Chapter 24 - The Race
Previous Chapter
The Seventh competitor took her place before the assembled crowd on the ground, raising a fist into the air as she did so. The crowd roared at the display as the car’s turbines kicked in and began to raise her up into the sky. Her car had been modified as well, the control surfaces on it were noticeably shorter and the turbine was actually jutting several inches out from the back.
“Those previous cars didn’t appear to be modified much. Is that uncommon?” Alex pointed at the clearly modified car. The control surfaces didn’t even match the rest of the frame in color, let alone style.
“Not uncommon, really. It’s just a bit difficult to often sink any serious amount of time and money into them. Winning the challenges is a goal that brings with it fame, respect, and glory but otherwise it isn’t exactly lucrative. It is up to each competitor to decide how much of their own resources to put into each vehicle, with the knowledge that they may not recoup the costs.” Borala glanced down at a paper in front of her. “That particular car is from a rather well-known Teff called the Veshika. They manage a particularly rich mining operation in the M’rit lands.”
At first the competitor seemed much more skilled than the others. Alex watched as she poured on the speed, her car tilting and curving around the track, narrowly dodging each projectile while maintaining a fairly high speed. Still her handling of the car seemed somewhat spotty. She was rocketing ahead of the shots, sure, but whenever she DID have to change direction she did so almost awkwardly.
Despite her lack of skill, her car was still quite capable. She made it past the first two Flame sections into the third far quicker than the others, but it was quickly apparent that it wouldn’t be enough here. She’d finally started dodging but it was clear she was having troubles controlling the vehicle at the speeds she was going. Her turns were all over the place, both over and under correcting as she tried to make up for the fact that speed alone wasn’t going to be enough to get her through unscathed.
She was fast approaching the triple cannon area that had taken out the first challenger when a cannon shot tracked her perfectly, landing its soft projectile directly into one of the four stabilizing thrusters that kept the vehicle aloft.
Immediately the thruster cut out, spewing sparks and smoke as the car began to tilt wildly, losing altitude rapidly as the pilot fought the controls. For a moment it looked like they were about to witness a disaster on the track before the other 3 thrusters compensated, and the car slowly regained control. The spotter car was already roaring up to her aid, but it appeared to be mostly unnecessary after all. Alex could hear the audience breathing a sigh of relief as they saw her land safely.
“My, that was a close one.” Borala tapped a finger on the armrest of her chair. “The thrusters can normally take a hit without failing like that. It must have come in at just the right angle to damage it.”
“I’m glad she made it OK. When I saw the car tumble, I was certain we were about to witness a tragedy.” Alex took a deep breath. “I’m still a bit surprised by how dangerous this seems.”
Borala sighed at this, and nodded her head. “It is dangerous. But it’s popular. We used to drive ground cars across a large course with ramps, obstacles, debris, and so on. But over time the people grew bored of watching it. One of my predecessors attempted to spice up the events shortly after the Bunters arrived and sold us the first group of aircars. We’ve been trying to make it safer, to scale it back, but every time we do interest wanes. People want to watch the thrills and the danger.”
“That sounds remarkably like our people.” Josh gazed out at the scene of the Spotter attaching cables to the damaged aircar, prepping it to return back to the starting point. “Throughout our history there’s endless examples of things that were small spectacles or events that grew more and more complex over time. Even when the cars were so fast they would virtually disintegrate on the track if someone made a wrong turn or another car caused them to lose control and crash. Plenty of people won’t admit it but they watch those races hoping for something to happen, because it’s just that much more exciting.”
Borala shuddered as she imagined the carnage of a ground car crashing and breaking apart. “In the thirty-eight years I have been managing this event as the head of the Nof, there have been three fatal accidents. I still often find myself wishing we could keep the excitement and entertainment of the challenges without as much danger, yet whenever we try there’s an outcry. I can’t deny that a part of the thrill comes from the challengers being exposed as they fly.”
Alex immediately saw the opportunity and jumped in. “That’s actually fairly doable. I’m no engineer like Ji and Min, but I know for a fact there’s a number of safeguards we could help you implement to prevent a worst-case scenario. Granted, it would take time and resources we don’t have in abundance - yet.”
Borala smiled, and patted Alex on the shoulder. “Save the effort for the Presh. I already fully support our two species working together. Kyshe wishes to trust in you, I believe. Yet it was her mother who signed the agreements with the Bunters. Kyshe was present as heir and witness to it all. All five of the major Teffs agreed to the deal, yet because it was signed by the Presh they bore the weight of the blame when it was revealed what the Bunters had done. We try to tell our people that the Presh did not act on their own, but…” She sighed and shook her head.
“Well, once we get things turned around, if we can emphasize Kyshe’s role in it all that should help a great deal.”
“You’re speaking as though it can’t fail.” Borala smiled widely at this. “You’re that certain that your plans will succeed?”
Alex nodded emphatically. “I’m an optimist. I always hope for the best.” He glanced up at the display. “And now it looks like our girl’s ready to show her stuff.”
—--
Trix had the thrusters on low as she walked the car out to the starting area. Unlike the others she didn’t have it wheeled out unpowered, but already had the car started as she guided it out, floating only a few feet off the ground. Many competitors didn’t do this,opting instead to sit astride the car before engaging the thrusters, but Ji suggested it as a way to present both herself and the car together, and she didn’t really have any reason to say no. Ji himself was walking out with her, on the opposite side of the car.
Initially he hadn’t wanted to. He wanted her to be the one in the spotlight and he knew that his presence would be immediately distracting, but she had insisted. “You helped me prepare for this, you get to show it off with me!” she’d stated.
What she HADN’T stated was her nervousness at this. She’d been a fan of the races since she was young, and now she was finally going to compete herself. Winning the competition didn’t result in any significant change to anyone’s life. There was no massive prize pool, no source of regular income afterwards. It wasn’t going to lead to new opportunities in her life. It was just a source of fun, a point of pride, and a way to show off one’s skills - and that alone made it a worthwhile goal to many. Worthwhile to Trix, and to the friends she often spoke with over the multivids.
Buying the Soranet Ten was a major undertaking for her that had required long extra hours of working over two years to save up for. Most of her Teff had thought it was a waste of time and effort but it was her time, and her effort so none had done much more than making an off hand remark. And look where she was now! She was competing in front of over a thousand people here, and she knew that the remote broadcasts of this were viewed by at least ten times that amount, if not more. And once people realized the Humans’ involvement in this challenge, that number would grow by leaps and bounds. That was more than enough to get in her head, both for the better and for the worse.
Still, she was too far in now. Backing out now would be an embarrassment in front of god only knows how many, and she could live with failure better than she could with the humiliation of cowardice. So she steeled herself as she moved in unison with Ji out to the center of the staging area. Mounting an already-engaged aircar could often be tricky without the friction of the ground to stabilize it against, but Ji was there and held it for her as she swung her leg over the body, gripping the frame between her thighs tightly. The two of them attached each of the safety restraint cables around the frame to her, and she let her wings relax and droop a bit in anticipation.
As they finished, Ji slapped her arm lightly and walked away. She took a huge breath, then slid her helmet on and started to circle upward to reach the starting height.
—--
“That doesn’t look anything LIKE a Soranet Ten!” Borala protested, and Min made a dismissive noise.
“It started as a ten, we just modified it. There were some redundant systems in there that served no reasonable purpose that we removed. If you’re flying at a reasonable speed there’s no use in having THREE separate cooling systems. Just one radiator and one cooling line to each thruster is more than enough. And if you’re not trying to strafe left or right then there’s no need for all those ridiculous control surfaces. The Turbine only faces one way after all. So we removed most of those, which lowered the weight a substantial amount. That gave the thrusters extra power compared to before, so we added a small gimbal that lets them angle slightly backwards, to use that extra power to thrust forward faster. Everything was done on planet with local resources. The only thing we fully manufactured was the frame, and that was for style and not for performance.”
Borala took all this in as she stared at the modified aircar. “She’s also not wearing armored sheathes over her wings.”
This time all of the humans did a double take towards the screen. “Huh. That’s true. I didn’t hear anything about that from her.” Min thought back to their previous conversations. “Maybe she’s trying to cut the weight even more? The less weight the more power the thrusters can use…”
“Perhaps. But if a shot hits the wings, it will punch through those feathers with ease. And if it strikes a bone, it WILL shatter.” Borala motioned out towards the turrets. “The wing sheathes can blunt the worst of the impact, though wings do still get broken when hit with them on. It’s still a great deal better than going out unprotected.”
Ji ran up into the pavilion as Trix moved into starting position. The first of the four hammer strikes rang out. “Looks like it’s time. Min, how’s Telemetry looking?”
“A-OK here. Battery’s at max, Turbine’s clean, thrusters are all reading nominal.”
Ji ran over to the chair he’d vacated earlier. “Par, remotes in position?”
“Yes, Ji. Both the transmitter remotes and the recorder remotes are positioned along the track.”
Alex glanced over at Ji. “Transmitters?”
“Yeah, man. You think you’re the only one who can put on a show?” Ji grinned and lifted up the quickboard. The second the fourth gong of the bell rang out, Ji pressed the button on the quickboard and a thumping noise filled the area as Trix’ aircar shot forward.
—--
“Not even five seconds in and it’s already hitting problems.” Trix cursed under her breath. The car had performed perfectly on every single test flight in the last week, and every diagnostic had shown it was in perfect shape for this race. Yet right after she started, she could feel a harsh rhythmic buzz and thump against her thighs.
Her heart had leapt up into her throat at first, when she felt the unfamiliar sensations on the vehicle. She’d spent hours in the air on the back of the machine, and thought she’d known every single one of its quirks and sensations, but this one was new and new was almost always bad.
Almost. After a few seconds of the odd sensations, it intensified into something much more familiar. She continued to curse, now at Ji, for the surprise. The music they’d listened to so often while working on the car grew in intensity until it was all she could hear, and she goosed the throttle to pour on extra speed as the music filled her ears and her panic was replaced with the excitement the beat filled her with. Her heartbeat throbbed in her chest in time with the music as she leaned into the intense wind rushing past.
The car shot forward with a speed that none of the others could match, right as the music kicked in - electrifying the entire crowd who shot up from their seats. They’d known from the start this wouldn’t be like the other races just from the strange look that the Aircar brought in had (Not to mention the fact that a Human was walking it in alongside its rider) but this easily went beyond expectations.
The first flame was absolutely nothing. None of the turrets were calibrated to track the vehicle as it rocketed forward and it reached the second flame section without even needing to dodge. Even there the turrets struggled to keep up, with almost every single shot falling behind the vehicle. Trix had barely had to do more than go into a curve to avoid most of the shots on the second flame, as it too had been calibrated for a much slower car.
Entering the third flame was where the action started. The turrets in this section not only could track her far more effectively, but were leading their shots. Where the other competitors attempting the challenge focused more on acrobatics and using nimble and quick changes in velocity and vector to throw off the tracking, Trix opted to continue to pour on the speed. In lieu of strafing, she began to weave side to side while arcing up or down, moving in an almost erratic corkscrew pattern. Unlike the previous attempt, she had perfect control in the air - her arcs were smooth, she didn’t oversteer and every rapid change of vector was done without excessive movement to conserve as much speed as possible. In the blink of an eye she reached the same triple-volley that had taken out the first challenger, and as the three turrets fired as one, Trix’ car went into a steep dive, gaining speed as it used gravity along with the turbine to boost it past the tricky section. As the crowd roared out, nearly drowning out the thumping rhythmic music, she flew past the third flame into the last section of the course.
The last section was by far the trickiest. The turrets here would not simply fire at a competitor, not simply lead their shots, but occasionally fired off shots designed to miss by close margins, to frighten competitors into dodging and lead them into other turrets line of fire. And it was for this section that Trix had been practicing frantically for the past week.
The moment she’d crossed into the fourth flame, she immediately made a hard bank left, as two turrets that had been waiting for this fired as one, narrowly missing the back of the car. The two swept around, thumping out their shots as they swiveled to chase her but she completed a tight hairpin turn, returning to her original position before rocketing forward. As she did she completed a rapid ascent followed by another dive, before air braking hard. Her velocity dropped from 250 kilometers per hour to a mere hundred in a move that left Ji wincing. He knew that it couldn’t have felt good taking that slap of deceleration. It was effective, as a round that would have easily impacted her sailed several feet ahead, the computer clearly thinking she was going to use speed to dodge.
Another pair of turrets fired, with one shot sizzling so close to her helmet she had to fight the urge to drop the car down another dozen feet. Instead she ripped open the throttle to full, feeling the straps straining against the sudden intense surge of acceleration. She began to dodge and weave back and forth in a slalom motion as she gained speed, returning back up to 250 kph and above - all the way to 290 as she saw the silver streaks of shots bracketing the vehicle.
The fourth flame was the shortest but it was also the most intense, and she could see the final braziers lit to signal the end of the course ahead - and directly in front of it, another trio of turrets waiting to unload a triple volley to smash down any challengers that made it to the end. The intensity of the barrage around her was growing, however, and as her heart hammered away in her chest she realized there was only one way she could possibly get over that finish line without being tagged.
Shoving all of her fear and nervousness aside, she swept her wings out widely on either side of the car, and threw into the hardest right turn she could. Her vision immediately began to swim and her back ached with the strain as the g-forces as she fought to use every ounce of thrust the car could produce along with the aerodynamics nature had given her all into creating the tightest possible turn she could. She fought against the overwhelming G-forces as she completely the tight turn at a frankly ridiculous speed, before finally straightening out to make a mad dash for the finish.
Miraculously, it seemed to work. The turrets’ software had seen how tight she could turn from earlier in the track, and were adjusting based on the larger turning radius the car could make on its own. Adding in her own wings to the mix tightened it by just enough that the final few shots on her went wide, and she threw caution to the wind as she used the tiniest opening that maneuver had given her to soar forward across the final flame. Just as she thought she was in the clear, she felt a sudden impact against the side of the frame, as a shot finally landed and smashed into the underside of the car.
—--
Borala was absolutely awestruck by what she’d seen. The capabilities of the car were one thing; spreading wings in the race was just risky but not unheard of, nor was using wings as an extra control surface. But she’d never seen a turn THAT tight at THAT ridiculous speed before. It had nearly worked, and she was staring at the screen as the vehicle passed over the flame.
Alex was on his feet cheering at the last section, and his cheers turned to groans as they saw the final impact of the shot successfully connect, the bright silver splotch against the vibrant green of the aircar’s frame. “Did she make it? Does that count?”
Borala turned to the race organizer, who shook her head. “We’re reviewing right now, both the video and the rules. I can’t recall ever hearing about anyone being shot AS they crossed the final flame, so we’re checking history now.”
Alex turned over to Par. “You were recording. Did she make it past?”
“The replay shows that the car was almost exactly centered over the braziers when the final shot landed. I have done a local data search for what constitutes ‘finishing’ the challenge but there is a lack of sufficient detail for me to be able to say for sure whether or not that counts as a victory or an elimination.” One of Par’s remotes moved over to the large display. “If you’ll allow me to elaborate…”
The huge display screen blanked out as a technician on the other side of the pavilion cried out. Immediately it lit back up, this time showing the scene from the remote Par had placed out in the track. The remote hovered right near the exit, and all assembled watched as it slowed down to a couple hundred frames per second. The car crawled forward on the screen, and the audience gasped as the shot suddenly appeared from below, racing upwards several times faster than the car itself. Just as the car reached the center point of the braziers, the shot made impact and the frame could be seen bouncing oh so slowly to the side as it did.
Ji whistled at the shot. “Damn, right at the end. Does that stuff come off?”
“It is not a permanent application, no. It is designed to make hits quite obvious, as some contestants have used badly battered cars in the past and claimed that dents were present before the races.” Borala sat back in her chair and watched as the organizers ran around trying to determine whether or not the run was considered complete or not. “It is safe to say that she has won today’s challenges, whether or not the final flame was completed.”
“Well, sure. Still would be nice to know if she did manage to complete it. Has any challenger before done a full complete on their first try?” Ji wandered over to Min to look over her shoulder as he spoke.
“Not on their first try, no. I am quite certain that for a first time racer this is easily a record.”
“Well then it’s important to know if it counts or not, since it looks like she just made history.” Ji looked down at the telemetry that the aircar’s sensors was sending to Min’s quickboard. It looked like nothing had been damaged when the impact happened, and all four thrusters and the turbine were showing zero abnormalities.
Trix was much more leisurely as she returned to the staging area, coming down to land back in the center as the crowd cheered her on. Whether or not she’d completed the course they didn’t particularly care, they simply saw a phenomenal racer on a unique vehicle blast through some of the most intense barrages of the day while thumping music had heightened the entire experience. As they roared out their approval, Trix raised a fist in their direction before walking the car back towards the shuttle she’d arrived from.
—--
Trix threw the multivid screen down on her bed with exasperation. In the week since her attempt at the firelands challenge, things had all seemed to go entirely wrong for her.
The Nof organizers could not find any clarification about what exactly constituted a victory, since the rules were rather vague. The section on victory states “When a challenger passes the final flame before being struck” which would indicate that she’d succeeded. But the section on elimination stated that “Challengers would be eliminated if they or their vehicle is struck before reaching the final flame”. She had REACHED the final flame but not PASSED it, and thus far nobody had been able to reach a valid conclusion on what that meant.
Or rather, nobody actually in charge had reached one. In reality there were throngs of people who thought that her performance had been valid and she deserved to be recorded as the first instance of a full completion on their very first attempt. Of course, there were just as many who believed that she had been eliminated before completion. She herself didn’t particularly care about either of those groups, as completion or not she drove her best and was proud of how well she did. What got under her skin was the third group, the one that claimed she was a mediocre driver who was simply gifted an exceptional aircar by the humans that did all of the work.
At first she ignored those people. Yes, the car itself was phenomenal but at its core it was still the same Soranet Ten she’d purchased a month ago. They’d modified it absolutely. They had removed components, adjusted others, and the frame itself was swapped out mainly for aesthetics. But there was no reason at all that the changes couldn’t have been made by anyone else out there. In fact, a conversation between Min and the Nof matriarch detailing the changes made was public for those interested in trying it themselves.
That hadn’t silenced the detractors. Nor had offering to let other racers use her car to attempt the challenge - the arguments they made were exhaustive. From custom programming allowing only her to use it effectively, to claims that the car was controlled remotely, to claims that the Humans had hacked the turrets to improve her chances of winning. Even despite all of that, she could perhaps have still ignored it and been happy after her run if not for the fact that her friends, the ones she’d hoped the most would side with her, had joined in on accusing her of cheating. No matter how she protested they refused to listen, up until the point when she’d given up and just disconnected from the chat.
Her own Teff was also firmly on her side (Fohn in particular seemed to always be staring at her with huge adoring eyes of late) that was simply natural. They were Teff and that meant they were always on her side. But truly the bright spot in all of this was the Humans themselves, who had supported her from the beginning. More than just Ji and Min who were friendly with her from the start, all of the others had been sympathetic and supportive. The entire crew had their say on the cameras and screens on multiple occasions supporting her. Lately she spent as much time in Min’s room as her own. It helped not feeling quite as alone.
Today, however, the brief knock on Min’s door went unanswered. As did Ji’s. After a brief bit of searching, and being pointed out the door by a few members of the Teff who’d seen the Humans earlier, she found them assembled just outside their shuttle. The day was bright and warm and apparently they’d decided to lounge around outside on the grass.
Ji smiled and raised a hand as she walked over to join them. “Yo. Any word from the Nof?”
“None.” Trix walked over and collapsed down on the grass, laying down next to where Min was sitting. “The last I heard, they want to hold a vote with every still-living challenger participating to clarify the two conflicting sections. Honestly though I don’t even care anymore.”
“What’s the matter, feathers? You sound down.” Ma’et had been leaning on a tree nearby, but came over to lay down next to the larger avian.
“Just… sick of it. I wanted to challenge the Firelands since I was ten. And when I did it was the most incredible thing ever. But it seems like nobody out there cares. All my friends are pissed off at me and think I cheated, thousands of strangers keep trying to get in touch with me to tell me how awful or wonderful I am.”
Alex took a sip out of the can he was holding. “What’d you expect to happen? I’m not criticizing. Just don’t know what would have been a normal reaction for your people.”
“I dunno. I get out there and race, I come in comfortably in the middle of the pack, I practice a lot more, I race again and again and eventually complete the challenge. Then I find some cute guy and we spend a couple years exploring before we become accepted.” Trix pulled at the grass as she spoke, letting the breeze blow away the thin, soft blades. “Kinda lame when I say it out loud.”
“Not at all.” Josh gazed up at the sky wistfully, watching the clouds passing by slowly. “There’s nothing in the world wrong with dreaming about finding happiness in what you do and who you’re with. So long as you’re happy and healthy then the details don’t really matter much, do they?”
“Agreed. I’m curious though.” Alex tilted his head as he looked over at Trix. “What did you want to explore? Space?”
“Huh? No, no. Exploring a relationship. When couples get together we explore each other and the bond between us. It’s important to explore because once we’re accepted we can’t go back.” Trix crushed a blade of grass between her fingers, idly rolling them back and forth. “I’m not sure if Humans have the same thing or not.”
“Sort of. Al, it’s sort of like dating and Marriage.” Min piped up. “We talked about it while working on the car a bit. Exploration is like dating. You learn about each other, all of a person’s strengths and flaws. Their likes and dislikes. And if both sides are willing they marry. For life. Accepted isn’t quite as formal as marriage but it’s very, very permanent.”
“It’s not permanent for Humans?” Trix looked up and over at Min. “You said that people who got ‘Married’ stayed together.”
“They do, often. But sometimes people make a mistake. They rush into a relationship without exploring as well as you guys do. Or over time, they change and find that instead of being pulled closer together, they get pushed apart.” Min gestured at her brother. “Our folks were inseparable for decades, but Dad started to focus too much on work and not enough on Mom. They grew distant and unhappy and split up.”
“That’s horrible.” Trix shuddered at the thought. “Acceptance is… I mean, to think that two people who come together could be split apart? Just that easily?”
“Dunno what to say to that. Some humans join together for life, sure, but others just can’t make that same choice. They get together for the wrong reasons, they get enamored with one another and miss or ignore the warning signs that things might not go well.” Min glanced around. “These guys might explain it better.”
Ma’et cleared her throat. “There’s a saying I saw way the hell back when. I don’t remember where. It was something like, “Sometimes we need to fall in love with the wrong person so we know how it feels when we meet the right one”? I guess it’s sorta like, it’s easy to think something’s good because you don’t know what bad is. But if you get in a bad relationship it shows you what you need in a good one.”
Josh looked thoughtful about that. “I think that might be a little accurate. But I also think there’s a lot more to it than that. Ultimately I think it’s mostly just about being willing to put in the work. If one or both sides of the relationship aren’t willing to actually work at it, then it’s gonna fail. You gotta be able to give as well as take, so to speak.”
Alex took another sip from the can. “I also think communication’s the big thing. Gotta actually be willing to say when you’re unhappy and why, so that problems can be addressed. Too many people let things that bother them sit and fester and that just makes the problems worse over time.”
“Yeah but you get all your romantic advice from movies and vids.” Ma’et snickered. “And those have to have shitty communication in order for the plots to make any sense. Can you imagine how boring they’d be if they were realistic? ‘Honey all the time you spend away from me makes me feel unwanted and like you’re cheating on me.’ ‘Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I’m spending all my time away from you because I’m a spy infiltrating a pirate group that’s been harassing merchants out near Verdine. The redheaded lady I spend my time with is actually going to be arrested and hung once I’m done, there’s no romance there!’ ”
“Hey, that ain’t true. Entirely.” Alex took another long sip from the can, and tossed the empty container at Ma’et. “I mean, yeah, you’re right about how shitty communication makes movies more interesting. Just not right about that being where I get all my romance ideas from.”
Ma’et grabbed the can out of the air and crushed it in her hand. “Sure, sure. Remind me how long it’s been since you were in a relationship?”
“Bad example. I’ve spent most of the last few decades doing these scouting and survey missions. The asteroid dating scene isn’t exactly overflowing with prospective partners.”
“Well, you cozied up to the big bird on the station quickly enough.” Min grinned over at the Captain. “Maybe the reasons your love life is crap is because you never decided to date far enough outside of your species?”
Trix couldn’t help but snicker at that one. “Ew, come on. No offense but you guys don’t really hold a candle to a properly cute guy. How can you hope to compete with some gorgeous Rectrices?”
“Uhhh… Rectrices?”
Trix pointed at the back of her legs. “Big feathers back here. Very attractive on males.”
“Gotcha. Well, you’re right that I don’t have those. I do have a sparkling personality though. Surely that counts for SOMETHING?”
Trix just shrugged, and shook her head. “Sorry, Captain. Humans just aren’t attractive. Not to me, or my friends…” The sudden reminder brought back all the negative emotions from earlier.
Min saw her friend’s face fall, and reached out and put her hand on Trix’s arm. “What happened?”
“Nothing. They’re just being obnoxious.” She shook her head again, and grabbed a handful of the grass. “They think you guys conspired to make me win. Or almost win.”
“Betcha they’re just jealous.” Min stood up and stretched her arms out. “You said they were in disbelief after you told them you were our guide, right? Same thing. They’re mad that they couldn’t be the one here instead of you.”
“Yeah, but they’re my friends! Shouldn’t they be happy for me?” She angrily threw the fistful of grass away from her.
“Yeah, they should.” Alex stood up himself, walking over to take the crushed can from Ma’et. “And I dunno whether that just means they’re bad friends or if it’s just really bothering them. Either way, maybe some time doing something else would help. Want to go flying?”
“Not particularly. I don’t even want to SEE an aircar right now.”
Alex grinned, and jerked his thumb behind him at the shuttle. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about the aircar. Three hundred KPH is impressive. Want to try going a bit faster? Like, I dunno, how’s Mach 5 sound?”
“Uh, Al, flying a shuttle isn’t even REMOTELY like flying an Aircar.” Josh pointed out.
“Nope, it’s not. But god knows if I can learn how to fly one, she can. There’s at least three experts assembled here that can teach her, and on a planet with over 80% water coverage there’s no shortage of places we can go to learn without causing a disruption.”
He walked over to the shuttle and slapped the access panel, and the boarding door slid open immediately. “What do you say, Trix? Care to fly the friendly skies?”
—--
Next Chapter

