Take me back to the start. 2001, the last of the good times for a lot of us who were relatively grown up and not tiny kids at that point due to a certain horrific event we would all witness that year. Watching this season was a nostalgia trip for so many reasons; social media wasn't a thing, cell phones were still in their infancy especially compared to now, the internet was a thing obviously but not to the point where there was a massive presence for any of the contestants, the show was in standard definition, Phil?... actually, that dude hasn't aged much, WTF lol. It's almost like this was just a big experiment, considering all the changes made since and in some cases the very next season. The overall aesthetic was peak 90's - early 00's, the editing, cinematography, etc felt very much like The Real World (makes me wonder if there was some crossover in terms of people working on both shows), and as a 90s kid this made me smile. You get the sense there was a general attitude of "To hell with polish, just film it and whatever shakiness there is we'll leave it, even if it's an awkward super zoom into a contestants face). Plus, another ode to the time period is that there was a particular focus on the interpersonal dynamics within the teams and between them as opposed to more strict focus on the race itself which happened later on, which has its good and bad merits. Bottom line is this felt like a gamble that the producers and network took to take advantage of the reality tv boom, I remember how Survivor premiered and EVERYONE was watching it at some point, even I wound up watching the final few episodes of that first season. After that, it just exploded and how ironic that a few decades later, out of all that came from that time specifically that it is these 2 shows that are still going. One very creepy thing which almost happened was the finish line being the top of the World Trade Center, but they couldn't get the needed permits, and the show premiered 6 days before 9/11, so as I alluded to at the very start, it really is like watching a completely different world when you watch this season for many reasons and the nostalgia hit me hard a lot of times in good and bad ways. But what about the season itself?....
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Rob/Brennan - The first winners are photogenic attorney friends. I have to admit, these 2 didn't make much of an impression on me at all. It's not that they were bad racers, or bad people, as they actually seemed rather kind and intelligent (lawyers, so of course), but I felt they were rather bland TBH. After they won the first ever leg in show history thanks to the fastforward (which was available in every leg, something they thankfully changed), they hit a snag in Tunisia and were on the verge of being eliminated and were one of the teams which got infuriated at airportgate (which I will get into later), but then they really hit their stride once they hit Asia, and wound up winning 4 of the last 5 legs. I know it doesn't seem like I have a ton to say about them, but the truth is they weren't particularly charismatic or even featured in a starring way til it got down to the end legs. A great all-around team, but not really one I ever got behind. I found it interesting that post-race, Brennan was with Emily for a time, unlike other seasons I never got those vibes from any interactions between them but they must have been there. I do know they had befriended both Nancy and Emily during the race and were a part of the airportgate situation and were pretty pissed off about it; like they said, you don't treat women like that if you're a guy.
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Frank/Margarita - Maybe the loudest team, at least he was. Seriously, the guy must have been a mute when he was a child, cause his natural tone was LOUD lol. Anyway, they were the top team going by the composite average score and by the fact they were either 1st or 2nd in the final 8 legs. Their story was an interesting one, while at the same time not ridiculously frustrating. A separated couple with a small child who part of the reason for getting on this was to work on their relationship. You immediately saw why there were issues with them; as he is constantly yelling and flexing, ultra-competitive, making alliances which last just a few minutes before his massive pride has him essentially saying to hell with that. And at times, he even shouted and yelled at her, not necessarily out of anger but his way of motivating, and she showed her disdain for that often. But; there was actual growth from him, as he wound up apologizing when he reached maximum dickhead mode, something I am not accustomed to seeing on here. And, they wound up falling for each other all over again, which was shown more than once, which even if you weren't a fan of theirs, was a bit heartwarming. I thought they had it in the final stretch, going to their literal backyard for the finish line, and they felt it too which may have been their undoing. Thanks to the production and camera work, you literally saw as they were jogging to the finish line the emotions on their faces go from joy and relief to downtrodden when they saw the team they were head-to-head with for what felt like most of the race with how the final legs were strung out, already there. I was not surprised to find out they did indeed reconcile, but then split for good and remained friends, which is cool to know.
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Joe/Bill - Team Guido, sigh. I love that they named their team after their dog, but beyond that, ugh. The ego and smarminess oozed off these guys almost from the start. They made multiple alliances but were so full of themselves that they would break them almost instantly, constantly bragging about how they had lived in Paris, they spoke French, they had traveled a lot. They truly thought they were better than everyone else, even saying out loud at one point that they had no competition. This behavior would be obnoxious enough from a team that was winning constantly, but they weren't. They actually only won 1 leg. Namecalling the New Yorkers by referring to them as 'The Fatties' wasn't exactly classy either. But the moment which cemented them as true douchebags was airportgate as I call it. They flip out when they find out that 3 teams managed to get a flight which would get them to the next destination first, ahead of them, when they had just been beaming over getting what they thought was gonna be the earliest flight. And their response was the mature thing to do obviously; going to the entrance as they were getting ready to board and blocking them and causing a massive commotion to try and keep them from getting on the plane. Security gets involved and at some point one of them pushes/physically restrains the smallest and oldest member of those 3 teams in Nancy, almost knocking her down. That was a scummy and cowardly thing to do, bottom line. They tried to retcon it afterwards, talking about how Kevin/Drew started it with their sarcastic yet threatening talk of breaking their legs earlier that day, and yes that was a bit much and I would be inclined to give them some benefit of the doubt there, except they didn't put hands on either of them and just so happened to target the physically weakest member in that crowded confined space. Now, due to it being so confined, we could only see so much and thus didn't experience the whole thing, but at this point it went from these guys are jerks in terms of strategy or whatever to they are massive pieces of shit. And they were treated as such basically the rest of the race, except by Nancy and Emily of all teams (I don't get that, Emily seemed like she wanted to push them off a cliff and then a few legs later they are hugging?). Their egos were their downfall, as they won a fastforward in Thailand and proceeded to almost get eliminated anyway by taking their sweet time to get to the pitstop. After that, they were hours behind the top 2 teams and as far back as an entire day before getting the clue that told them the race was over as they were still out in the wilderness. They were good sports about it, and even when they won the fastforward, tried to help out Nancy/Emily a bit which was shocking, but they left a bad taste in my mouth, and at times it seemed like they were a little too inspired by the first Survivor winner in fellow gay man Richard Hatch, they even talked a lot like him in terms of vocabulary and their approach to the race. I know they did pop up again in another season, and I admit they were certainly memorable, though not for good reasons.
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Kevin/Drew - I know from looking into this season afterwards that they were the fan favorites this season, and while they weren't my favorite I can see why. They weren't deceivers, they didn't hide their true feelings, they were who they were and loud about it. Their preferred form of talking to each other was insults and putdowns, true guy friends there lol. They were all over the place in this race; at the bottom, at the top, in the middle. Their elimination basically came from the dreaded luck of the taxi driver, even if they had survived they were destined for third place with how far apart they were from the top 2 teams. There was a charm in their upfront attitudes, but some things made me shake my head, like saying Paris was nothing special, being a little too upfront about their disdain for India and them jokingly (maybe) telling Team Guido they would break their legs. But also, like Rob/Brennan, they befriended Nancy/Emily and almost saw them as their own mother and sister. I know they said it would be more beneficial to keep them around than one of the stronger teams, but you could tell by basic body language it wasn't just strategy and that they truly liked them. They were infuriated more than anyone after airportgate, and they made sure Team Guido knew it. I know they came back for an all-star season and also know Drew has had a variety of ailments and injuries unfortunately.
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Nancy/Emily - They might have been my favorite team. Nancy reminded me a lot of my Mom in terms of her kindness but was really most similar to a great Aunt of mine, extremely faithful, prudish but not in a judgmental way but more of a hearing so much cursing and such made smoke go out her ears cause she is that innocent lol. I got to admit, Emily was someone who if I had been watching at the time I would have had a major crush on and even now I thought she was really cute and before anyone comes at me, I am actually several years younger than her and she was an adult at the time and is now a 43 year old wife and mom (way to make me feel old after seeing her be like a kid at times on here lol). Maybe the original underdog story, they even had a little faction on the show they called 'The Underdogs'. It was an interesting switch on the usual dynamic, as Emily took the lead role on the team as Nancy was rather meek and got flustered easily, though as the end neared for them they both were showing signs of having nothing left in the tank. I pointed out Emily was quite cute, even when she had that drastic hairdo change a few legs in (my biggest remaining question of this season is did she do that herself or did someone else do it and if so, why? Boredom? Early-00s fashion? I wasn't a girl at that time, I was busy dressing like a nu-metal punk with spiked hair and playing Playstation, female fashion trends didn't come on my radar lol). She pulled it off, but I remain curious. Anyway, the point I was trying to make was about her being the attractive one there, and it played into things in a good and bad way. Good and sweet when in Tunisia a whole horde of guys her age and younger volunteering to help the team out and Nancy being quick to point out it was probably because they thought she was cute (they weren't nearly as enthusiastic to help out any of the other teams). The bad coming in, sigh, India, where Emily gets propositioned on the street by a guy asking how much she charges. Holy shit, India was a major issue from the very beginning on this show in regards to female contestents, as they were repeatedly refused train tickets as well just because they were women and women are below rats there in terms of rights and importance. And this was where the beginning of the ned came for them, as they were both being swarmed by these males with zero boundaries as well as being deeply affected by the massive poverty, seeing dirty impoverished kids and babies coming up to their taxi, begging, staring, they were barely holding back tears. All of the teams dealt with seeing these things, and being hounded by people begging, but it really hit these two the hardest which was only amplified by the sexism and Emily cracked, she was calling them stupid out of frustration and it didn't get better in Thailand, as Team Guido once again prevailed over them, this time in a race for the fastforward and then they walked around for a few hours trying to find the vehicle the next clue directed them to and no one was being of any help and she just plain and simply says "Screw you" to one of the Thai people and they wind up giving up and taking a taxi to the pitstop. You could call them out for all of this, but it was just a buildup of stress and anxiety which finally broke them. Think about it; the airport incident which really upset Emily, as she was saying do what you want to her but not her Mom (whose biggest concern afterwards was the image this put out of American tourists, not even thinking about herself), they kept on coming in at the back of the pack, the India degradation and claustrophobia-inducing chaos there, coming in 2nd to Guido yet again and then not being able to find anyone to assist them. I said to myself a few legs prior that Emily was showing some fight still but they both just seemed completely battered and defeated and Nancy even admitted as much. And the saddest thing is, they would have moved on if they had just persisted with the task in Thailand due to Bill/Joes epic mistake, they would have finished ahead of them. And making it extra heartbreaking was finding out afterwards that Nancy died in 2011 of Lou Gehrigs disease, which is just among the worst ways to go. Thinking back on it, Nancy may have been showing a few early signs of it during this :-( Just a sad story, Emily is apparently doing fine, she was with Brennan for a while after the race (which raised my eyebrow, considering in interviews before the race she talked about her boyfriend at home more than once, I hope she didn't screw around on him during the race). But still, hard to not root for them and if I had been watching at the time, Emily would have been my first crush on the show FWIW lol.
