we could learn to 'hone' whatever new skills this grants us (more sequel-worthy than dlc-worthy, imo.)
-more a dlc thing, but quidditch. need i say more?
my thoughts:
there is enough material here to make a worthy sequel.
not only did hl DESTROY its sales expectations (even with the boycott), its been so popular that it has a subreddit with over 300k people (thats where we are now weee), which is kinda insane for a 'spin-off' game.
they would be stupid NOT to make a sequel or dlc, considering the absolute bank they made from this one + they now know what people want, meaning the next game would be even better.
the plot could be-

• you start 6th year as normal. you'd probably be on the train because no special entrance for you! you're slumming it with the normies now. if youve handed sebastian in last game then hes not here and you can skip anything to do with him until i say so.

-if you didnt, seb is still here. he thanks you for all you've done, blah blah blah, and acknowledges the goblins innocence. hes worried sick for his sister who has ran away and wants to find her. you are dumb and havent learned your lesson (duh), so no matter what you say he'll convince you to help once you've found your feet in sixth year.
-ominis walks into your compartment. he looks terrible. you ask him if he's alright and he slips some gaunt lore about his family and on their.. ideas of fun, because come on i have a mad obsession with this dude, and if im the one writing this plot, we're getting ominis angst, suck it up. if youve handed in sebastian, itll just be you two. there'll be a train cutscene and boom, you're at school.
-this is where it gets tricky.
IF youve handed in sebastian. he'll be in prison. youll probably get some angsty moments and npc quotes along the lines of 'he seemed like such a good kid'.
if you HAVENT handed him in, the story gets weird, because a) more awkward time with seb because hes free and 2) he knows the goblins are mostly good. the actual hl doesn't have this big of a rift, so its hard to say what happens. however, its good because it gives us loads of choice, the lack of which in hl caused a lot of complaints.
-if he's in prison, sebastian escapes,(not azkaban, gotta keep with the canon. maybe because he is a minor he is sent to a lesser facility.) still blaming the goblins and holding such a hatred for them now that in his eyes, they escaped punishment and that it's his job to kill them all while extorting the cure for anne OR finding us to cure her.
-if he's free, we can either have a storyline of him NOT learning his lesson and maybe going to prison then instead of after he commits uncle-cide (dark magic go brr, because sister is gone) or some other storyline that would be more about our magic (!) and ominis' story.
-for the latter to happen, we'd have to have taken the resevoir's power. OR we can make up a rowling-worthy excuse of 'well MC was exposed to the resevoir power for too long so even though they left it alone it still diffused into them or something! [happy]'. i honestly dont know, this is why i want YOUR THOUGHTS!!!
-to make the selection pool shallower, lets go with the excuse. this will allow us to have seb's story, our magic story and also some ominis story (i am obsessed.)
-whether seb escapes or is already free matters, but in the end its the same result - hes not in prison. the only difference is that free seb doesnt hate goblins, and isnt on the run, and vice versa for escapee seb. both want to find anne and cure her. both now remember you have the capacity to do so (but they dont know about the taking-away-pain-turns-them-into-living-husks thing).

• we could go with the 'find escapee seb and convince him we're right and he believes us and everything goes back to normal' route, but boring.

-maybe escapee seb finds us, and ropes us into the same 'help-me-find-anne' crap free seb does to us on the train. yes, that means we dont have a choice, but there has to be SOME adventure. the goblin-hatred would def play in somehow - its too specific of a thing to include in the endgame to just leave it be like that! maybe his hatred causes him to do unforgivable things to some innocent goblins and he has a 'mAyBe Im ThE mOnStEr' epiphany moment, who knows. maybe it ties in to something bigger.
-the main story would then be along those lines. im still brainstorming the climax and ending but nobodys gonna read this anyway lmfao
-main quests would consist of lessons, sebastian-is-a-little-too-obsessed-with-anne-quests, and honing our magic.
-side quests would be mainly ominis-centric regarding his family/the gaunts, with a decent lot of poppy and garreth. we've already resolved natty's entire life at this point tbh💀💀💀.
-id like to think there's a happy ending. idk what will happen to escapee sebastian, will he go to prison or not?? this is literally the equivalent of a crackfic in my head, i WAS NOT expecting to write this much when i started writing this.
SO AGAIN GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS. PLEASE. ON EVERYTHING FROM THE PLOT TO MY SEQUEL THEORIES TO FEATURES AND INCONSISTENCIES. THANK YOU!!
nowww some features!:

• quidditch, because yes
• morality systems would be a bit null here considering we're literally helping an escaped convict. but uh, we can try! just, like, dont cast the unforgivables everywhere you go ;)
• friendship systems with all side quest characters. like going from ehhh... to hellooo! with a side character would be awesome. the one thing hogwarts MYSTERY of all things got right was this.
• friendship and enmity systems BETWEEN characters, like, every sebastian needs their ominis ok. plus i want to help ominis bully puffskien dunkein I BEG, you cant tell me they dont have some rivalry going on ;-;

-romance? idk, not a romance person, this is for you sebastian fangirls to figure out for yourselves
-prejudice. literally what made harry potter, harry potter. there is like ONE audio with a negative view towards muggle-borns, and ONE that uses the word mudblood to my knowledge. everyone's just ok with everyone now? do malfoys and other death-eater's grandaddies not go to school here??? hello??????? this could and SHOULD be a topic for discussion in game or maybe even a side quest or side quest chain.
-extra but when/if seb escapes it should be on the daily prophet that ominis will show us in the undercroft or smth, i dunno
inconsistencies with my plot:

• loads of things havent been planned out. this is like a professional crackfic. (still has better plot than the cursed child though lets be honest :3 )
• everyone is easily convinced 'oh ok lets find your sister even though youre a dangerous escaped convict!'. sorry.

-itll be hard to mash everything in. but a half-assed plot is still a plot <:
-since its a continuation of 5th year, we already know many spells. there arent many useful ones left. HOWEVER!!! we can consult the fandom spell page, take offensive spells and stat boost them more than the 5th year ones >:) ALSO YOU LEARN ABOUT DARK ARTS IN 6TH YEAR, SO. ominis is not gonna have a fun time with those ones 💀
-because we'll be searching for anne, like the actual hl game, less school time, :( sorry
-everyones just ok with us disappearing (if seb is an escapee). someone should pull a hermione and go 'hmm, MC starts disappearing shortly after sebastian escapes, and they never say what they're doing.'
probably ominis or poppy because a) favouritsm on my part and b) ominis knows us best and i headcanon poppy as knowing us well and knowing the dark arts and how theyre used a tad bit more than she gets credit for.

• since this wouldve been 5th and 6th year covered, it would be expected for a 7th year to happen. naturally, i have exhausted all my 3 brain cells writing this, so screw it, 7th year doesnt need to exist right now. i havent even figured out all of 6th.

-loads of other things i havent seen, SO

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SHARE THOUGHTS, THIS TOOK ME AN HOUR TO WRITE AND I ONLY WROTE IT TO SEE WHAT PEOPLE THINK! TYSM. (I SHOULDNT HAVE WRITTEN THIS, I HAVE FINAL EXAMS TOMORROW 💀)

youre all amazing yayayayayaya

Let's not expect other teams to do our job for us. If we don't finish in the Top 2, it's because we didn't do our job well enough when it mattered most.
🔆 The pitch was a murder story brewing to happen, and the victims were the bowlers. We could go on and on about how we didn't get any wickets in the powerplay and allowed two domestic batsmen to plunder runs against us, but it doesn't change the fact that the pitch had nothing to offer the seam bowlers. And no, new ball and overcast conditions don't mandatorily induce swing. This pitch was as barren as the white Rann of Kutch. So a decent mix of non-threatening bowling coupled with brave shot-making of the PBKS batters resulted in that inflated powerplay score. The team selection was definitely done keeping the pitch in mind. Cummins more or less should have been aware of the batting conditions, and accordingly, a batting-heavy team was selected to both test our chasing capabilities and put the primary bowlers under pressure before the crucial playoffs.
🔆 Vijayakanth was bashed a lot during his spell by the fans. But people need to stay connected to the fact that he's not a mystery bowler. He's not going to extract something out of nothing. As a traditional leggie, he did what he was conditioned to do under these situations. He went on the defensive and stuck to a leg line to save himself from the attack. A match and a player in cricket should truly be judged after the conclusion of both innings. Given the PBKS spinners gave away at an economy of 11.3, VV's economy of 9.2 looks mild in comparison. That being said, he didn't bowl a perfect spell. When the ball was gripping a bit around his first spell, he continued bowling a defensive line and length. More often than not, he bowled short to the PBKS batsmen, for which he was punished accordingly. Would I still keep him in the squad? Yes, absolutely yes. More than another enforcer with the bat, this team desperately needs a wicket-taker in the middle. That's the very reason SRH should continue gambling with VV over GP, even if it doesn't pay off. Similarly, Nitish will be branded as a fraud with the ball looking at his stats at the end. And it's fair to an extent. Bowling your first ball of the spell as a no-ball more often than not spoils spells for fast bowlers, and it happened as such for NKR. Despite being hit for a couple of boundaries, he remained persistent with his lengths. This predictability worked against him against Russow and Jitesh. It's a good thing that Cummins entrusted him to bowl three overs under these tough conditions. Figures as such can make a bowler or break his confidence for good. It's a trial by fire, and let's hope we get the better version of NKR, the bowler, out of it.
🔆 Head's wicket was a brain fade. As explained by Brian on-air, he was too late to bring his bat down and the ball just snuck through. He showed signs of rustiness after the long break and he definitely would have benefited from being subbed during the latter part of the first innings. Abhi is a frustrating tale for me. Those who have followed my posts for long should know that I've been one of his biggest supporters ever since his arrival. That's why it's so frustrating to see him be so inconsistent with his batting this season. Despite suffering so much because of the lack of feet movement, he continues playing lazy shots far away from his body. Bowling far away from him and having a dominant off-side field has been the plan against him ever since the CSK match, and he continues giving in to those tactics. Even in this match, he played a couple of unnecessary slices over the point region to the very same area where CSK managed to hole him out. The couple of times he did move around and try to cover the line, he managed to hit handsome boundaries. This modification in technique does not happen overnight and usually takes a fair bit of discipline and time. That's why it's very important for him to keep his head down, block out outside noises, and work on that issue. That being said, he beat the allegations of being ineffective without the support of Head. And that's a step in the right direction.
🔆 Trips turned back the clock! I've always emphasized Trips to be more suitable for opening than batting first down with a semi-new ball. When the ball doesn't move that much and is still hard enough to be hit well, Trips is a different kind of batter. And from the very first ball, he showed glimpses of his past self. Rahul Tripathi is and always has been a confidence player. His performances on the field are reminiscent of the peripheral confidence he gathers before and during his stay in the crease. The less he gets beaten, the fewer Dot Balls he faces, the more confidently he goes through with his shots. I won't say anything new regarding him that I've not said already in here.(Do give it a read if you've not already) Judging by his innings tonight, he'd definitely get his place back in the playoffs. The onus is entirely upon himself to turn the situation around and not ruin his legacy with us. NKR had a decent partnership with Abhi despite struggling initially. He did have luck in his favor a couple of times there, but he made sure to keep up with the RRR to never let the match get away. Klaas, on the other hand, teed off at the start and eventually slowed down after the fall of wickets to secure the win. It's shame that he didn't finish the chase, but that's a discussion that should've taken place had we bottled this.
🔆 This win was necessary for multiple reasons. I wanted a 200+ chase before the end of the group stage so that our batsmen don't carry a burden into such a crucial phase. The RCB match set a precedent for the opposition to score 200+ by batting first against us, and rightfully so, our batsmen failed to comply with the NRR pressure. It showed a definitive weakness in our batting for opponents to exploit, and this match mitigated those worries to some extent. I said 'to some extent' as we made it a little more difficult at the end than we should have. It wasn't 100% confidence-inducing, but it was something at least. There's always a place to start, and I'm glad we started in the right direction.