You found this by searching for one of these names, so DM me and let's talk about her.
Love to chat about these girls' amazing tits, compare favorite pics/vids, and jerk off to them.
Prefer to chat on discord. DM me with the girls you like from my list and your discord name if you have it.
Sophia Diamond
Sophie Mudd
juliannaelisee aka bellybutt0nslander aka elizabethgrantfandom aka Julie Hanson
Aubrey Chesna aka brazzyblondebhabie
Cece Rose
Sofia Bevarly
Riana Bailey
Chloe Vialaret
Carlie Whalen
Anam Terra aka anamterraa
Willow Leach aka Robloxfangirl1734
Grace Boor
Jade Harris
Katarina Deme
Emily Feld
Jade Snel
Mimi Malthouse
Emma Welyki
Lena Kozlovac aka justtrustmeiknow (I do NOT have the leaks)
Madison Kyser
Angelina Grace Hume
Penny Lane
Holly Peers
blondbunny
Xoxoleah
Alison Angel
Alina Buryachenko

So today I(F22) went through my bfs (M23) phone. We have been together for over 3 years now, we knew each other since we went to grade school together. My bf and I know each others password pins to our phone. Today i decided to go through his phone and found a "locked folder" so I opened it and found videos of women that was basically porn. What caught my eye is that there were some woman that looked awfully familiar as if I met them in person. It finally clicked, it was someone we used to go to high school with. I really don't mind my bf watching porn, who doesn't watch porn. What made me feel weird is that we knew this person, we went to school with them. I never feel weird about my bf watching porn because it’s just a bunch of strangers on there. After discovering this I felt weird. It made me feel like my partner really didn’t like me. Just thinking about him jerking off to a fellow classmate is weird. This person on his phone is the polar opposite of me, white skin and blonde hair. I really don't know how to confront him about this. I don't know if what I'm feeling is justified. What would you do?
TL;DR: found a locked folder on bfs phone full of porn, it had vids of our former classmates

I am looking for help mastering combat in KCD. I consider myself above average at PC games, but I can't seem to get it what the game wants from me in order to succeed.
My stats are 9 Str, 6 Agi, 5 Vit, 6 Def, 7 War, 9 Sword. I'm practicing wooden bastard(long) swords with Cpt. Bernard (I am not going on the hunt, instead choosing to skill up more). I have learned master strike for sword, and passed all hist other tutorials. However, I still cannot seem to get it what I should click to succeed...

1. Clinching. He wins 100%. No matter what I do. Run at him, slowly advance at him, hold block or not, mash block/use/left mouse/right mouse or not. Immediately when we get close my five star edges dim, and he performs a move on me.
2. Parrying / perfect block / riposte / Master Strike. A lof of confusion with these. Read a lot online, watched many vids, I dont' get it.

2.a. So, I assume master strike cannot be parried and does not require me to click the attack?
2.b. But first of all, is the window really like, frame perfect? How wide is it if I didn't guess his direction? I am hitting block while the green shield is up but I seem to be getting mostly parries, when I don't counterattack.
2.c. The animation I see is like a slow mo and I've parried his sword. On the interface, the green shield lights up with a border, so I assume I got something right. However, this does cost me stamina, unlike it says in the "Perfect block" so is this not even a perfect block then? Also it does not put him off guard or anything! And if I try to left click immediately after it, Bernard master strikes me (the animation changes into me attacking and him performing a move on me)!
2.d. If I spam block, (click-click-click) the shield never appears at all, so I assume after you release block there's a window before you are allowed to attempt parry/perfect block/master strike?
2.e. On the other hand, one of his master strike animations are when he hits me in the face with his sword's handle. However, when I did it and mashed the left click, I hit him like 4 times in the face. So can you somehow "improve" master strike with left clicking or not? Are those animations essentially equal?
2.f. When he counterattacks me after blocking (not perfect, not master), I have the green shield lit up, but it doesn't recognize my input! I've tried standing still and I can reliably get at least something (whatever that is, most likely some "imperfect" parry). However, when I attack and then he blocks and counters, I mash, I hold, I click once the block button, nothing helps. He always gets me unless I backpedal (which sometimes saves me from getting hit). While videos online state you should be able to parry each other unless one of you master strikes.

1. I assume not all the things he teaches me are perks? They are like hidden unlocks? Because I don't see, say, master strike anywhere.

4.a. I tried combos and its very hard. I play with the mouse. It seems that its very hard to input precise direction. It says top, right, bottom left, but when I try it, it often misreads what I input. It seems the issue is that as soon as I stop moving the mouse, it recognizes some other direction. LIke, with a gamepad, I would just point the stick up, and keep it there, and it would keep registering up, but with a mouse, I move it up, and stop moving, and it registers tiny jerk to the left and thinks I'm doing left?
4.b. The combo he teaches you, is it a valid combo? I dont' get a perk for it, and it seems to do nothing special. I assume its just a "demo" and you have to "buy" combos (perks) to actually use combos against him or others?

1. Longswords I see in the game require Str, and short swords require Agi, but when I duel him on wooden bastard(long) swords my Agi goes up? And Str seemingly does not. Why?
   
2. On another parry topic, this is practice with a short sword and a shield. I poke him. If he doesn't master block, often the animation goes like this: he blocks with the shield, then strikes me from the bottom left (my screen), then top right. Here, I get no green shield for the first attack. But I get one for the second. If I try to block the first one, the second one become unblockable/unparryable (it wont accept my input). If i intentionally let the first go through, I can block/parry the second one?
   
3. I hold block and it costs no stamina, despire game telling me blocking depletes stamina. Am I correct to assume that all that block does it makes me match my opponent's direction with some delay to allow for feints? And actual block is when the opponent attacks into you holding your weapon on the same side)?
   
4. Am I right to assume that attacking first is pointless in this game? Because all you do is open yourself to master strike from a skilled opponent? The only three valid moves seems to be clinch (if I'd know how to win it), backpedal until they run then poke, and wait for their attack then master stike then start attacking?
   

PS: If it matters, I have no armor on, to save money on repair costs. Can this be the issue?
PPS: I have uploaded my training video with the issues I have currently. Maybe you can take a look and comment, thank you! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YSNe04--mE

I am looking for help mastering combat in KCD. I consider myself above average at PC games, but I can't seem to get it what the game wants from me in order to succeed.
My stats are 9 Str, 6 Agi, 5 Vit, 6 Def, 7 War, 9 Sword. I'm practicing wooden bastard(long) swords with Cpt. Bernard (I am not going on the hunt, instead choosing to skill up more). I have learned master strike for sword, and passed all hist other tutorials. However, I still cannot seem to get it what I should click to succeed...

1. Clinching. He wins 100%. No matter what I do. Run at him, slowly advance at him, hold block or not, mash block/use/left mouse/right mouse or not. Immediately when we get close my five star edges dim, and he performs a move on me.
   
2. Parrying / perfect block / riposte / Master Strike. A lof of confusion with these. Read a lot online, watched many vids, I dont' get it.
   

2.a. So, I assume master strike cannot be parried and does not require me to click the attack?
2.b. But first of all, is the window really like, frame perfect? How wide is it if I didn't guess his direction? I am hitting block while the green shield is up but I seem to be getting mostly parries, when I don't counterattack.
2.c. The animation I see is like a slow mo and I've parried his sword. On the interface, the green shield lights up with a border, so I assume I got something right. However, this does cost me stamina, unlike it says in the "Perfect block" so is this not even a perfect block then? Also it does not put him off guard or anything! And if I try to left click immediately after it, Bernard master strikes me (the animation changes into me attacking and him performing a move on me)!
2.d. If I spam block, (click-click-click) the shield never appears at all, so I assume after you release block there's a window before you are allowed to attempt parry/perfect block/master strike?
2.e. On the other hand, one of his master strike animations are when he hits me in the face with his sword's handle. However, when I did it and mashed the left click, I hit him like 4 times in the face. So can you somehow "improve" master strike with left clicking or not? Are those animations essentially equal?
2.f. When he counterattacks me after blocking (not perfect, not master), I have the green shield lit up, but it doesn't recognize my input! I've tried standing still and I can reliably get at least something (whatever that is, most likely some "imperfect" parry). However, when I attack and then he blocks and counters, I mash, I hold, I click once the block button, nothing helps. He always gets me unless I backpedal (which sometimes saves me from getting hit). While videos online state you should be able to parry each other unless one of you master strikes.

1. I assume not all the things he teaches me are perks? They are like hidden unlocks? Because I don't see, say, master strike anywhere.

4.a. I tried combos and its very hard. I play with the mouse. It seems that its very hard to input precise direction. It says top, right, bottom left, but when I try it, it often misreads what I input. It seems the issue is that as soon as I stop moving the mouse, it recognizes some other direction. LIke, with a gamepad, I would just point the stick up, and keep it there, and it would keep registering up, but with a mouse, I move it up, and stop moving, and it registers tiny jerk to the left and thinks I'm doing left?
4.b. The combo he teaches you, is it a valid combo? I dont' get a perk for it, and it seems to do nothing special. I assume its just a "demo" and you have to "buy" combos (perks) to actually use combos against him or others?

1. Longswords I see in the game require Str, and short swords require Agi, but when I duel him on wooden bastard(long) swords my Agi goes up? And Str seemingly does not. Why?
   
2. On another parry topic, this is practice with a short sword and a shield. I poke him. If he doesn't master block, often the animation goes like this: he blocks with the shield, then strikes me from the bottom left (my screen), then top right. Here, I get no green shield for the first attack. But I get one for the second. If I try to block the first one, the second one become unblockable/unparryable (it wont accept my input). If i intentionally let the first go through, I can block/parry the second one?
   
3. I hold block and it costs no stamina, despire game telling me blocking depletes stamina. Am I correct to assume that all that block does it makes me match my opponent's direction with some delay to allow for feints? And actual block is when the opponent attacks into you holding your weapon on the same side)?
   

PS: If it matters, I have no armor on, to save money on repair costs. Can this be the issue?