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Lenny/Karyn - This was a frustrating team to watch as it went on. I am just thankful they weren't married or engaged before this, cause they found out they were not meant to be during this. She says she was ultra-competitive, I say she was the definition of a nag, just incessantly chastising him and the longer it went on it spread to drivers and other public people as well. He wasn't innocent himself; routinely mocking her and being a complete dumbass, like in Paris he goes up to look for the monument and just immediately gives up and then just guesses (wrong) and they would have been gone right then and there if Emily hadn't inadvertently helped him find it. Talk about coldhearted though at the end, where she proceeds to end their relationship and lists every reason why. On national TV. I mean, damn that was brutal, you could see him just leaving his body as she went on and explained basically all his flaws and failings, WTF. They did indeed break up right after, though they said it wasn't because of the race, which I kinda agree with since these fissures were gonna explode regardless of what they were doing. He got married and has a few kids and she started a law firm, so I'm sure she isn't hurting for $$$ lol.
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Paul/Amie - They were opposites, which made me wonder how they got engaged. She was competitve and he wanted to quit every five minutes. That was the tale of this team, and I wanted to genuinely smack this guy. Every leg, he is bitching and whining about wanting to go home, wanting to quit. Struggling to get a taxi? Let's quit. Taking too long at a task? Let's quit. Pulled a muscle? Time to quit. Hard time taking a dump? Let's go home, I quit. It was like a cuckoo clock set to go off every hour with this douchebag. He tried to make excuses a few times during it, saying he was only saying things like that cause he hated to see her get upset, BS dude, you just are being a little bitch, trying to break the telescope in Paris and kicking things as you threaten to, what else, quit. If she had an equal partner in this, this team would have gone much further. Instead, she had a big baby who said he didn't want to do this and was only there for her (to what, make her miserable?). Their end came via getting lost in the Sahara Desert, talk about nightmare fuel there, and they were so lost they wound up driving to the back of the pitstop somehow. She's throwing up in the back of the car, it was torturous to view. They did indeed get married several years later, but are no longer together (damn, none of these couples survived, kinda sad to see). Her near-catfight with the teachers was humorous though, even yelling at one point "You're a fat bitch!" (somewhere, Nancy turned beet red lol).
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Dave/Margaretta - Probably the first team in TAR history to inspire the "Awww" feeling. Immediately, you saw it was gonna be a struggle for them physically due to the age differences, in the very first leg they could have gotten the fastforward but they got outpaced by Rob/Brennan and had to struggle their way back up after struggling all the way down. They continued to persevere though, and continued to struggle, like completely passing the clue in Paris and getting penalized at the start of the next leg as a result. Along the way, they did inspire the other couples with their amazing relationship and love, and provided some insight I actually hadn't thought of before, specifically about how these are all good people who are thrust into an intense, super-competitive, high pressure situation which is also exhausting and that will bring out the worst in people. They were truly kind people to the very end, which was frustrating to see it end sooner than it probably should have, as their taxi driver was an asshole for lack of a better term and was refusing to take U.S. money and arguing with them. And seeing a bunch of the teams at their elimination saying their goodbyes and paying their respects to them (which happened several times this season, can't recall seeing that in any other seasons) just drove home the point these were good people. Finding out that several years later, Dave would lose his soulmate to after a multiyear battle with cancer and pulmonary fibrosis was quite sad to hear, he is still going last I checked but you could tell they were 2 peas in a pod so that was extremely sucky news.
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Pat/Brenda - The first team to go from 1st to eliminated in the span of 1 leg, not a great achievement. They never exhibited the mental togughness I think you need to really compete in this though, as they were freaking out at the airport prior to Paris over issues with flights. They had the fastforward, like, no reason to flip your lid. Unless you get there 10 hours after everyone else I think you'll be fine. But then, they made the huge mistake of going to the wrong Pantheon and get eliminated. They seemed like solid enough people, but I never thought they were a threat in this.
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Kim/Leslie - They were teachers and yet repeatedly did stupiud things and said they were stupid... that makes one feel so secure about the countrys future lol. They weren't good, came off as mean girls (to Amie anyway, though I found out afterwards they were quite the class clowns during their time on there), and were lost on both legs. And yet their run ends because of a damn taxi driver arguing with them over change. Nancy/Emily seemed friends with them, and they both attended one of their weddings a while later. I know Leslie is married with 3 kids and Kim has 2 kids, I assume she is married too judging by her last name being different. They just went on to normal lives it seems.
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Matt/Ana - Forever famous for being the very first elimination in TAR history. Hard to say a whole lot about a team that is gone after one leg, I do know they did get divorced at some point later on. They did get pretty testy with the locals in Africa though for not being able to tell them where a location was. They wouldn't have been eliminated, but they got really lost on their way to the pitstop and thus arrived last. If they hadn't gotten so lost, I would have been deprived of the Nancy/Emily team which would have made this a worse season for sure.
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I can see why this became a sensation of its own, though not on the level of the absolutely top tier of reality/game shows, in terms of ratings and buzz that is, like Survivor, Who Wants To Be A Millionaire and (ugh) Big Brother. A pretty good and challenging path, though no trip to South America, and there was certainly a novelty and uniqueness of taking these teams from all kinds of backgrounds and forcing them to travel the world as fast as possible, culture and language issues be damned. A bonus in some eyes would be a lack of stars or 'celebrities' or stunt casting, save for Team Guido who really seemed like they were trying to be what Richard Hatch was to Survivor. You had everyday friends, family and couples racing for the million dollar prize but also being friends for the most part, I think in part because they were enjoying this unique experience and in part because they knew they were a part of something special. Just seeing the way a lot of teams would gather at every pit stop to say their goodbyes and pay their respects to whoever got eliminated was such a departure from the likes of a Survivor, where you had people doing everything but wish death on the other (and I think even that happened once) and that is as much of a reason for TAR thriving and survivng as anything else. So much has changed since then; HD is the standard now, everyone is on about 5 different social media platforms, so many of the casted are already known figures in this era of no anonymity, cameras are always on you somehow, and have it ingrained in them to have a motto of "how many likes can I get and what will generate the most clicks?". Such a different world, and seeing the ages of the contestants from this season now makes me feel old lol (the youngest is now in her 40s and married, I see her on here and she's a college kid who looks like she is still in high school). This was far from a perfect season, a lot of drag in the latter stages due partly to the massive separation that developed between the top 2 teams and bottom 2 teams and later with the top 2 and 3rd place team and partly due to what seemed like an attempt to get to 13 episodes by any means necessary which led to a bit too much filler content which easily could have been trimmed and just felt like they were desperately trying to reach the episode quota. Also had a string of production issues and errors which led to teams placements getting changed, time credits being given, a pit stop being moved due to dangerous weather conditions (which they had no control of obviously, but it counts) and it was not exactly the most challenging in terms of roadblocks and detours, as they really seemed to make it so that the biggest challenge of the race was the actual traveling part, luckily in future seasons they managed to get a better balance so that you had to put max effort into everything and not just the tasks. But for several endearing people and teams, seeing some amazing sights around the world like the Great Wall and that waterfall in south Africa which you didn't get to see unless you read or watched National Geographic up to that point, the final sights of a simpler and better world for a lot of us millennials, the groundbreaking nature of the show, the camaraderie between a lot of teams, knowing with hindsight this was the start of something awesome and a flashback and massive shot of nostalgic warmth to days where I didn't have gray hairs popping up or injure my back from sleeping the wrong way (too many mosh pits lol), I give this inaugural season a 3.75 out of 5. As you can see, that puts it pretty high up there, but it comes up short of reaching my upper echelon. Next time, it will be a later season, since you can't go earlier than S1 lol.
Ratings:
S5 - 4.75/5
S15 -4.5/5
S13 - 4.5/5
S1 - 3.75/5
S27 - 3.5/5
S25 - 3.25/5
S21 - 3.25/5
S23 - 3.25/5
S2 - 3/5
S19 - 2.5/5
S29 - 2.5/5
S16 - 1.75/5
S32 - 0.25/5

Have you ever been tail down the side of a mountain by a band of angry machete-wielding onion people with Jack o’lantern like faces and major territory issues?
Have you ever been followed through the woods by a mysterious hooded figure crunching through the brush and stalking your every move from just beyond the tree line?
Have you ever been stabbed through the center of your palm by a stumpy little demon shrub with needle like spikes hiding beneath the leaves and running down its trunk like exterior? Not to mention the erratic demonic tendencies some of the plants around here seem to sometimes possess.
Well, if you have experienced any and or all of what I had just mentioned, then you probably already have a good idea of the place and some of the things I am about to tell you.
If you haven’t, however, then are you in for one heck of a tail. Because the stories I am going to be sharing with you during my free time moving forward, might just be some of the craziest things you've ever heard. But before that, there are a couple things you should know about me first.
My name is Blake, and I live on a farmhouse.
It's nothing fancy (obviously) just a big old building right in the middle of nowhere surrounded by layers upon layers of thick bushes, trees, and mountains high as the eye can see. The kind of place where cellular towers are practically non-existent, and the nearest civilization is at least a gazillion miles away. That kind of farmhouse.
I also work here. Making around eighty bucks an hour. Which I guess is a little above average for most gardeners, but I did let the owners know I was just about ready to work for free. All I needed was a roof over my head and a place to sleep. But they insisted I take the money or go find some other place to sleep. And so I did.
Other than being a full-time gardener at the farmhouse, I am also a part time forest runner on most days. Although it's not my second job of choice, it's just something I do on the side whenever I want to. Plus it bumps up my salary a bit, and I appreciate the extra money I get from doing it. Despite how crazy and insanely dangerous it almost always gets.
What is a forest runner? Well, on the one hand, I want to say it is one of the easiest things in the world. Since it mostly involves walking into a single patch of forest, making a loud noise, and immediately turning back to run in the opposite direction. But what you run from is what makes it tricky. And whether or not you are fast enough to outpace whatever hears you, also makes the difference. I can't believe I am about to say this, but I also run away from monsters for a living.
Ferocious, blood thirsty creatures ready to tear you limb from limb The second they grab hold of your jacket and pull you towards them. Those kinds of monsters. But I don't just run away from monsters in the forest. I also run away from other things too. Wildlife. Creatures of different shapes and sizes. Spirits. Ghouls. Ghosts. Goblins. And my list favorite of them all: Mermaids.
Okay. Maybe mermaids aren't supposed to be on the list. I just had that one "experience" with a particular mermaid a few weeks ago, which almost scarred me for life. I kinda have most of the memories a bit blurry but let’s just say because of her, I was literally almost seafood. But before then, I've never actually seen one in person. But I've heard stories.
Stories of how they rarely swim up to the surface and whenever they do, you are not to approach any of them, under any circumstance, unless invited. I wasn't. And I approached one anyway. Safe to say, it really didn't bode well for me when I did that. Lesson learned that's for sure. But do you know what? Let that be the first story I tell you.