I met Luna on a train two years ago. I’d just escaped from a toxic relationship, so romance was the last thing on my mind, but then she sat across from me in the carriage and asked about the book I was reading. She had a copy in her bag and wanted to know if it was any good.
I'd never felt such an instant, effortless connection with anybody before. I took a chance and asked her to dinner, and by the time the waiters cleared away our desserts, I already felt comfortable being vulnerable around her. So we went on a second date. And a third. And next thing I knew, we were planning our second anniversary.
In all that time she never gave off any 'creeper' vibes. Until a few months ago, when I stayed the night over at her place...
She'd gotten up early to use the bathroom. I grabbed her laptop off the side desk so I could catch up on some work e-mails, and the incognito tab was just sitting there. My first thought was: either she's having an affair or she's got a secret fetish.
What I found instead was a Google account with a photo album called ‘Michael’s EX’. In it, there were 427 photos of my former girlfriend turned psycho stalker, Sadie. This included shots of ‘Sadie the stalker’ with her family, screenshots of her passport—the works. On Facebook, Sadie's latest post said Moving to the Philippines, and since then she’d become a social media church mouse, so how did Luna keep her under surveillance? And how did you even get PERSONAL ID from a person halfway across the globe?
Down the hall, I heard the bathroom door swing open. Quickly I closed the laptop and pretended to be asleep until Luna planted a kiss on my lips. “Wakey wakey Bugs.”
I faked a stretch. “Morning Lola."
(At school, the other kids christened me ‘Bugs’ because of my cartoonishly large front teeth; I called Luna ‘Lola’ because of her blonde bangs and heart-shaped face.)
“How about we grab a fry for breakfast?” Her smile didn’t seem genuine, more like she was wearing a mask.
“Crap. I forgot I’m doing overtime today, I’ve gotta get to work.” With that, I shot out of there faster than a bullet train to Tokyo.
Because I didn’t wanna believe the worst about someone I cared so deeply about, I didn’t contact the police (not that anybody could’ve guessed what Luna was up to) and made excuses whenever she asked to meet, delaying the decision whether to end our relationship.
At night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time a hedge rustled outside, I’d run to the window and pull back the curtain only to discover a black cat skulking around the garden. I put this down to my previous relationship leaving me with a mountain of unresolved PTSD.
Sadie the stalker also seemed normal until we moved in together. After that she started picking fights if she caught me talking to another woman, even just distant relatives or childhood friends. The screaming matches went from weekly to nightly, only ever ending when I conceded to her every wish and gave her full access to my phone and social media accounts. I literally needed to grab my clothes into a bag and run away one night, and then I started hearing noises outside my new apartment. And although I never found any evidence, I was pretty sure she’d broken in at one point because the books on my side table were suddenly out of order one day. What hurt the most was Luna knew all this and still acted the way she did.
Right as I reached my lowest point, my close friend Gertrude called and said, “The universe is telling me you could use a sympathetic ear.”
I told her the universe didn’t know the half of it.
I’d met Gertrude—aka my surrogate mother—on a flight to London. Passing over Wales the aircraft hit heavy turbulence, and the grey-haired hippie in the seat next to mine squeezed my hand so tight that my fingers turned blue. After we levelled off, she apologized and said, “So what’s calling you to London?”
“A job.”
A few glasses of wine from the service trolley later, she blurted out, “You know your aura is strikingly similar to my husbands.”
“Uhh, thanks. Where is he now?”
“Oh, he burned to death in a house fire.”
Gertrude’s eyes started welling up. To take her mind off the subject, I said, “I lied earlier. I’m going to London because I fell in love with a Londoner.” I pulled up pictures of Sadie (back in her pre-stalker days) on my phone. “We met in Italy. She looked flustered trying to read a map book so I offered to help. Next thing I knew, we were planning a trip to this place called Orvieto.”
“Michael, I need to know how this story ends. Gimme your number.”
Since then, we’d met two or three times a year.
I laid the whole mess out over pizza. It was the first time since finding the Google account I didn’t feel hidden eyes crawling all over me.
Just as I wrapped up the story, over in the corner booth, a family burst into a chorus of happy birthday. A waiter appeared carrying a chocolate cake, capped by a giant candle that looked more like a flare. Gertrude tensed up.
“So what do you think about all this?” I asked.
She looked back at me and said, “It’s possible your reaction has been a touch on the dramatic side.”
“DRAMATIC??”
“Well consider things from Luna’s point of view. Your last relationship lasted for, what, three years? Maybe she felt threatened.”
“I don’t believe this.” I grabbed a cigarette from my pocket, but Gertrude snatched it away.
“You know how I feel about you poisoning your lungs, Michael.”
“Don’t you start. I got enough of that crap from Luna.”
Gertrude always encouraged me to work through my romantic problems. Ultimately, I decided her love of fairytale romances clouded her judgement and ghosted Luna instead. But I couldn’t escape her shadow. She always felt close. In fact, it got so bad that at a friend’s costume party several weeks later, my eyes kept compulsively scanning the crowd as if she was there in disguise, ready to pounce.
I stood off to the corner until, over the sea of heads, I spotted a beautiful stranger dressed as Jarlath the Goblin King. I took a shot of liquid courage and made a B-line towards her.
Halfway across the crowded room, beer splashed across the front of my Ziggy Stardust outfit.
“I am so sorry,” a female pirate said, patting me dry.
“Don’t worry about it.” Every time I tried circling her, she moved to cut me off.
“I am such a klutz. Why don’t you come into the kitchen so I can clean up this mess?”
I put my hands on her shoulders and steered her out of the way. “It’s fine. Trust me.”
Approaching Jarlath from behind, heart slamming against my chest, I said, “Well this is awkward. One of us is gonna have to change.”
Jennie had bright blue eyes and dimples impossible to miss. Ten minutes into our debate about David Bowie’s greatest album, I said, “You know Absolute Bowie are playing the Half Moon next week. I could take you?”
“Sorry. I’m going with my boyfriend,” she said with a sympathetic smile. From beside the buffet table, the pirate stared daggers in our direction.
“No worries,” I replied, despite the fact I was brimming with jealousy.
The next day, as I jogged off my hangover, a brown-haired lady cut across my path and we both went spinning to the ground.
“Flip, sorry.” I rushed to pull her up by the hands. “I’m like a bloody zombie lately.”
She did a doubletake. “Ziggy, right?”
There was no mistaking those eyes. “Jarlath?”
“Well, Jarlath or Jennie. Eithers fine.”
“Right. Well, sorry again. Enjoy Absolute Bowie.”
Before I could jog away, she said, “Hey, so that guy I was seeing? Turns out he’s a total prick.”
Jennie and I went for coffee. Coffee morphed into drinks. Drinks morphed into a steamy make-out session on my sofa.
But as she covered my neck in soft kisses, my stomach turned. It felt like cheating. So, I put the brakes on things and said, “I can’t do this. I’m really sorry. You’re amazing, but I just got out of a serious relationship…and…it’s just…”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
We agreed we’d let our connection blossom in its own time.
Jennie had a playful mystique to her. Within a handful of dates, we’d developed inside jokes and could tell what the other was thinking. But Luna’s imprint was hard to shake, to the extent I almost mixed up the two ladies’ names multiple times.
To detox, I suggested Jennie and I spend a romantic weekend in the Lake District, because after two days of hiking and kayaking my ex would no doubt be a spec in the rearview mirror.
Hours before we set off, however, Luna’s mom called. She wanted to meet and wouldn’t accept any excuses.
“Look, it’s obvious why I’m here,” she said, sitting across from me in Starbucks. “Ever since you and Luna broke up, she’s been acting…different.”
“Different? Different how?”
“I call but she hardly answers. I go over to her place but she’s never there. Now she’s telling me she needs to find herself. Says she’s moving to Australia.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I need to know what happened between you two. And I don’t care if that paints anybody in a bad light. I’m just worried about my daughter is all.”
I told her about the Google account.
“Did you confront her about it?”
“Hell no. I ghosted that crazy bitc—” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I just…stopped seeing her.”
She started crying so loudly customers at nearby tables paused their conversations. I touched her forearm, promised I’d call if I remembered anything else, then set off for my romantic weekend.
But while Jennie and I enjoyed all that fresh air and pub food, a thought nagged at me. Luna adored London, so why move to Australia? It seemed so out of character. Back at our rented cottage, I was so fixated on the thought I needed a smoke, badly.
“What the hell is that?” Jennie demanded, as she stepped onto the front deck.
I glanced at my hands. “Uhh, a cigarette.”
“Michael! Don’t be sarcastic. You know how I feel about those things.”
“…Do I?”
“Uhh, well it’s the same as anybody else. Quit poisoning your lungs and put that thing out.”
“Alright alright, geeze. Sorry Luna.”
“That’s okay.”
A knot formed in my stomach as she went back inside. I’d called Jennie Luna by mistake. And she hadn’t noticed. In fact, her reaction to me smoking was identical to Luna’s—even the snappy way she said the ‘poison your lungs’ line.
I followed Jennie into the lounge, where she’d curled up on an armchair with a Colleen Hoover novel. She was hiding something. What else did she know about Luna? Maybe I could trick her into revealing some details…
From behind, I started massaging her shoulders. “Sorry for being rude before. I know what you said came from a place of love.”
“That’s okay.”
I waited until her eyes drooped shut, then said, “It really is perfect here, huh? Maybe we should stay forever.”
“Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Her little groans of pleasure, the rhythm of her breathing, it all felt so familiar. I waited until the tension in her neck dissolved, then I pushed my lips against her ear and whispered, “So how about we take this into the bedroom…Lola.”
“Hmm. Sure thing Bugs.”
My hands froze. Jennie jumped up. “Uhh, that felt so good, why’d you stop?”
“What did you just say?”
“What did you just say?”
“I called you Lola,” I replied, my arms frozen in midair. “And you called me bugs.”
“Like the cartoon, right? I thought it’d be a cute nickname. Anyway, I’m tuckered out.” She forced a yawn. “Why don’t we get some sleep?”
As her hand laced with mine, an image of me waking up drugged and gagged and tied to the bedposts flashed before my eyes.
I said, “Sure. I just…need to use the bathroom first.”
The second the door shut behind me, I flew out of the house, climbed in my car, and sped away.
Within seconds my phone started blowing up with calls, followed by texts. Where are you going? Is everything okay?
No, I wanted to reply. I’m onto your sick little game. Whatever it is, I’m onto it.
Luna stalked my stalker, now Jennie somehow knew Luna and I’s nicknames. How? Did all women take turns drawing straws and whoever picked the short one needed to become my girlfriend?
I couldn’t go home. For all I knew, my exes would’ve been there burning effigies of me. I needed a safe place. Somewhere I could lie low until I got all this straightened out.
“Of course you can stay,” Gertrude said over the phone. “I’m out with some friends, but I’ll meet you later. If you hop the side gate there’s a spare key under the kissing gnomes out back.”
Gertrude lived in a detached house in Wembley. It took a bit of foraging to find the gnomes hidden beneath the weeds in the brown, patchy garden.
I needed to shoulder the door open. Inside, a mountain of letters and flyers had piled up on the welcome mat.
Down the hall, a huge archway connected the landing with a lounge, where a bar sat against the far wall, surrounded by upholstered sofas, a low table, and tie dye sheets strung over the filthy carpet. Everything had a real elegant vibe, despite the musty air.
I’d drained two glasses of whiskey before Gertrude arrived.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough evening.”
I said we could talk in the morning.
“Not a chance. You can’t take negative energy to bed. Come on, confession is good for the soul.”
She sat on the sofa and patted the empty seat next to her. So, with a weary sigh, I shared a tale of deranged exes.
“Crazy,” she said.
“I sure can pick ‘em, huh?”
“No, I mean you’re crazy.”
“What?”
“Think about it. What’s more likely: that your ex’s are secretly in collusion, or you’re being paranoid? Look how bloodshot your eyes are. When’s the last time you got a good night’s rest?”
She made a great point; teenagers on the street occasionally shouted ‘Bugs’ or ‘Thumper’ at me. Jennie might’ve come up with the nickname herself. I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning.
“Look, sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll brainstorm ways you can make it up to Jennie.”
I fumbled through my pockets for a cigarette.
“Really?” Gertrude said. “If you insist on poisoning your lungs, can you at least do it away from my home?”
“Well if I can’t smoke, I’m gonna need a refill.” I shook my empty glass.
On my way toward the bar, a wave of wooziness hit me. My first instinct was to blame it on the alcohol, but there was something else.
It was her reaction to the cigarette. My finger ran through the thick layer of dust along the bar’s countertop. Why was it like the place had been abandoned? Why did Gertrude always pressure me to stay with my psycho girlfriends? And how come she always reached out, as if on cue, whenever my relationships hit problems? It couldn’t be coincidence…
I poured two glasses of whiskey and carried them to the sofa. “So, you’re really against the whole smoking thing, huh?”
“Of course. It’s a filthy habit.”
“Yeah. Plus, there was that mess with your husband. House fire, right?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Sure, sure.” I ignited the lighter with a roll across my trouser leg.
Gertrude grabbed a cushion and hugged it. “What are you doing?”
“Alright, cut the crap. What the hell’s going on? Have you been sending your friends to date me?”
“What are you talking about?”
I wrestled the cushion from her and held the lighter beneath it. “I want an explanation right now or I’m torching this place.”
This was an empty threat. I wasn’t some pyromaniac—I just wanted answers. Inch by inch, I raised the flame. “Last chance. Why are the women in my life acting weird?”
Gertrude grabbed for the lighter. As I swatted her wrists away, we both got scorched, and for a moment her skin went wild with spasms, a sensation I can only compare to reaching inside a bucket of wet, writhing maggots. My gaze whipped between her face and her hands, which vibrated like plucked guitar strings.
Before I could scream, she yanked me up, clamped a cold, wrinkled palm across my mouth, and forced me against the wall. I thrashed around, unable to move. For a lady old enough to collect a pension, she was crazy strong.
She waited until I ran out of breath, then said, “Michael, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Open your heart and listen.”
What else could I do?
“You were right before. I have been keeping a secret from you. The truth is, I’ve been in love with you since we met. I’d never flown before. And you were so so sweet. You started talking about this other woman, but I knew our energies were perfect for each other. And it’s like I always say, love makes us do crazy things. You can’t begrudge me that can you?”
She looked as if she expected me to respond, so I shook my head.
“But I think we’ve reached a point where our connection is so deep we can be completely transparent with one another.” She took a slow, steady breath. “Michael, all your ex’s, Luna, Sadie, Jennie. They’ve all been…well, me.”
I stared at her, confused.
She sighed. “It’ll be easier if I just show you.”
Out of nowhere her hand wriggled again, then her face tightened, as though the skin was being stretched over the bone. Wrinkles smoothed out and colour bled into her grey hair, turning it brown, and within seconds I found myself face-to-face with Jennie. Even her vintage clothes morphed into a green blouse and white slacks.
“See?” she said in Jennie’s voice, her now blue eyes locked on mine.
I screamed into the soft flesh of her palm.
“Sssh, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Watch.”
Her entire body jerked and twitched, the muscles spasming as she shifted from Jennie to Luna. “See? Think of these as costumes”—from Luna to Sadie—"the important thing is what’s underneath. And you’ve fallen in love with what’s underneath three times. Now I’m going to let go, but I need you to promise you won’t overreact. Understand?”
On the verge of a panic attack, I nodded furiously.
The second she pulled away I made a break for the exit. The thing posing as Sadie grabbed me and hurled me backwards against the wall.
Like a disappointed teacher, she put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been so patient with you, Michael. So very, very patient.”
She blocked off any hope of escape. I sidestepped around the outer edge of the room, towards the bar.
“All those years moulding you. Trying to grow you into the man I know you can be. I really thought we had it this time. For the record, I wanted to do this the easy way. But drastic times...”
I was so scared I slammed right into the cabinet and yelped. Glass bottles chattered together, and then something wet ran down the back of my shirt. It was whiskey, leaking from the overturned bottle onto the carpeted floor.
Speaking more to herself now, Gertrude said, “I’ll just have to keep you here until you love me as much as I love you. Of course, that means posing as you so nobody gets suspicious, but that’s no trouble. I’ll tell your dad you’re moving to Italy. You always loved Italy.”
Pose as me? She'd been killing my ex's and taking their place, I was just the latest in a long line. She’d keep me as a personal sugar baby if I didn’t escape, but how? She was impossibly strong, and the only thing that seemed to scare her was…
Snatching the bottle, I doused the remaining whiskey all over the carpet and furniture. As I flicked the lighter open, Sadie’s hands shot up.
“Bugs…darling…what are you doing?”
I took three slow, steady breaths. “Breaking up with you, you crazy bitch.”
I tossed the lighter forward. Within seconds flames sprung up all around us, spreading as far as the sofa. Sadie’s shoe caught fire, and as she stamped around, unintentionally fanning the blaze, her body writhed again, starting with the ankles. Fat boils climbed up every inch of exposed skin, milky white and with the consistency of frog spawn, like she’d had a killer allergic reaction to poison ivy.
She dropped to her knees, wailing like a wounded animal. This was my chance.
I made a break for the exit, giving the creature as wide a berth as possible. But as I got one foot planted in the hall something clamped tight around my ankles. My chin hit the floor, then I started sliding backwards.
I twisted onto my back. Where Sadie’s left arm should’ve been, a tentacle-like appendage stretched across the length of the room, a distance of over twenty feet. It reeled me toward her like a fish on a line. Whatever that thing was no longer looked human. It melted like an ice statue, with no bones or connective tissue inside, its lips nose and mouth becoming hideously elongated before dripping off in huge globs like melted candlewax. A fire alarm started wailing as the tentacle dragged me through the flames, scorching my arms and legs.
The loose mass of skin reached out and encased me like a mother bird sheltering its eggs.
“WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?” all my ex’s voices screamed at once. Whichever direction I looked, silhouettes of faces rose and fell, as if trying to burst through. Parts of them dripped inside my mouth, disgustingly warm with a bitter taste worse than Vaseline.
I put everything into clawing my way out if there. What was left of the beast had the consistency of wet clay and came apart just as easily. I tore away chunks until there was a hole large enough to squeeze through. Then, I crawled along surrounded by black smoke.
At the far side of the room I risked a glance back and saw a bumpy, uneven hand reaching out of a puddle of ooze. Soon I was crawling over the bristly welcome mat, then fumbling for the door. All I remember after that are paramedics wrestling me into an ambulance…
A specialist officer came to see me at the hospital the next morning. They’d been unable to contact the homeowner, Gertrude Huyton, and through his line of questioning I could tell they hadn’t found her ‘remains’ inside the charred house. Like the wicked witch of the West, my stalker had melted. I told the officer she said I could stay the night, and that I probably started the fire by dropping a cigarette.
“In that case, we’ll keep trying to reach her.” He walked to the curtain surronding my bed and paused. “Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, her cat is missing.”
“Her...cat?”
“Yeah. The little black one. One of the firemen pulled it out of the wreckage. The poor thing had burns over its legs but it ran off before anybody could take it to the vet.”
I swallowed a gulp and thanked him for telling me.
And now I’m still sitting here listening while nurses rush back and forth, terrified any one of them might be Gertrude…