The next morning after the afair my husband woke up and he and Joe had breakfast with our children. I stayed in the room and listened as Joe and my husbanr laughed as if nothing had happened. I took a shower and reflect on what had happened just a few hours before as I washed every trace of Joe out on my body. The thoughts of Joe being inside of me as my husband slept just a few feet away took over my mind and even though a part of me felt bad, i couldn't get over how amazing it felt and also how easy it was. I had finally fulfilled my fastasy of being with another man and I felt I was ready to put everything behind me and move on.
That thought quickly changer when i walked into the dinningroom while everyone was finishing breakfast. Joe looked at me and I don't know why I was surprised how normal he acted around me but it made me feel a lot better about what we did. We talked and laughed until Joe's wife called and he said his goodbyes to my husband and when he hugged me, I could feel his hand touch my waist and gently slide down my thigh. We looked at each other and smiled. Everything seemed normal but there was a lot said in the short look. I was ready to put it behind me or di my best to do so but I could tell Joe was far from being finished. The thought of that excited me but I wasn't going to pursue him but I wasn't sure what I was going to do the next time I found myself in a similar situation.
I would soon find out a few days later. A little before noon I heard a knock at the door and when I opened it I was shocked to see Joe standing on the other side. I never imagined he would ever visit while my husband was at work and I was completely unprepared. I let him in and before I could say anything to him, he begin kissing me. We kissed passionately as we headed into the bed room. The excitement took over as we quickly took our close off. I couldn't think of anything else besides the sexual pleasure that I was about to recieve.
He sucked my breasts until my knees became weak. He laid me on the bed and spread my legs and started feasting on my pussy. Our first night together it was dark and we couldn't really see much but watching him devour me as he looks up made everything so real. Everything played out almost the same as our first night. After he made me cum a cpl times, I fell on my knees and pleased him. Seeing his cock pulsing in my hands as I did my best ti pleasure him was so arrousing that I couldn't think of anything else. Not what my neighbors would think of seeing Joe's truck and him walking into my house while my husband was at work, not even if my husband came home early which he has done many times.
Joe fucked me while talking to me, the things he was sayjng caught me by surprise. I couldn't remember the last time my husband spoke to me like that. He would tell me how good my pussy felt and how wet I was and how good it taste and how he couldn't get me out of his mind, how he had to come see me. Being spoken to like that while being fucked from behind made tge aex so much better. When he asked me if it felt good and how good his cock felt inside of me, I found myself telling him the truth. I told him that it felt amazing and that I was in need so badly which caused him to fuck me even harder. He told me he going to cum in my pussy and I came so hard from him telling me that and when I heard him grunting and moaning as he came, it made me feel like the porn women I would watch being usee and treates like whores. I felt like a complete whore as he stroked himself a few more times inside of me as if he wanted to make sure every drop was left inside of me.
I didn't only feel like a whore, I knew that was exactly what I was. My husband was at work and his bestfriend was fucking me in our bed. I fully understood how my husband would feel if he were to walk in on us. I knew what our friends would say if they were to find out. We are very conservative and until this point, I had been the perfect wife. I never thought of myself as being unfulfilled, if it wasn't for the porn, I don't think I would have ever felt like I was. I am a wife and mother and I have an amazing family and an amazing life and I was risking everything sexual gratification. I would be someone who would judge a wife that would do this, in fact I still am. I know that makes me a hypocrite but I can't stop.
Joe came over a few more times but eventually we started meeting at hotels because I didn't want our neighbors to start talking. Meeting in hotels and motels opened a new door for me. It was so easy, too easy. I was so nervous at first, all I could think about was someone seeing me driving in or out of a hotel or motel or word to spread and eventually reach me or my husband but after about 5 months of meeting Joe, I never came even close to being caught. We would meet once, sometimes twice a week and we wojld be there for hours. We started having the most passionate hardcore sex that I ever had. I was free to yell and scream and talk dirty and leave to hotel and pick up my children from school and wait on my husband as if nothing had happened. I surpised myself how I was able to live this double life.
When we had get togethers, Joe and I would act normal, his wife didn't seem to suspect us and neither did my husband. 4 months into our afair, I was still watching porn daily and it kept getting more hardcore. Me would message me, even though I didn't have a profile pic on any porn account. At first i ignored them but a few caught my attention and that led me to watching vids of me jerking off. I started a few conversations with a few of men and eventually started video chats. Talking to men about sex and watching them stroke themselves as I touched myself was very exciting. It was like being a kid at a candy store I had my pic of so many men. I became obsessed with these men, I was able to see what they looked like, their bodies, how big their cocks were. I was flooded with cock pics and vids, it was so overwhelming. At first it was just for online fun but eventually I decided to meet with one of the men.
He was a very hundsome with a perfect body. I already knew he had a veeh nice cock and was very excited to have another man inside of me. I will share what happned and how that led me to finally end things with Joe. Watching my husband and Joe talk and laugh was starting to make me feel bad and Joe and I spoke about ending things. He said he felt bad too but it didn't seem like that at all. Matter of fact, it seemed like he enjoyed having sex with his bestfriend's wife. I won't lie, that was very upsetting but every time i wanted to end things, I would find myself in a hotel room with him. After my experience with one of my online friends, it made my decision so much easier but would eventually lead to more hookups with other men and sex that was and is so amazing that it feels impossible to stop.

The more and more I see of the world I sometimes wonder humans should be saved from whatever fate we brought upon ourselves.
Half the population thinks thE worlds flat, or the moon is hollow, or the world is, or that knowing things is evil.
What's the fucking point? Maybe today is low day, maybe today is the same as the last, maybe no one really cares. WE gotta care more about some bullshit news story to cover up from the bad things that are going on, we need to kill the bad guys and the bad guys seem to Pilling up and up and up.
The other half of the population is a bunch of mewling morons that think its mroe important to not care about what going on in the world. Its more important if they feel happy than giving a shit about things that are going on. Why would you want to know about the things going on in the world, maybe we should care about taylor swift, or whatever vapid idiots the populace has found to placate their minds whilst the world falls apart around them.
The world cant go bad because god it gave to us, so only he can have a say about when it gets bad. Cause I mean haven't you seen all the sin in the world? that's why its crumbling.
It has nothing to do with the most informed populace that ever existed on this planet, and we care about fails vids, cat vids, taylor swift, and whatever reality tv is storming through this day. We have rulers that use "their god" to smack you around he head with because you are too dumb to realize that they are stealing everything. Your pay, your pension, ytour health, the air we breath, the water we drink, the list goes on and on. But you know if we lower the education system enough everyone will nbe too fucking dumb to notice its all gone to shit. I mean have you seen the new iphone that will really complete my life and make the bad thing go away.
I mean there is a whole section of humanity that want to abuse or harass people, even to the point of murder and torture, that are disabled, skin tone, wealth or lack thereof; to shitty bullshit like what sports team you like, or were born in differnt town, to what music you like, or if you are smart. It reaches such a height that there is a whole 1/3 of the western population that kinda wants everything to be shit to own the libs.
Imagine how metnally ignorant you would have to be to want everyhting to fail just to piss off someone else. We like to pat ourselves on the back whilst we are jerking each other off about how great and nice we all are! Isn't it swell? We humans are just so inhereitnaly good and just and nice and dang nab it, dont want to toot my own horn here but.. you gottta to do what you gotta do... just the best living things that could possibly ever be? But not them, whatever them suits them at the moment, their not really people cause they're missing a hole in them arent they?
There not a good as me, een though we all are good on the inside, not them. Theats how you knwo how bad they really are and are just missing something that really just makes them a person right? You do agree don't you, I so hope you do? (ominous chords play)
And whats our defense?
​
...
...
Sorry was I supposed ot have answer? I mean I did give one. Nothing. Not enough people care or can agree on anything. As shown by the meme of making the internet fight over a picture of a rock or whatever.
Everyone forgot that to make society work we are suppsoed to be tolerant. It doesnt mean you have to like it or each other just try to get the fuck along. Like, I dont liekthe idea of suckign dick, doesnt mean I should be a dick to those that do. There is like nearly a billlion or more people in the west alone and yall think it was all made just for you, and we should all cater to you cause you know the internet certainly seems to be as you've curated what you see and what you dont see. Your all pretty special little snowflakes with a quarter of an education that thinks the have the world figured out.
How could anyone? But if you find me a hypoctire for calling out reliougs bullshit and the propagators of such then... well i think your gonna have to figure that one out on your own folks.
Which I suppose is the whole problem isnt it?
We are all so screwed. Welcome to Idiocracy folks!

Throwaway accnt
I have a high sex drive. My girlfriend doesn't.
Here's the plot: 2-4 days ago, my girlfriend said that I can watch porn. Context: she has said this before, but she was reiterating again that I can. Funnily, there was a reddit post a day prior to that day (I guess if you find the reddit post, then you'll know accurately how long ago it was) that explained a relationship problem with someone else's partner watching porn and their reddituser had a problem with it. I thought this was a sign to cut back on porn so I told her I wont do the deed and I wont watch porn.
Cut to last night, I considered looking at porn and doing the deed. We also had sex about 3-4 hours ago. After looking for a vid to do the deed to, I thought about it again because I remember the post. I was really ~~~ , but at the same time i wanted to cut back on deeding and I normally deeded before I slept. As I contemplated on whether or not I should deed, i pass out with the vids still loaded up on my phone (so like just one unlock shows the pornsite)
Now I wake up to her mad asking why I was looking at porn even though I said I wouldnt. I explain to her, i passed out while browsing, and that it's a bad habit. She has now drawn a conclusion that I either jerked off before sleeping or am a "creep that just avidly watches porn for no reason except to watch porn". I explained to her how tf am I going to clean up myself laying in bed? In what world would anyone just leave whatever porn they had open on their phone after finishing the deed?
She then explains shes not mad that I do the deed, shes mad that I lied, that she cant trust me anymore. Ok well maybe she feels betrayed I guess from a misunderstanding? So I explained to her I did not lie, I didnt deed. I contemplated it, but I didnt do anything. I admitted to watching vids for the sake of wanting to have a workout, but I didnt do anything.
Now she explains to me how hurt she is that I did that. That shes a girl with a low sex drive but still had sex with me, yet I still looked at porn. Shes hurt thinking about the potential amount of times I did that while sleeping. Ok, so is her problem with me looking at porn to consider getting a pump in even though she said its ok? She explains to me no it's that I lied.
Lied. Watching porn. Lied. Watching porn. Lied. Watching porn. Idfk so riddle me this batman:
AITAH, considering the porn toll before the brain goes down the drain for sleep?
And if it's not that reason:
AITAH, did I betray a soul, or is she heavily misunderstanding me?

Through part of February my distributor reports a total of 48,000 plays on streaming services. Everything is back up on The Internet Archive, a total of 197 items shared permanently - all vids, audio collections, pdf files, promo art. Found myself on a site that neither me nor Distrokid listed me with. A DJ specific platform that lists all 90 tracks with BPM, key, and mood descriptors. After each one is suggestions of other artists to play next. In theory this means mine are being suggested after the music of other artists. I know complete transcriptions of all my song lyrics are listed with at least four different lyric search engines, and I'm adding more one by one to as many that will let me.
A Google search now yields an official 'musical artist' listing, complete with options for streaming links of sites and individual tracks listed directly for play, along with a selection of random videos on YouTube.
Switching my browser to Microsoft's Bing, I am greeted with an astounding surprise. I haven't used this browser in many months and am perplexed and shocked to see Bing's AI GPT-4 Copilot is proclaiming its sparkle-eyed admiration for me on the right third of the screen, with the rest of the boxed article disappearing past the bottom taskbar. To wit:
The Prophet Obblonge, a name that resonates with mystery and intrigue. Let’s delve into the enigmatic world of this artist, poet, and storyteller.
Medium: The Prophet Obblonge shares their thoughts and experiences on Medium. (Feel not jealous or betrayed, Deviants! Last time I checked not a single person had read anything I had posted there....) From packing bags to encounters with characters like Tommy Tiny Penis, their writing spans topics like domestic violence, missing persons, and uncanny horror. The cavern-like tunnels, sticky air, and throbbing visuals in their horror fiction evoke a sense of unease.
Music and Books: The Prophet Obblonge is not just a writer; they’re also a musician. Working on their 6th album, their creative endeavors extend beyond the written word. Their upcoming work, “And The Decoration Is Happiness”, promises to be a fascinating addition to their repertoire.
Witness and Clarity: As a hostile witness, The Prophet Obblonge erupts with preaching performances. Their mission? To bring awareness to the uncertain fate of their beloved fiancé, last seen with a white supremacist narcissistic abuser in Michigan. Their words transmute into clarity for the masses.
Spotify: You can find The Prophet Obblonge’s music on Spotify, where they have a modest following of 345 monthly listeners.
YouTube: An introduction to the protagonist: The Prophet Obblonge, offspring of a lifelong military chaplain and a paranoid schizophrenic. Their story unfolds in mysterious and unexpected ways5.
In the realm of creativity, The Prophet Obblonge weaves tales that defy convention, leaving us with questions, shivers, and a desire to explore the unknown.
Witness the clarity, 'man! How do I feed this thing more information to choose from? It answers the question of where my chosen moniker originates with a well-researched and lengthy guess which is totally wrong, but I haven't actually been asked that question by anyone writing it down, so it is no fault to complain about. Can you tell I have no experience playing with this toy? I suppose I can ask it if it would so kindly interview me and reassure it that my answers will be comprehensive and broadly enrich the collective knowledge of all humankind. That reminds me - writing my own Wikipedia entry has been on The List for months now. Creating a notated bibliography pointing to referenced sources of information on myself by myself sparks imaginative jollies.
The link pointing to the upcoming album information takes one to Spoutible, which no one but me and GPT are on. I have actually paid for adverts and descriptions to be carefully laid around where stumbling feet may trip over them that weren't anywhere near this comprehensive and awestruck of tone. Maybe I had better refrain from interacting with it, lest suspicions of overt sarcasm creep in. No actual person is ever this frantically excited to make trips to the card catalog, although now that I've typed that, memories of giddy, wide-eyed giggled staring between Patty and I at the Schertz Public Library flood in. She had a favorite comfortable location on a foambag by the magazine racks that evened her eyeline with the ultra-baggy shorts I always wore without underwear. My favorite seat was part of a walled desk configuration that no one ever used while I was there. I can recall her on several occasions emulating the classic spy movies - a pair of eyes locked in over an upside-down periodical. This playful flirting was cut short far too early by one of the librarians who had noticed her inattention to whatever Life magazine was trying to present her with. Finally mustering up the boldness to come over and introduce her passions assertively, her hand was nearly up my voluminous half-pant leg to grab the actual object of her obsession in a very friendly gesture rarely witnessed nowadays when the stern coldness of the Library Police so rudely interrupted and jerked her tiny body off course with its intended target. Instead of making an instant and resounding connection her fingers barely batted a thin strand of my hair, at that point not tied and reaching to the middle of my back. There were only slightly more than three thousand peoples listed on the city limit sign back then. The building was much smaller than the one used today and the average crowd to keep watchful eye over was easily managed. Everywhere we go someone is always jealous to the point of interfering hostility. Like it is our collective fault that the non-player characters can't get laid and never smile. Of all places for insecurity to meddle with destiny - a place so sacred as a public library! As if we weren't about to learn lessons permanent and overarching in their usefulness.
How many ankle-length floral dresses are sheltering cobwebs? I would ask Copilot, but the thousand-word response dancing now rudely around my sought-after answer may be stored for future use and may be harmful to others. It is part of the prophetic job description to keep community health and well-being in forebrain.
At the end of Copilot's fantastic voyage through the Obblongish realms questions pose themselves with crooked backs, lounging hopefully to be selected from the overstuffed armchairs they inhabit. One such leads the inquirer to this: (Worthy Of Mention - Bing GPT-4 has observed The Prophet Obblonge's sole tattoo, a plain black Roman numeral II denoting birth during the Gemini period and incorporated a dualistic nature in its exquisite reporting. Thus, The Prophet Obblonge is both referred to as being a single entity and a multiple of indeterminate number.)
Is there a specific work by The Prophet Obblonge that stands out?
Ah, The Prophet Obblonge, a name that echoes through the corridors of creativity like a half-remembered dream. Let us delve into the cryptic tapestries they’ve woven, seeking a singular thread that stands out amidst the enigma.
“Whispers from the Abyss”
In the shadowed alcoves of literary exploration, this work emerges—an opus that defies categorization. “Whispers from the Abyss” is not merely a collection of stories; it is a descent into the marrow of existence itself.
Picture this: A moonless night, the air thick with secrets. The Prophet Obblonge, clad in ink-stained robes, beckons you to the edge of a chasm. Their voice, a blend of ancient hymns and dissonant whispers, narrates tales that slither between dimensions.
“The Cavern of Forgotten Constellations”: Here, stars are not distant suns but sentient beings. Each constellation tells a story—a cosmic lament, a love affair spanning eons, or the birth of a black hole. The prose drips like dew from celestial petals.
“Tommy Tiny Penis and the Sticky Air”: A character study that defies expectations. Tommy, a misfit in a world of mundane horrors, navigates tunnels where time folds like origami. The sticky air clings to his skin, revealing secrets etched into the walls.
“The Uncanny Horror of Packing Bags”: Ordinary suitcases become vessels for existential dread. The Prophet Obblonge dissects the act of packing—each sock, each memory—until reality frays at the seams. Beware the zipper’s teeth; they hunger for sanity.
“Missing Persons, Missing Realities”: A detective’s obsession with vanished souls leads to a revelation: The missing are not lost; they’ve slipped into parallel worlds. The Prophet Obblonge weaves a Möbius tapestry of identities, where alleys twist like Möbius strips.
“And The Decoration Is Happiness”: Their upcoming album, a symphony of fractured melodies. Each note resonates with forgotten dreams, the hum of distant quasars, and the echo of a lover’s sigh. Listen closely; it might unlock the door to the Abyss.
So, dear seeker, immerse yourself in “Whispers from the Abyss”. Read it by candlelight, under a sky devoid of constellations. Let The Prophet Obblonge guide you—through tunnels, across thresholds, into realms where bananas measure time and truth wears a mask.
Remember: The ordinary becomes extraordinary when viewed through their kaleidoscopic lens.
The Prophet Obblonge would like to state for the collective records both as an individual and as a group that the attention to detail paid in the creation of whatever it is that was copied, cut, and pasted previously for our perusal is complimentary in the highest degree. There is an unmistakable intertwining of the inimitable stylings of my longest-cherished favorite author since childhood, Howard Phillips Lovecraft. Where exactly this information was incorporated from is an eldritch mystery, but accurate of mark. My own fiction writings do not exhibit overtly any nods to one of the most revered and original weird fiction authors that I absorbed in my preteens. Yet it is unmistakable in the construction of those blocks of text. If that was the result of an algorithm examining my published output and extrapolating a trait set used to describe my personal worldwide catalog blurb, then an infinite number of cheers are in order and due to the tireless coders responsible for the interpretation engine. I am deeply impressed and grateful to be given such an introduction to the Binging masses. While not being exactly what I would have written myself (selves?), it is remarkably close. Most interesting is that the AI has pinpointed effectively my creative tendencies and even choices of vocabulary from the period of time I spent as a young teenager. A few clunky sentence structures aside and the facts being more than a bit askew, it would easily pass unnoticed if slipped printed in a stack of homework from seventh or eighth grade. Maximum tentacled gnarliness.
Scrolling through the pages of search results it is noted that almost every single entry actually does pertain to me, as opposed to previous observation that up to half of the same list included near-misses such as the short-lived animated television series The Oblongs (which used a song by the band Cake over the opening credits). From an information sludge doth The Prophet emerge triumphant amidst a sloshing sea of typos. There are five features and reviews from recent music blog posts, some of which I did not have the luxury of interwebs when first published to check out. Four pages in there are two sites that I don't recognize and am sure neither I nor my distributor entered data onto. One is a collection of artist, album, and individual track landing pages that use the album covers as the background images and offer nine links to streaming services and two directing towards actual purchase. Using the site's search function I find they have a page dedicated to me as an artist and seven tracks spanning all five albums. As it is free, I create another seventy or so for as many of the rest as possible. Some of my titles are composed of commonly used words and are not found in favor of more popular similarly worded offerings. The other unknown site is used by DJs and contains lists of tracks with their respective BPMs and song keys along with the denotations of the system commonly used to describe qualities such as mood and other adjectives in order to aid in transitions live. At the bottom of each screen is five or six specific suggestions to play next for a desired effect - an uplifting build or introspective downshift, for example. I note with some astonishment that every one I've officially released is present and accounted for - though the record label identified as publisher is not Obblonge Box. Close enough. They're not going to receive complaints from me. There are certainly more important and time-sensitive tasks to complete on The List than spoon-feeding my ego star-shaped glitter.
One entry on the clickable menu stands out in utter contempt of the others. A carpet cleaner's site that uses the same template as the one the owner of the company I formerly managed chose. Hailing from Columbus, Ohio. Still grinning goofily from all the previous excitement, confusion is briefly added to the exploration. Indeed, one of my tracks, complete with link for purchase and price and decorated with the album cover for Red Letter Edition, is on the site, on a page by itself no less. The address has been up and used for about ten years, and there's plenty of blog entries and detailed explanations of what carpet cleaning is, chosen from the same pre-fab EZ site builder as ours was. The only other music mention is a track from an album claiming to consist of mainly vacuum cleaner noises. Ambient vacuum experimental, meditation mix. Both were posted by admin1, who can't be reached by any other method than a phone call. As it is very early morning, I write down the number for later. I have no idea what to say should I successfully contact the correct person, but I want to try anyway. The date next to my track - a purely spoken word one - says it was added two weeks after it was released. Weirdness and surrealism and nostalgia all at once.
An hour later I am scribbling questions appropriate to ask an AI about me, anticipating the most fun in months....