The first thing I remember from that experience was the image of a blonde girl sat crying by the riverbank. It was a Saturday evening, and I was out raking a bunch of leaves when her incessive sobbing was carried over to the farmhouse by the wind. At first I chose to ignore it. Hoping that, it was just that. Incessive sobbing carried over by the wind and nothing more. But then the sobbing grew louder, and I promise I had a very good reason to go check it out.
At this point, it was just me at the farmhouse and no one else. My boss "Frank" was out hunting with the farmhouse dog, and his wife "Linda" was out supplying a fresh batch of mixed herb to the nearby villages and markets. Which reminds me.
Remember how I said the nearest civilization was at least a gazillion miles away? Technically, that's not entirely accurate. The nearest civilization is not a gazillion miles away as I initially had you believe. Sorry about that. The nearest civilization for real this time, is actually just a couple walks downhill. Past the field of murdering bush lilies, and through the enchanted trees of killer mushrooms. Then, voila. Civilization. But the nearest 21st century civilization however, that's the One that is at least a gazillion miles away. The place where the rest of present-day humanity lives. Yeah. Super far from wherever this place is. Anyway, back to the story.
So there I was. Standing in the middle of a clearing in front of the farmhouse, a small pile of dried grass and leaves sitting in front of me and starting to Russell over from the wind. I placed the bud of my rake on top of the heap, preventing it from spreading any further and causing me to start over, while I lifted my head up to listen intently to the sounds in the wind. Again, it was just as I described. Sobs. Someone crying. Soft sniffles, coughs, and everything. You didn't need an otolaryngologist to help identify what your ears were picking up in that moment, it was just so clear that the person doing the crying might well have been right next to you.
I jumped at the thought of something sneaking up behind me while I was distracted and began searching my immediate environment for any potential anomalies that might have gotten past the wooden fence surrounding the farmhouse. Poltergeists. Trolls. Ogres. And a sumo sized demon gorilla with red eyes and muscles the size of bowling balls. Believe it or not, but these are just a few of the abominations that have somehow managed to cross on to the compound one too many times before, and if it weren't for the intervention of Frank and Linda, the power couple currently running the farmhouse, the aberrations would probably have done a lot more than break a few things while also nearly giving me a heart attack in the process.
But after a few quick nervous glances over my immediate environment, and finding not one thing out of place, I turned my attention over to where the sobs sounded the loudest. It was coming from a fairly large crack in the fence on the west side of the farmhouse. A demarcation that when gazed through, revealed a whole new world consisting of a deep gray sky, rocks, a bunch of trees that were hopefully weren't harboring zombie tree people, and its most alluring feature of it all. A great body of water that is almost as gray as the sky itself. That is where the sobs were coming from. And like any reasonable person in that situation, my initial thoughts were NOT to check out the strange noise emanating from beyond the fence.
I mean, just think about it. I was all alone, on a hill. In a farmhouse located right in the center of a very large, very enchanted mystical forests, capable of hoarding a huge amount of very dark, very demented creatures, which are seemingly on a never-ending hunt for lonely gardeners, and farmers, and small groups of villagers to torment, or possess, or straight up consume whenever they are feeling a bit frisky.
So yes. I most definitely wasn't about to leave the comforting embrace that the squarish wooden structure around the farmhouse provided, to go investigate a strange sound that just so happens to be coming from the same place I was warned on multiple occasions never to visit. And whenever I asked, I was straight up told mother nature herself was sleeping at the bottom of that very river and waking her up was asking for trouble.
I never could tell when Linda is joking, or when Frank is being serious. But when it comes to things concerning the forest and around the farmhouse, I always listen. So if mother nature herself is sleeping in that very river, then mother nature herself is sleeping in that very river. And instead of investigating the strange sobs, I ignored it. But then, it got worse.
There was a sudden ear-piercing screech as whatever was crying by the river, let out a scream that almost blew out my eardrums. The intense whale only lasted for about a moment, but every second was an excruciating eternity, causing me to let go of the rake I was holding and cover my ears in reflex. It was so loud it must have reverberated round a good chunk of the forest, sending a few hundred birds scattering into the air, and a dozen more rodents dashing for cover. When the screeching finally stopped, it was as if the world fell silent, and nothing moved.
It took a few seconds for me to be comfortable enough to uncover my ears, setting my hands by my side in the process. I blinked a couple times before scanning my environment once more, searching for anything out of the ordinary. For some reason, I was certain a display of such fierce vocal capacity, especially one of such intensity, was bound to disturb the mother of forest, rousing her up from her slumber. But instead of waiting around to find out, I gathered up my equipment, abandoned the rest of my work for that evening, and began marching towards the farmhouse where it was safe. Ish.
Besides. I run away from monsters for a living. I don't face them. If anything, I want to say that was consistent with my character. Also, when that monster is essentially a superpower of the forest resting in your backyard, it kind of puts a lot of stuff into consideration. Plus, I was all alone so. Yeah. Definitely wasn't waiting around to find out.
Approaching the farmhouse in a haste, I made a beeline for the equipment's shed positioned on the east side of the compound, almost directly opposite where the strange sobs were initially coming from. Now, the sobs were quiet. But that doesn't mean something was not still back there.
Reaching for my keys in my lower right pocket, I pulled them out in a flurry of clinks and jingles, while instinctively feeling for the specific key I needed with the tips of my fingers. As the farmhouse is situated in a very remote area of the forest, we don't often get that many unwanted visitors from the nearby villages and settlements who want to take things from us without asking. But it is still advised we lock up anything of value because, well, where do you think some of the creatures around here get their weapons of callus destruction from?
Nearing the doors of the shed, I finally picked out the key I needed from the bunch, then used that to flick open the rusty metal lock and entered the belly of the Makeshift storage unit. Inside were rows after rows of very sharp, very blunt instruments of numerous shapes and sizes, with each one Easley being the perfect leading murderous tool for any band of pissed off bulbus shaped vegetable people to ransack, steal, and utilize to illegally carve out any portion of the forest and claim it as their own.
They were knives. Blades. Scissors. Hoes. Clippers. Shovels. Diggers. Daggers. Slicers. Splicers. And of course. A big ass sword standing in a stone on the opposite side of the far wall. The rest of the stuff were just scattered haphazardly, with some of them still hanging on the metal rings connected to the woodwork lining up the ceiling, while others were resting on the tables, and some lying on the floor.
I dumped all of my equipment, then stepped out closing the doors behind me and remembering to lock it. I continued my march toward the farmhouse, but just as I rushed up the flight of small stairs and placed my hand on the doorknob, I heard it again.
The crying from before.
This time however, it was different.
This time, it sounded more human.
I don't know what came over me. It was as if a million little metal fists shot out of nowhere and punched me right in the gut. The creature's pain became my pain, and its worries became my worries. I did not like the feeling.
The crying took me back to a point in my life I really did not like to think about. It made me sick to my stomach and made my eyes want to water. Every cough. Every sniffle. Every audible inhale I now heard emanating from just beyond the fence, made me felt gross to my core. I wanted it to stop.
But instead of running upstairs and throwing on a pair of earplugs, I decided to do the opposite.
I went to go investigate the strange sobs coming from beyond the fence.
And before you role your eyes at me, I promise. I had a very good reason for doing so. I just can't tell you about it at the moment. Brings up too many unwanted memories. Just know I needed to confirm that whomever or whatever was crying by the river, wasn't going through a similar thing I ones did. And if he or she wasn't peaceful, or friendly, then I will simply not approach them.
That's it.
So after releasing the doorknob and taking in a few deep breaths, I backed away from the front door and took off down the flight of stairs, turning in the direction of the west side of the farmhouse. To where the sobs were coming from.
Although now it wasn't full on sobbing, it was more of a blend between sniffling and coughing. Which was starting to decrease in frequency and intensity as I got closer.
I was halfway across the yard, mere feet away from gazing through the crack in the fence when I suddenly remembered the vicious scream from earlier, which then prompted me to do a quick u turn to go grab a pair of earmuffs from the top of my desk within the farmhouse. Sometimes, strange noises emanate deep within the forest at night, and the earmuffs primarily helps to preserve my sanity whenever that happens. It also helps to block out sounds like annoying chattering crows, shadow whisperers, and sleepwalking inducing river sirens. Amongst other things. But the main reason why I went back for it that evening, was to help protect my ears from the screeching.
I used the opportunity after snagging the pair of blue earmuffs, to gaze out my window overlooking the river on the west side of the farmhouse. I didn't quite catch a glimpse of whatever was crying by the water, on the count of my window not being in exact focus to the sobs, so I threw on the muffs, went downstairs, and headed out the front door.
I once again turned in the direction of the sobs which, I could no longer here as much. But blocking out the crying like I said, wasn't really what I was going for. I wanted to make sure whoever was crying was okay. And just as I was approaching the fence, ready to peer through the crack in the wooden structure surrounding the farmhouse, someone got in my way.
There was a sudden pressure against my back as something had landed so gracefully behind me, that it completely escaped my sense of hearing, bringing me to a literal standstill. I didn't even need to turn around to find out who it was. The scent of fresh blood in the air. The waves of dark aura pushing against my back. The ability to move as fast and as silent, so as to completely evade the senses. There was only one forest aberration I knew could do that.
"And just what do you think you are doing?"
I heard the voice of Sebastian ask from inside the back of my head, sending ripples of dread down the length of my spine. I turned around slowly and came face to face with the thing that would forever be the number one reason why I find owls to be one of the scariest species of birds on the planet.
Sebastian was a part man, part owl hybrid thing, with a ghostly white face, deep black eyes, and a feathered, makeshift winged cloak that was just as deep, dark, and menacing as his eyes. He has no beak. But lips. And it doesn't really matter because when he speaks, they don't move. At all. No matter the circumstance.
"Have you suddenly lost your tongue boy? I asked you a question. What do you think you are doing?" he added, his cold voice bouncing around in my head and his gaze frozen solid.
I tried saying something, but I was so captivated by fear I forgot how to speak. My entire body was shaking like a leaf, and I was pretty sure I was about to piss my pants.
Among all the aberrations in the forest and Frank just so happen to pick the creepiest looking one of them all to serve as my babysitter. Thanks Frank. I really appreciate it.
"Don't make me repeat myself boy," Sebastian said, his tone dropping to sinister levels.
"SPEAK!" he ordered, and the ferocity of his pitch almost caused the inside of my skull to split in two.
I swallowed the fear stuck in my throat and finally spoke.
"There's... It's... Someone needs our help," I said. My words somehow managing to form a cohesive sentence. "I just wanted to..."
Sebastian jerked his head to the side to glance over my shoulder. More specifically, he glanced over my shoulder to stare through the crack in the wooded fence behind me.
We both heard the sniffling noises simultaneously.
After a second or two, Sebastian then snapped his head in my direction, returning his soulless gays back on me.