Tw: self harm, suicide, depression, sexual assault
I’m 25, and I feel sad, desperate and dead inside to the point of wanting to end things. I live in a country I’ve wanted to move to for years, I’m studying for my dream masters, I have a lot of friends around the world and near me, I have a supportive family and my boyfriend loves me and is here for me despite a long distance. Despite knowing all this, I can’t seem to get myself excited for anything - I’m unhappy, I dread almost everything, I’m irritable or straight up angry almost all the time, especially when I’m around happy people. I’m socially anxious despite being extroverted, and I sit through social interactions trying to focus on connecting with people but I just think about getting it over with and being alone as soon as possible. I’m horrible to my boyfriend half of the time - I love him and I know he’s a great guy, but I can’t help but be irritated by something he does all the time, I’m ruining our relationship and he’s constantly on the verge of breaking up with me. I don’t want that, but I don’t know how to stop all of this. I feel horrible all the time.
This has been going on and off roughly since I entered my teens. My parents provided a less than ideal home situation and I realised I was depressed around 13. Since 12 I’ve had constant patterns of binge eating and starvation, still ongoing. I started self harming at 16 and stopped at 19. When I tried to tell my parents what was going on for me when living at home, they dismissed things completely. At 17 I had a manic episode which landed me in hospital, after which I referred myself to the local mental health service, and after explaining to them my whole situation and that I felt suicidal, I won’t go into the details but I was dismissed as not at risk. A few weeks later I had my first overdose, after which when my mother found out she told me “I should be the one killing myself”. I decided I was going to be okay but failing, so at 18 a few months before going to university I started antidepressants. I struggled a lot after moving away from home and a few months into first year of university I had my second overdose. After this once again I decided I was going to be “okay”, and I started experimenting with drugs, smoking weed every night and all sorts of others. I was much happier in the period between the end of first year of university and the beginning of the 4th year, despite some inabilities to deal with my emotions. A week into my 4th year of university (with covid in full swing), I was r**ed. I spiralled out of confusion and loneliness and had a huge mental breakdown months later. I started to seek out therapy at this time but it was short lived through the university services, and I was still smoking weed non stop to deal with the huge pain I had. After graduating I moved to a different city, started a job, and once again a few months later had a huge breakdown. At this time I met my current boyfriend and started therapy. I was in therapy for about a year before I stopped for financial reasons. I was constantly dead inside, depressed and having constant mental breakdowns and taking out everything on my boyfriend, started fights over nothing every few days until he eventually broke up with me. We got back together a few months later and since then, it’s been a similar pattern of constantly nothing being good enough, fighting over nothing, me cycling through mental breakdowns, feeling dead inside and not knowing why, suicidal ideation and cycling through self destructive patterns: gym addiction, binge eating, weed smoking, wanting to end my relationship out of guilt of being an awful girlfriend. Eating healthy, getting top grades, sleeping well with no partying or drugs and exercising regularly helps and gives me the illusion of being better, and I don’t know why I simply am not…
After years of this, I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I’m not sure if I even can get better. I will be home for the summer and my mums insists on taking me to therapy, and high I was plenty surprised to hear given my financial situation preventing me seeking it out so far and my parents’ historical dismissal. I don’t know what to do in the meantime. I need hope and I need to know why I simply can’t get better and stay better. The pattern of thinking I’m finally okay and normal for years to random mental breakdown and throes of depression is making me genuinely want to end my life. I hate myself for all the fuck ups of my life and for being so unhappy and making the ones who love me unhappy. I feel like I have no right to feel this way considering how good my life is, and considering I’m the one ruining it by isolating myself from my loved ones, sabotaging my relationship by being mean and angry to my boyfriend for no reason, and being ungrateful for all I have.
I don’t know where to stop hating myself. I want to stop feeling anger, sadness, guilt and shame, and I don’t know where to start, because I truly believe I deserve it.