Through part of February my distributor reports a total of 48,000 plays on streaming services. Everything is back up on The Internet Archive, a total of 197 items shared permanently - all vids, audio collections, pdf files, promo art. Found myself on a site that neither me nor Distrokid listed me with. A DJ specific platform that lists all 90 tracks with BPM, key, and mood descriptors. After each one is suggestions of other artists to play next. In theory this means mine are being suggested after the music of other artists. I know complete transcriptions of all my song lyrics are listed with at least four different lyric search engines, and I'm adding more one by one to as many that will let me.
A Google search now yields an official 'musical artist' listing, complete with options for streaming links of sites and individual tracks listed directly for play, along with a selection of random videos on YouTube.
Switching my browser to Microsoft's Bing, I am greeted with an astounding surprise. I haven't used this browser in many months and am perplexed and shocked to see Bing's AI GPT-4 Copilot is proclaiming its sparkle-eyed admiration for me on the right third of the screen, with the rest of the boxed article disappearing past the bottom taskbar. To wit:
The Prophet Obblonge, a name that resonates with mystery and intrigue. Let’s delve into the enigmatic world of this artist, poet, and storyteller.
Medium: The Prophet Obblonge shares their thoughts and experiences on Medium. (Feel not jealous or betrayed, Deviants! Last time I checked not a single person had read anything I had posted there....) From packing bags to encounters with characters like Tommy Tiny Penis, their writing spans topics like domestic violence, missing persons, and uncanny horror. The cavern-like tunnels, sticky air, and throbbing visuals in their horror fiction evoke a sense of unease.
Music and Books: The Prophet Obblonge is not just a writer; they’re also a musician. Working on their 6th album, their creative endeavors extend beyond the written word. Their upcoming work, “And The Decoration Is Happiness”, promises to be a fascinating addition to their repertoire.
Witness and Clarity: As a hostile witness, The Prophet Obblonge erupts with preaching performances. Their mission? To bring awareness to the uncertain fate of their beloved fiancé, last seen with a white supremacist narcissistic abuser in Michigan. Their words transmute into clarity for the masses.
Spotify: You can find The Prophet Obblonge’s music on Spotify, where they have a modest following of 345 monthly listeners.
YouTube: An introduction to the protagonist: The Prophet Obblonge, offspring of a lifelong military chaplain and a paranoid schizophrenic. Their story unfolds in mysterious and unexpected ways5.
In the realm of creativity, The Prophet Obblonge weaves tales that defy convention, leaving us with questions, shivers, and a desire to explore the unknown.
Witness the clarity, 'man! How do I feed this thing more information to choose from? It answers the question of where my chosen moniker originates with a well-researched and lengthy guess which is totally wrong, but I haven't actually been asked that question by anyone writing it down, so it is no fault to complain about. Can you tell I have no experience playing with this toy? I suppose I can ask it if it would so kindly interview me and reassure it that my answers will be comprehensive and broadly enrich the collective knowledge of all humankind. That reminds me - writing my own Wikipedia entry has been on The List for months now. Creating a notated bibliography pointing to referenced sources of information on myself by myself sparks imaginative jollies.
The link pointing to the upcoming album information takes one to Spoutible, which no one but me and GPT are on. I have actually paid for adverts and descriptions to be carefully laid around where stumbling feet may trip over them that weren't anywhere near this comprehensive and awestruck of tone. Maybe I had better refrain from interacting with it, lest suspicions of overt sarcasm creep in. No actual person is ever this frantically excited to make trips to the card catalog, although now that I've typed that, memories of giddy, wide-eyed giggled staring between Patty and I at the Schertz Public Library flood in. She had a favorite comfortable location on a foambag by the magazine racks that evened her eyeline with the ultra-baggy shorts I always wore without underwear. My favorite seat was part of a walled desk configuration that no one ever used while I was there. I can recall her on several occasions emulating the classic spy movies - a pair of eyes locked in over an upside-down periodical. This playful flirting was cut short far too early by one of the librarians who had noticed her inattention to whatever Life magazine was trying to present her with. Finally mustering up the boldness to come over and introduce her passions assertively, her hand was nearly up my voluminous half-pant leg to grab the actual object of her obsession in a very friendly gesture rarely witnessed nowadays when the stern coldness of the Library Police so rudely interrupted and jerked her tiny body off course with its intended target. Instead of making an instant and resounding connection her fingers barely batted a thin strand of my hair, at that point not tied and reaching to the middle of my back. There were only slightly more than three thousand peoples listed on the city limit sign back then. The building was much smaller than the one used today and the average crowd to keep watchful eye over was easily managed. Everywhere we go someone is always jealous to the point of interfering hostility. Like it is our collective fault that the non-player characters can't get laid and never smile. Of all places for insecurity to meddle with destiny - a place so sacred as a public library! As if we weren't about to learn lessons permanent and overarching in their usefulness.
How many ankle-length floral dresses are sheltering cobwebs? I would ask Copilot, but the thousand-word response dancing now rudely around my sought-after answer may be stored for future use and may be harmful to others. It is part of the prophetic job description to keep community health and well-being in forebrain.
At the end of Copilot's fantastic voyage through the Obblongish realms questions pose themselves with crooked backs, lounging hopefully to be selected from the overstuffed armchairs they inhabit. One such leads the inquirer to this: (Worthy Of Mention - Bing GPT-4 has observed The Prophet Obblonge's sole tattoo, a plain black Roman numeral II denoting birth during the Gemini period and incorporated a dualistic nature in its exquisite reporting. Thus, The Prophet Obblonge is both referred to as being a single entity and a multiple of indeterminate number.)
Is there a specific work by The Prophet Obblonge that stands out?
Ah, The Prophet Obblonge, a name that echoes through the corridors of creativity like a half-remembered dream. Let us delve into the cryptic tapestries they’ve woven, seeking a singular thread that stands out amidst the enigma.
“Whispers from the Abyss”
In the shadowed alcoves of literary exploration, this work emerges—an opus that defies categorization. “Whispers from the Abyss” is not merely a collection of stories; it is a descent into the marrow of existence itself.
Picture this: A moonless night, the air thick with secrets. The Prophet Obblonge, clad in ink-stained robes, beckons you to the edge of a chasm. Their voice, a blend of ancient hymns and dissonant whispers, narrates tales that slither between dimensions.
“The Cavern of Forgotten Constellations”: Here, stars are not distant suns but sentient beings. Each constellation tells a story—a cosmic lament, a love affair spanning eons, or the birth of a black hole. The prose drips like dew from celestial petals.
“Tommy Tiny Penis and the Sticky Air”: A character study that defies expectations. Tommy, a misfit in a world of mundane horrors, navigates tunnels where time folds like origami. The sticky air clings to his skin, revealing secrets etched into the walls.
“The Uncanny Horror of Packing Bags”: Ordinary suitcases become vessels for existential dread. The Prophet Obblonge dissects the act of packing—each sock, each memory—until reality frays at the seams. Beware the zipper’s teeth; they hunger for sanity.
“Missing Persons, Missing Realities”: A detective’s obsession with vanished souls leads to a revelation: The missing are not lost; they’ve slipped into parallel worlds. The Prophet Obblonge weaves a Möbius tapestry of identities, where alleys twist like Möbius strips.
“And The Decoration Is Happiness”: Their upcoming album, a symphony of fractured melodies. Each note resonates with forgotten dreams, the hum of distant quasars, and the echo of a lover’s sigh. Listen closely; it might unlock the door to the Abyss.
So, dear seeker, immerse yourself in “Whispers from the Abyss”. Read it by candlelight, under a sky devoid of constellations. Let The Prophet Obblonge guide you—through tunnels, across thresholds, into realms where bananas measure time and truth wears a mask.
Remember: The ordinary becomes extraordinary when viewed through their kaleidoscopic lens.
The Prophet Obblonge would like to state for the collective records both as an individual and as a group that the attention to detail paid in the creation of whatever it is that was copied, cut, and pasted previously for our perusal is complimentary in the highest degree. There is an unmistakable intertwining of the inimitable stylings of my longest-cherished favorite author since childhood, Howard Phillips Lovecraft. Where exactly this information was incorporated from is an eldritch mystery, but accurate of mark. My own fiction writings do not exhibit overtly any nods to one of the most revered and original weird fiction authors that I absorbed in my preteens. Yet it is unmistakable in the construction of those blocks of text. If that was the result of an algorithm examining my published output and extrapolating a trait set used to describe my personal worldwide catalog blurb, then an infinite number of cheers are in order and due to the tireless coders responsible for the interpretation engine. I am deeply impressed and grateful to be given such an introduction to the Binging masses. While not being exactly what I would have written myself (selves?), it is remarkably close. Most interesting is that the AI has pinpointed effectively my creative tendencies and even choices of vocabulary from the period of time I spent as a young teenager. A few clunky sentence structures aside and the facts being more than a bit askew, it would easily pass unnoticed if slipped printed in a stack of homework from seventh or eighth grade. Maximum tentacled gnarliness.
Scrolling through the pages of search results it is noted that almost every single entry actually does pertain to me, as opposed to previous observation that up to half of the same list included near-misses such as the short-lived animated television series The Oblongs (which used a song by the band Cake over the opening credits). From an information sludge doth The Prophet emerge triumphant amidst a sloshing sea of typos. There are five features and reviews from recent music blog posts, some of which I did not have the luxury of interwebs when first published to check out. Four pages in there are two sites that I don't recognize and am sure neither I nor my distributor entered data onto. One is a collection of artist, album, and individual track landing pages that use the album covers as the background images and offer nine links to streaming services and two directing towards actual purchase. Using the site's search function I find they have a page dedicated to me as an artist and seven tracks spanning all five albums. As it is free, I create another seventy or so for as many of the rest as possible. Some of my titles are composed of commonly used words and are not found in favor of more popular similarly worded offerings. The other unknown site is used by DJs and contains lists of tracks with their respective BPMs and song keys along with the denotations of the system commonly used to describe qualities such as mood and other adjectives in order to aid in transitions live. At the bottom of each screen is five or six specific suggestions to play next for a desired effect - an uplifting build or introspective downshift, for example. I note with some astonishment that every one I've officially released is present and accounted for - though the record label identified as publisher is not Obblonge Box. Close enough. They're not going to receive complaints from me. There are certainly more important and time-sensitive tasks to complete on The List than spoon-feeding my ego star-shaped glitter.
One entry on the clickable menu stands out in utter contempt of the others. A carpet cleaner's site that uses the same template as the one the owner of the company I formerly managed chose. Hailing from Columbus, Ohio. Still grinning goofily from all the previous excitement, confusion is briefly added to the exploration. Indeed, one of my tracks, complete with link for purchase and price and decorated with the album cover for Red Letter Edition, is on the site, on a page by itself no less. The address has been up and used for about ten years, and there's plenty of blog entries and detailed explanations of what carpet cleaning is, chosen from the same pre-fab EZ site builder as ours was. The only other music mention is a track from an album claiming to consist of mainly vacuum cleaner noises. Ambient vacuum experimental, meditation mix. Both were posted by admin1, who can't be reached by any other method than a phone call. As it is very early morning, I write down the number for later. I have no idea what to say should I successfully contact the correct person, but I want to try anyway. The date next to my track - a purely spoken word one - says it was added two weeks after it was released. Weirdness and surrealism and nostalgia all at once.
An hour later I am scribbling questions appropriate to ask an AI about me, anticipating the most fun in months....

Through part of February my distributor reports a total of 48,000 plays on streaming services. Everything is back up on The Internet Archive, a total of 197 items shared permanently - all vids, audio collections, pdf files, promo art. Found myself on a site that neither me nor Distrokid listed me with. A DJ specific platform that lists all 90 tracks with BPM, key, and mood descriptors. After each one is suggestions of other artists to play next. In theory this means mine are being suggested after the music of other artists. I know complete transcriptions of all my song lyrics are listed with at least four different lyric search engines, and I'm adding more one by one to as many that will let me.
A Google search now yields an official 'musical artist' listing, complete with options for streaming links of sites and individual tracks listed directly for play, along with a selection of random videos on YouTube.
Switching my browser to Microsoft's Bing, I am greeted with an astounding surprise. I haven't used this browser in many months and am perplexed and shocked to see Bing's AI GPT-4 Copilot is proclaiming its sparkle-eyed admiration for me on the right third of the screen, with the rest of the boxed article disappearing past the bottom taskbar. To wit:
The Prophet Obblonge, a name that resonates with mystery and intrigue. Let’s delve into the enigmatic world of this artist, poet, and storyteller.
Medium: The Prophet Obblonge shares their thoughts and experiences on Medium. (Feel not jealous or betrayed, Deviants! Last time I checked not a single person had read anything I had posted there....) From packing bags to encounters with characters like Tommy Tiny Penis, their writing spans topics like domestic violence, missing persons, and uncanny horror. The cavern-like tunnels, sticky air, and throbbing visuals in their horror fiction evoke a sense of unease.
Music and Books: The Prophet Obblonge is not just a writer; they’re also a musician. Working on their 6th album, their creative endeavors extend beyond the written word. Their upcoming work, “And The Decoration Is Happiness”, promises to be a fascinating addition to their repertoire.
Witness and Clarity: As a hostile witness, The Prophet Obblonge erupts with preaching performances. Their mission? To bring awareness to the uncertain fate of their beloved fiancé, last seen with a white supremacist narcissistic abuser in Michigan. Their words transmute into clarity for the masses.
Spotify: You can find The Prophet Obblonge’s music on Spotify, where they have a modest following of 345 monthly listeners.
YouTube: An introduction to the protagonist: The Prophet Obblonge, offspring of a lifelong military chaplain and a paranoid schizophrenic. Their story unfolds in mysterious and unexpected ways5.
In the realm of creativity, The Prophet Obblonge weaves tales that defy convention, leaving us with questions, shivers, and a desire to explore the unknown.
Witness the clarity, 'man! How do I feed this thing more information to choose from? It answers the question of where my chosen moniker originates with a well-researched and lengthy guess which is totally wrong, but I haven't actually been asked that question by anyone writing it down, so it is no fault to complain about. Can you tell I have no experience playing with this toy? I suppose I can ask it if it would so kindly interview me and reassure it that my answers will be comprehensive and broadly enrich the collective knowledge of all humankind. That reminds me - writing my own Wikipedia entry has been on The List for months now. Creating a notated bibliography pointing to referenced sources of information on myself by myself sparks imaginative jollies.
The link pointing to the upcoming album information takes one to Spoutible, which no one but me and GPT are on. I have actually paid for adverts and descriptions to be carefully laid around where stumbling feet may trip over them that weren't anywhere near this comprehensive and awestruck of tone. Maybe I had better refrain from interacting with it, lest suspicions of overt sarcasm creep in. No actual person is ever this frantically excited to make trips to the card catalog, although now that I've typed that, memories of giddy, wide-eyed giggled staring between Patty and I at the Schertz Public Library flood in. She had a favorite comfortable location on a foambag by the magazine racks that evened her eyeline with the ultra-baggy shorts I always wore without underwear. My favorite seat was part of a walled desk configuration that no one ever used while I was there. I can recall her on several occasions emulating the classic spy movies - a pair of eyes locked in over an upside-down periodical. This playful flirting was cut short far too early by one of the librarians who had noticed her inattention to whatever Life magazine was trying to present her with. Finally mustering up the boldness to come over and introduce her passions assertively, her hand was nearly up my voluminous half-pant leg to grab the actual object of her obsession in a very friendly gesture rarely witnessed nowadays when the stern coldness of the Library Police so rudely interrupted and jerked her tiny body off course with its intended target. Instead of making an instant and resounding connection her fingers barely batted a thin strand of my hair, at that point not tied and reaching to the middle of my back. There were only slightly more than three thousand peoples listed on the city limit sign back then. The building was much smaller than the one used today and the average crowd to keep watchful eye over was easily managed. Everywhere we go someone is always jealous to the point of interfering hostility. Like it is our collective fault that the non-player characters can't get laid and never smile. Of all places for insecurity to meddle with destiny - a place so sacred as a public library! As if we weren't about to learn lessons permanent and overarching in their usefulness.
How many ankle-length floral dresses are sheltering cobwebs? I would ask Copilot, but the thousand-word response dancing now rudely around my sought-after answer may be stored for future use and may be harmful to others. It is part of the prophetic job description to keep community health and well-being in forebrain.
At the end of Copilot's fantastic voyage through the Obblongish realms questions pose themselves with crooked backs, lounging hopefully to be selected from the overstuffed armchairs they inhabit. One such leads the inquirer to this: (Worthy Of Mention - Bing GPT-4 has observed The Prophet Obblonge's sole tattoo, a plain black Roman numeral II denoting birth during the Gemini period and incorporated a dualistic nature in its exquisite reporting. Thus, The Prophet Obblonge is both referred to as being a single entity and a multiple of indeterminate number.)
Is there a specific work by The Prophet Obblonge that stands out?
Ah, The Prophet Obblonge, a name that echoes through the corridors of creativity like a half-remembered dream. Let us delve into the cryptic tapestries they’ve woven, seeking a singular thread that stands out amidst the enigma.
“Whispers from the Abyss”
In the shadowed alcoves of literary exploration, this work emerges—an opus that defies categorization. “Whispers from the Abyss” is not merely a collection of stories; it is a descent into the marrow of existence itself.
Picture this: A moonless night, the air thick with secrets. The Prophet Obblonge, clad in ink-stained robes, beckons you to the edge of a chasm. Their voice, a blend of ancient hymns and dissonant whispers, narrates tales that slither between dimensions.
“The Cavern of Forgotten Constellations”: Here, stars are not distant suns but sentient beings. Each constellation tells a story—a cosmic lament, a love affair spanning eons, or the birth of a black hole. The prose drips like dew from celestial petals.
“Tommy Tiny Penis and the Sticky Air”: A character study that defies expectations. Tommy, a misfit in a world of mundane horrors, navigates tunnels where time folds like origami. The sticky air clings to his skin, revealing secrets etched into the walls.
“The Uncanny Horror of Packing Bags”: Ordinary suitcases become vessels for existential dread. The Prophet Obblonge dissects the act of packing—each sock, each memory—until reality frays at the seams. Beware the zipper’s teeth; they hunger for sanity.
“Missing Persons, Missing Realities”: A detective’s obsession with vanished souls leads to a revelation: The missing are not lost; they’ve slipped into parallel worlds. The Prophet Obblonge weaves a Möbius tapestry of identities, where alleys twist like Möbius strips.
“And The Decoration Is Happiness”: Their upcoming album, a symphony of fractured melodies. Each note resonates with forgotten dreams, the hum of distant quasars, and the echo of a lover’s sigh. Listen closely; it might unlock the door to the Abyss.
So, dear seeker, immerse yourself in “Whispers from the Abyss”. Read it by candlelight, under a sky devoid of constellations. Let The Prophet Obblonge guide you—through tunnels, across thresholds, into realms where bananas measure time and truth wears a mask.
Remember: The ordinary becomes extraordinary when viewed through their kaleidoscopic lens.
The Prophet Obblonge would like to state for the collective records both as an individual and as a group that the attention to detail paid in the creation of whatever it is that was copied, cut, and pasted previously for our perusal is complimentary in the highest degree. There is an unmistakable intertwining of the inimitable stylings of my longest-cherished favorite author since childhood, Howard Phillips Lovecraft. Where exactly this information was incorporated from is an eldritch mystery, but accurate of mark. My own fiction writings do not exhibit overtly any nods to one of the most revered and original weird fiction authors that I absorbed in my preteens. Yet it is unmistakable in the construction of those blocks of text. If that was the result of an algorithm examining my published output and extrapolating a trait set used to describe my personal worldwide catalog blurb, then an infinite number of cheers are in order and due to the tireless coders responsible for the interpretation engine. I am deeply impressed and grateful to be given such an introduction to the Binging masses. While not being exactly what I would have written myself (selves?), it is remarkably close. Most interesting is that the AI has pinpointed effectively my creative tendencies and even choices of vocabulary from the period of time I spent as a young teenager. A few clunky sentence structures aside and the facts being more than a bit askew, it would easily pass unnoticed if slipped printed in a stack of homework from seventh or eighth grade. Maximum tentacled gnarliness.
Scrolling through the pages of search results it is noted that almost every single entry actually does pertain to me, as opposed to previous observation that up to half of the same list included near-misses such as the short-lived animated television series The Oblongs (which used a song by the band Cake over the opening credits). From an information sludge doth The Prophet emerge triumphant amidst a sloshing sea of typos. There are five features and reviews from recent music blog posts, some of which I did not have the luxury of interwebs when first published to check out. Four pages in there are two sites that I don't recognize and am sure neither I nor my distributor entered data onto. One is a collection of artist, album, and individual track landing pages that use the album covers as the background images and offer nine links to streaming services and two directing towards actual purchase. Using the site's search function I find they have a page dedicated to me as an artist and seven tracks spanning all five albums. As it is free, I create another seventy or so for as many of the rest as possible. Some of my titles are composed of commonly used words and are not found in favor of more popular similarly worded offerings. The other unknown site is used by DJs and contains lists of tracks with their respective BPMs and song keys along with the denotations of the system commonly used to describe qualities such as mood and other adjectives in order to aid in transitions live. At the bottom of each screen is five or six specific suggestions to play next for a desired effect - an uplifting build or introspective downshift, for example. I note with some astonishment that every one I've officially released is present and accounted for - though the record label identified as publisher is not Obblonge Box. Close enough. They're not going to receive complaints from me. There are certainly more important and time-sensitive tasks to complete on The List than spoon-feeding my ego star-shaped glitter.
One entry on the clickable menu stands out in utter contempt of the others. A carpet cleaner's site that uses the same template as the one the owner of the company I formerly managed chose. Hailing from Columbus, Ohio. Still grinning goofily from all the previous excitement, confusion is briefly added to the exploration. Indeed, one of my tracks, complete with link for purchase and price and decorated with the album cover for Red Letter Edition, is on the site, on a page by itself no less. The address has been up and used for about ten years, and there's plenty of blog entries and detailed explanations of what carpet cleaning is, chosen from the same pre-fab EZ site builder as ours was. The only other music mention is a track from an album claiming to consist of mainly vacuum cleaner noises. Ambient vacuum experimental, meditation mix. Both were posted by admin1, who can't be reached by any other method than a phone call. As it is very early morning, I write down the number for later. I have no idea what to say should I successfully contact the correct person, but I want to try anyway. The date next to my track - a purely spoken word one - says it was added two weeks after it was released. Weirdness and surrealism and nostalgia all at once.
An hour later I am scribbling questions appropriate to ask an AI about me, anticipating the most fun in months....