"Were you invited?" he asked, a hint of calm resignation in his tone.
"What?" I replied, genuinely confuse at his question.
"Were you invited?" he asked again, with his voice starting to shift into enraged annoyance.
In fear of not wanting to piss him off any more than I already did, I simply shook my head in response, hoping that was enough non sassy, non-disrespectful way of indicating I was still at a loss of what he was asking.
Letting out a sigh, he said, "Take a look." And I began to slowly step backwards while keeping my eyes trained on him. It was not until my back connected with a flat wooden surface behind me that I finally broke eye contact in order to turn around, crouch, and gaze out the crack in the fence standing on the west side of the farmhouse. And the view was just as I described.
There was the deep gray sky with all its glory. The smooth dark rocks. The towering trees looming overhead. And the large body of water that had her swampiness resting underneath. Everything was as I described with one exception. Now sitting on one of the rocks by the left side of the river, with her back turned and both of her legs stuffed into the water, was a girl. Or more specifically, a young woman.
Her hair was a mixture of white and yellow, with rows of beads running half circles along the back of her braid, decorating her already very colorful, very voluminous hair all the way down to her lower back. Her shoulders each held three sets of clothing strips, which appeared to act as the primary (hold me up support) for the rest of her slim green looking attire, and the tone of her skin was a pale shade with a hint of Olive undertone. She looked hunched over in her sitting position, with her hands, each one decorated with rows of transparent blue bangles, lifted up to her face, cupping her eyes and nose as she continued to sniffle and sob quietly into the morning breeze. I didn't even have to sight her tail to know what kind of creature she already was.
Some of the creatures in the forest, especially the mermaids, take great pride in the kinds of accessories they wear, and in the way they look. If you were to ask me why, I would say it probably has something to do with ethnic origins or simple personal aesthetic choices. Suddenly, the question Sebastian kept repeating to me made a lot of sense. If you don't ask a mermaid for permission before approaching, things for you can become really painful. And for a brief moment, I wondered if the screeching noise from earlier had anything to do with the kinds of things they are capable of.
So, in light of the sudden Discovery that I was in fact dealing with a potentially hostile mermaid, my drive for wanting to help her process whatever grief she was going through suddenly plummeted. Especially now that I knew she was capable of letting out a screech that could easily rip apart my skull if she wanted to. And because of that, I ceased staring through the gap in the fence to lean back and look up at the frozen stature of Sebastian looming just behind me. He kept silent as always, and continued to observe me with a steady gaze, waiting for me to speak of my findings. I gave myself a second to process the image I had just witnessed before speaking.
"It's a mermaid," I said, perplexed at my Discovery.
"Yes," Sebastian replied, his lips shut, and his voice reverberating around the inside of my skull.
"I can't believe it. I've never seen a mermaid before," I said.
"You should count yourself lucky then rabbit," Sebastian said, unmoving. "Those who sight a mermaid for the first time from such close distance don't usually walk away to tell about the tail," he added. "They always end up doing something stupid."
"Stupid?" I asked, flashing a nervous smile.
Sebastian picked up on my former intentions and shot me a disappointed angry stare.
"Stupid like trying to get nearer for an even closer gander," he said, his pitch-black eyes narrowing and warning. "What were you thinking?" he asked, and luckily for me I did not have to answer the question.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash as if a tree had toppled over in the distance. Sebastian spun his head around, twisting his neck so the back of his head was now facing me. I squirmed at the site of his forward backwards appearance, never having gotten acquainted with most of his characteristics and capabilities in the short time I've known him working at the farmhouse. After a second or two, Sebastian then twisted his neck back into place, returning his dark gaze back on me.
"What is it?" I asked, standing up from my crouched position by the fence and allowing the thought of the mermaid disappear from my mind for a moment.
"You should get inside. Now," Sebastian replied, taking a step back before opening his massive dark wings and spreading them to the sides.
He arced his knees a little bit, and with a single downward flap of his wings, he was airborne. Off the ground by a total of eight feet, before coming to a halt midflight to stare down at me.
"Get inside and lock the doors. Now!" he barked, eyes narrowed, and his wings flapping up and down by his sides keeping his suspended state.
"But you still haven't..."
I never got the opportunity to complete my sentence.
Just then, an almost invisible ball of spiraling blue energy, shot out from somewhere behind me and collided with the body of Sebastian, sending him flying across the front yard and expelling him from the premises entirely.
I immediately took out my earmuffs and was hit with an eerie silence. My heart was pounding. My brain was starting to enter a hyperactive panic mode. And my breathing became ragged and intense. What the hell just happened?
I didn't have to wait for my answer.
I spun around to the sound of rapid approaching footsteps, and almost had a heart attack from what I saw.
Running towards the farmhouse from the other side of the fence. Bare feet. With the lower half of her dress dripping with river water, and the top part of her attire and voluminous hair flowing in the evening breeze, was the mermaid. In full spectacle.
Her eyes were the color of midnight. Her gait, although a little hindered by her dress, seemed just like the way a normal girl would run. The rows of transparent blue bangles on her forearm and wrist, were now a bright luminescent glowing color. And they were streaks of dried-up black makeup tears running down the sides of her cheeks, prove she was indeed the one crying moments earlier.
She resembled something straight out of a marionette's horror movie running towards me and I was a deer caught in headlights. I couldn't believe it.
I started to back off slowly and she snapped her head in my direction, causing my heart to almost leap out of my chest.
"Hey! No! Wait! I'm not going to hurt you!" she yelled, rushing towards the fence, and lifting up her hands defensively. "I just want to help," she added, finally coming to a halt, and staring at me through the gap in the fence.
"Something terrible is coming this way and it's all my fault," she said. "Please. We need to leave"
She continued to stare at me through the crack in the fence, a look of genuine concerned plastered across her face. Her dark blue eyes held a tinge of guilt behind them, and her cheeks and lips were flushed with honest worry. She reached out an arm through the fence, as if physically showing she wasn't a threat. That's when I looked down and found that the rows of bangles on her hand, the same ones that were glowing a bright luminescent color only seconds before, were now dimming back into their original shade, almost as if they were in a state of powering down.
"Please," she whispered, and I lifted my head up to meet her gays once more.
For a second, I didn't move. I was frozen in fear and contemplating weather to Make a run for the farmhouse and lock myself in, or run away with this stranger offering to take me to a new location. The safety of the farmhouse had already been compromised thanks to her, and it was about to become a hotspot for major forest aberration activity.
I took a moment to consider my options. I really did. But the renewed sound of trees toppling over from somewhere behind me, accompanied with the ground shaking rumble of a dozen legs digging into the ground and barreling towards the farmhouse in a rush, suddenly made my decision that much obvious.
"Please. We need to go. Now!" she said, with her arm still stretched. And without a second thought, I carefully placed my hand on hers, and the instant my palm came in contact with the inside of her hand, the rows of transparent blue bangles on her arm lit up, and she immediately let go of my hand and grabbed my forearm instead.
I looked up at her face in horror, but before I could utter a word of protest, the insides of her eyes grew brighter, and she lifted her arm up, flinging me over the fence sooner than my mind was able to comprehend what was happening.
I was airborne. For like 2 and a half seconds. But it felt like a lifetime. And while I was busy somersaulting over the fence, the world around me seemed to slow down, giving me plenty of time to catch an upside-down glimpse of the humongous forest creature now climbing its way into the compound from the other side of the fence.
If none of what I've said so far has remotely sounded crazy in the slightest, this is the part where shit should really start to hit the fan. Because climbing into the compound from the other side of the fence, in a downwards arc of its massive body, was the biggest forest crab I have ever seen.
The thing was huge. Like, really huge. It possessed a dirty brown colored appearance, with some parts of its shell-like armored plating covered in green splotches. Its legs were long and pincer like, and its two main frontal claws were massive, reinforced gauntlets ending in scissor like appendages. It had tiny, jagged needles coating almost every inch of its crustacean, with the most vicious looking ones located on its arms, its legs, and the sides of its shell. And other than the overall monstrous sea creature vibes the think presented, there was another disturbing aspect to the thing.
On its back. The topmost part of its shell. Sitting on what resembled a saddle and wielding a slag of rope that somehow connected to the giant crab's antenna, was a rider. Donning some kind of yellow, red ceremonial armor.
The mermaid had planned to catch me as she already had a hand stretched upwards, ready to somehow break my fall the second I cleared the compound and was falling on the outside part of the fence. But she might have thrown me further than she can catch me because our fingers barely even brushed the top of one another before a look of horror flashed across her face, and I mentally braced myself for the inevitable rough landing.
What followed was almost instantaneous.
The world around me sped up and I watched as a ground littered with sharp rocks and stones rushed towards my face. And the last thing I remember as I fell onto the ground was smashing the side of my head against something hard before going blank.
This next part might have Played out as if in a dream sequence, but it was just the symptoms of my brain going into shock.
I was sprawled on the floor. Unmoving. But I could still perceive most of my surroundings. The side of my face in the ground was warm, and I could make out the sound of something growling and bashing against a wall, and the voice of someone crying out over the noise in the distance.
"Hey! Are you okay? I'm sorry I did not catch you. Please. get up. Hey! Can you hear me? Please. Get up. Please!"
"Easy stone breaker. Easy." A second voice spoke out over the noise, and the bashing stopped. So did the growling.
"Look princess. What you've done."
The second voice belonged to a man. And if I were to guess, I would say it belonged to the same person I saw riding the giant crab.
"Please. Get up," the girl said.
“Disappointing,” the man said. ”You see princess, this is what happens whenever you do this. Death. Destruction. And innocent people suffer for it.”
There was a pause.
“I mean, I try my best to minimize the second one, but you can't seem to stop yourself from causing the first one," the man continued. “If you would just come with me back home princess. Watermeena misses you. Your parents miss you. And I’m sure you must be tired of all this constant running?”
I couldn't quite see what was happening mainly because I had fallen facing a patch of bushes, but the rock my head was now resting on beside a nearby tree, provided enough elevation for my peripheral vision to catch some of the action.
First was that the mermaid was still standing outside the wooden fence surrounding the farmhouse. However she was now in some kind of forward leaning stance, with her arms pushed out in front, holding steady a giant transparent blue dome that had seemingly appeared from nowhere and enveloped the compound. Trapping the giant crab and its rider inside.
Second was that she seemed to be getting tired. She had her head lowered, staring at the ground. Her arms were shaking. Her legs were quivering. And the bangles on her arms were starting to blink on and off, indicating that they were probably stressed and overheating, or were simply losing power. Either way, she looked like she was about to pass out and I felt like I needed to do something.
I slowly lifted my head up and was immediately rewarded with a sharp ache shooting through my skull. I lowered my head and winced in pain, before waiting a few seconds and trying again.
This time, I was able to lift my head up and also shuffle my first step forward. And my second. And my third. Other than what I was certain was a broken knee, twisted ankle, and a bruised rib, which were all yelling at my brain for my body to stop moving, I had no other injuries. At least, so I thought.