26/01/2014 - WWE Royal Rumble
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Commentated by Jim Ross, JBL, and Michael Cole
We see some footage of superstars arriving to the arena today. The Authority arrive in a limousine; WWE Champion Randy Orton, Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Kane. Daniel Bryan is shown walking with Brie Bella. "The Animal" Batista shows up in a truck and flexes for the camera. The feed cuts and glitches out revealing a dark room with a empty rocking chair moving slowly. "We're here."
The iconic voice of Jim Ross welcomes us to the 2014 Royal Rumble as pyro erupts from the stage and the fans go wild. The Authority's music plays and the mood quickly shifts, the crowd rains down boo's. Here comes the WWE World Champion Randy Orton. Orton talks trash to some fans in the front row while Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Kane make their way out as well. Orton raises the title as HHH passes him a microphone. Orton is in a great mood tonight. He's got the night off and there will be 30 men all vying for a chance to get RKO'ed in the main event of Wrestlemania 30. The crowd chants, “Daniel Bryan” as Orton laughs and promises that Bryan doesn't stand a chance. If you want to win the Royal Rumble you have to be taller than these marks in the crowd, you can't be a front row wrestler like Daniel Bryan or CM Punk. The crowd breaks into a deafening “DANIEL BRYAN/CM PUNK!” chant as Orton highlights some of the past winners like himself, Triple H, and Batista. True superstars who all pass the airport test. Triple H takes the microphone and tells the fans to shut the hell up and respect greatness. The reason The Authority are out here is because they want an answer from Batista. Will The Animal join them, take the #30 spot, and win the Rumble to make the biggest Wrestlemania main event a reality? Batista's music hits and he gets a great reaction. First of all, Batista thanks the Pittsburgh fans and everyone in the WWE for welcoming him back with open arms. Batista has a ton of respect for Triple H and Orton after all those years in Evolution. They all shake hands and it looks like he's accepting the offer. Triple H tells Batista to make the right decision and do whats best for business. Batista gives the THUMBS UP! The Authority are all psyched up until.... Batista, who still has his thumb in the air, says "What's best for business.... is listening to these fans! Doing things the hard way, the same way he did it through his whole career. Batista didn't come back to be handed anything, he came back to prove he can still be The Animal. The man who beat Triple H in the main event of Wrestlemania.... The thumbs up is turned into a THUMBS DOWN! Kane charges at Batista but gets clotheslined! Randy Orton and Tripe H flee from the ring as The Animal delivers a Spinebuster to Kane and rattles the ropes! Triple H screams that Batista is going to regret this decision.....
A video package of the feud between Divas Champion AJ Lee and Mickie James is next. After AJ Lee defeated Naomi to retain her title on RAW, AJ declared she had no competition in the locker room. Cue the surprise return of Mickie James! Former psycho versus current psycho, legend versus future legend. They exchange verbal barbs over the next few weeks, with Mickie picking up some big wins and earning a title match. During a contract signing on the final RAW before the Royal Rumble, things finally turned physical and Mickie put AJ Lee through a table with a huge bulldog from the top rope! Everything comes to a head tonight with the championship on the line.
Tony Chimel lets us know that this contest is scheduled for one fall as Mickie James makes her entrance and gets emotional at the ovation from the audience in Pittsburgh. Divas Champion AJ Lee is next and she gets a mixed reaction; the fans love her but are definitely backing Mickie in this one.
AJ Lee (c) vs. Mickie James for the WWE Divas Championship
The match kicks off with AJ slapping Mickie across the face! James returns the favour and tackles AJ, raining down a flurry of punches. AJ Lee cowers into the corner but then takes advantage by slamming Mickie to the mat by her hair! AJ taunts Mickie and stomps her in the corner but when the champion charges, Mickie backdrops her over the ropes! Mickie hits a Thez Press from the apron and tosses AJ into the barricade!
They battle on the apron until AJ sends Mickie head first into the ringpost. Mickie seems genuinely hurt and the referee goes to check on her, allowing AJ to expose the turnbuckle on the opposite side of the ring. She shows no regard for her possibly injured challenger, ignoring the ref and dragging Mickie back into the centre of the ring. Out of nowhere, James nails the Mick Kick! AJ is down! 1-2-AJ gets her foot underneath the bottom rope! James goes for the Stratus-faction but AJ Lee launches her into the exposed turnbuckle! Mickie James is out cold! 1-2-3! AJ retains!
Result- AJ Lee wins by pinfall via exposed turnbuckle shot. (12:58)
The Royal Rumble tumbler is back! Stephanie McMahon is overseeing things as superstars enter to pick their spots in the Royal Rumble. We see Alberto Del Rio, Brodus Clay, and other superstars pick their numbers. Triple H and Paul Heyman in the background; they shake hands and it appears that HHH hands Heyman something before he walks off.
"The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes is here! He introduces his sons, the WWE World Tag Team Champions Cody Rhodes and Goldust! The champions hug their father and make their way to the ring for a Six Pack Challenge Elimination Match! After being on the wrong side of The Authority, The Rhodes Brothers have been put in quite the predicament as they look to retain their title's against all odds.
Cody Rhodes and Goldust (c) vs. The New Age Outlaws vs. The Prime Time Players vs. Truth & Consequences vs. Hunico and Camacho vs. The Uso's in a Six Pack Challenge Elimination Match for the WWE World Tag Team Championship
Everything breaks down right off the bat. Bodies are flying everywhere. The Uso's hit a pair of dives over the ropes onto a pile of opponents. Back in the ring Hunico and Camacho eat a pair of Superkicks. Uso Splash to Hunico! 1-2-3!
Jey Uso pins Hunico via Uso Splash (Hunico and Camacho are eliminated)
The Prime Time Players take their turn dominating. Titus hits a Sit-Out Spinebuster to Billy Gunn. Darren Young launches Road Dogg from the ring and dropkicks an incoming Jimmy Uso. Xavier Woods comes out of nowhere with a springboard DDT on Titus O'Neil! Darren Young gets hit with a spinning elbow from R-Truth! Woods and Truth connect with a double Scissor Kick on Titus for the 3 count.
R-Truth pins Titus O'Neil via Double Scissors Kick (The Prime Time Players are eliminated)
Road Dogg chopblocks R-Truth immediately and throws him into the ringpost. Woods gets some shots in on Dogg but turns around into a Fameasser from Billy Gunn! 1-2-3!
Billy Gunn pins Xavier Woods via Fameasser (Truth & Consequences are eliminated)
Road Dogg grabs one of the tag title belts and brings it in the ring. The referee tries to stop him but Billy warns the referee that Triple H will fire him if he gets in their way. Billy holds Goldust as Road Dogg charges with the title ---- Goldust low blows Billy Gunn and ducks; Road Dogg knocks out Billy Gunn with the title belt! Cody Rhodes grabs Road Dogg and hits the Cross Rhodes!
Cody Rhodes pins Billy Gunn via Cross Rhodes (The New Age Outlaws are eliminated)
We are down to two teams. The Rhodes Brothers and The Uso's. The teams gather themselves in opposite corners as the crowd swells to a fever pitch. All four slug it out in the middle. Double Superkick to Goldust sends him to the floor. Cody hits the Bionic Elbow to Jimmy! Alabama Slam to Jey! Cody is all fired up! Cody goes for the Cross Rhodes but nearly gets pinned on a roll up. Double Superkick to Cody! Both The Uso's climb to the top rope but Goldust comes back in and drops Jimmy right on his yambags! Goldust meets Jey on the other side and delivers a giant superplex! BUT JIMMY RECOVERS AND FLIES OFF THE TOP! USO SPLASH TO GOLDUST! 1-2-CODY BREAKS UP THE PIN! Cody hits a Disaster Kick to Jimmy but gets Superkicked by Jey! With his last gasp of energy, Goldust nails Jey with the Final Cut! 1-2-3! Cody and Goldust retain!
Goldust pins Jey Uso via The Final Cut
Result- Cody Rhodes and Goldust retain the WWE World Tag Team Championship. (15:59)
CM Punk is taping his wrists in the locker room when Corporate Kane approaches with a bunch of security. Punk stands up ready to defend himself. But Kane tells him to calm down. He's here with a gift from The Authority. Kane hands Punk a Rumble number from the tumbler and tells him on behalf of The Authority, they wish him luck tonight. Kane leaves as punk opens the ball and shakes his head.
A video package showcases the rivalry between the United States Champion Dean Ambrose and Rob Van Dam. After RVD became # 1 Contender, The Shield brutalized him in a 3 on 1 beatdown. The next week, Rob Van Dam attacked Ambrose with a steel chair and delivered a devastating Van Daminator. Ambrose got busted open but the blood seemed to turn him into some kind of maniac. A bloodied Ambrose cut an iconically intense promo backstage in the boiler room where he challenged RVD to a Hardcore match at the Royal Rumble. Rob Van Dam accepted and began to tap into his hardcore style, even going as far as to bring back his old friend Sabu to help him fend off repeated attacks by The Shield. Tonight this rivalry concludes in a Hardcore match for the US Championship.
Dean Ambrose (c) vs. Rob Van Dam for the United States Championship in a Hardcore Match
Van Dam starts off hot with a barrage of kicks to Ambrose. RVD hits his signature barricade legdrop from the apron! He pulls out a kendo stick and starts unloading on the champion. Ambrose stops the beating by raking RVD's eyes and then snapping the kendo stick in half. Ambrose goes berserk, stabbing RVD with the sharp part of the broken kendo stick repeatedly in the corner as JR tells the TV audience to put their kids to bed because "this match is going to be bowling shoe ugly folks". Van Dam slides out of the ring and we see he's bleeding profusely. Ambrose stalks his prey on the outside but RVD tosses a steel chair full speed at his head! RVD goes under the ring and grabs a couple of trash cans and a lid. He smashes Ambrose over the head with the lid and throws him in the ring. RVD sets up a table on the outside but is momentarily distracted, trying to wipe the blood out of his eyes which allows Ambrose to crush one of the trash cans over Van Dam's head. Like a shark that smells blood in the water, Ambrose pounces on RVD and unloads punches to his open cut. The referee pulls him off and checks on RVD. But Ambrose is not done. Far from it. He goes under the ring and grabs a barbed wired baseball bat! As he gets in the ring, RVD kicks the barbed wired bat into Ambrose's face! Spike DDT! Van Dam puts a trash can over Ambrose's head and props him in the corner. VAN TERMINATOR WITH A STEEL CHAIR INTO THE TRASH CAN! RVD slowly drapes his arm over Ambrose. 1-2-Dean somehow kicks out! They exchange punches in the middle of the ring until Ambrose bites RVD's bloody head!!! RVD punches Ambrose just to get him off of him but Dean rebounds with a lariat that turns RVD inside out! Instead of going for the pin, Ambrose picks up the barbed wired baseball bat and smashes RVD in the back repeatedly! Van Dam rolls to the apron but Ambrose follows him and starts grinding the barbed wire in RVD's face! Using the pure adrenaline of survival instinct, RVD reverses into a suplex over the ropes, sending he and Ambrose crashing through the table on the outside!
The fans chant "Holy shit!" as the announcers question how much more these guys, specifically RVD, can take. RVD is first to his feet and throws Ambrose in the ring. RVD climbs to the top rope but Ambrose hits the ropes and causes him to lose balance. He tosses RVD off the top rope onto a trash can! Ambrose goes under the ring and grabs a bag..... The referee tries to stop him but Ambrose shoves him to the ground and empties the contents all over the ring ---- IT'S THUMBTACKS! He turns around and catches a steel chair hurled at him by RVD! VAN TERMINATOR! Ambrose falls into the tacks! RVD goes up top! FIVE STAR FROG SPLASH INTO THE TACKS! "BY GAWD!" Cover! 1-2-Ambrose kicks out by shoving a handful of tacks into RVD's face! Van Dam screams in pain as a now bloody Ambrose pulls himself to his feet and smiles. DIRTY DEEDS ON THE TACKS! 1-2-3!
Result- Dean Ambrose wins by pinfall via Dirty Deeds onto thumbtacks! (22:22)
Rob Van Dam is taken out on a stretcher as Dean Ambrose sits bloodied in the corner, with thumbtacks all over him and the United States Title over his shoulder, admiring his work.
Writer's Note: This match writes RVD out for the foreseeable future to give him a well deserved break. Ambrose is put over as a sadistic, hardcore, psycho path on RVD's way out.
We cut backstage where Mark Henry and The Big Show are picking their numbers. Stephanie McMahon plays nice with the legendary giants, telling them that there are always advantages to helping The Authority. Mark Henry laughs her off and walks out but Big Show appears to contemplate her words. Daniel Bryan walks in and has a face off with Triple H. Bryan wants to pick his Rumble number but HHH tells him there's only one ball left. He teases not giving it to him but places it in his hands. Bryan opens it, shakes his head and smiles, saying he wouldn't expect anything less from The Authority.
A video package on the history of the Royal Rumble match is next, highlighting past winners, elimination records, and obscure statistics. Ladies and gentlemen. We promised you a great main event.
Main Event- 30 Man Royal Rumble Match
1. Daniel Bryan
2. CM Punk
The two heroes of our story; enemies of The Authority that have been given the insurmountable task of winning from the opening spots if they want to main event Wrestlemania. They slug it out and the fans love every second of it.
3. Big E Langston
The Intercontinental Champion gets a chance to showcase his abilities in full spotlight. He tosses Bryan and Punk around much to the chagrin of the crowd. Punk and Bryan team up to stop the onslaught and slow the big man down.
4. Mark Henry
The World's Strongest Man double clotheslines Punk and Bryan before squaring up with Big E. The two meaty men begin slappin' meat until Henry squashes the IC Champion in the corner and takes advantage.
5. Alexander Rusev
The Bulgarian Brute from NXT goes nose to nose with Mark Henry. Rusev kicks Henry in the head and then charges full speed, clobbering him and sending Mark crashing from the ring for our first official elimination of the night!
Alexander Rusev eliminates Mark Henry
6. Evan Bourne
Bourne quickens the pace of the match and hits a barrage of high flying moves until he meets the brick wall known as Rusev. Rusev gets Bourne in a precarious position and clotheslines him so hard that he takes a nasty backflip bump off the apron ala Paul London 2005.
Alexander Rusev eliminates Evan Bourne
Rusev turns around and realizes he's surrounded by Bryan, Punk, and Big E! He fights valiantly but it's no use. YES+ Knee by Bryan! Rusev is rocked but still standing! GTS by Punk! Rusev is STILL somehow on his feet but falls back against the ropes ..... A clothesline from Big E sends Rusev over the ropes for another elimination!
Big E Langston eliminates Alexander Rusev
7. Alberto Del Rio w/Ricardo Rodriguez
As a former World Champion and Royal Rumble winner, Del Rio has to be considered dangerous in this match. He hits a nasty double foot stomp on Big E and trash talks the fans as they boo him out of the building. Bryan and Punk hit a Hart Attack on Del Rio to a massive pop!
8. Kevin Nash
It looks like The Authority have a couple of tricks up their sleeve tonight. Nash immediately targets Punk and Bryan, savouring the boo's from the audience. Meanwhile, Big E nearly has Del Rio eliminated until Rodriguez hops on the apron and allows Del Rio to get the advantage by jamming him thumb in Big E's eye! Del Rio kicks Big E in the face and eliminates the Intercontinental Champion!
Alberto Del Rio eliminates Big E Langston
Del Rio and Nash team up to beat down Punk and Bryan.
9. John Cena
Business is about to pick up! Cena hits the ring and takes the fight to Del Rio and Nash! AA to Del Rio! Nash immediately takes Cena down with a big boot and mocks the fans, pretending to cry. Jackknife Powerbomb to Cena! Nash tosses Punk over the ropes but Punk skins the cat and starts kicking Nash in his surgically repaired knee's.
10. Big Show
Nash throws Punk into the ring post and has a face off with The World's Largest Athlete. Nash extends his hand, wondering if Show is going to take The Authority up on their offer. Big Show teases joining him --- psych! Knockout Punch by Big Show! Nash crumples to the mat. The fans love it as Big Show gets hyped up and then starts chopping Del Rio in the corner.
11. X-Pac
Another surprise return! But is this another legend doing the bidding of The Authority? Pac does some crotch chops and gets a good reaction as he fist bumps The Big Show and hits a Bronco Buster to Del Rio! But X-Pac cannot be trusted as he kicks Big Show right in the family jewels! Kevin Nash pulls himself to his feet and two sweets X-Pac! Nash goes to stomping on The Big Show as Pac charges for a Bronco Buster on Punk ---- Cena takes X-Pac's head off with a clothesline and then AA's him from the ring!
John Cena eliminates X-Pac
Cena, Punk, and Bryan all attack Kevin Nash and buy enough time for Big Show to recover. Show grabs Nash by the throat and pushes him back over the ropes!
Big Show eliminates Kevin Nash
Show, Cena, Punk, Bryan, and Del Rio all fight and try to eliminate each other as the buzzer sounds for the next entrant.
12. Bray Wyatt
The mood has shifted in the arena! Bray Wyatt comes in like an absolute killer, wrecking everyone in his path. Sister Abigail to CM Punk! Daniel Bryan is the last one standing and the crowd breaks out into thunderous "YES!" chants as Bryan and Wyatt exchange stiff slaps and beat the piss out of each other!
13. Erick Rowan
A coincidence or the puppet strings of The Authority? The Wyatt Family now has two members and begin to dominate. Big Show grabs their throats but Rowan breaks free with several headbutts! Big Show slumps back against the ropes --- Wyatt and Rowan dump him to the floor!
Bray Wyatt and Erick Rowan eliminate Big Show
Wyatt sits in the corner moving his hands like a orchestra conductor as Rowan chokes Daniel Bryan on the opposite side of the ring. Del Rio tries to eliminate John Cena.
14. Brodus Clay
The Funkasaurus is in no dancing mood, he knows how serious this opportunity is and he also knows what he's up against. As soon as he slides in the ring, Wyatt and Rowan put the boots to him. Clay fights back but it's no use. It's Wyatt Family domination as Bray hits a Sister Abigail and then Rowan throws the big man over the ropes.
Erick Rowan eliminates Brodus Clay
CM Punk is Bray Wyatt's next target but he fights for his life and hits a big roundhouse kick to Rowan! Bray has to fend for himself and he smiles, it's time to dance!
15. Kofi Kingston
Kingston is a house of fire, flying all over the ring. SOS to Bray Wyatt! Trouble in Paradise to Del Rio! Kingston springboards off the ropes but gets caught by Erick Rowan! Rowan press slams Kofi to the outside ---- Kofi lands on the barricade! He trust falls back into the crowd and they surf him around as the arena breaks out into huge "KOFI!" chants.
16. Santino Marella
Santino breaks out THE COBRA! Wyatt does the creepy spider walk which freaks Santino out ---- he eliminates himself and walks to the back!
Santino Marella eliminates himself
17. Ezekiel Jackson
As Jackson walks down to the ring, the crowd bring Kofi back to the barricade and he hops to the apron! Bray Wyatt launches himself into Kofi, sending him flying into in the arms of Ezekiel Jackson! Kofi is all pumped up at avoiding elimination twice but Jackson bodyslams Kofi on the floor! Kofi is now out and Big Zeke has his first elimination before he even gets in the ring!
Ezekiel Jackson eliminates Kofi Kingston
Jackson joins the match and exchanges some shoulder blocks with Erick Rowan. Bray Wyatt continues to brawl with Daniel Bryan while John Cena fights Del Rio.
18. Christian
Captain Charisma joins the match and finds himself squaring off with his old rival Ezekiel Jackson. Jackson gets him up for a Powerslam but Christian fights out and hits the Killswitch! Christian then ducks a Bray Wyatt clothesline and hits a Spear! Del Rio cheapshots Christian and tells the fans to shut up as he chokes Captain Charisma in the corner.
19. Chris Jericho
Y2J makes quite the entrance with a boatload of pyro. Jericho slaps Del Rio and locks in the Walls of Jericho! The ring begins to fill up now as strategy changes this late into the match; nobody wants to risk elimination at this point.
20. The Boogeyman
JBL gets real quiet all of a sudden as the legend crawls out and smashes a clock on his head! Boogeyman gets in the ring and begins eating a handful of worms! This gets Bray Wyatt's attention and the two spooky guys have a staredown. The Eater of Worlds vs. The Eater of Worms. Boogeyman sets Wyatt up for the Pumphandle Slam but Erick Rowan boots him in the head and then tosses him from the ring!
Erick Rowan eliminates The Boogeyman
21. Fandango w/Summer Rae
As Fandango dances his way to the ring, Christian and Jericho team up to eliminate Ezekiel Jackson.
Christian and Chris Jericho eliminate Ezekiel Jackson
Fandango sets his sights on Jericho and shows a more vicious side of himself, stomping Y2J relentlessly. Bray Wyatt and Erick Rowan try to eliminate Christian.
22. Luke Harper
The Wyatt Family is now at full strength. They dominate the field and Luke Harper clotheslines Fandango off the apron!
Luke Harper eliminates Fandango
Bray instructs them to eliminate Bryan but Punk and Cena have something to say about that.
23. Bad News Barrett
As Barrett picks the most opportune time to enter, The Wyatt Family gang up on Christian and Bray Wyatt tosses him out!
Bray Wyatt eliminates Christian
Chris Jericho puts up a fight, nailing Rowan with a Codebreaker! The numbers game is still in The Wyatt Family's favour --- Harper decapitates Y2J with a clothesline, and Wyatt eliminates him as well!
Bray Wyatt eliminates Chris Jericho
The clock begins to countdown so Barrett is forced to roll in the ring and Harper attacks him.
24. Shelton Benjamin
AIN'T NO STOPPIN' ME, NOOOO! The Gold Standard makes his return to WWE and gets a nice ovation from the Pittsburgh crowd. He single handedly ends The Wyatt Family's domination by diving onto all three of them! As Bray Wyatt scurries to his feet, Shelton greets him with a T-Bone Suplex! Erick Rowan charges full speed at Daniel Bryan but Bryan avoids him by pulling the rope down and Rowan crashes to the floor!
Daniel Bryan eliminates Erick Rowan
Rowan is pissed and starts dismantling the announce table until the referee's force him to leave. The ring is full of superstars with full intentions of headlining Wrestlemania. Bryan and Punk are spent. Cena too. Del Rio hides in the corner to stay alive. Shelton battles it out with Barrett and Harper. Wyatt pulls himself to his feet.
25. Batista
THE ANIMAL IS HERE! Batista is a one man wrecking crew. Spinebuster to Luke Harper! Batista Bomb to Barrett! Del Rio sneaks up and attempts to toss Batista out but The Animal reverses his momentum and eliminates Del Rio!
Batista eliminates Alberto Del Rio
Batista and Bray Wyatt lock eyes. Wyatt loves it and yells "Show me that Animal, David!" Batista crushes him with a Spear and then finds himself face to face with John Cena. Cena is much more exhausted and ends up getting Spinebustered for his troubles.
26. Roman Reigns
The powerhouse of The Shield enters the ring with bad intentions; Spear to Shelton Benjamin! Superman Punch to Daniel Bryan! Reigns and Batista do battle until Wyatt and Harper attack them ---- Batista and Reigns hit a pair of Spears to The Wyatt Family!
27. Dolph Ziggler
Ziggler comes down with a microphone and tells everyone in the ring that this is his year. Number 27 is the most coveted position as more people have won the Rumble from this spot than any other. He smashes Batista with the microphone and unloads punches on The Animal! Dolph with a Superkick to Barrett and a Zig Zag to John Cena! 10 superstars are left in the ring with 3 more to make their entrance.
28. Seth Rollins
The Architect of The Shield is here and he joins Roman Reigns as they go face to face with Wyatt and Harper! Electricity in the air folks! Things break down; Bray and Roman fight in the corner as Harper drops Rollins with a clothesline! John Cena hoists Luke Harper up and sends him to the floor with an AA!
John Cena eliminates Luke Harper
Bad News Barrett sneaks up and dumps Cena from the ring! John Cena is eliminated! Revenge for The Nexus at last!
Bad News Barrett eliminates John Cena
29. Sheamus
The Celtic Warrior imediately Brogue Kicks Shelton off the apron!
Sheamus eliminates Shelton Benjamin
Everyone fights as the clock counts down for our final entrant.
30. Brock Lesnar w/Paul Heyman
Now we know what Triple H gifted Paul Heyman earlier! The Beast enters the ring and F5's Bad News Barrett to the floor!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Bad News Barrett
Dolph Ziggler jumps on Brock's back and tries to choke him out but Lesnar reverses into an F5 position! Lesnar sends Dolph flying over the ropes!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Dolph Ziggler
Lesnar now targets Batista and hits a series of shoulder blocks in the corner. He picks The Animal up for an F5 but Batista fights out and clotheslines Brock out of the ring!!!
Batista eliminates Brock Lesnar
Brock is in shock along with the announcers and everyone in the arena. He starts pacing around the ring as Batista sets Bray Wyatt up for a Batista Bomb. Lesnar shoves the referee to the ground and slides back in the ring, tossing Batista out!
Brock Lesnar eliminates Batista
Lesnar smashes Batista with the steel steps and then F5's The Animal through the announce table! We're down to five as Rollins and Punk fight on the apron until Punk hits a GTS! Rollins crumbles unconscious to the floor!
CM Punk eliminates Seth Rollins
The final four of the 2014 Royal Rumble: CM Punk, Daniel Bryan, Bray Wyatt, and Roman Reigns. Punk and Bryan entered at number 1 and 2. Incredible accomplishment for them. Roman Reigns Spears Daniel Bryan and then sidesteps Bray Wyatt, sending him flying from the ring!
Roman Reigns eliminates Bray Wyatt
CM Punk hits a GTS on Reigns and all three men are down. Triple H walks down to the ring and rips his jacket off. Kane follows behind him. Punk pulls himself to his feet as tells them to bring it. Randy Orton RKO's CM Punk out of nowhere! The WWE Champion soaks in the boo's as he and Kane throw CM Punk out! "This is bullshit" yells the fans and JR agrees!
Randy Orton and Kane eliminate CM Punk
Triple H smiles and grabs the sledgehammer. Orton and Kane hold Daniel Bryan as HHH charges with the hammer ---- Roman Reigns Spears Triple H! CM Punk pulls Orton from the ring and they brawl into the crowd! Daniel Bryan takes Kane out with the YES+ Knee! With everyone out of the equation, Reigns and Bryan get three minutes of back and forth action, a proper finish to the Rumble. Reigns gets locked in a triangle choke but shows tremendous strength, lifting Bryan up and over the ropes! Bryan holds onto Roman and drags him over with him! They battle on the apron until Bryan viciously kicks Roman in the head! Reigns falls to the floor! Daniel Bryan wins the 2014 Royal Rumble!
Daniel Bryan eliminates Roman Reigns
Winner of the 2014 Royal Rumble: Daniel Bryan
Fireworks explode as Daniel Bryan leads the fans in a YES chant and points at the Wrestlemania sign.