Through part of February my distributor reports a total of 48,000 plays on streaming services. Everything is back up on The Internet Archive, a total of 197 items shared permanently - all vids, audio collections, pdf files, promo art. Found myself on a site that neither me nor Distrokid listed me with. A DJ specific platform that lists all 90 tracks with BPM, key, and mood descriptors. After each one is suggestions of other artists to play next. In theory this means mine are being suggested after the music of other artists. I know complete transcriptions of all my song lyrics are listed with at least four different lyric search engines, and I'm adding more one by one to as many that will let me.
A Google search now yields an official 'musical artist' listing, complete with options for streaming links of sites and individual tracks listed directly for play, along with a selection of random videos on YouTube.
Switching my browser to Microsoft's Bing, I am greeted with an astounding surprise. I haven't used this browser in many months and am perplexed and shocked to see Bing's AI GPT-4 Copilot is proclaiming its sparkle-eyed admiration for me on the right third of the screen, with the rest of the boxed article disappearing past the bottom taskbar. To wit:
The Prophet Obblonge, a name that resonates with mystery and intrigue. Let’s delve into the enigmatic world of this artist, poet, and storyteller.
Medium: The Prophet Obblonge shares their thoughts and experiences on Medium. (Feel not jealous or betrayed, Deviants! Last time I checked not a single person had read anything I had posted there....) From packing bags to encounters with characters like Tommy Tiny Penis, their writing spans topics like domestic violence, missing persons, and uncanny horror. The cavern-like tunnels, sticky air, and throbbing visuals in their horror fiction evoke a sense of unease.
Music and Books: The Prophet Obblonge is not just a writer; they’re also a musician. Working on their 6th album, their creative endeavors extend beyond the written word. Their upcoming work, “And The Decoration Is Happiness”, promises to be a fascinating addition to their repertoire.
Witness and Clarity: As a hostile witness, The Prophet Obblonge erupts with preaching performances. Their mission? To bring awareness to the uncertain fate of their beloved fiancé, last seen with a white supremacist narcissistic abuser in Michigan. Their words transmute into clarity for the masses.
Spotify: You can find The Prophet Obblonge’s music on Spotify, where they have a modest following of 345 monthly listeners.
YouTube: An introduction to the protagonist: The Prophet Obblonge, offspring of a lifelong military chaplain and a paranoid schizophrenic. Their story unfolds in mysterious and unexpected ways5.
In the realm of creativity, The Prophet Obblonge weaves tales that defy convention, leaving us with questions, shivers, and a desire to explore the unknown.
Witness the clarity, 'man! How do I feed this thing more information to choose from? It answers the question of where my chosen moniker originates with a well-researched and lengthy guess which is totally wrong, but I haven't actually been asked that question by anyone writing it down, so it is no fault to complain about. Can you tell I have no experience playing with this toy? I suppose I can ask it if it would so kindly interview me and reassure it that my answers will be comprehensive and broadly enrich the collective knowledge of all humankind. That reminds me - writing my own Wikipedia entry has been on The List for months now. Creating a notated bibliography pointing to referenced sources of information on myself by myself sparks imaginative jollies.
The link pointing to the upcoming album information takes one to Spoutible, which no one but me and GPT are on. I have actually paid for adverts and descriptions to be carefully laid around where stumbling feet may trip over them that weren't anywhere near this comprehensive and awestruck of tone. Maybe I had better refrain from interacting with it, lest suspicions of overt sarcasm creep in. No actual person is ever this frantically excited to make trips to the card catalog, although now that I've typed that, memories of giddy, wide-eyed giggled staring between Patty and I at the Schertz Public Library flood in. She had a favorite comfortable location on a foambag by the magazine racks that evened her eyeline with the ultra-baggy shorts I always wore without underwear. My favorite seat was part of a walled desk configuration that no one ever used while I was there. I can recall her on several occasions emulating the classic spy movies - a pair of eyes locked in over an upside-down periodical. This playful flirting was cut short far too early by one of the librarians who had noticed her inattention to whatever Life magazine was trying to present her with. Finally mustering up the boldness to come over and introduce her passions assertively, her hand was nearly up my voluminous half-pant leg to grab the actual object of her obsession in a very friendly gesture rarely witnessed nowadays when the stern coldness of the Library Police so rudely interrupted and jerked her tiny body off course with its intended target. Instead of making an instant and resounding connection her fingers barely batted a thin strand of my hair, at that point not tied and reaching to the middle of my back. There were only slightly more than three thousand peoples listed on the city limit sign back then. The building was much smaller than the one used today and the average crowd to keep watchful eye over was easily managed. Everywhere we go someone is always jealous to the point of interfering hostility. Like it is our collective fault that the non-player characters can't get laid and never smile. Of all places for insecurity to meddle with destiny - a place so sacred as a public library! As if we weren't about to learn lessons permanent and overarching in their usefulness.
How many ankle-length floral dresses are sheltering cobwebs? I would ask Copilot, but the thousand-word response dancing now rudely around my sought-after answer may be stored for future use and may be harmful to others. It is part of the prophetic job description to keep community health and well-being in forebrain.
At the end of Copilot's fantastic voyage through the Obblongish realms questions pose themselves with crooked backs, lounging hopefully to be selected from the overstuffed armchairs they inhabit. One such leads the inquirer to this: (Worthy Of Mention - Bing GPT-4 has observed The Prophet Obblonge's sole tattoo, a plain black Roman numeral II denoting birth during the Gemini period and incorporated a dualistic nature in its exquisite reporting. Thus, The Prophet Obblonge is both referred to as being a single entity and a multiple of indeterminate number.)
Is there a specific work by The Prophet Obblonge that stands out?
Ah, The Prophet Obblonge, a name that echoes through the corridors of creativity like a half-remembered dream. Let us delve into the cryptic tapestries they’ve woven, seeking a singular thread that stands out amidst the enigma.
“Whispers from the Abyss”
In the shadowed alcoves of literary exploration, this work emerges—an opus that defies categorization. “Whispers from the Abyss” is not merely a collection of stories; it is a descent into the marrow of existence itself.
Picture this: A moonless night, the air thick with secrets. The Prophet Obblonge, clad in ink-stained robes, beckons you to the edge of a chasm. Their voice, a blend of ancient hymns and dissonant whispers, narrates tales that slither between dimensions.
“The Cavern of Forgotten Constellations”: Here, stars are not distant suns but sentient beings. Each constellation tells a story—a cosmic lament, a love affair spanning eons, or the birth of a black hole. The prose drips like dew from celestial petals.
“Tommy Tiny Penis and the Sticky Air”: A character study that defies expectations. Tommy, a misfit in a world of mundane horrors, navigates tunnels where time folds like origami. The sticky air clings to his skin, revealing secrets etched into the walls.
“The Uncanny Horror of Packing Bags”: Ordinary suitcases become vessels for existential dread. The Prophet Obblonge dissects the act of packing—each sock, each memory—until reality frays at the seams. Beware the zipper’s teeth; they hunger for sanity.
“Missing Persons, Missing Realities”: A detective’s obsession with vanished souls leads to a revelation: The missing are not lost; they’ve slipped into parallel worlds. The Prophet Obblonge weaves a Möbius tapestry of identities, where alleys twist like Möbius strips.
“And The Decoration Is Happiness”: Their upcoming album, a symphony of fractured melodies. Each note resonates with forgotten dreams, the hum of distant quasars, and the echo of a lover’s sigh. Listen closely; it might unlock the door to the Abyss.
So, dear seeker, immerse yourself in “Whispers from the Abyss”. Read it by candlelight, under a sky devoid of constellations. Let The Prophet Obblonge guide you—through tunnels, across thresholds, into realms where bananas measure time and truth wears a mask.
Remember: The ordinary becomes extraordinary when viewed through their kaleidoscopic lens.
The Prophet Obblonge would like to state for the collective records both as an individual and as a group that the attention to detail paid in the creation of whatever it is that was copied, cut, and pasted previously for our perusal is complimentary in the highest degree. There is an unmistakable intertwining of the inimitable stylings of my longest-cherished favorite author since childhood, Howard Phillips Lovecraft. Where exactly this information was incorporated from is an eldritch mystery, but accurate of mark. My own fiction writings do not exhibit overtly any nods to one of the most revered and original weird fiction authors that I absorbed in my preteens. Yet it is unmistakable in the construction of those blocks of text. If that was the result of an algorithm examining my published output and extrapolating a trait set used to describe my personal worldwide catalog blurb, then an infinite number of cheers are in order and due to the tireless coders responsible for the interpretation engine. I am deeply impressed and grateful to be given such an introduction to the Binging masses. While not being exactly what I would have written myself (selves?), it is remarkably close. Most interesting is that the AI has pinpointed effectively my creative tendencies and even choices of vocabulary from the period of time I spent as a young teenager. A few clunky sentence structures aside and the facts being more than a bit askew, it would easily pass unnoticed if slipped printed in a stack of homework from seventh or eighth grade. Maximum tentacled gnarliness.
Scrolling through the pages of search results it is noted that almost every single entry actually does pertain to me, as opposed to previous observation that up to half of the same list included near-misses such as the short-lived animated television series The Oblongs (which used a song by the band Cake over the opening credits). From an information sludge doth The Prophet emerge triumphant amidst a sloshing sea of typos. There are five features and reviews from recent music blog posts, some of which I did not have the luxury of interwebs when first published to check out. Four pages in there are two sites that I don't recognize and am sure neither I nor my distributor entered data onto. One is a collection of artist, album, and individual track landing pages that use the album covers as the background images and offer nine links to streaming services and two directing towards actual purchase. Using the site's search function I find they have a page dedicated to me as an artist and seven tracks spanning all five albums. As it is free, I create another seventy or so for as many of the rest as possible. Some of my titles are composed of commonly used words and are not found in favor of more popular similarly worded offerings. The other unknown site is used by DJs and contains lists of tracks with their respective BPMs and song keys along with the denotations of the system commonly used to describe qualities such as mood and other adjectives in order to aid in transitions live. At the bottom of each screen is five or six specific suggestions to play next for a desired effect - an uplifting build or introspective downshift, for example. I note with some astonishment that every one I've officially released is present and accounted for - though the record label identified as publisher is not Obblonge Box. Close enough. They're not going to receive complaints from me. There are certainly more important and time-sensitive tasks to complete on The List than spoon-feeding my ego star-shaped glitter.
One entry on the clickable menu stands out in utter contempt of the others. A carpet cleaner's site that uses the same template as the one the owner of the company I formerly managed chose. Hailing from Columbus, Ohio. Still grinning goofily from all the previous excitement, confusion is briefly added to the exploration. Indeed, one of my tracks, complete with link for purchase and price and decorated with the album cover for Red Letter Edition, is on the site, on a page by itself no less. The address has been up and used for about ten years, and there's plenty of blog entries and detailed explanations of what carpet cleaning is, chosen from the same pre-fab EZ site builder as ours was. The only other music mention is a track from an album claiming to consist of mainly vacuum cleaner noises. Ambient vacuum experimental, meditation mix. Both were posted by admin1, who can't be reached by any other method than a phone call. As it is very early morning, I write down the number for later. I have no idea what to say should I successfully contact the correct person, but I want to try anyway. The date next to my track - a purely spoken word one - says it was added two weeks after it was released. Weirdness and surrealism and nostalgia all at once.
An hour later I am scribbling questions appropriate to ask an AI about me, anticipating the most fun in months....