“Huh,” the voice of the man said. “It seems as though your pedestrian casualty survived after all.”
Still laying on the ground, I lifted my head up and turned in the direction of the farmhouse. The mermaid had also lifted her head up to stare back at me.
There were fresh tears running down the sides of her cheeks. But she now had a smile plastered across her face. A smile of relief. With a little worry sprinkled in.
“Well, isn't that just wonderful,” the man said. ”Now princess,” he continued, “the ball is in your court. You either bring him along and we all go in search of a healer to help dress his injuries, in which case we leave him there and continue onward to Watermeena. Or you leave the poor fellow here to bleed out, and instead do what you've always done. Run. With whatever charge still left in those rings of yours. Just know I cannot guarantee his safety if you do choose to run. Stonebreaker gets a bit agitated when he hasn't had his dinner. And guess who hasn't eaten all day because of you.”
The mermaid looked up at the rider on the crab, then look down back at me. The smile had disappeared from her face and was now replaced with the familiar flush of worry. I turned my attention away and continued to press forward on my elbows and remaining good knee. And after a little while, I was able to make it to the trunk of a tree and lifted myself up to rest my back on it.
Wait. Did he just threatened to feed me to the crab? And did he just say I was bleeding out?
I looked down and was mortified when I saw a trail of blood smeared along the ground from where I sat, all the way to a collection of rocks sticking out of the ground which must have been my point of impact. I lifted my hand and felt a deep gash on the side of my forehead, and a sticky warm liquid was now between my fingers and running along the side of my face. I was suddenly like headed, and unable to focus on anything around me but the voices speaking in the distance.
“Hey! No! Open your eyes! Stay with me!”
Wait. When did I close my eyes?
“He is going into shock. It's now or never princess. Make your choice.”
“No. Please. Wake up,“ I heard the voice of the girl ask, reminding me of that particular memory I really did not like. I opened my eyes to a blurred mess of the things around me, then turned my attention over to where the blurred figure of the mermaid still stood holding together the blurred dome wall.
“Time is running out princess. A few more minutes and he is going to lose consciousness. You should make your choice now.”
“Promise me you won't hurt him,” the girl said, her voice restrained. “And promise me your beast wouldn't lay a single claw on him either.”
“As the commander of the royal army, you have my word princess.”
There was another pause. And just as I began lowering my head and shutting my eyes closed, I made one last attempt in hopes of saving my ass and also preserving the mermaid's independence since it really seemed like she didn't want to go with him.
“Screech,” I said, mustering some of the remaining ounce of energy I could to say that one word.
“What? The mermaid replied,” sniffling.
“That thing you did earlier. Do it again,” I said. “Scream.”
“But that was an accident,” she replied, “and it can hurt you.”
“Just do it,” I said. “Please.”
"Don't bother princess," the man said. "Your disorientating song might have led us to you, but it is not going to drive us away.”
“Good,” I replied, lifting my head up to stare in their direction and blinking a few times to clear my vision. "There is someone I would like you guys to meet."
I turned so I was now facing the mermaid.
“Do it,” I said. “Now.” And with a reluctant nod of her head, she let out three consecutive wails that were not as vicious as the first one, but still packed enough punch to force My hands to cover my ears in response. Even stonebreaker seemed to stumble on his legs a little, before shaking his head to the sides and brushing off the noise. When she was finally done, she lifted her head to stare up at me, with the look in her eyes begging the question. What now?
Her answer came in form of The River beside us starting to bubble over, with a large dark humanoid shape slowly rising up from the deep.
She was awake.
Suddenly, the bangles on the mermaid's hands sparked a bright flash, forcing her to flinch in pain before releasing her grip on the blue dome and dropping to her knees. The bangles began dimming back into their original shade and the blue dome surrounding the compound evaporated.
The man did not cease the opportunity to steal the mermaid in that moment. Instead he was transfixed on the entity now emerging from the water.
The figure in the river continued to rise, until it was out of the water to its waste and was facing the direction of the farmhouse.
It was big. Very big. Its body was made entirely of dark brown roots and tree bark, and its eyes were hollow circuits of glowing lights. There was a greenish bluish swamp like slime covering its entire body, and the hair on its head was long, dark, drenched, and coated with seaweed. Its overall visage was akin to the top half of a woman, and when she spoke, it was with a thousand voices that came before her.
“I am Kiai Ohana. Mother of nature. Guardian, and protector of all living things in the forest. Crab fender.” The thing lifted her hand to point at the man sitting on the giant crab, which was now 10 times smaller in comparison. “You are currently violating the sanctity of this land with your presence and putting the life of yet another of my own at risk. As you and your men have done on multiple counts before,” she said, lowering her arm. “No longer should I allow such acts from you go unpunished. Leave now and consider this to be your final warning.”
Without saying another word, the crab fender pulled at the rains of his beast, steering his massive crustacean away from the mermaid and exiting the compound by crawling over the same fence he crawled in.
“You too little one,” the spirit said. Turning her attention over to the mermaid. “I must continue to recuperate. You must be on your way. Now.”
The mermaid got to her feet and rushed over to where I had my back against a tree.
“But can you please help him,” she said. “He is like this because of me.”
She tore a piece of her dress and pressed it against my forehead.
I want to say it hurt like hell, but I was already slipping back into unconsciousness, and everything was becoming numb. The girl kneeling in front of me was but a blur again at this point.
“I know,” the spirit replied. “I will see to it that he is treated. But you must go. Now. Like the crab fender, you have also caused a lot of trouble and are now trespassing on private land. And I cannot have that.”
“Okay,” the mermaid replied. “And I'm sorry for all I've caused. I really am. But thank you for accepting to help him. She said. Thank you."
“It's my duty little one,” the spirit said. “Don't thank me. Besides. I know this one. He is a sapling in training. Hopefully he is able to blossom before the start of the dark days, or a simple head injury would be the list of his problems. Now go little one. And don't come back.”
“Okay,” the mermaid replied.
Before leaving, the mermaid ended up wiping the blood from my face with the piece of fabric, then tor another piece from her dress and wrapped it around my head like a Makeshift Band-Aid. After that, she took my hand in hers and leaned in closer.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
And with that, she got to her feet and began bolting down towards the river, and just as she jumped into the water, I blinked a few times to clear my vision, and caught sight of her transformation as she dove into the water. Headfirst, tail last. Then, she was gone.
But the spirit was still there.
“Don't worry little sapling,” the spirit said, as my vision began to tunnel. “Help is on its way,” she added. “Save your strength and get well soon. The dark days are almost upon us. And I am going to need every man and woman of the runners, prepared to trade their lives for the forest. Including you.”
I could only mutter a silent "what?" Before I completely blacked out. And when I woke up a few hours later, the first thing to cross my mind was an echo of what the spirit had said.
"The dark days are almost upon us. And I am going to need every man and woman of the runners, prepared to trade their lives for the forest. Including you."
What the hell are the dark days?

What the title says. Ordered my first Timemore, had a hell of a time assembling it. The burr was separately packed in the box and the instruction sheet had nothing about how to get it inside the main body. It was so hard getting everything in place because the spring kept pushing the dials outward. My thumb is literally bruised right now. Still, I managed to get it assembled and did one test run at 14 clicks. But now when I try to adjust the grind settings there's no resistance and no clicks either clockwise or anticlockwise. I have to press down on the adjustment dial using a good deal of force to get it to click when I turn. What's going on? Why is this so difficult? I've read nothing but great reviews for the Timemore C2 and I'm confused by the sheer effort this has taken. Would appreciate any advice.

I've been trying to figure this out and can't seem to find any answers. By default Windows 11 turns off the Fn Lock every time the computer turns on or wakes up. Is this a default setting for the OS that can be adjusted, or is this a setting that can be permanently changed through a registry edit?
I have a Samsung GalaxyBook 3 Pro and I'm trying to get an answer for several friends on this, and possibly change it on my work computer. It's a huge pain having to constantly press Fn+F12 every time these laptops are opened just to adjust basic settings like volume or brightness, and no one seems to know the answer as far as I can tell.

Sophie shifted in her seat, her heart pounding as she waited for the verdict to be delivered. She glanced over at her sister Emily, who sat beside her, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
The courtroom was packed with people, all waiting to hear the fate of the man who had killed Sophie's beloved husband. Sophie could feel their eyes on her, judging her, and she felt a surge of anger rise within her.
Finally, the judge spoke.
"The court finds the defendant guilty of murder in the second degree," he said, his voice echoing through the room. "I hereby sentence him to 10 years in prison."
Sophie gasped, feeling as though the air had been knocked out of her. "Only 10 years?" she whispered, her voice shaking with anger.
Emily placed a comforting hand on Sophie's shoulder. "I know, it's not enough," she said, her voice low. "But at least he'll be off the streets for a little while."
Sophie nodded, but she couldn't shake the feeling of injustice that filled her. "He took my husband from me," she said, her voice rising. "He deserves to rot in jail for the rest of his life!"
The man who had killed her husband sat in the defendant's chair, his eyes cast downward. Sophie glared at him, hatred burning in her chest.
"You'll never know the pain you've caused," she spat, her voice cold.
The man looked up at her, his eyes empty of emotions.
Sophie's voice was rising again. "You took away the love of my life, and for what? A stupid argument?"
The man hung his head, unable to meet Sophie's gaze.
Sophie shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "You'll pay for what you've done. One way or another."
Sophia and Emily walked out of the courtroom, both feeling exhausted and emotionally drained. The weight of the verdict was heavy on Sophie's heart, and she couldn't shake off the feeling that justice hadn't been served.
At Sophie’s house, Emily wrapped her arm around Sophie's shoulder, trying to offer some comfort.
"It's okay, Sophie. We'll find a way to make it right," Emily said softly.
Sophie let out a deep sigh and leaned her head on Emily's shoulder. "I don't know, Em. Ten years is not enough for taking someone's life."
Sophie was lost in her thoughts for a moment, replaying the memories of her husband and how much she missed him.
Then Emily left and Sophia went straight to the couch and collapsed on it, feeling emotionally exhausted. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but her mind kept replaying the events of the day.
As Sophia lay in bed, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was not right. She felt uneasy and restless, her thoughts still lingering on the verdict and the killer of her beloved husband.
Suddenly, she noticed a faint glow from the corner of her eyes. It was coming from the large mirror on the wall.
Sophia got up and made her way towards the mirror, her curiosity piqued. As she drew closer to it, she saw that the glow was getting stronger and stronger. The mirror was emitting its own light.
To her surprise, the mirror now looked like a TV screen. It showed the same living room at night, and she could see her husband walking in with his briefcase. Sophie was dumbfounded. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
Suddenly, she saw the image of her husband freeze, and then the mirror went dark. Sophie was so startled that she stumbled back and ran out of the living room. She ran to the garden, trying to catch her breath and make sense of what had just happened.