So a little backstory.. My bf 23M and me 23F have been on and off for 2 years. We dated for 3 months in 2022 but I broke up with him because it was a shit show we both had too much going on and neither of us knew how to be in a healthy relationship. We stayed friends and would have sex occasionally lol. I feel like we both have grown as people individually we have learned from our past mistakes and are completely different people now.
We just got back together last month and honestly everything is perfect. But, there is one problem.. he's been acting weird. For example, we both work overnights and for a few weeks he would call me literally as soon as he got off work and we would talk all morning until we both fell asleep. But, now he doesn't text or call at all when he gets off he'll just call me when he wakes up after work. Which is usually 3pm- whenever.
To paint the picture: Usually, we will talk before he goes into work. Which is around 11 - 11:30PM then he doesn't text me at all while he's at work.. literally radio silence. He gets off around 7-8 AM NOTHING. I don't hear from him until 3-5ish PM.
I don't like this type of communication. Because it makes me feel anxious when he goes long periods of time without talking to me. It makes me feel like something is wrong. I know this is a flaw and I have been working on it. I don't want to be a codependent couple so I try to give him time to himself and vice versa.
I did bring this up and told him I understand that he probably doesn't want to talk when he gets off work and that's ok but I need him to communicate this like a simple "Good morning im not really in the mood to talk right now but I'll call you later" is what I want to hear instead of silence. Like, He just randomly stopped talking to me in the mornings I even sent a good morning text one time and he didn't respond to it untill he woke up that afternoon.
We did talk this out and he agreed that I was right and he apologized. I've noticed some changes. For example if I haven't heard from him in awhile (like 4+HOURS) he'll send me a text to let me know why. Which I really have been appreciating and acknowledging I even tell him thank you for communicating that with me.
Howeverrrr, yesterday I had a missed call from him at 11AM (I was sleeping) I called him back at 1pm. He was at a lake fishing with some friends. We talked for about 30 minutes, mostly him talking to his friends and me listening. He told me his phone was on 20 percent and that he would call me when he gets home...ok no problem. We hung up and I didn't hear from him until 3:50AM. I have a missed call from him and a text that says "good morning". I haven't responded yet. I am kinda mad at him because I really just don't understand why he goes silent sometimes. I have asked him if it's anything I am doing and he tells me no he just has a lot going on during his day (which he does) but does being "busy" cause him to go 14 hours with no communication?
Why is he acting like this? I'm not sure if it's something I did or if sometimes he just needs alone time. I don't want to break up with him, this is our only problem I want to fix it just don't know how. I'm open to any advice/ criticism. He has been super reassuring that nothing is wrong his excuse is that he gets super busy.. but I still don’t understand.
TL;DR! Boyfriend goes silent for hours I don’t know what to do