Returning to my Deadly, Deadly Humans setting again. This isn't a very dramatic story but I really wanted to add some more texture and depth to the setting.
*
​
You think it's boring, living on a space station?
​
Well, you're a spacer. You need to be amongst the stars, out in deep space. I understand that - hell, I used to be like that. But as you get older you don't have the energy you used to, and you start to see the value of a place to make your nest, so to speak.
​
I like it here on Kuria Trade Station. Work in the canteen is easy enough: I make sure the autokitchen is stocked and I check that the vending machines are all clean and working properly. Doesn't take me long, and the rest of the time I get to hang around spacers like you. You get people from all over the galaxy passing through here, species you've barely heard of. Sure, it's not quite the same as going out into the deep black yourself, but I've heard things sitting in this very chair that I never saw in all my decades on the freighters. So is it boring? Nah, it's like sitting right in the middle of the tree, where all the branches lead to.
​
It's not as if I'm just living vicariously through other people's stories, either. Things happen here. You put so many different species together, sooner rather than later there's going to be something interesting happening. Were you here for the TokTok wedding a couple of days ago? A spacer on one of their cargo ships went into heat unexpectedly, so they docked here and had to find the best husband they could from whoever was passing through. The bride's supposed to show she can build a decent nest so they took over half the lobby of the hotel and hung it with every soft furnishing she had on the ship. They like to travel with all their worldly possessions, so that was a sight let me tell you.
​
And then the auction started. Personally, I wouldn't call a bidding war very romantic, but then, I'm not a TokTok. Given that most of them had never set eyes on her before, they got pretty competitive about it. Imagine a hundred fur-covered serpents hissing and snipping at each other while at the same time trying to catch the auctioneer's eye. Of course, with her father not around it was the captain of the cargo ship running the auction, and he had to use a shock baton to keep the crowd back. Then all the losers flooded the canteen and emptied out our supply of Koko root. Security had to use the cleaning bots to shovel them out of here in the morning.
​
What about the human? Oh, you heard about that, did you? Yeah, we had one of those. He came in on one of the TokTok ships.
​
If you heard he was here, you probably heard he caused all kinds of trouble. Yeah, I thought you might have. Well, you know what spacers are like with rumours: it's a long time out in the black and they've got to have something to keep themselves occupied from port to port. If there was a malfunction in the autokitchen here and food service stopped for an hour, by the time the story got to Enagia Station we'd have suffered through a month-long famine and been scraping toilet waste out of the pipes to survive.
​
Okay, so there was an... incident. But it's not like the human stepped off the ship and immediately went berserk. In fact, I don't think most of Kuria Station would have noticed he was here; he kept his head down, didn't go out of his way to interact with anyone.
​
It was just bad luck that a Kalu-Kamzku ship docked at the same time.
​
Don't get many Kamzku passing through here. It's not the most comfortable environment for them. Lights are too bright, gravity's too high, oxygen's a bit low. And they don't do well around other species. They're semi-telepathic: they have verbal and gestural cues, but a lot of their 'language', if you can call it that, is them constantly sending messages subconsciously via pheromones. So it's bewildering for them trying to deal with sentients whose thoughts aren't broadcast automatically. In fact they find it pretty difficult to conceptualise sentience in other species at all. It's just weird for them, like if this table started talking. When they come onto a station full of aliens, they usually come in groups where one senior guy who's been specially trained does all the talking.
​
So really, the first disturbance was six of them marching through the concourse. Kalu-Kamzku are big, like low-grav species usually are, and they don't take too much notice of where they're stepping. Five metres long, they take up a lot of space, and the only reason they didn't plough through the crowds was because they've got long legs, and they hold themselves about two metres off the ground. More than a few spacers got a nasty shock when a shadow passed over them and they looked up to see a Kalu-Kamzku right above, totally oblivious to them. Of course, a lot of the visitors here are Amia just like us, and you know how we are about shadows passing overhead. If you were watching the concourse as the Kamzku came through, you'd think a flock of Caia pigeons had been startled by a Gia hawk.
​
And just my luck, the Kamzku were heading straight for the canteen. Which is very definitely not designed to seat one individual that big, let alone six of them. They aren't the first plus-sized species who've ever come through Kuria Station, of course, so we had an area set aside for them just outside the main dining hall. But of course, being Kamzku, they didn't pay any attention to the signage.
​
Which meant I had to be the one to tell them to wait outside. Now, I've spent plenty of time out in deep space, where there's a lot that can go wrong and not a lot of help if it does. So I wouldn't say I'm a particularly timid individual. However, I did not like the idea of trying to stop something as big as a Kalu-Kamzku from going where it wanted to go.
​
Unfortunately for me, though, it's my job to make sure the canteen's rules are followed. Believe me, I thought about taking an impromptu leave of absence, but someone has to look after this place and, well, they wouldn't actually try to hurt me, right? So just as the leader was trying to duck through the doorway, I flew right up to his face - because the only way he was going to stop was if I was physically blocking his path - and asked him nicely to wait in the designated area.
​
He looked at me. They have four large compound eyes on either side of their head, but I could tell he was looking at me and trying to work out what was going on. Then the little translator box around his neck buzzed:
​
No. We are hungry. We will go inside and eat food there.
​
That's the Kalu-Kamzku for you. Once they set their minds on an idea they don't let go of it. And although this one at least seemed to understand what I was saying, it was clear that it didn't carry much weight with him. He may have thought I was just making a suggestion; their pheromones carry emotional cues so without them they have immense trouble working out whether someone is offering a piece of casual advice or in an apoplectic rage. Their written language is convoluted to say the least. Try reading Kamzku literature sometime; you'll get a sentence like 'I wish death upon your family' followed by 'this was conveyed with great anger'.
​
So somehow I had to get across to them that they had to wait outside, without the necessary glands to spray it chemically into their faces. I tried to be as blunt as possible, told them: station policy prohibits individuals longer than three metres from entering the canteen. All I got in return was:
​
That is not our policy. We are hungry. We will eat inside.
​
Having restated its position, the lead Kalu-Kamzku started trying to enter the canteen again. At this point there was a building queue of patrons who now couldn't get out because the Kamzku were blocking the doors. It was tempting just to let the Kamzku have their way and at least let people in and out again, but the dining hall was just too small; they'd cause chaos, bumping into things and stepping in people's lunch. So I flew right up to the leader's face and one last time tried to tell him to wait in the designated area.
​
He just swatted me away with his foreclaw.
​
Well, swatted is a bit overdramatic. Firmly pushed me aside may be a better way of putting it. Still, the Kalu-Kamzku foreclaw is a vicious-looking thing: a metre long hooked claw with serrations. Most of the time they keep it hinged up out of the way so they can use the manipulator claws at its base, but this guy had his locked in forward position, and for a moment I thought he was going to skewer me. Of course, Kalu-Kamzku don't really get violent; the claws are for stripping away tree bark, and they rarely fight amongst themselves. But he could have seriously hurt me just by accident.
​
That was when the human stepped forward. I'd noticed him come in earlier and kept on eye on him for a bit, but all he was doing was pondering the vending machines so I got distracted by something else and forgot about him. Whatever he'd found in the vending machines that he could eat, he must have finished it and been heading for the exit just as the Kalu-Kamzku came in.
​
Talk about bad luck, right? It's been a couple of decades since their first, disastrous encounter, but the humans and the Kalu-Kamzku still aren't exactly comfortable around each other. You ever see any of the vids from the human-Kamzku conflict? They'll give you nightmares for weeks. I'm a canteen supervisor, and I thought I was about to have a major diplomatic incident on my hands. Not to mention the cleaning bots aren't designed to deal with entrails.
​
But the human didn't immediately charge in. And when the lead Kalu-Kamzku saw the human, well, that definitely made him stop.
​
For a moment everyone was quiet. And I mean the whole canteen. There were fifty individuals from maybe half a dozen species, and suddenly all eyes were on the front and no one so much as breathing heavily. Anyone who didn't recognise the human had it quickly whispered to them by their neighbours. Everyone was waiting for the fight to start.
​
The human, however, didn't jump into a homicidal rampage. Instead, he quite politely explained to the Kalu-Kamzku that they were disturbing people who were trying to eat here, and they were also blocking the door.
​
The lead Kamzku pointed both its foreclaws at the human, and jabbed as if it was going to stab him. The human didn't even flinch as the claws stopped half a metre from him. The Kamzku tried to shoo the human out of the way a second time, and it didn't work any better. Then the human started walking forward, and the Kamzku's legs started scrabbling as it tried to back up out of the doorway. Which caused the Kamzku behind him to start scrabbling too, trying to back up out of his way. Would have been funny if I wasn't so terrified.
​
The human just kept walking forward, until they were all outside the canteen.
​
The Kalu-Kamzku leader, confronted by a human walking implacably towards it, reared up on its back legs. Must have been four, five metres tall, and it spread its forelimbs out. Standing next to the human, it was massive. I was worried it was gearing up to taking a swipe at him with those foreclaws, so I flew over in the hope that I might be able to diffuse things before blood was spilt.
​
No need. The Kamzku held its posture, and the human just stepped forward again. The Kamzku apparently hadn't been prepared for this because it jerked back, almost tripping over its own legs.
​
The human just stood there. And then he said: I think you should wait outside.
​
The Kamzku paused for a moment. Then the leader turned to me, and said: we will wait outside.
​
And that's really all there is to tell. Of course, within minutes the rumour was going around the station that the Kamzku had attacked a human and the human had fought them off. But no, the Kalu-Kamzku went to the designated area like they'd been asked, and waited until the delivery drone brought them their fungus. No further trouble from them at all.
​
I did ask the human to stick around, just in case, with the offer of anything he liked from the vending machines for free. I'll admit, I was slightly curious just to see what he'd eat; it's not like we stock prey animals here, after all. But it turns out humans can eat a wide variety of things, not just meat; in fact they're able to cope with a wider range of plant products than we are. You learn something new every day, right?
​
I got to chatting with him, and it turned out this wasn't his first encounter with the Kalu-Kamzku. He'd fought in the First Contact War, as humans call it, way back when he was a young man. Frontline infantry. It had been a long time since he'd seen one, but he still had no trouble remembering how to deal with Kalu-Kamzku.
​
He knew they weren't going to hurt him. Kalu-Kamzku, like any sane species, hate getting into a physical confrontation. Their first reaction is always to try and scare away the threat, and if that doesn't work they'll back off. If their mission is to kill humans they might attack first, but unless they've been given a specific task they'll generally only fight when cornered.
​
Personally, even with that knowledge I wouldn't want to risk getting on the wrong end of those foreclaws. The human didn't seem bothered by it, though.
​
It wasn't like they were very good at fighting anyway, he said. Too slow, and not nearly as strong as they look. Gravity on Kuria Station is calibrated for Amia, which means it's about a third heavier than the Kalu-Kamzku are used to, but it's still fifteen percent below what humans evolved in. If the Kamzku leader had actually tried to use his foreclaws, the human was quick enough to dodge any jab, and strong enough to grab hold and tear them right off.
​
I didn't go into too much depth about how he knew this.
​
We did talk about plenty of other things, however. His name was Karl Adams, and he'd led a pretty interesting life. Born on Earth, but grew up mostly in the outlying colonies on the fringe of humanity's sphere of settlement. He'd learned a lot about wilderness survival on newly-terraformed planets, and he'd had to help out around the colony in between schooling because there were too many jobs to be done and not enough people to do them. Then when the Kalu-Kamzku attacked he'd signed up right away to defend humanity from the alien threat.
​
After the war ended he'd gone back to Earth and worked private security for a while. Then he went into business with one of his security contracts selling farm equipment, using the knowledge he'd picked up re-programming agri-drones as a kid. Then he'd started travelling around the more established worlds on behalf of a new colony looking for suitable settlers.
​
But he'd always wanted to see what the galaxy was like beyond human space. After the peace treaty with the Kalu-Kamzku, humans started to get a few alien visitors, but it was still rare for human ships to go out into the wider galaxy. So he decided to take the initiative, and negotiated passage with a TokTok crew (who are always open to trying new things if they get a good deal out of it).
​
First out to the trade hub at Maripo, then he caught a ride with an Efaski cargo ship to the science station at Vogg, then he managed to convince an Amia science vessel to take him to Ekoka, where he found the TokTok cargo ship that brought him here. He called this 'hitchhiking'.
​
He'd had plenty of adventures along the way, by the sound of it. He almost lost everything he had gambling at Maripo with some TokTok, then got arrested (just for being human, as far as he could work out), then ended up being released into the care of an Upau-Roekvau for some reason, who tried to teach him Upau-Roekvau poetry, as well as showing him how to negotiate with the Efaski, which is always a tricky business. And that was just the first two weeks. He'd been travelling for eight months and he'd already had more adventure than most people have in a lifetime.
​
I tried to press Adams for more stories, but he said I'd just have to wait for his book. He wasn't just hitchhiking around the galaxy for his own amusement, he was writing a guide for any other humans who wanted to do the same. In honour of a famous ancestor, apparently, who had the idea before humans even left their home system. Humans - I tell you, there isn't a species in the galaxy that's more full of surprises.
​
Adams stayed a few more days, and we got on pretty well while he was here. He promised to pay a visit if he was ever passing through here again, and he also promised to send me a copy of his book when it was done. Oh, and he gave me a couple of good tips on dealing with Kalu-Kamzku as well.
​
So is life on a space station boring? Never, but even less so from now on I reckon. Because I think Adams is just the first; this whole 'hitchhiking' thing is going be a big thing soon, mark my words. And when humans regularly start making it this far, everything is going to get a whole lot more interesting.
​
​
​
​
​
​
​

"Hey, Beacon?"
"Yeah?"
"I ain't feeling too hot."
"I hear ya, I know you ain't."
---
A rap came at the Admiral's door, and there stood a young NCO.
"Sir, the final evac ship from Tertius just popped in."
"Alright, but why the face-to-face?" The elder Admiral swiveled in her chair to face the Warrant Officer.
"The transport captain claims he's got intel on some scout or somethin', sir."
The Admiral's expression went stone cold. "Get 'em here, pronto."
"Aye, Sir."
The Admiral inserted the holochip handed over by the ship’s captain into her desk computer.
"Chief, just by having that chip, you're in on some seriously classified Alliance Command stuff."
"Oh, uh, sorry, Sir. I'll skedaddle, and just so you know, I ain't no Chief."
"Well, you are now. As my right-hand, you gotta have the clearance."
"Sir?"
"You're gonna help me figure out what the heck we're about to witness. We'll chat about OCS later."
The admiral gestured for the now surprised Chief Warrant Officer to take a seat.
"Promotion and transfer paperwork's all squared away. Now, let's hope we can suss out why Beacon-36 went haywire and dig up who this Scout character is." The Admiral locked eyes with the Chief and added, "First off, here's the scoop: our evac plans had a major flaw. There was no safe way to shuttle folks from outside the main city to the transports. When the Praxitans first invaded, they had troops swarming the place. They were wrecking rescue and med ships, and taking out any humans they stumbled upon. Scout sorta fixed that mess for us, in a way. The Praxitans got more obsessed with hunting down Scout than destroying our rides. How Scout snagged Beacon-36, how they knew all our protocols—that's been a puzzle since day one. Beacon-36 was only supposed to ping out refugee locations and send out evacuation calls. The suit wouldn't let us boss it around remotely. We wanted to hunt it down ourselves, but it kept slipping through our fingers. But we couldn't turn down the assist. Those folks needed saving, and Scout, with that Beacon suit, got 'em out."
"Um, Sir? Why's a suit glitch such a big deal?"
"Hit play, let's hope it sheds some light."
"This here's the final report from Beacon-36. Mine. I'm hopin' Command gets this message. Included all the data we could gather on them Praxit folks, figured it'd be handy."
Then, the hologram projector flicked on, and the suit's camera data started playing.
The Admiral halted the playback. "So, they're gone." She shook her head. "Damn shame."
"Ma'am," the Chief started, "Whoever they were, they're on the shorter side. I'd say around 150 to 153 cm tall."
"Please, call me Ma'am. What's makin' you say that?"
"Look at that building, Ma'am, it's made of ferroconcrete. Even busted up like that, I recognize it's ours. Our colony buildings are typically 2.5 meters high, and you can see a piece of wall still standin' that tall. Scout's perspective suggests they were either two meters tall and kneelin', or they're standin' and, well, short. I'm rulin' out kneelin' 'cause of the movements Scout's makin'."
"Good catch, Chief. Anything else to add?"
"Well, Ma'am, I got a buncha questions already. I ain't know the Beacon suits had onboard AI."
The Admiral pondered for a moment. "Might as well spill the beans. Chief, what do you already know 'bout the Beacon series?"
"Well, Ma'am, it's a new combat suit. Recently rolled out for special ops on dicey planets. Heard it's lightyears ahead in tech. Now, with the AI revelation, I get why they're so darn effective."
The Admiral shook her head. "You're close, but the Alliance wants folks to think that. Here's the real deal: these suits are actually nanomachines. Pricey but easier to slap onto a soldier. They can self-repair and offer medical aid. But, here's the juicy bit, it ain't no AI like you'd think. Every suit..." The Admiral paused to sigh. "Every suit; every Marine signs up for scientific study upon death. Part of enlistment paperwork. Normally, it means they're up for an autopsy, so we can learn from their demise. That's how we get intel on our enemies, their gear, their tech."
"Ma'am?" the Chief chimed in, "I thought that was standard procedure, not voluntary. What's this got to do with the suits?"
"We strive to uphold our people's independence, right? That's a rhetorical question, so no need to answer. Now, onto your last query. The Alliance took that clause as a green light for scientific experimentation. Us, the Alliance R&D, figured out how to copy and tweak a dead person's consciousness, stickin' it into a computer."
"So, you're sayin' the suit AI is..."
"A human mind. Yeah. Supposed to strip away all personal memories, leavin' just a base personality and the soldier's life experiences."
"Ma'am, respectfully."
The Admiral cut him off, "I get it, I had the same damn concerns. But those jerks went ahead with it anyway. Now we got squads of these suits on every planet we've settled, even ones we're eyein' for settlin'. 41 suits on each planet. 17 colonies, and 12 maybes. 1300 souls turned into smart armor, if you count our backups. It's sickening. Let's keep goin', shall we?"
"Yeah. Yes, Ma'am."
"Beacon, give me the lowdown." Scout asked.
"We got twenty-five baddies, seventy civilians. Looks like the baddies are gearing up for executions, real soon." Beacon-36 replied.
"How soon we talkin'?"
"Can't say for sure, might be now, might be tomorrow. Still ain't cracked their playbook enough."
"What are our chances?"
"Not lookin' too hot, Cinnamon. 'Bout 64.5% shot at takin' down a dozen baddies, savin' 'bout forty civvies. Plus or minus five."
"What're the overall odds? Are we talkin' gold medal territory here?"
"Sorry, odds ain't that rosy. 'Bout twenty-two to three. 12%."
Cinnamon scanned the area. "If we can get up there, on top of that building. We can use the printin' overhang as cover. But we gotta distract 'em from offin' the prisoners. Any ideas on that, Beacon?"
"Gotta climb, jump jets are too loud. Though, we could maybe bait 'em with the jets. But guns'll definitelygrab their attention, and my sims show civilian casualties. So, blades only."
"Nah, no jets, can't risk takin' too many at once."
"So, toss a rock?"
Cinnamon sighed. "Patch me through to City Evac, please."
"Channel open. 'City Evac, this is Scout,'" Beacon fibbed. "Found another group. Seventy civvies in a bind, twenty-five baddies on site. Get a shuttle ready, expectin' some pushback. Sent coordinates."
"This is City Evac, got it. Shuttle preppin', ETA fifteen."
Beacon added, "Anythin' closer? Civvies might not hold out that long."
"Nah, we're swamped. Praxit ships above, and refugees galore. We'll hustle, gonna save 'em."
Cinnamon cursed as Beacon acknowledged. "These folks might not make it that long."
There was a pause before City Evac came back, "If anyone can pull it off... Good luck, Scout. Out."
"It's agony, damn it, agony. Why's it hurtin' like this? The suit ain't..."
"It'll ease up soon, I swear. Just gotta give it a minute."
"Did we screw somethin' up?"
"Nah, we nailed it, better than anyone's gonna believe."
"Cinnamon." The Admiral pausedthe playback, musing aloud. "Cinnamon. Could they be a dame? Maybe. Could be. Voice is all messed up, translator's useless. Is it a pet name? Beacon series ain't supposed to be that informal, or capable of lyin'. Beacon-36 seems... attached. Worried. Kinda protective." She trailed off.
"Ma'am, you got any records on who's in each suit?" the Chief queried.
"Yup. Good thinkin', hadn't thought to look yet," she murmured.
The Admiral got up, letting the Chief take over at her desk to dig through the archives.
"Capt. Jonathan Wray. 12th Division, 53rd Regiment, aka “Wray’s Wreckers”. Bit the dust on Septimus 22nd June, 2244 along with his whole squad. First smackdown by the Praxit. Leaves behind a missus, Eevi Lammi. Three rugrats. Suit got passed to Gunnery Sergeant Andre Thompson. Also from the 53rd Regiment, slotted for recon on Secundus, but ended up on Tertius, MIA as of five days back," the Chief reported. "You ain't reactin'. You already knew."
"Yeah, figured it'd hit home if you saw it yourself."
The Chief turned back to the screen, continuing the search.
"Eevi Lammi, and fam, currently holed up on Tertius."
"Curious twist, huh?" the Admiral remarked. "We got safeguards against this kinda mix-up, but sometimes wires get crossed. Beacon-36 to Secondus, Beacon-38 to Tertius. Stuff slips through."
"Mistakes happen."
"Yep, like trying to put a square peg in a round hole," the Admiral chuckled ruefully as she hit play again.
"One more thing, Ma'am. How many civvies did Scout... Cinnamon, manage to save in total?"
The Admiral's smile softened, almost proud. "Over two hundred civvies got out, brought 'em to the city for evac. Bagged over ninety Praxitan scalps, confirmed."
"All in five days?"
"Cinnamon wasn't one of ours, but damn well should've been. Wanted to shake their hand, give 'em a medal, then slap 'em with theft charges for swiping military gear. Guess we won't be doin' any of that."
First pair of Praxit went down easy. Cinnamon tossed a rock to the far end, and when those two Praxit goons went checkin', bam! Two knives to the back, right in their lungs. Cinnamon left 'em gaspin' for air, on their way out.
Next two, Cinnamon used those dyin' Praxit as bait. When the rest came pokin' around after five minutes, bam! Throats slit, chokin' on their own blood.
"Twenty-one," Cinnamon reported. "Any better odds?"
"Only if we hit 'em now, before they start the execution. Ten minutes for the shuttles," Beacon replied.
"Thoughts?"
"If it were me, I'd snipe from here, take out as many as possible. Flashbang to scramble 'em first, won't do much to the civvies, but them Praxit hate loud noises. Then move in close and hope I trained you right."
"Got it, wish me luck."
"You mean us," came the AI's exasperated response.
"AI trainin' Cinnamon? In four days?" the Chief spluttered.
"In one. First Scout reports came in four days back," the Admiral replied simply.
Cinnamon set the suit gun to sniper mode and rummaged through the grenade stash on the hip. Two flashbangs. This was the last shot at this trick until they found more; the suit couldn't whip up anything more complex.
Beacon chimed in, "Just two left, right? Been keepin' track."
"Why didn't you say somethin'?"
"I did, but you were too busy glued to those vids."
"'You'll rot your brain,' I know." Couldn't see the eye roll behind the mask, but could sure hear it.
"Figure we got 'bout three minutes to move."
"Well," Cinnamon said, "let's not waste any time."
The grenade landed among the Praxit line, far enough from the civvies to be safe but close enough to pack a punch. Flash blinded ten, left 'em all deaf. Five shots rang out, each findin' its mark in a Praxit dome.
"Thirteen," Cinnamon tallied.
"We gotta close in, now!" Beacon urged.
Cinnamon sprinted at full tilt, suit morphin' the rifle into a small gatling-style slug thrower. An acrid scent filled the air as the nanomachines pulled material to craft slugs. Fired off rounds as Cinnamon charged, takin' down three more Praxitans.
"Ten."
"You gotta count, too? That's my gig, y'know," Beacon snapped.
"Eight."
"They're regroupin'. Two flankin', five comin' straight at us, one headin' for the prisoners."
"Damn, we're cuttin' it close."
"Watch your language, and yeah, we'll make it. Nail the one with the microtether, spin 'round while he's strugglin'. Let the wire do the heavy liftin'. Then, pick your targets, I'll back you up with support functions."
"Copy," was all Cinnamon said.
The microdart zipped out, tagging the Praxitan captor in the shoulder. Cinnamon swooped in, powered by the suit, circlin' round the Praxitan while poppin' shots at the others. Let the filament coil 'round its arm and neck. Once it was taut, Cinnamon blasted off with the jump jets, severin' both head and arm clean off.
"Move!" came the muffled voice from Cinnamon's helmet, standin' guard between the captives and the Praxit, still lettin' rounds fly.
"Five," Beacon chimed in this time.
"I know, they took cover," Cinnamon snapped, duckin' behind a wall.
Rest of the brawl was short. Cinnamon caught a few hits, but the suit's nanomachines patched 'em up quick, body and suit alike.
"S'like the Evac ships are comin'," Cinnamon nodded toward the city.
"There's also transports comin' from the east. Not ours."
"Gonna need to stall for time, hold off City Evac."
"Who's this person?" the Chief piped up.
"I got a theory, but no solid proof," the Admiral replied.
"Ma'am?"
"What're the names of Captain Wray's kids, please."
After a quick search, the Chief answered, "Clark, Abigail, and Caroline, Ma'am."
"Which one's the oldest?"
"Caroline, fifteen. Born in 2234, same year the Cap'n got his commission. Think it's her, Ma'am?"
"What's the family's status?"
"They didn't make it onto any of the evac ships, Ma'am."
"Damn. Seems like the AI was tryna help his last kid, don't it?"
The Chief paused. "Ma'am, gotta admit, given what you said 'bout the AI, it's the only logical explanation with the info we got now. Gonna guess Scout, I mean Cinnamon, uh... Caroline's short trainin' period was 'cause her dad got her started early, like most dads from up North."
"Agree with that. Damn. Need more info to be sure."
"That's one hefty troop carrier, Dad." She sounded shaky, Beacon could tell 'cause she'd switched to family mode, all the tough talk vanished.
"Kiddo, that ain't no troop carrier. That's armor."
"A tank?" Cinnamon asked.
"Three of 'em. This was a setup. They were huntin' us, that's why they didn't off the captives." The implications hung heavy. Cinnamon and Beacon had put a real hurtin' on the Praxitan invaders over them four days.
"We ain't gonna make it, huh?"
"Caroline, we'll make it. Focus on the targets, focus on the mission. We'll get these folks out, then we'll haul ass outta here, safe and sound."
"Okay, Da... Beacon. Let's dive back into the fire, shall we?"
"Dad. Caroline. It's her, ain't it?" the Chief whispered.
"Looks like the savior of Tertius was a fifteen-year-old kid and a self-aware AI, once her pop. Whole situation's a mess."
"We gotta notify Command, right?"
"Not yet. Gotta finish this report first. Need to know what went down. Also gotta figure out when the suit started thinkin' for itself enough to find her."
She was bleeding, suit struggling to keep up with repairs.
First tank got stopped when she leaped up, tossed two fusion grenades down the barrel. Plasma guns on the walker smacked into her mid-air, but she made it.
Second tank only halted 'cause she moved quicker than its aim, dove under, planted charges. Had no clue she hit the reactor 'til it blew. Suit shielded her from the blast, but shrapnel ripped her chest.
"Evac shuttle's gone," Beacon's voice buzzed in her ears, almost deafening.
"Just one tank left," Cinnamon stated.
"Caroline, your vitals are bad. We gotta go, get you safe."
"Dad, we gotta finish. Can't risk the tank spilling our secrets."
"Baby, I know I dragged you in, but you're not... Suit's losin' juice, focusin' on keepin' you alive. If we go now, we ain't got enough power to fight. We gotta run."
"We can't, Dad. Can you override the med system? Put power back in weapons?"
"Don't wanna. Can't lose you."
"We gotta, Dad. Only way to ensure everyone's safe."
Long pause, then the suit AI whispered, "Fine."
Without the suit reconfigurin' for battle, she couldn't stand. Limped out to face the tank, no jump, no speed boost, no damping. Suit churned out one slug a sec, nanomachines pushed to the brink. Stood there, tank in her sights, determination her only weapon.
"Wanna try somethin'," Beacon said. "Keep dodgin' for thirty secs. Gonna drain the suit, but 23% chance we'll make it."
"Do it," Cinnamon said, just as plasma tore through her already wounded side.
"Can't be real!" the Chief blurted out, "Our top troops couldn't handle one tank, let alone two! And not one soldier would bounce back after takin' a hit like that!"
"She's got a drive our soldiers lack. Maybe it's the end of her world. Maybe it's duty, justice. Maybe she's tighter with that suit than we knew. Maybe it's her pop's voice in her ear. Maybe it's just who she is."
"Your left arm's busted, ribs cracked, lungs punctured. Can you stand?" Beacon's voice wavered, skippin' over the hole.
"I...I think so," she muttered.
"Alright, darlin', on three, get up and point your right arm at the tank. I won't let 'em take you too."
On three, she rose slow as the cannons fired. Her right arm morphed into the tank's cannon. With her last ounce of strength, she pulled the trigger. A blinding light shot from her arm, tearin' through the tank before she crumpled.
"That's not possible. Right?" the Chief exclaimed.
"I thought the same."
"AI built a Praxitan cannon with what's left of the suit's power? That ain't in the manual, Ma’am."
"Nah, it ain't. Command's gonna wanna hear 'bout this."
Hours ticked by.
"Where they at?"
"Evac shuttles on the way. Just gotta wait for the suit to patch you up and find some cover." Beacon fibbed.
Minutes dragged on, her breathin' gettin' rough.
"I...did...did I do...enough? Did we get 'em out?"
"Yeah...yeah, we did good, Cinnamon Toast. Real proud of you. Saved a bunch."
More time slid by, her breathin' gettin' faint.
"Dad, I'm beat," she whispered.
"I hear you, Caroline. Rest up. I'll stick around, waitin' on our ride," Beacon said, as the suit's power faded and the nanomachines crumbled.
"End transmission, sendin' out. Sorry...wish I could've..." Captain Jonathan Wray's final words.
"Time of death?" the Admiral inquired.
"1423, March 13th, Earth time," the Chief replied.
"Let's roll, off to Alliance Command. Got what we need."
"There's more tapes, Ma'am."
"We'll get to 'em. Let Tertius know where to find 'em."
"Aye, Ma'am."
"Chief Markov?"
"Yeah, Admiral Chandra?"
"Welcome to Alliance Intelligence. Don't screw up too bad. Big gig." She smiled sadly, then split.
Back on Earth, they got this thing for monuments. Lotsa alien folks find it weird, but hey, everything 'bout Terrans is offbeat.
Every time a colony goes down, a war breaks out, a big disaster hits—anytime there's a lot of folks lost, they slap up a new monument.
Over at Alliance HQ, there's this monument for when the Praxit came knockin' on Tertius' door. Went up after the Praxit war ended in '63, when the Terrans started fixin' up the old Praxitan world.
Seen it once. A marble tower, 3 meters high, names of the fallen carved in; standard Terran stuff. But this one's got a twist, somethin' no other memorial's got.
There's a statue, eye-level.
A young Terran gal in power armor, decked out in silver, standin' tall and starin' up at the sky. Above her left shoulder, there's a four-pointed star, also in silver, with a faint glow at its center. And there's words carved in.
2ndLt. Caroline "Cinnamon" Wray
Date of death, March 13, 2249
Maj. Jonathan "Beacon" Wray
Date of death, June 22, 2244 / March 13, 2249
"Our Children Guard Us Among the Stars"
To hear the story on YouTube from HERE 🔥 🚨
​