As she stood there, taking deep breaths, Sophie couldn't help but wonder if the mirror was showing her the last moments of her husband's life. The thought made her shiver, and she couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of her mind.
The next day, Sophie told Emily that she saw her dead husband in the mirror Emily did not believe her. Emily tried to examine the mirror but there was nothing wrong with it. Then Emily left and Sophie started cleaning the house, including the newspaper clippings about the murder of her husband.
Sophie was in the living room when Emily arrived. "Sophie, how are you feeling today?" Emily asked.
Sophie replied, "I am feeling a little better, but I saw something strange yesterday."
"What did you see?" Emily asked curiously.
Sophie explained, "I saw my husband in the mirror last night. It was like a TV, showing the living room at night, and he walked in with his briefcase."
Emily looked at Sophie skeptically, "That's impossible, Sophie. Maybe you were just dreaming."
Sophie was starting to feel frustrated, "No, Emily, I saw it. You have to believe me."
Emily tried to reassure Sophie, "Okay, okay, let's take a look at the mirror and see if there's anything wrong with it."
Sophie led Emily to the mirror, and they examined it carefully, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it.
Emily turned to Sophie, "See, there's nothing wrong with the mirror. Maybe it was just your imagination."
Sophie was starting to feel alone and misunderstood, "I know what I saw, Emily. You don't believe me."
Emily tried to console Sophie, "I believe that you saw something, Sophie, but we just don't know what it is yet. Let's keep an open mind and see if anything else happens."
Sophie nodded, "Okay, that sounds fair."
After Emily left, Sophie decided to clean the house, including the newspaper clippings about the murder of her husband. She couldn't bear to see them anymore, as they reminded her of her loss. She put them all in a box and tucked them away in the closet, hoping to move on with her life.
As Sophie was tidying up, she happened to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. To her surprise, the mirror seemed to be displaying a series of moving images. The images showed her husband Rick returning home and shortly after, the doorbell rang.
Sophie could see the anger in Dave's eyes as he confronted Rick.
"You have no idea how much money I lost because of you!" Dave spat, his face twisted in fury.
Rick, his own voice growing louder, shot back, "I know exactly what I did! You're not thinking clearly, Dave."
Dave stepped closer to Rick, his fists clenched at his sides. "Don't you dare tell me what I'm thinking! You don't know anything about me!"
Rick stood his ground, his own fists balled up in preparation for a fight. "I know enough to know that you're acting like a madman right now."
Suddenly, without warning, Dave lunged at Rick, his fist connecting with Rick's jaw. The force of the blow sent Rick staggering backwards, and he stumbled into a nearby table, knocking over a vase in the process.
Sophie watched in horror as the two men continued to fight, their movements growing more and more frenzied by the second. The sounds of grunts and shouts echoed through the house, and Sophie could feel her own heart racing as she realized that things were quickly spiraling out of control.
"Stop it! Stop it, please!" Sophie cried out, but her words went unheard as the fight between Rick and Dave raged on.
She was frozen in place, unable to move or intervene in the fight. The sounds of their shouts and grunts echoed throughout the house, adding to the chaos of the scene. The scene in the mirror continued to play out, showing Rick collapsing to the ground as Dave walked out of the house, looking triumphant.
“He didn’t kill him! He didn’t kill him! It wasn’t him”, she said and the thought that an innocent man was going to be sentenced for years was terrifying.
Sophie's heart raced as she made her way to the DEA's office. She knew that what she was about to tell him would be hard to believe, but she had to try. When she arrived, she explained to the agent that she had seen in the mirror a different version of events than what had been presented in court.
"You see," she began nervously, "my husband wasn't murdered by the man who was sentenced. I saw in the mirror that it was someone else entirely."
The DEA agent raised an eyebrow skeptically. "What are you talking about? That's impossible."
Sophie took a deep breath and explained everything that she had witnessed in the mirror, from the argument to the violent altercation and the aftermath. She pleaded with the agent to reopen the case and investigate further.
But the agent remained skeptical. "I understand that you believe what you saw, but the sentence cannot be changed based on what you think you saw in a mirror."
Sophie felt her heart sink as she realized that her efforts might be in vain. She had hoped that by coming forward, she could right the wrongs that had been done and bring justice to her husband. But now it seemed like that might not be possible.
Deflated, Sophie left the DEA's office and began to consider other options. She knew that she couldn't give up on finding the truth, even if it meant going against the system.
Sophie's mind was still reeling from her encounter with the DEA agent as she returned home. She needed to distract herself from the disappointment of not being able to get justice for her husband, so she decided to focus on something else. Cleaning was always a good way to keep busy, she thought.
However, she couldn't help but wonder if there was more to the story that she didn't know about so she went back to the mirror.
As she stared into the glass, she was surprised to see a new image materialize. It was the dark living room at night, and she could barely make out any details. But as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see her husband Rick rummaging around under the couch.
Her heart racing, Sophie watched as Rick retrieved a mobile phone from under the couch. She recognized it immediately as the same phone she had found earlier. Rick checked something on the phone, and then put it back under the couch.
That was the moment when she spotted a dark figure standing at the door. Sophie's heart was pounding in her chest as she watched the scene unfold in the mirror. Sophie strained to hear what they were saying, but the sound was muffled and she couldn't make out the words. The tension in the room was palpable, and Sophie felt like she was holding her breath as she watched the two figures interact.
Suddenly, the woman stepped forward, and Sophie could see that she was holding something in her hand. As she got closer, the object came into focus, and Sophie felt her blood run cold. It was a knife.
Sophie watched in horror as her sister approached her husband, who seemed to have no idea what was about to happen. The woman raised the knife, and with a swift motion, plunged it into Rick's chest. Sophie felt sick to her stomach as she watched the gruesome scene play out in front of her.
Now she could make out more of the dark figure. She could immediately recognize her blonde hair: it was her sister.
She couldn't believe that her own sister was capable of such a horrific act. Tears streamed down her face as she realized that the truth had finally been revealed - her sister was responsible for her husband's murder.
But why?
Then she remembered the phone. She bent down to see if it was still there and it was. It was a sleek black model that she had never seen before.
Curious, she picked up the phone and pressed the power button. To her surprise, the phone came to life. She entered a random PIN number and it worked, to her astonishment
“How is that possible?”, she told herself and registered it as a lucky guess.
She scrolled through the contacts and messages, hoping to find some clue as to who it belonged to.
And then she saw it - a message from her sister, Emily. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should invade her husband's privacy. But her curiosity got the best of her, and she checked the message.
The phone revealed a slew of messages and photos that left Sophie feeling sick to her stomach. It seemed that her husband had been cheating with her own sister. Some photos were taken in their own bedroom during intimate moments.
Sophie felt tears stinging her eyes as she realized the depth of her husband's and sister’s betrayal. She had thought that she knew them so well, but it seemed that he had been living a lie all along.
Was it possible that Rick wanted to break up the affair? Was Emily too afraid of Rick telling the truth?
Sophie heard a knock on the door, which made her jump with fright. She hesitated for a moment before approaching the door, her heart racing with anxiety. When she opened it, she found Emily standing there, holding a bag of food from a fast food restaurant.
"Hey, I brought some food," Emily announced, her voice sounding cheerful and friendly.
Sophie's nervousness was evident, her hands shaking as she took the food from Emily. She tried to act normal, but her mind was racing with fear. Her sister looked at Sophie, trying to read her expression, but she couldn't tell if Sophie's sister was hiding something.
"Are you all right?" Emily asked, trying to sound calm.
Sophie nodded, but she knew that she was not entirely convincing.
As they sat down on the couch, Sophie's eyes filled with tears and she started to sob uncontrollably. Emily's concerned gaze bore down on her. She knew what she had to ask, but the words caught in her throat like a fishhook.
“Emily...the mirror showed me something I wish wasn’t true. Did you and Rick have an affair?" she finally managed to choke out.
Emily's face fell, and Sophie could see the guilt etched into her features. But the admission she was about to make could change their friendship forever.
"Sophie, I...I did have an affair with Rick," Emily confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sophie felt her heart drop into her stomach. She had suspected it for weeks, but hearing the truth was like a blow to the chest.
Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to process the betrayal. "How could you do this to me, Emily? How could you do this to us?"
Emily's face twisted in anger as she shot back, "Maybe if you weren't so possessive and controlling, Rick wouldn't have strayed. You don't show him enough love and attention. It was me who truly loved him."
Sophie recoiled as if she had been slapped. She had always thought of herself as a good wife, but Emily's accusations cut her to the core.
"You're just trying to justify what you did," Sophie said, her voice rising. "You knew how much Rick meant to me, and you still went behind my back and slept with him. How could you be so selfish?"
"I'm not the selfish one here," Emily shot back and got up from the couch, her own voice rising to match Sophie's. "You've always been so possessive of him like he's some kind of possession rather than a person. Maybe if you had shown him more love and attention, he wouldn't have looked elsewhere."
Sophie's anger grew as Emily continued to twist the knife. "You have no right to blame this on me. Rick's infidelity is his own fault and yours. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but you did it anyway. When he realized what sort of person you are, he wanted to leave you and you killed him, I saw it!” she said and got up too.
Emily’s face was contorted with rage now. "I can't listen to this anymore and I am fed up with your stupid mirror," she spat. Without warning, she grabbed a nearby vase and hurled it at the mirror on the wall. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces, scattering across the floor.
Sophie gasped in shock as the full weight of the situation hit her. She then snapped out of her trance and rushed over to the broken mirror, her hands shaking as she started collecting the shattered pieces. Tears streamed down her face as she desperately tried to piece the mirror back together, hoping to undo the damage that had been done.
But no matter how hard she tried, the mirror remained broken and fragmented, just like their relationship.
As Sophie frantically tried to collect the shattered pieces of the mirror from the floor, Emily slowly approached her with a menacing look in her eyes, her hands balled into fists. Sophie could feel her heart racing as she realized the danger that was looming over her.
"Calm down, Sophie," Emily said, her voice low and dangerous. "We need to talk about this."
Sophie's eyes widened in fear and she stumbled backwards, her hand reaching out for a piece of the mirror to hold onto. She grabbed it from the floor and her mind was racing how to get away from Emily, but her legs felt like jelly beneath her.
Without another word, Emily started charging towards Sophie, her arms outstretched as if to grab her. Sophie's instincts kicked in and she turned around, dashing up the stairs to the bedroom.
As she ran, she could hear Emily's footsteps pounding on the hardwood floor behind her, growing closer and closer. The fear that had been building inside her suddenly exploded into a desperate panic as she realized Emily was almost upon her.
Sophie's legs felt like lead, but she pushed herself harder, the adrenaline surging through her veins. Finally, she reached the bedroom door and slammed it, and locked it behind her, her back pressed against it as she gasped for breath.
Outside, Emily was still pounding on the door, her voice raised in anger. Sophie knew she had to find a way out of this situation, and fast.
Sophie's hand trembled as she held up the jagged piece of mirror. It caught the light from the moon and the reflection of the street lamps outside, casting an eerie glow across the room. As she stared at it, she noticed that one section of the mirror was still intact, like a small television screen.