For some context, a tech-priest has discovered a Genestealer Cult on a Mechanicus world and has decided to use them for his own ends. He tells them that he will wipe them out unless they perform an uprising during the national "Ascension Day" celebrations, where he will use the chaos they create to seize power for himself.
The Magus of the cult Claress is old and decrepit, she feels that they missed the time they were actually meant to rise up decades ago and the cult has atrophied since then. Worse, after a series of failed raids their best fighters were killed or imprisoned. She knows they have no chance against the crack Mechanicus troops who have pressed the world for generations but facing no other option the Cult begins its preparations and sends messages to the uncorrupted workers unions and factories that have pledged their support if an uprising against the Mechanicus happens (not knowing that they're dealing with a cult).
I like this section as while it falls into the modern 40k novel habit of listing a bunch of codex units and describing how they fight, I think that it does a good job of portraying the awkward beginnings of an uprising, where nobody actually knows what will happen that spirals into the Genestealer Cult suddenly realising that if they work together they might have a chance.

‘This is the end of us,’ she hissed. ‘The priest will use us, and then he will destroy us. Or imprison us in his jars and make us his experiments. All our ways, our traditions, our faith. He will melt it out of us. There will be nothing left but his science.’
‘Child…’ Claress repeated.
‘We should flee,’ Davien almost shouted at her. ‘All of us, each to a different hole. We should abandon this city. We should carry our words and our blood to other places. We’re finished here! I’m sorry, magus, I’m sorry.’ And she was simultaneously weeping and incandescent with rage. At herself, at Triskellian, at Claress. ‘I have ruined us! I’m a traitor. Punish me, magus. Destroy me.’
‘You have listened to the lies of the enemy, it is true,’ Claress said softly. Her hand fell on Davien’s shoulder, a husk of a thing, no weight to it. ‘And you may be punished in time, that is also true. But for now, you are one of us, and you must play your part in what is to come.’
‘But it’s a sham!’ Davien exclaimed. ‘It’s some Taskmaster plan, some infighting between them. It isn’t the time!’ Struck by a sudden hope, she searched the old woman’s face. ‘Is it? Is all this… the Emperor’s plan for us? Can it be?’ And before she could hear any empty comforts, she rushed on. ‘Tell me truly, magus. Please tell me.’
The sad calm on Claress’ face was heartbreaking. ‘I don’t know, child. I wish I could give you all the grand certainties in the world. I wish I could give you the words of fire and faith I’d speak in the chapel, of the Many-Handed Emperor and His angels. But that is what faith is for, Davien.’ She sagged, sinking in on herself a little more. ‘Take me to my chamber. I must rest before tomorrow.’
‘You can’t take to the streets, magus. Not you.’
‘I must. We all shall play our part. We shall triumph together, or we shall fall. I do not want to be left alone if my kin are taken from me.’
Davien led her deeper into the maze of cellars. All around, the Congregation were in a frenzy of preparation. The building was haemorrhaging the faithful as they rushed out to carry the magus’ words across all the poor districts of the city. Out there, all Davien’s distant kin would be arming themselves. And the others, all those who weren’t blood but who had suffered beneath the crushing iron boot of the tech-priests, they’d be gathering too. All of them cast against the iron walls of the Hollow Men.
When she had Claress back to the old woman’s bed, she helped her lie down, hearing joints click and crack. The magus lay there, staring at the low ceiling, then shifted her head to look at the painting of the Emperor on the far wall. It was flaking now, half-obscured with grime. A depiction from the time of the Great-Aunts and Uncles, when the blood of the Emperor was stronger in them, so that none of the Congregation could show their faces for fear of being known for what they were. A figure with four arms: two human hands and two with radiant claws like crescent moons. An elliptical head split by a great benevolent smile that was all teeth. The eyes were beatific, murderous, inhuman. Davien had stared at the image often, feeling out its contradictions, letting them speak to the human and the inhuman within her. It frightened her; it inspired her.
‘I hear them singing to me.’ Claress’ dry voice rose to her. ‘The angels. They throng the cold void. And I sing back. I tell them, We are here. We are faithful. We’re waiting for you. And their great wings carry them across the freezing spaces, through the perilous labyrinth of the warp. They are coming, Davien. They tell me, We hear you. We come for you. Only have faith, and you shall become part of us. The Blessed Union, child. Our destiny.’ She laughed softly, coughed, shuddering with each dry convulsion. ‘They came from the stars, our ancestors. The first on Morod to bear our blood was an angel’s child, and so we are children of angels. But weaker, each generation. I lack the strength of the Aunts, the might of the Great-Aunts. I am too human to be truly strong. But I hear them, Davien. They are so beautiful. There is nothing on this ugly world to compare to them. I need to see them with my own eyes, before I grow too old.’
And Davien, one of the diminished survivors of a younger generation still, thought about how thin her own blood was, how little of the angel remained. ‘Do you think the priests’ Ascension Day will be our ascension too? Or will all our blood just end up on the streets and in that priest’s laboratory?’
Claress’ yellow gaze switched to her. ‘Faith is all that we have, when the machinery of this world comes to crush us. I hear the angels. They come to us, but space is vast and the warp is a trickster. All we can do is believe that the Many-Handed Emperor will not abandon His faithful in their time of need. That He is a true divinity, beyond the enthroned corpse the machine-priests worship. Our god lives, Davien. Our god is life, life in all its many forms and guises. Theirs is dust and ancient mechanisms. We must prevail, or we give the universe over to entropy and death. Only by our truths can life eternal survive and spread throughout the cosmos. Do you understand me, child? Do you have faith?’
And Davien thought, We are going to die tomorrow, on the streets and in their arena. This is not the true uprising we were promised, it is some priest’s gambit. But she couldn’t hold to those thoughts against the old woman’s rustle of a voice. It got under her skin. It spoke to all those services in the buried chapel. It spoke to her blood.
Easy to have faith when you were strong, after all. And what was the value of it, then? But they stood under the steel hammer of the tech-priests, and they would rise up nonetheless. Let Triskellian think it was all to his plan. The Congregation would rise because it was their time. Who said that he was using them? And even though, intellectually, she knew the truth, she still felt that fire in her, that burned away all doubt.
‘I believe, magus,’ she said fiercely. ‘Tell me what I must do.’
The next dawn, even as the tech-priests were attending their early Ascension Day devotions, the streets of the South Chasm districts erupted into armed uprising.
Davien saw it from the rooftops, crossing from building to building by the gantries, bridges and ropes that the skitarii periodically brought down but the locals always strung up again. All night the Congregation’s messengers had been running like sparks through the poorer districts of the city, seeing which claves would catch their fires. All of the true faithful rose up without question, of course. Right now she could only see the more inarguably human of them, those marked only by a pallidity of skin, patches of chitinous scales, unblinking yellow eyes perhaps. No unusual traits on as poisonous a world as this. Behind and within the walls of the tenements, though, the older generations of the god-touched would be stirring; would be eager. They had waited all their long lives, after all. They had hidden away as their younger offspring had busied themselves in the world, unable to show their distorted faces. They had known only the burning fire of their faith, and now that faith told them, Rise!
The streets were thronging with people, just ordinary people. And yet, not ordinary, for in many of those bodies a few drops of divine blood ran. But they were not the superhuman figures of Imperial myth. Not the Adeptus Astartes that had been made into little gods; not the tech-priests, elevated by machinery until they had forgotten what it was like to have two living feet on the ground. People, with nothing but their faith, and what tools and weapons they could scavenge or make themselves. And today they would attempt to wrest control of their destiny from those who had ordered and limited their whole lives.
And they would die, she knew. Heavy-hearted she watched them muster, factorum workers clapping each other on the shoulder, hard greetings called across the crowd. There were banners there, and some were of the Many-Handed Emperor Scattering His Angels Upon the Faithful, but there were others, too. Crude standards celebrating this ward or that factorum, this mining crew, even one for the staff of a workers’ refectory. There was an air of festival, just as if they were celebrating the damned Ascension Day after all.
And then the first skitarii came into sight. Davien knew she should be away by now, off on the errand that Claress had given her, but she couldn’t. She had to see if the whole venture would collapse into tragedy.
A wedge of red-clad cybernetic soldiers ordered itself precisely across the street ahead of the gathering mob. Behind them, a pair of dragoons stalked in, towering over the soldiers’ heads. Their riders couched forked lances snapping with sparks, even as the servitor beneath them, merged with the workings of the machine, directed the Ironstrider’s jerky motions. The crowd stilled, seeing all those carbines levelled at them, knowing more would be on the way.
The skitarii alpha called out, voice amplified until it rattled Davien’s skull like thunder. ‘By the order of the Fabricator General, you are required to disperse. There will be no second warning.’
And Claress stepped forwards from the ranks of the crowd, standing ahead of them, raising her staff. Somehow her high, clear voice carried even to Davien. ‘Faith and freedom! Faith for the true Emperor’s blood! Freedom from the yoke!’
The skitarii opened fire.
Davien screamed when they did it, curled away from the blaze and heat of it, knowing this was surely the end even as the uprising began. But in the echo of the shots she dared look, and saw Claress somehow untouched, standing with bodies to her left and right, the faithful who had put themselves in harm’s way. And not so many bodies, even, not compared to the vast mass of humanity that was packing the street. Angry humanity, crammed with grievances.
Claress’ voice called out again, and now she was sounding the charge. Davien saw members of the Congregation break into a run on either side of her, funnelling through the streets in a great rush, wielding hammers and prybars and power-cutters, emptying their shotguns and automatics into the skitarii wedge. The dragoons were in motion instantly, striding over the heads of their human-sized allies, accelerating into a counter-charge with lances lowered. Davien saw the first connect, its huge iron feet sending insurgents flying even as the lance swept an arc through the crowd, charring and burning. Then an eye-rending beam of light seared into it. One of the mining crews had a rock laser set up on the rooftop across from Davien and they drew lines of molten steel across the dragoon’s chassis before striking something vital.
In an instant the walking machine flashed incandescently and exploded, laying waste to the nearest fighters in a horrible toll of shrapnel and shredded flesh. For everyone left standing, though, that was the signal to rush forwards. Moments later the skitarii were giving ground, shooting and falling back. Or just falling, dragged down by the crowd who saw them as nothing more than the tools of their oppressors.
And then Davien was off, roof to roof, eyes open for when the tech-priests’ more subtle instruments decided the higher reaches were their territory. There would be rangers up here sniping down at the crowd soon enough. There would be the murderous rust-stalkers trying to flank the Congregation to bring down its leaders with their blades and claws. She had to be ahead of all of that. She had work to do, a task entrusted to her by the magus herself.
She shadowed the forerunners of the mob until they exploded out before Nilhetum Square, where the rail depot was. More of the Palatium’s troops were disembarking even as everyone arrived, hurriedly evacuating the train and taking up position to defend it. And if the Congregation wished to reach the Palatium, they needed to control the train line, and they needed to take it swiftly before the tech-priests began destroying their own infrastructure to deny it to the rebels.
There were more than just skitarii out there. She saw the low, trundling shapes of Kataphron servitors grinding down ramps from flatbed carriages, armoured human head, torso and arms set into a mechanised assault vehicle that was also their lower body. Davien felt a flare of rage at the tech-priests and their meddling. They took the divine flesh and carved it and pared it down, merged it with their devices. Nothing could be left alone. Nothing had any value until it was incorporated into their machines. And, on a grander scale, no individual lives had worth unless they were components of the wider priestly engine that spanned the human universe and enslaved everything it touched to their cold metal vision.
The Kataphron were terrors, nigh invulnerable to the weapons the foot-soldiers of the Congregation had brought, but by now the rioters had been given the chance to bring in their own big guns. With a choking roar and a belch of smoke one of the big quarry trucks raced out of a side street, already up to its lumbering top speed. It was a heavily armoured Goliath model, its entire front given over to rock-grinding blades that would chew hungrily on skitarii machine-flesh or the armour of the Kataphron. And, in its wake, a flurry of robed figures bearing a banner showing that familiar many-armed figure. The Aunts and the Uncles had come out from their cellars and holes, from their forgotten wall-spaces where they had waited for generations. Even as the Goliath powered forwards, meeting the lead Kataphron head-on and making a jagged mess of its armour, the elders were leaping around and over it, brandishing knives, pistols, or just their own hooked talons. And there was more. Davien felt a voice in her head, then. A singing so pure and beautiful that she thought it must be the angels, come at last. All the Congregation must have heard it, from the way they redoubled their pace and closed joyously with the skitarii and the machines.
A great figure, head and shoulders over the rank and file, had come into the square – a Great-Aunt, one of the true elders, shrouded in streamers and rags of cloth that could not hide the divinity of her form. She sang, and the Congregation echoed her, voices upraised in prayer and praise. In one of her three hands was a banner, not the crude handmade things the crowd had spent last night creating but something ancient, preserved for this day over generations. It showed not the expected Imperial visage, but an emblem with that same long-jawed head and a trailing cog-backed body; a serpentine shape curled in upon itself, one end a hooked claw, the other hungering jaws ready to devour the tech-priests and all their works.
The skitarii turned their weapons on her, blasting away, but the banner had electrified the Congregation so that they were swarming the lines, clambering over the Kataphron, braving the massed fire of their foes. Davien saw explosives go off, mining charges devastating bodies on both sides. She saw brutal knots of knife-work and bayonets and the bludgeoning butts of carbines, no quarter given.