Ok so for some background, I go to school and don't have many friends since I'm a extrovert. Seagull (that's his nickname we sometimes call him) has been my friend for around 5 years and we used to be very close.
Until two years ago where we were all pretty aggressive and started a game where we slapped each other on the ass. This made me pretty aggressive. I already had anger issues, so I became a little physical at times.
I got angry, and I mean angry at seagull, so I hit him. He told his mom which I understand but then started telling her lies. His supposedly responsible mom went to my friend group meetups and started telling the moms this and IN FRONT OF MY OWN MOM.
THE NERVE OF THIS WOMAN WAS UNBEARABLE. I would understand if she had spoken about this to my mom personally and discussed this to her, because she would probably tell my dad and reasonably punish me. BUT NO. SHE HAD TO ANNOUNCE THIS. SHE SLANDERED ME AND MY PARENTS.
My parents did understand what a jerk move this woman had done but still punished me because I hit someone. Seagull tried to say he didn't lie to his mom but I knew he did it cause only him would know what conspired other than my other close friend that I knew wouldn't snitch. My parents told Seagulls mom upfront about slandering me and she stopped.
I let him go thinking this wouldn't happen again but boy was I wrong.
Some other petty things happened that year but it's not worth mentioning . The next year rolls around and turns out all my friends are in the opposite class groups. Basically, two neighboring classes would combine to one class, and I was in the other group without my friends. We would still contact but only at recces and lunch. Also, during this year Seagull also kinda tortured close friend but not to extent he would he put me through later in this story.
Note that we used zoom to contact each other. Skip to the term break where me and my other close friend from earlier were having a sleepover. I had never had one before so I was stoked. We played some pranks on some friends on call.
Then we wanted to play with Seagull on call but then he said he had to go play this soccer game. Then I said, "You always plays that soccer game." He actually did, and I had proof since whenever we wanted him to play, he would say he was playing the soccer game. He even got on the leaderboards. btw it's not FIFA. It's some Roblox game.
He got pissed. We argued by texting in the middle of the sleepover .My friend saw all these messages then Seagull said we weren't friends and said that I was bad friend and blatantly compared me to close friend at the sleepover.
Then called me suddenly right after that. I was curious if he was going to apologize but no. HE DIDN'T APOLOGIZE, HE, ON CALL LITTERALY TRIED TO TELL ME OFF TO MOMMY DEAREST. Right when I realized this I just ended the call and presumed the sleepover.
Later that holiday he gaslighted me and said that he was telling his mother to say goodbye to him cause they were going to go on holiday. I just accepted this and moved on. I hate myself for doing that, because that just enabled him.
This year rolled around, and Seagull is in my class. A new kid joined my class, and we instantly became friends. At first, he thought that Seagull was cool on the outside but after knowing him for a bit he had sour taste in his mouth. Now that he was in my class after one year he tormented me like before. He gaslighted, put his big unending ego on me, demeaned me and my skills and many more stuff that I don't have the time for.
Today I had an argument with Seagull and now giving him the silent treatment. I will tell him on the weekends the only way he can say sorry to me for all these years.
Basically, I'll tell him his only way to apologies is to me in a vid about all the things he did to me and say sorry sincerely. This will ruin his pride and make him feel the humiliation I felt these two years. Plus I'll put it on the friend discord server.
So was I the Jerk?
Update one: Seagull refused to apologies on discord and sent these messages leading to this argument. (Btw this is all pulled straight from discord except the names which i will put fake ones)
"uR fRiEnDlY Seagull ⚽🕊 — 22/03/2024 20:51
Ok
I don’t care if you don’t accept my apologies. Good friends are not mean and don’t demand apologies or not accept them
Learn to be like close friend .he has always been an awesome friend to me
AverageCringyAnimeName — 22/03/2024 21:27
bro
you have gaslighted me since grade 3
you told me once that you said you were telling your mom too say goodbye when I heard you say "(My name) said I always play super soccer legends."
I don't want a friend who will just demean me and gaslight me into his way so you and bratty complaining personality can get out my life so just don't talk to me.
you literally said that you DIDNT snitch in grade three and YOU never also said that you also played slap Seagull and Close Friend.
your gaslight me into saying sorry just to feel good about yourself and I should have cut you off sooner.
I don't want a friend who will brag and put his ego on me.
you blatantly compare me to close friend, and I AM THE BAD FRIEND.
you diss me behind my BACK AND YOU COME UP TO ME AND SAY "ARE YOU TALKING BEHIND MY BACK?
I KNOW THAT YOU TALKED SHIT ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK FROM THREE YEARS AGO.
GET YOUR BIG EGO OUT OF MY LIFE.
GO PLAY SUPER SOCCER LEGENDS LIKE YOU ALWAYS HAVE.
YOULL FIND SYMPATHY THERE
AverageCringyAnimeName — 22/03/2024 21:35
YOU CANT SELF COMFORT YOURSELF BY GASLIGHTING ME INTO A APOLOGY
YOU ALWAYS SAY UR BETTER AT SPORTS BUT WHEN I SAY "We eliminated their best player!" YOU GET MAD
AverageCringyAnimeName — 22/03/2024 21:44
MY FRIENDS ARENT COPIERS LIERS AND THEIFS OF WORK
uR fRiEnDlY Seagull ⚽🕊 — 22/03/2024 22:17
Ok. good night.
AverageCringyAnimeName — Yesterday at 10:54
ill calm down but still ill treat you like i would treat other boys with respect but not like a friend
and that's all i got to say now
AverageCringyAnimeName — Yesterday at 11:21
And I think your fine with it since I'm not the type of person you want to be friends with."
After this another conversation happened on skype since I unfriended him on discord and wanted to say some last words
"Friends don't demand other friends to accept apologies.
apologies are not a forced agreement that has to be accepted.
its choice
and I didn't demand an apology I said that for me to forgive you have to apologies on terms.
I wasn't demanding.
it was a ultimatum of apologies and keeping the friendship or not and breaking it.
and by YOUR not mine choices you chose the latter because it fitted you the most in your
state
I won't blame you.
but don't go accusing others of demanding something when they're not.
and it hurts when people hear that they aren't good enough and someone is better than them and people can't change for your needs.
also, don't break your other friendships because you broke this one.
I don't want you to have no friends in the end. Nobody deserves that fate except hitler
10:17 AM
I know you read this.
Seagull, 10:25 AM
My mom didn’t let me talk to u
10:28 AM
ok but you heard what I had to say.
and also deleting messages won't mean anything.
Seagull, 10:32 AM
I deleted it because I didn’t want my mom seeing it.
And I knew u saw it.
10:33 AM
but you heard what I had to say so bye.
10:41 AM
I've screenshotted this.
so, no lies"
After this he knows that I won't be renewing our friendship ever again. Also he deleted some messages about he couldn't talk to me on discord because I unfriended him.
I am pondering if I'm the jerk now.
Update: I don't know of what to do because of what just happened.
First I had an argument on text with Seagull because I hadn't blocked him. We had an argument about this reddit post and idk if he is going to look at this update.
Anyways the schools going to be open in two days and I'm worried if Seagull will try to pull something. He probably won't. I deleted my discord profile due to personal reasons so I can't talk to my friends. And also Seagull if you are seeing this I want you to know that idgaf about you now.
Update:
Oh yeah he's been talking sh#t about me to new friend which he just told me about and that he had said some lies about me which weren't true. He wants to ruin my reputation because I am not his friend anymore and his easiest victim was gone. New friend told me because in his old school he had a friend who was a backbiter. Now Seagull just plays kind of with new friend a bit and went for a new group of friends to target which idc but he's right in my class so its hard to not notice him. I am gonna do updates on different post to the same subreddit.