With a sudden curiosity, Sophie held the mirror up to her face and peered into the reflective glass. The image of the living room materialized in front of her eyes, like a ghostly apparition. She saw the same scene as before, the living room at night with her sister standing over the lifeless body of her husband.
Blood stained the carpet beneath them, spreading out like a dark, ominous cloud. And then, as if in a trance, her sister reached down and retrieved the mobile phone from under the couch.
The screen of the phone illuminated her sister's face, casting a sickly green light over her features. Sophie's heart pounded in her chest as she realized the significance of what she was seeing.
Realizing that it was not her sister but herself with the same blond hair, she was overcome with terror. Tears and screams erupted from her as she remembered everything. She had always known about the affair, but the shock and remorse of it had caused her subconscious to try and repress the memory.
In the psychiatric hospital, where she belonged now, the guilt of the murder clung to her like a heavy shroud, refusing to fade away like haunting echoes.
^More

A slave-driving murderer had just publicly declared war on us. The cheering and applause of the people standing around us was an eerie and ominous accompaniment to the feeling of dread swelling in my chest and radiating down to my stomach. He'd captured all of them thus far. I swallowed and dropped my gaze down to the pavement as it dawned on me that all of those people had tasted freedom, and were then immediately and mercilessly hunted down and dragged back to hell.
But there was an interesting caveat there. He called us by the names O'Malley had erroneously wrote down in his ledger. The men that were chasing us that day had picked up our actual fake aliases, but then we'd killed them at the inn. It seemed that knowledge died with them– a drop of good luck in a raging downpour it seemed.
"William," I said just loud enough to catch his attention.
He turned and eyed me. "Huh? Were you talking to me?"
I lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah. Who else would I be calling William?"
He narrowed his eyes, "It's Tovin, you spaz."
I glanced around nervously. Nobody appeared to have been listening to us. I took him by the shoulder and led him away from the crowd gathered around the picture boxes. "What are you doing?" I hissed.
"What am I doing?" he scoffed. "What are you doing? You know my name. What, are you playing a game right now?"
"Our aliases," I said through my teeth. "We're using fake names, remember?"
His expression changed from annoyed and confused to forlorn and somber. He swallowed and looked away. "... I'm losing it again, aren't I?" he asked.
I remained silent. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want him to feel worse about it, but that would have been a dangerous slip-up in front of the wrong person. Before now, I was starting to think that Tovin back home had overblown how quickly the mental decline would be.
"Don't worry about it," I said finally, passing him on the sidewalk further into the city. "Come on. We need to find a way to make some money."
"And fast," he added, trailing behind me. "We need food, clothes, and a couple of beds. And more cigarettes, too. I've only got a few left and I'm trying to make them last."
We walked the mazelike streets of Bronzegirder looking for work. I wasn't used to Diesel society yet and often found myself hung up on storefront windows that marketed all kinds of gadgets and technology. I would do my best not to stare when people walked by wearing metallic pieces on their persons.
Some wore gadgets on their forearms, some on their wrists, and others in various other areas. I wondered what purpose they served, where they were sold, and how expensive they could be. And it wasn't just the gadgets. There were far more dark-skinned people here than we had in Galgia. It was something I had read about but never experienced. They ranged from light tan all the way to almost black, and it just added to the culture shock.
There appeared to be people living in the buildings above the storefronts. The tall towers we had seen in the far distance earlier served as housing as well as business space. Diesillians stood on their balconies, some hanging wet laundry, others leaning over their railing while they enjoyed a drink or a smoke. We passed so many things I would have wanted to stop and look at were we not being hunted. DuPonte seemed awfully sure of himself when he said he'd find us, but for the life of me, I couldn't imagine how one would find antything they were looking for in this city.
"I'm totally lost," I admitted. "We need a map or something."
He remained quiet. I turned to speak to him more directly only to find that he wasn't behind me anymore. My stomach dropped as I looked around at the sea of people.
"William?" I called out. "William!"
It was no good. I'd have to literally scream if I wanted to breach the drone of the crowd, and I couldn't afford to draw too much attention to myself. There was also the possibility that he'd forgotten his name again anyway. I adjusted the straps of my backpack and sighed deeply before doubling back. He couldn't have wandered too far away, and he'd be easy to spot against the horde of people in more modern clothing.
I kept close to the storefronts as I picked up my pace. I began to peer into each store as I passed them. The longer I searched, the more I worried. He wasn't in his right mind. He'd get himself noticed and captured if he let too much slip, or pulled down his hood. I came to the turn we had taken after we'd left the picture boxes. He was with me at this point, I was sure of it. I turned around and swallowed as I scanned the crowd.
This was really, really, bad.
"William?" I tried again. I decided to cross the street and nearly got run over by one of their vehicles. It screeched to a stop and when I lowered my arms, I found the front of the metallic machine inches from my face.
"Git the fuck oudda da road!" shouted the pilot, shaking his fist in the air. I quickly scurried onto the opposite sidewalk and made my way down the street with the flow of the crowd. I kept my eyes peeled as I walked. It was difficult to see over everyone's shoulders. Diesillians were a good deal taller than Galgians as a rule, and it made it a nightmare for an average-sized guy like myself. Just when I was about to start asking around, something caught my ear.
Something I never expected to hear– music.
I stopped in my tracks and the public parted around me like a river around a boulder. I turned toward the sound and followed my ears to a large silver pavilion nestled between two tall buildings. It looked like an empty lot that had been designed for another tall building but instead served as some sort of inner-city courtyard where live entertainment performed.
I slowly approached as a woman stood in front of a mic stand singing while a band performed with shining metallic instruments behind her. She had black hair styled in a way I'd never seen hair styled. It was pulled up and around under a hat and shined the same as her red lipstick did. But what awed me the most was that she was singing.
No danger; no combat; no sign of beasts being summoned forth. She sang beautifully, adding something to music that I had never in my life once considered because in Galgia, to sing was to slaughter. Music was a tool of war and forbidden entirely outside of such circumstances, for if one of us were even to hum, anything could come crawling out of the resulting portal.
But here she was, singing what I presumed were the words to a poem in perfect rhythm and harmony with the band that played behind her.
"You're my machine, my heart's ignition. The gears that keep my love in motion. You're the engine that never tires– the pistons set my soul on fire."
I was completely taken in. It was therefore no surprise to me that here in the crowd, I spotted Tovin watching her with equal admiration from the edge of the stage. I weaved through the crowd as politely as I was able and then stopped next to him. He glanced at me before quickly returning his eyes back to the stage. I didn't say anything to him; no words needed said so long as she was singing.
"You, my dear, a love machine, the one that keeps my bearings clean– I'm addicted to your engine's roar, your power's what I'm living for."
I wasn't a hundred percent sure what she was talking about, but it was clearly a love song written for one lucky guy. When the song was finished, she ever so slightly lifted her ruby-red dress from the sides and took a bow. The crowd clapped, a few whistles coming from somewhere behind us.
"Thank you," she said softly into the mic. "It's important to remember that love conquers all," she said, passing her deep black eyes over us. "Hatred fades over time, but love lasts; it endures. This next song is about a long lost love and reconnection."
We stayed and listened to a couple more songs before she left the stage, and the band with her. She disappeared on promises of returning tomorrow for a second show. Of all the things thus far I had seen in the land of our enemy, something so sweet as non-weaponized music ranked among the most surprising and awe-inspiring.
As the crowd began to disperse back onto the main street, I turned to Tovin. "Hey, do me a favor and don't disappear like that. I didn't know where you were and we've got to stick together."
"Can we come back here tomorrow?" he asked, completely ignoring what I'd said. He stared at me with hopeful eyes, a small smile on his face. It still felt strange of him to ask me permission for anything, but I couldn't deny that it was a pretty magical performance.
"Only if we live that long," I answered with a heaping helping of snark. "We need money so we can get off these streets tonight. Come on, we're losing daylight."
He looked past my shoulder and suddenly pointed. "What about that?"
I turned to see a bulletin board posted on the side of a building not far from us. On it were several posts, but one of them specifically read, "200 Octim Sign-On Bonus." The two of us walked up the board and looked over the job.
"There's a sign-on bonus," Tovin said as his eyes moved down the paper. "The Empress needs you. Galgian dogs sent monsters to run amok in our fair empire. Officials are spread thin amidst heightened tensions with Galgia's military. Find and kill monsters for bounties. Seek employment at the Hunters' Barracks at 443 Alloy Avenue on the north side of town. Look for the men in uniform."
"Monsters?" I asked. "There aren't any monsters in Galgia. None in all of Aurii if our textbooks are accurate."
"You want to at least check it out?" he asked.
"I think we'd be wasting our time," I said dismissively. "We hiked through a bunch of wilderness closer to the Galgian border and we didn't see anything all night."
He folded his arms. "Then let's get our sign-on bonus and leave."
That was such a fantastic point that I pushed my palm against my forehead and visibly cringed. "Oof. Why am I so dumb?" I whined.
"I don't think you're dumb," Tovin said as he moved down the bulletin board to look at other flyers. "I think you're just honest to a fault. It never would have occurred to you to do something so underhanded."
I would never get used to compliments from Tovin. It was like watching a different person wear his body and speak with his voice. Had life at ENU really been such a drag on him?
"None of these other jobs are offering money upfront," he added, turning to face me. "Let's head to the north side of town and see if we can find Alloy Avenue."
x - - x - - x - - ★ - - x - - x - - x
The walk was long and difficult– not because it was too far, but because we had to pass so much delicious-smelling food along the way. I hadn't been sure before if Tovin was as hungry as I was, but the north side of Bronzegirder was quiet enough to hear both of our stomachs growling in concert with one another. The buildings were made of brick in the district we wandered through, and the walkways were closer to cobblestone like the kind we had back home. The roads were three times as wide, there were benches along the walkways, and they had planted trees caged in black iron gates at the trunks. The few people that strolled the sidewalks on Alloy Avenue were well-to-do, dressed in expensive-looking suits and wearing high hats with wide brims.
"I like this side of town better," Tovin said as we looked for building addresses. "Though I have to say, I'm surprised to see trees in the collossity."
"Goes a little against what we were taught doesn't it?" I asked.
"I don't recall being taught anything," he grumbled. "It's just another thing I somehow know."
I cast him a sympathetic glance and he didn't seem to like it. He scowled at me, "Don't you pity me."
"I'm not," I rolled my eyes. "I'd never feel bad for you Tovin, not in a thousand years."
"Just shut up," he snapped. "We're here."
He stopped in front of a brick building with an impressive stone staircase that had bronze handrails running up the length of them. At the top were two men in uniform just as the flyer had indicated. He was the first to start up the steps and I quickly followed behind him. As we passed them I took a good look at their uniforms. I could have sworn that I'd seen them somewhere before. We walked up to the glass doors and pulled them open.