I'm taking antidepressants so my anxiety gets better. It was working wonderfully (except for mood swings). I switched antidepressants but since my body is getting used to the new molecule, my anxiety is coming back and it's making me feel depressed again. I was finally being able to live like a ''normal'' person after all these years and now I'm like before. I'm supposed to go out to buy food but I feel stuck because of anxiety. Even though nothing bad will happen. I've already went into this store multiple times but I just feel anxious. It's so horrible. I forgot how bad it was before the antidepressants. I can't live all my life like this.

Hi Everyone. I'm looking for some advice on whether or not to purchase a business that's for sale in my city.
Here's the TLDR version - we want to expand our antique booth business into an antique store/mall. We are debating between purchasing a vacant building and starting from scratch, or buying an existing but mismanaged store with inventory. I'm not sure if either is worth leaving my full time job for.
For some background, my dad and I have ran a successful antique booth at someone else's antique mall for several years. In the last year, we've averaged $1000 in sales, with around $300 in expenses each month (buying merchandise, and renting the space). We spend probably 4-5 hours a week sourcing merch, researching, pricing, and maintaining the display.
Unfortunately, the owner of the mall was ready to retire, and sold the building to an unrelated business, ending the good thing we had going. We had the opportunity to buy the business from her, but she wanted over a million and we just couldn't swing it. There are a few other antique malls in our area, but all have long waiting lists to get in (one has over 100 vendors waiting!) And all charge a bit more in rent/commission than we were paying at the place we were at.
Anyway, long story short we see a need/opportunity in our market for another mall, but finding a building that meets our needs and is affordable for us has been challenging. We looked at several for rent but the price and uncertainty of rent increasing as time goes on made us look more at ownership.
We then found a 7500 sq ft building listed for sale for 260k, and we think we could possibly talk them down to 200ish. It's 2 floors (not super desirable for an antique business as elderly people sometimes struggles with stairs) but we considered that the lower level could be rented out to a contractor type business, as it has its own entrance and garage door. The other drawback is parking - the lot is tiny and only fits like 6 cars at once. I drew up a crude map of how we could divide the space for vendors, and I think we could net 5-6k a month in booth rent, plus a % commission on sales, plus renting the basement out, plus continuing to sell our own items.
Lastly, we stumbled upon an existing antique business where the elderly owners are ready to retire and are selling their business, including the building and fully stocked store. The building is 4500 sq ft, and on a busy road with ample parking. They own all of the merchandise in the store, as they do not use the "mall" model, which they explained is due to them not being able to keep to set hours because of their health. They're asking 300k, which from my super limited knowledge seems in the realm of reasonable for the building and merchandise. We asked them about the property taxes, utilities, etc., but didn't ask about sales - mainly because I don't think their sales numbers would be relevant since they've been running the business like a hobby for years now, not being open set hours, not bringing in new merchandise, refreshing displays, or advertising at all. Their merchandise is also priced a lot higher than we typically sell things for.
Our plan would be to host a "going out of business" sale for most of the merchandise in their store currently, marking everything to 50% of what they've priced it at. Then, after we've hopefully sold off a large chunk of the product we "close" their store, and open ours in it's place with a new name, and condense our stuff down to half or less of the store and start renting out booths to other vendors.
The main problem I run into with both the vacant building and the established business is that it's just so hard to determine how much money we can actually make. We have the data from running our booth, but does that scale at a true multiple when we increase our space? I have a full time job that, frankly I would love to leave if I could make as much money elsewhere. I know that for a while as we are getting established I would have basically 2 full time jobs and I'm okay with that, but I'm worried that it won't ever make enough to justify leaving my current job and I'll be working 80 hours a week for the rest of my life. My dad, who would be my business parter, is retired but mostly wants to stay that way - again, he will put in the hours now but would like to scale back his time eventually, plus we need some time to go out and source new merchandise.
Neither of us have ever owned a business (and my dad has never even worked a retail job before...) so I know there are probably some key things I'm overlooking - please be honest with me and tell me what I'm missing and whether or not you would consider taking the leap or if this is the stupidest idea in the history of business.

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America

Unique Ability

Founding Fathers

• (Base Game only) Accumulate Government legacy bonuses in half the usual number of turns
• (R&F, GS) All Diplomatic policy slots are converted into Wildcard policy slots
• (GS only) +1 Diplomatic Favor per turn for each Wildcard policy slot in the current government

Starting Bias: Grassland & Plains Mountains (Tier 3); Desert & Tundra Mountains (Tier 5)

• Starting Bias only applies when Teddy Roosevelt Persona Pack is enabled

Unique Unit

P-51 Mustang

• Basic Attributes
  • Unit type: Air Fighter
  • Requirement: Advanced Flight tech
  • Replaces: Fighter
• Cost
  • 520 Production cost (Standard Speed)
  • (GS) 1 Aluminum resource
• Maintenance
  • 7 Gold per turn
  • (GS) 1 Aluminum resource per turn
• Base Stats
  • 105 Combat Strength
  • 105 Ranged Strength
  • 5 Attack Range
  • 10 Movement
  • 4 Sight Range
• Unique Attributes
  • +5 Combat Strength against Air Fighters
  • Earns +50% more experience points
• Differences from Replaced Unit
  • +5 Combat Strength and Ranged Strength
  • +2 Movement
  • Unique attributes

Rough Rider
(Only available to certain leaders)

• Basic Attributes
  • Unit type: Heavy Cavalry
  • Requirement: Rifling tech
  • Replaces: Cuirassier
• Cost
  • 385 Production (Standard Speed)
• Maintenance
  • 2 Gold per turn
• Base Stats
  • 67 Combat Strength
  • 5 Movement
  • 2 Sight range
• Bonus Stats
  • Ignores enemy zone of control
• Unique Attributes
  • +10 Combat Strength when fighting on Hills
  • Earns Culture from kills while in the same continent as the Capital
• Differences from Replaced Unit
  • +55 Production cost (Standard Speed)
  • Does not require resources
  • -3 Gold maintenance per turn
  • Unique attributes