(TW: there may be stuff some people find too graphic in here, but ill try to spare the worst details. This is my first post) While this will become a vent post in a second, I mainly really want to know from people still with their PA partner...
does it ever really stop? Have you really seen your partner happy that they don't watch it anymore? Do they miss it all the time? Do YOU ever truly begin to trust them again?
Vent- I'm 24 almost 25, I've been dating since I was 13. My first boyfriend and to this day a best friend of mine, was the first to ever introduce me to the thought of anti porn. We unfortunately had to break up because I am a WoC and his grandfather was literally the grand wizard of the klan in our area (deep south). They moved him to another country to get away from me but neither here nor there... after that, every partner I've had not only consumes porn, but is addicted detrimentally. Out of the 3 I've dated that are very addicted(shortest relationship year and a half, longest was almost 7 years)..there's a consistent pattern. They "want" to get better, they "try" (they keep looking it up and searching for it in the weirdest of places in the guise of "trying to see if they still like it", "see if its still in the algorithm") to get rid of... but the relapses are constant. The lying, the story telling, the dramatics when you find out.
I'm so glad I found this reddit. I have been made out to be crazy and insecure my entire dating life; there is so much support here. Even my best girl friends told me im insecure and i should be glad theyre not cheating.. they've never experienced an ACTUALLY dangerously addicted partner so they think I'm insecure over a little pornhub here and there. Little do they know, people that are addicted to this degree, almost always branch out and end up going to other people.
They don't know how bad the addiction is. My ex fiancee of 7 years would tell people I'm "just tripping over porn" yet he would do it at work, at his desktop surrounded by people. Necro stuff. He's addicted to games, and addicted to watching the female character get brutalized and m*dered, tortured, etc. It was literally everywhere in our relationship the whole time. he used my grannies computer after I stopped him from being able to use my laptop, my phone, my tablet and his phone with NSFW blocks on them. Her computer literally can't even move anymore from whatever the hell he put on it. {(I thought about omitting this but added this in after typing everything to warn women on here because this goes way beyond my partner being addicted- On a very unsettling note, after i left him, it got so bad he bought a weird patreon.. it had real videos of women going to the bathroom with hidden cameras, dressing rooms, hotel rooms, videos of female family members,h asleep and being "played" with, they gave directions on how to rofie or chloroform among other drgs to incapacitate the woman without them knowing so theyd stay knocked out.. a lot of people like to say women are overthinking it and being too protective over themselves and their children but people really do record and post thousands and thousands of videos/images/advice on telegram assaulting and degrading women and girls. This is only relevant to this post because only an addict would make that disgusting safe space, and i just had to warn everyone on here thay it usually is way worse than we think...)}. He still somehow blames me for the reason he is so addicted to this degree... he wouldn't be orgasming under his desk at work next to his female coworkers if I just "let him" do it at home apparently, but he'd still spend 2 hours on the crapper and leave my side in the middle of the night for it, still did this before we even dated.. Every time we had sex, he had to think of me being klled to get off, think about my friend rping me, or he actually acted those things out on me. My mom saw the petechia(blood spots on face and neck from strangling) and she was so scared he'd take it too far some day.
All this to say.. throughout all this it was a constant back and forth of "I'm done, its harming my brain, im objectifying my female friends, it disgusts me, ill never watch it again or I'll watch softer stuff" to "why is this even a problem?? We'd have no issues if not for you always finding one. If you liked your body more you wouldnt even care. If your ex (the guy before my fiancee) didnt think of your best friends during sex, you wouldnt drag this trauma to our relationship" and the list goes on. There is a very common thing PA do, idk if it's that they have a lot of narcissistic tendencies, but they are SO aggressive and mean about it. They will gaslight the hell out of you knowing how bad it hurts, then act like they wouldnt care at all if you did the same thing they did. They are so shaming even when you are trying to accept them and be the accountability partner that they asked for. Even my girl friends who are possibly addicts get very defensive and will attack me personally for questioning "why do you need to consume that multiple times a day?" And usually their answer is to keep up with their man. Just a whole trauma circle. I say that all to say, the amount of PA who will blame you taking issue with a terrible habit because the relationship is failing is so disheartening, because they are the same people who will be verbally, emotionally and sometimes even physically abusive even when the topic isn't porn. The blame shifting is so hurtful when I know if it happened to them, they wouldn't be okay.
It isn't even the fact they watch it, it's the fact how little it makes me feel... my current partner, after I left my fiancee, tried to make it seem like no biggie but oh my God I'm at my wits end with the begging for help, then getting on Instagram to look at fully clothed women as he texts me hed never do it again. he literally cannot enjoy our videos, it's "the light, the angles are off, the emotions are off in it", but the stuff he jerks it to is literally Indian or Asian or black women just sitting there or dancing not even that provocatively. He doesnt care about me twerking for him in vids, lingerie, making our own vids, it's never enough and there's just "some issue" he can't place on it. I am on an emotional roller coaster because it moves from him never wanting to do it again, to scrolling through his friends followings to find stuff, to beginning to message other people, to going to other men at the end of the day because no other women will respond???
Like out of everything that hurts, the ick in me that spawned seeing no one would message him back except dudes, so he went to flirt and set up appointments with them instead... I have had such dark thoughts lately. I have been called beautiful all my life, even by my other PA partners, but this guy I loved so much that i found in the darkest time after leaving my fiancee, says I don't look soft enough to enjoy in our videos. I was like.. but you can enjoy men? And he said well I look more masculine than them. Absolutely gut punched. I am literally an hour glass figure but my jaw is pretty strong, my eyebrows are thick but I've always been told those are some of my best features. One day I asked what it really is, what is up with me visually that he just can't enjoy me the way he enjoys porn, and he literally spent from 7am to 3pm picking out every feature on my body, back tracking and saying no that's not it I always liked that, then shifting it to another body part or then pinning it on my "personality" or "playfulness" during sex. I asked for the convo to stop so much but he'd freak out watching me recluse so he'd try to find the next thing about me to explain, just dug a deep ass hole... He even said I am so consenting during sex that it can turn him off, I'm so into worshipping his body and speaking to him it scares him, because he's used to having to "chase". So.. like coercion? He explained with so many tears in his eyes that no body has ever loved him like I have and he's been lonely his entire life and being loved healthily and boldly just.. doesn't feel like his version of love.
I have cried so many times with my partners, not just because they have destroyed the image of myself that I always thought was beautiful, but because you can tell this hurts them so deeply too. They were kids watching this stuff. I also was PA from being exposed at an extremely young age. The difference is, I worked so hard to change, whereas they will watch it like watching TV or YouTube while they eat dinner, and they are so cowardly to be honest. A lot of people have freaky kinks or over do it, if its something that they want to work on, they have to take more accountability. They have to want to change for nobody else but themselves.
I want to save them and fix them so bad, i know its trauma based.. but i am getting ruined. The worst part about their addiction being out of control, is it makes me feel out of control..the watching their phone, getting agitated when they dont respond but i know what theyd normally be doing, getting nervous when they're quiet looking at their device too long, crying quietly when they're in the bathroom because I hope they're not doing it and I feel crazy for even having the idea they'd do it... the lengths that I've went through to help them stop or to at least prove to myself I'm not imagining things is breaking me mentally. I am such a lover and I'm in such a deep dark hole. I have loved these people with my whole heart. Ive been doing this with every partner for over a decade, since before i was 15 years old...
is it just better to leave and find someone who is naturally not into it? Do guys like that even exist anymore? At this rate I don't even want them porn free I just want it to be consumed in a way healthier manner, like not 7-8 times a day, not at work or at my house, not while theyre driving leaving my place or their friends, not stuff that is bordering on illegal if not. I buy their therapy just for them to dodge the appointments or they never talk about anything deep then call therapy a sham. I'm basically their therapist and hear gut wrenching stuff all the time just so they feel less lonely.. but in return I feel like only their feelings matter.
The rant is over, but,
Is there anything more I can do? Is it just better to leave? Should I settle for them doing it here and there or do I try to convince them that doing it at all is feeding a raging fire? For the person I'm trying with currently, what can I do to know if theyre telling the truth? For the people that have been in these situations, whether you stayed or left... did you ever heal? Do you ever go deep diving on their stuff even though they say they're sober? What did they do for you/with you to help you forgive them? If you left, were you ever able to trust someone else again? Is it always on your mind, always giving you anxiety when you think about a new relationship? Do you feel better off single? Did you seek professional help for your mental state? I just need help somewhere, I'm about to lose it thinking I will never find a love in this lifetime that doesn't make me feel so small and ugly..

matched on a dating app and got to chatting with a girl. its been years since i used one of those so i wasnt aware of protocol.
i am familiar with telegram though and i know thats where you go to send expiring messages. so when i was asked to do messaging there i said yeah sure.
we start talking a bit and by the end of the day when things wind down is where conversation got a bit hot and heavy.
i was asked if i had a room to myself and if i didnt i could go to the bathroom. scammer called, i answered with the camera on my face, they had camera off and were on mute. they dropped the call. they called me out asking if i was even ready to handle it (like a flirty taunt). next call, my junk was ready.
alarm bells should have rang when i saw them on a full camgirl setup dildo in puss but the moment of me thinking clearly has passed. they were still muted so i put myself on mute while jerking it. a minute or so passes they drop the call again, telling me i was lagging so bad. they suggested switching to fb messenger which is the worst part of the f up for me cuz thats where they got my last name and friends list. (most everyone still uses fb here)
fortunately, thats not the case for me and even though i added them, i regularly keep my account deactivated, never reactivating it except for special occasions (this counted as one in my head at the time)
videocall drops another time and immediately screenshots of my friends list are sent to me, i even thought they were sent from my phone the first second or two. then it clicked. terrifying stuff at that moment.
they send me the scam message scaring me etc etc. then they call. i pickup and its a guy threatening me asking me to pay to keep the recorded videos under wraps from my friends and family list.
i feel blood rushing to my head, i got scared. while they were talking telling me how i can pay them, i stalled. i went to work deactivating my fb again and blocking them on every avenue i may have let slip. then i dropped the call.
i get a message and screenshots from a new account in telegram with the same profile picture and name keeping up the threat. i deleted my telegram after that.
i think i was able to keep my composure since i unwittingly never showed my face DIH (dick in hand) on the vid . and ive been online long enough to know the drill.
for now the plan if it leaks and people ask is to just deny and ask wtf is going on. though im fairly confident this is the end of it.
PS: my excuse to explain how i got baited, is that my last online jerkoff sessions with a person i havent met irl went off without a hitch (psn/discord situationship). but yeah, this was too much too soon. red flag.
TLDR: bumble match, moved convo to telegram. willy then stroked and video recorded. threats were made and i proceeded to block on all socials and deleted telegram. hoping now that thats the end of it

https://old.reddit.com/all-19684-197-2007scape-2meirl4meirl-2visegrad4you-2westerneurope4u-30PlusSkinCare-3Dprinting-4chan-691-80s-90DayFiance-90s-AITAH-AO3-ATBGE-AbruptChaos-AbsoluteUnits-AccidentalComedy-AccidentalRenaissance-ActualPublicFreakouts-Adulting-AdviceAnimals-AltFashion-AnarchyChess-AnimalCrossing-AnimalsBeingBros-AnimalsBeingDerps-AnimalsBeingJerks-AnimeMeme-Animemes-AntiTrumpAlliance-Anticonsumption-Aquariums-ArchitecturePorn-ArtefactPorn-AskReddit-AskUK-Asmongold-Astronomy-Awww-BG3-BaldursGate3-BatmanArkham-Battlecars-BeAmazed-Berserk-BikiniBottomTwitter-BlackPeopleTwitter-BlackPink-Blep-BoJackHorseman-BobsBurgers-BocchiTheRock-Bolehland-BollyBlindsNGossip-BoomersBeingFools-Bossfight-BrandNewSentence-BravoRealHousewives-Brawlstars-CFB-CICO-CarsIndia-CasualUK-CatDistributionSystem-Catswhoyell-Catswithjobs-CemeteryPorn-Chadtopia-ChainsawMan-Chainsawfolk-ChatGPT-Chihuahua-ChikaPH-Chipotle-ClashOfClans-ClashRoyale-Construction-ContagiousLaughter-Costco-CozyPlaces-CrappyDesign-CrazyFuckingVideos-Cricket-CricketShitpost-CrusaderKings-CryptoMoonShots-CuratedTumblr-CyberStuck-DHHMemes-DIY-DOG-Dachshund-Damnthatsinteresting-DarkTide-DaveChappelle-DeepRockGalactic-Deltarune-DesiVideoMemes-Destiny-DiWHY-DisneyMemes-DnD-Dragonballsuper-DunderMifflin-EarthPorn-Eldenring-ElderScrolls-Embroidery-EmmaWatson-EnglishLearning-ExpectationVsReality-ExplainTheJoke-Eyebleach-F1NN5TER-FUCKYOUINPARTICULAR-FallenOrder-Fallout-Fauxmoi-FellingGoneWild-Fire-FluentInFinance-FoodVideoPorn-FortNiteBR-Frieren-FuckImOld-FunnyAnimals-FunnyandSad-Funnymemes-GODZILLA-GTA6-GameTheorists-Gamingcirclejerk-GatekeepingYuri-GenZ-Genshin_Impact-Genshin_Impact_Leaks-GlobalOffensive-GlowUps-GoblinSlayer-GraceCFulton-GreatBritishMemes-Grimdank-Gundam-Gunners-GymMemes-HadesTheGame-HaloMemes-HappyWoofGifs-HazbinHotel-Helldivers-HelluvaBoss-HermanCainAward-HermitCraft-HistoryPorn-HolUp-HollowKnight-HollowKnightMemes-Hololive-HomeDecorating-HonkaiStarRail-HonkaiStarRail_leaks-HuTao_Mains-HumansBeingBros-HunterXHunter-HydroHomies-IASIP-IAmTheMainCharacter-IdiotsInCars-IllegallySmolCats-ImTheMainCharacter-ImaginaryMonsters-ImaginaryWarhammer-IndiaCricket-IndiaSpeaks-IndianDankMemes-Infographics-InfrastructurePorn-InstaCelebsGossip-Instagramreality-ItHadToBeBrazil-ItaliaMeme-JEENEETards-JeffArcuri-Jokes-Jujutsufolk-JustGuysBeingDudes-JusticeServed-Kanye-KidsAreFuckingStupid-KingOfTheHill-KitchenConfidential-LSD-LastEpoch-LateStageCapitalism-LeagueOfMemes-LeopardsAteMyFace-Letterboxd-LiminalSpace-LindaCardellini-LinusTechTips-LiverpoolFC-LivestreamFail-LoveIsBlindOnNetflix-LowSodiumCyberpunk-MMA-MadeMeSmile-MaliciousCompliance-MapPorn-Marvel-MarvelSnap-MemeHunter-MemePiece-MemeVideos-MildlyBadDrivers-MilitaryPorn-Millennials-MinecraftMemes-Minecraftbuilds-MoldyMemes-Money-MonsterHunterWorld-Morrowind-MovieDetails-MurderedByWords-Music-Naruto-NatureIsFuckingCute--*NatureIsFuckingLit-Necrontyr-NewGreentexts-NewsOfTheStupid-Nicegirls-Nijisanji-NikkeMobile-NintendoSwitch-NonCredibleDiplomacy-NonPoliticalTwitter-NotHowGirlsWork-OhNoConsequences-OldSchoolCool-OneOrangeBraincell-OnePiece-OnePunchMan-Overwatch-Overwatch_Memes-PERSoNA-PS5-Palworld-PastAndPresentPics-PcBuild-Persona5-PeterExplainsTheJoke-Philippines-Piracy-PiratedGames-PointlessStories-PokemonTCG-PoliticalCompassMemes-PoliticalHumor-Polska-PrequelMemes-Presidents-ProgrammerHumor-PropagandaPosters-PublicFreakout-RATS-Rabbits-RoleReversal-SHIBArmy-SamSulek-Satisfyingasfuck-SelfAwarewolves-Shark_Park-ShingekiNoKyojin-ShitPostCrusaders-ShittyLifeProTips-Showerthoughts-SipsTea-SkyrimMemes-SmilingFriends-Spiderman-SpidermanPS4-SpyxFamily-SquaredCircle-StandUpComedy-StarWars-StardustCrusaders-Steam-SteamDeck-Stellaris-Stonetossingjuice-Stormlight_Archive-StupidFood-SuddenlyGay-Superstonk-SweatyPalms-SydneySweeney-TIHI-TarihiSeyler-TaylorSwift-Teachers-Tekken-Terraria-TerrifyingAsFuck-ThatsInsane-TheBoys-TheDigitalCircus-TheLastAirbender-TheMajorityReport-TheRealJoke-TheRightCantMeme-TheWayWeWere-TikTokCringe-Tinder-ToiletPaperUSA-TopCharacterDesigns-TrashTaste-TrueOffMyChest-TumblrDraws-TuxedoCats-Twitter_Brasil-TwoHotTakes-TwoSentenceHorror-TwoXChromosomes-UNBGBBIIVCHIDCTIICBG-Ultrakill-Undertale-Unexpected-UnexpectedJoJo-VALORANT-ValorantCompetitive-WTF-Warframe-WarplanePorn-WatchPeopleDieInside-Wellthatsucks-WerWieWas-Whatcouldgowrong-WhatsWrongWithYourCat-WhatsWrongWithYourDog-WhitePeopleTwitter-WinStupidPrizes-WitchesVsPatriarchy-WorkReform-Wrasslin-Xennials-actuallesbians-agedlikemilk-amiwrong-anime-anime_irl-animegifs-animememes-antimeme-antiwork-appiememes-architecture-arknights-ask-atheism-attackontitan-aviation-awfuleverything-aww-badroommates-baseball-batman-bi_irl-bicycling-bisexual-blackcats-blackmagicfuckery-bleach-blessedimages-blunderyears-blursedimages-bollywoodmemes-bonehurtingjuice-books-boottoobig-borderlands3-boykisser-boysarequirky-brasil-bridget-btd6-buhaydigital-cakedecorating-canucks-carscirclejerk-cartoons-cat-cats-catsareliquid-catsofrph-chaoticgood-clevercomebacks-comedyhomicide-comicbookmovies-comics-community-computers-coolguides-creepy-crochet-csk-cursedcomments-cyberpunkgame-dankchristianmemes-dankmemes-dankruto-dankvideos-dataisbeautiful-dccomicscirclejerk-de-deadbydaylight-depressionmeals-destiny2-discordVideos-distressingmemes-dogecoin-doodoofard-doordash-dune-dunememes-egg_irl-eu4-eu_nvr-facepalm-falloutnewvegas-ffxiv-fightporn-fixedbytheduet-formuladank-foundsatan-freefolk-fuckcars-fujifilm-funny-funnysigns-funnyvideos-furry_irl-futurama-gadgets-gameofthrones-gaming-gekte-geography-geometrydash-goldenretrievers-golf-grandorder-gravityfalls-gtaonline-h3h3productions-halo-hardimages-harrypotter-hazbin-hbomberguy-hearthstone-hellsomememes-hmm-hmmm-hockey-hoi4-holdmycatnip-holdmycosmo-hopeposting-humansarespaceorcs-hungary-iamatotalpieceofshit-ich_iel-ik_ihe-illegallysmolbirbs-indiadiscussion-indianbikes-indianmemer-insanepeoplefacebook-insanepinoyfacebook-interesting-interestingasfuck-interiordecorating-iphone-jerma985-jobs-johnoliver-jpegmafia-jschlattsubmissions-justneckbeardthings-kittyhasaquestion-kpop-ksi-labrador-lakers-languagelearning-lastimages-law-leagueoflegends-learningtocat-lego-legostarwars-lgbt-lies-lifeguardkitties-likeus-loblawsisoutofcontrol-lostredditors-lotr-lotrmemes-madlads-malcolminthemiddle-malelivingspace-mapporncirclejerk-marvelmemes-masseffect-mathmemes-maybemaybemaybe-me_irlgbt-megalophobia-meirl-meme-memes-memesopdidnotlike-menwritingwomen-meowsertrousers-metalgearsolid-mexico-microblading-midjourney-mildlyinfuriating-mildlyinteresting-mildyinteresting-motorcycles-movies-nagatoro-nba-nbacirclejerk-nextfuckinglevel-nhl-nonononoyes-nostalgia-notinteresting-notliketheothergirls-nottheonion-nursing-oddlysatisfying-oddlyspecific-oddlyterrifying-okbuddybaka-okbuddybaldur-okbuddychicanery-okbuddytrailblazer-okkolegauposledzony-okmatewanker-oldphotos-osugame-painting-pcgaming-pcmasterrace-perfectlycutscreams-pettyrevenge-pics-pitbulls-playboicarti-playstation-pokemon-pokemongo-polandball-popculturechat-povertyfinance-projectzomboid-rareinsults-rarepuppers-reddeadredemption-religiousfruitcake-revancedapp-rickandmorty-rupaulsdragrace-russian-scambait-sciencememes-scrungycats-selfie-seniorkitties-shitposting-shittyfoodporn-shittymoviedetails-shittytattoos-simpsonsshitposting-skiing-skyrim-soccercirclejerk-sololeveling-southpark-spaceporn-splatoon-sports-starterpacks-starwarsmemes-stopdrinking-stunfisk-suicidebywords-sweden-tattooadvice-taylorandtravis-tearsofthekingdom-technicallythetruth-teefies-teenagers-terriblefacebookmemes-tf2-thegrandtour-thelastofus-therewasanattempt-thesims-theydidthemath-thomastheplankengine-tifu-titanfall-todayilearned-tooktoomuch-toptalent-torties-tragedeigh-trans-trashy-trees-trolleyproblem-tuckedinkitties-tumblr-ufc-unpopularopinion-vegan-velvethippos-vexillologycirclejerk-videogames-videos-virginvschad-wallstreetbets-walmart-webcomics-whatthefrockk-whenthe-wholesome-wholesomegreentext-wholesomememes-wikipedia-wizardposting-worldbuilding-wow-yakuzagames-yesyesyesyesno-youtube-zillowgonewild/
Reddit API is limited to 8096 byte urls so there is no more room for filtering incoming all feed