Unique Infrastructure

Film Studio

• Basic Attributes
  • Infrastructure type: Building
  • Requirement: Radio tech
  • Replaces: Broadcast Center
• Cost
  • (Base Game, R&F) 580 Production cost (Standard Speed)
  • (GS) 440 Production cost (Standard Speed)
• Maintenance
  • 3 Gold per turn
• Base Effects
  • (Base Game, R&F) +4 Culture
  • (GS) +2 Culture
  • +1 Great Artist points per turn
  • +2 Great Musician points per turn
  • +1 Citizen slot
  • +1 Great Work of Music slot
• (GS) Powered Effects
  • Base Load: 3 Power
  • +4 Culture when Powered
• Unique Attributes
  • +100% Tourism pressure from this city towards other civilizations starting from the Modern Era onwards
• Restrictions
  • Must be buit on a Theater Square district with an Arts Museum or Archaeological Museum
• Differences from Replaced Infrastructure
  • Unique attributes

Leader: Teddy Roosevelt (Default)

• Replaced by Bull Moose and Rough Rider personas when Teddy Roosevelt Persona Pack is enabled

Leader Ability

Roosevelt Corollary

• Units gain +5 Combat Strength in the same continent as the Capital
• +1 Appeal to all tiles in a city with a National Park
• Gain the Rough Rider unique unit

Agenda

Big Stick Policy

• Likes civilizations that have a city in his home continent
• Dislikes civilizations that start wars in his home continent

Leader: Teddy Roosevelt (Bull Moose)

• Required DLC: New Frontier Pass or Teddy Roosevelt Persona Pack

Leader Ability

Antiquities and Parks

• Breathtaking tiles gain additional bonuses when adjacent to specific tiles
  • +2 Science when adjacent to a Natural Wonder or Mountain tiles
  • +2 Culture when adjacent to a World Wonder or Woods tiles
• +1 Appeal to all tiles in a city with a National Park

Agenda

The Bull Moose

• Attempts to settle near tiles with high Appeal and build districts and wonders to maximize Appeal
• Likes civilizations with many high Appeal territories
• Dislikes civilizations with many low Appeal territories

Leader: Teddy Roosevelt (Rough Rider)

Leader Ability

• Required DLC: New Frontier Pass or Teddy Roosevelt Persona Pack

Roosevelt Corollary

• Units gain +5 Combat Strength in the same continent as the Capital
• Each Envoy sent to city-states that has a Trade Route with America counts as two Envoys
• Gain the Rough Rider unique unit

Agenda

Big Stick Policy

• Likes civilizations that have a city in his home continent
• Dislikes civilizations that start wars in his home continent

Leader: Abraham Lincoln

Leader Ability

• Required DLC: Great Negotiators Pack or Leader Pass

Emancipation Proclamation

• Industrial Zones grant +2 Amenities
• (R&F, GS) Industrial Zones grant +3 Loyalty per turn
• (R&F, GS) Plantation improvements reduce 2 Loyalty per turn
• Receive a free Melee unit upon constructing Industrial Zones and their buildings
  • Free units do not require resources to create or maintain
  • Free units receive +5 Combat Strength

Agenda

Preserver of the Union

• Likes civilizations that have the same government as him
• Dislikes civilizations that have a different government as him, especially governments forms of the same era

Civilization-related Achievements

• Let Teddy Win — Win a regular game as Teddy Roosevelt
• Addressing Gettysburg — Win a regular game as Abraham Lincoln
• 100th Anniversary — As America, make a National Park each of Crater Lake, and both tiles of Yosemite in one game
• A Man A Plan A Canal Panama — Build the Panama Canal as Teddy Roosevelt
• Pizza Party — Activate Leonardo da Vinci in New York housing Great Works from Michelangelo and Donatello, and a Sewer built in the city

Useful Topics for Discussion

• What do you like or dislike about this civilization?
• How easy or difficult is this civ to use for new players?
• What are the victory paths you can go for with this civ?
• What are your assessments regarding the civ's abilities?
  • How well do they synergize with each other?
  • How well do they compare to other similar civ abilities, if any?
  • Do you often use their unique units and infrastructure?
• Can this civ be played tall or should it always go wide?
• What map types, game mode, or setting does this civ shine in?
• What synergizes well with this civ? You may include the following:
  • Terrain, resources and natural wonders
  • World wonders
  • Government type, legacy bonuses and policies
  • City-state type and suzerain bonuses
  • Governors
  • Great people
  • Secret societies
  • Heroes & legends
  • Corporations
• Have the civ's general strategy changed since the latest update(s)?
• How do you deal against this civ if controlled by the player or the AI?
• Are there any mods that can make playing this civ more interesting?
• Do you have any stories regarding this civ that you would like to share?

I did everything I could to see the light in your eyes shine bright. I gave all of myself physically, mentally, and emotionally to see you smile even just for a moment. Even 7 years later I find myself often reflecting on the time you pushed me into the lake and I reached up to drag you in too and when you nearly pushed me off a mountainside. Unaware to you, I always kept you from noticing the danger that lied on the other side of tight rope I was walking. You had the worst time forgiving yourself, but I knew before I even pulled myself up that you meant no harm. The only difference between then and our end is I couldn’t drag you down the cliff I was about to find myself tumbling down and I could never let you see the torment I was about to endure during my fall. I knew you would have joined me.
Never once did I question any sacrifices until I saw the light begin to fade and your smile subside. I wish I could burn every last remnant containing the memory of what was my last opportunity to rekindle our fire. I knew you had much brighter days ahead even with someone new. I couldn’t be the keeper of the gate you never wanted to know existed. I forced you through it to save the love I felt from you for another.
The unspoken and unseen scars rooted deep within my soul would never allow me to be all I can be. With each gaze into your beautiful abyss it would gaze back into me telling me I was unworthy. I forcefully, due to the nature of imperfect perfectionism, realized I wasn’t the one for you regardless of your own beliefs about me. Even though I had lost my fire that kept you warm and near, you still held within you everything I ever wanted. You made my world make sense, you made me happy, you gave me life that no star in the galaxy could give to any planet. I’m hurting, I’m trying with everything in me to not think about you. I feel like I’m missing what was the most important part of my life. Although I’ve made honest attempts there is no one who can light up the dark empty space in my heart you once did. Each day is easier than the last, our memories together fade with the passing of time. I hope you’re happy and doing well. I will be someday too. I will love again, but for now… I’ll have to keep pushing through day by day.
Thank you for everything,
Willfully Forgotten

My fiancé had a habit of lying to me since day one and I discovered another lie on Thursday, three days ago. It caused an argument and so much frustration, depression, anger, and disappointment in me. He promised again and again that he was done lying and I would believe him, only to be stabbed again in the back when another lie came out a week or a few weeks later. He kept trying to say it was my fault that he would lie to me and that I was overreacting. No apology involved. He also told his mother about the argument even though we discussed in the past that it was not right to do because he only would tell a small portion of the story and of course, he makes himself look like the victim and I'm the one in the bad light. Plus she almost caused us to break up back when we were just dating because of him running to her after fights and she would give him terrible advice to leave me because of the one-sided stories she would hear. Last year when that happened, he would pretend to be all loving and happy with me but then run to his mom if we had the slightest of arguments. For example, if we set some boundaries for ourselves and he wasn't consistent with them, I would confront him. He would tell his mother a terrible version of it and she spun up that I was abusive. So they would talk behind my back like this over lies while he smiled in my face. That's when I knew he could put on such facades and lie so easily. I should have left then, I saw the signs, but I was a fool. There was a part of me that suspected this would happen one day, not the ghosting because never in my dreams would I have imagined him being this evil, but I had a feeling this might not work out. I mean I was always questioning my reality and him especially when he would lie and tell me I was imagining things while swearing on his life, my life, our future unborn children, his parent's life, and on Jesus that was telling the truth. Only later find out he was actually lying and I wasn't imagining it. I mean I gave him my trust again and again, which was so hard for me to do in the first place, and he just kept shattering it even knowing how much it hurt me. So I told him I needed some space for the evening and I said I don't know if I can keep doing this (which he took and ran with even though I said it in the heat of the moment when I was hurt, we have both said things like that before in arguments and didn't mean it) and I asked him to get a hotel just for the night, which he did. The next day, I go into work and I receive one single text telling me I made one small thing into a huge deal. He would try to gaslight me at times and he was HUGE at twisting the role and playing the victim. I responded with the reasons why it was not okay for him to keep lying to me because it hurts me so much and why it wasn't just "one small thing," because behind that lie, so many other issues were there too. I didn't get a response. He usually would text me all day everyday and would be so loving and attentive so it was odd. So I went home that day expecting him to be there to talk about it. I arrive home and his truck isn't there. I walk inside and all of his stuff is moved out and gone. He put a photo of the two of us face down on the table and smashed our Bonsai that we called the Bonsai of Love because it was supposed to resemble our relationship. I called and called and texted and texted yet no response. I was begging him to come home to talk. I apologized for getting upset the night prior and that I just want him back home with me. I just couldn't understand how he could do this. It was all delivering too so I wasn't blocked. It wasn't until 10pm when he blocked me after I texted asking why hasn't he blocked me if he's really done? That was me trying to find hope in the situation that maybe he would return and that's why he didn't block me. Well after that, I was blocked. His mother also removed me from the family group chat. It made me wonder if he was just sitting back and laughing at my pleads for a response and possibly even sharing my distraught and sad messages to others. I suspect his mother played a huge role again because again, she almost caused a break up last year because of getting involved and turning him against me with the knowledge he shared, just enough knowledge to make me the villain. It has been two days and I have been ghosted by my fiancé. He also did this the day of my best friend's wedding rehearsal (I'm her maid of honor) and her wedding was yesterday (which he ghosted them for as well). Imagine how hard it is giving a speech for your best friend and her lovely fiancé, now her husband, when you were just horribly ghosted from your own a day prior and are now single. His empty chair was taunting me the whole time too, it was so hard especially with the love songs but I had to pretend to be happy for them. He was such a coward that he never even gave me an explanation or an apology or a goodbye. He ghosted his ex in the past when leaving her yet he at least gave her a phone call. Our relationship was much, much more serious and significant than that was too (theirs seemed more like a high-school type relationship) yet I still received nothing. We lived together, were engaged, spent every second together when we weren't at work, we had so many vacations planned (a weekend away to Lake George next week and an Alaskan cruise next month), on each other's insurance plans & phone bills & renters insurance & even pet insurance, we had a retirement plan set up, we were so close, things were so good because we meshed so well together. Yes, we argued here and there but every couple does, especially those that spend so much time together but his lies were what caused the most distress especially because the negative impact carried on for so long. I have my own issues as does he but he always said we would work through them together and that I never have to worry about him leaving. I would always put him and his needs before me. I would wake up a lot earlier than I have to in order to make him breakfast and lunch for his work day before I started getting ready for work myself and I would just throw something together sloppy, real quick for me. I was so good to him. Again, I do have my flaws and we argued at times but most of the time things were so wonderful. And what really blows my mind is that just days prior to this, he was telling me he wanted our wedding to be in October, we were both planning to move to Colorado and have been getting interviewed for jobs, how excited he was, he would tell me daily again and again that he loved me so much unconditionally, was fully committed to me for the rest of my life, and that he would never leave me. Then he did this. After so much time together, after I brought him into my home, my life... he couldn't even give me the respect or decency to communicate to me. I thought God brought this man into my life, the one I thought I was waiting for. Now I can't help but feel angry at God. He would call me his best friend, soulmate, his entire future. He promised away his life to me like I did mine. I guess it never meant anything to him. How could you treat someone you claim to care for and love like this? It is hard because I know he loved me, I do think if he didn't have his mother in his ear, he wouldn't have done this. But either way, he did do it. He is awful and she is just as bad. I hope karma comes their way. He knows I have abandonment issues and trauma yet he did this without any remorse, it seems. I'll never know.
What kind of monster... I just can't wrap my head around it. No closure. My friends and family are just as shocked and tell me it will hurt for now because it really is mourning a loss but it is a blessing in disguise. That I wouldn't have been happy in a marriage full of lies and distrust. All I know is that I am hurting really bad still. I am hoping I feel better soon. I have never experienced this kind of treatment or hurt before.
tl;dr My fiancé moved out without my knowledge when I was away at work for the day and he has since ghosted and blocked me without any communication. This was two days ago. What do I do? I miss him and our relationship. But I don't think he's coming back. How do I cope?