A blast of warm air blew over us as we entered the building and it was a welcome reprieve from the cold. Inside was smaller than I had anticipated. I was expecting high ceilings, murals, metal artwork, and all kinds of stuff from how nice the outside looked. Instead, we found ourselves standing in a dirty lobby about the size of a headmaster's office. There were several rows of chairs dotted with people filling out forms on clipboards. At the back of the lobby was a little window with a man sitting on the other side. He was dark-skinned, had a shaved head, and bore a grisly pink scar across his cheek. He waved us forward when he noticed us.
"Let me do the talking," I whispered to Tovin, taking the lead in front of him as we made our way over; he didn't protest.
"Afternoon, gentlemen," he spoke into a microphone that relayed his voice to us through a little black device on the window. "Thinking about joining up?"
Before I could even speak, Tovin leaned onto the counter. "So when you say monsters," he adopted a skeptical look. "You mean like the ones that don't exist?"
The man behind the counter rolled his eyes. "Oh, great, another conspiracy theorist."
"What did you call me?" Tovin shot back.
"Ahhh, ha ha," I called out loudly, pulling Tovin back by his shoulder. "My brother is better at fighting than talking," I covered quickly. "Just talk to me from here on in."
He cast me a disinterested glance before handing us both clipboards with forms attached. "Whatever. Just read the whole thing and sign the liability waiver at the bottom. He's free to deny their existence while they're chewing his face off, but the empire won't be responsible for it."
I took both of the clipboards and passed one to Tovin. The two of us sat down and began going through them– and immediately, we faced a problem. They wanted first and last names, home addresses, medical history, and something called landline numbers. Tovin and I exchanged glances; this wasn't going to work.
I stood up and slowly walked back up to the counter as I looked over the document. Every time I looked, it seemed more and more ridiculous. Blood type? Social security number? Insurance provider? I didn't know what any of this meant. It might as well have been in an entirely different language.
"Did you have a question?" asked the man behind the counter.
"Yeah, I don't have most of this information," I said, setting the clipboard down on the counter. "Sorry, but we're gonna have to just go."
"Well, hang on now," he said, reaching under the little pass-through window and retrieving the clipboard. "I take it you boys are homeless then?" he asked.
"Uhh... Yeah," I answered tentatively. Did they really have such a homeless problem that he was able to jump to that conclusion so quickly? "We don't know how to answer these questions, so thanks anyways."
"I said hang on, dammit," he called through the mic before swiveling around in his chair and pulling some kind of lever underneath it that caused it to sink lower to the floor. He opened a cabinet and began rifling through it. I peered through the window at his chair– it was on some kind of ball axis that allowed him to spin in it freely. I felt like every couple of minutes I was seeing something I'd never seen before. He swiveled back around and lifted his chair back up before he handing me a new form. It was more like a strip of paper with three questions on it.
Shirt size, shoe size, and pant size.
There was a second slip of paper underneath it. I looked back up at the window attendant as Tovin appeared next to me. I handed him the slip of paper and we exchanged glances.
"The empire isn't being picky right now," spoke the man through the speaker. "You'll be assigned a number, a gun, and a uniform. You won't be eligible for emergency care, and you can't be assigned to a party. It'll be just the two of you. If you're still interested, we need all the help we can get."
I shrugged at Tovin, and he got to work filling out the information. I leaned on the counter and jotted down my uniform size before signing the waiver and handing everything back. He took both of the documents and then nodded toward the door on his right. "Come on back."
He reached under the table and did something that caused the door to make a whirring sound. It popped open on its own, and he thumbed us over to it. "Close it on your way in. Walk straight down the hall and through the third door on your left. Your hunter number is 27B and his is 28B."
We walked down the hallway and found the designated door already opened and with a sign on the inside that read, "Uniforms HERE" with an arrow pointing into the room. We were met by a portly woman with bouncy curls that hung down to her shoulders. She sat behind a desk absolutely surrounded by hanging uniforms, all kept in clear covering. She sized us up with a retractable ruler– the coolest ruler I had ever seen. After she took our measurements, she began sifting through uniforms.
"Why did they ask us for our sizes if they were going to measure us?" Tovin grumbled.
"I don't know," I whispered. "Just be quiet."
"Don't tell me to be quiet," he shot back, elbowing me in the ribs.
She turned around holding two suits by the hangers, one in each hand. "Your uniforms will come out of your first bounty collected," she announced. "No money needed upfront. Change into them and make sure they fit." We took them from her and she breezed past us. "Holler out here when you're changed." She closed the door behind her.
We turned away from one another and began getting dressed. I pulled back the crinkly clear material and looked down at the uniform. Now that I was seeing it closer, it was actually an extremely dark shade of blue, rather than black as I had thought prior. I looked down at the hat and held it in my hands. I had seen it before. Then, all at once, it came rushing back to me.
These were the uniforms of the men that had come to the mine. They had come carrying guns to inspect the worksite after what had happened to Hammer. Skully must have thought a monster had gotten to him based on the state of his body. I stared down at the uniform in disbelief. Could monsters really be running around in Diesel territory?
"You better not be looking over here," Tovin warned.
They had mistaken what Tovin had done for a monster attack. Skully's "fonekall" wasn't a pilgrimage. It was some form of long-distance communication. She reached out to the capital to request aid from someone, and they sent these guys. I began to wonder if I was making a mistake. If we could be dispatched like that, then we could feasibly be sent back to the camp.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. We were only in it for the sign-on bonus. Once we had that in our hands, we'd be outta here. We could even jump to the next town. They knew nothing about us other than our clothing size. We could be dust in the wind by tomorrow morning.
I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind and quickly got dressed. The uniform fit perfectly, it was comfortable, and best of all had been designed with a high collar. It covered our neck markings perfectly. I turned to see Tovin with the hat on already. He looked like a classic Diesel villain from a comic book I had read as a kid.
"It fits nice," he said, testing the range of motion he had in his arms. "I think this will work."
"Yeah," I nodded. "Let's get our money and get the hell out."
"Speaking my language," he smirked.
He moved for the door and leaned out, calling for the attendant. I looked at myself in the full-body mirror and did a quick turnaround. I had to admit, I looked pretty darn stylish. The white gloves, belt, and hat looked pretty good against the dark blue and gold buttons.
The woman returned and smiled at both of us, her curls bouncing as she tossed her gaze cartoonishly left and right between us. "You two look good!"
"Thanks," I smiled back. "When do we get our sign-on bonus?"
"Oh, don't worry about that just yet," she said, moving back to her desk. "Do you boys know how to shoot?" she asked as she sat down.
"Shoot?" Tovin asked.
"A gun," she clarified, her smile fading. "Have either of you shot a gun?"
"No, ma'am," I answered. "Our parents didn't let us near them growing up."
"That's no problem," she said, lifting her hands. "We're happy to teach you the basics. You'll just exit the room and go left down to the very end of the hallway. I'll buzz you through the double doors at the end, and Old Mitchell will take you from there."
Tovin audibly groaned, and I took him by the arm, leading him out of the room. We walked down the hallway as he bellyached about what a waste of time it was. It was unlike him to turn his nose up at the opportunity to learn the ins and outs of a new weapon. In fact, he'd been acting weirdly childish lately. I didn't like it. It beat dealing with Tovin-Classic, but it was still a hassle. As we neared the end of the hallway, we began hearing the sound of guns being fired one by one.
The doors buckled and hummed the same as the first door had, and we pushed them open. We passed into a large room with Diesillians shooting at targets a good distance away. This was why the building was so large and the lobby was so small. The brick walls were covered in informational and safety posters, as well as what appeared to be schematics for the weapons themselves.
I looked across the large room to see a man striding toward us. He was wearing shiny black boots that were laced tightly to his calves. His pants and jacket were hunter green, and he bore perhaps the silliest mustache I'd ever seen; It was long and curled at the tips. I had to be careful not to snicker– his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and I couldn't tell if he was watching me.
"New recruits?" he called out to us from entirely too far away.
"Yes sir," I called back. "My brother and I just signed up."
"Brothers!" he exclaimed. "I love it, dammit!" He stopped in front of us. He was chewing on something and was being as obnoxious as he possibly could about it. He was wearing perhaps the stupidest hat I had seen of the Diesel yet. It had no visible brim and was high on one side while sloping down toward the other. For the life of me, I couldn't discern the purpose of it.
"You boys know how to shoot?" he asked.
"No sir," I shook my head. "We're new at this."
"Good," he smiled widely. "That means you haven't formed any bad habits yet. I love newbies," he said before waving for us to follow him. "Come on, let's get you your rifles. I'm Mitch, but folks around here call me Old Mitchell."
"James," I said as I followed after him. "This is my brother William." It was difficult to talk over the noise of the weapons. I occasionally jumped when someone shot their gun nearby– a reflex I couldn't wait to be rid of. He led us to a small room; so small that it might as well have been a glorified safe. He disappeared inside and came back out holding two guns. The same long metal tubes Tovin and I had been attacked with at O'Malley's inn.
We each took one and promptly inspected it. Suddenly, Old Mitchell stepped forward and grabbed both of our guns by the barrel, lifting them so they were pointed at the ceiling.
"You boys ever even held one of these?" he barked. "Careful where you aim. Never point one of these at anything or anyone that you're not prepared to destroy."
"They sweep you, Mitch?" asked a man as he passed behind us.
"Pointed 'em right at me," he called back with a laugh. "We'll get 'em straightened out, don't you worry about that." He looked at us both, chewing aggressively. "Now I'm gonna let these rifles go. You keep 'em pointed up, you understand?"
"Yes, sir," I answered.
"Sure," Tovin said in a disinterested tone.
He let go of our rifles and we kept them pointed at the ceiling as we were told. I looked up and down the length of the tube before turning it over and inspecting the area under the barrel. It was split underneath with what looked like some kind of spring running along the length of the tube.
"They're not loaded," Mitch said, waving for us to follow him to the other side of the room. "But you will always treat them like they are. I'm going to show you how to load them over here. Set them down on the desk, I'm gonna stand between the two of you so I can watch you both."
I set my gun down in front of me and looked to my right. There was a box of what I presumed to be bullets. I expected them to be round pellet-like projectiles, but they were tubular with roughly textured heads on them.
"Turn your weapon over. You'll notice you can see a spring inside the bottom of the barrel. Close to the other end of your gun, you'll find a little round tab there. Take that tab and push it with your thumb all the way up toward the tip of the barrel. You'll then pop it out to the side there."
I did as he asked, and sure enough, the barrel popped out to the left at the tip of the weapon. I glanced over at Tovin who was struggling with the spring. Old Mitchell moved over and helped him with it. "Sometimes they get stuck," he muttered as he got Tovin to the same step I was at.
"Now," he shouted. "Take your ammunition right there in the box next to you, and begin placing the rounds into the underside of the barrel, flat side first. Then, you'll load more bullets into the gun overlapping one another. Be careful not to let the rounds collide with one another too heavily, or you could have a little accident."
I loaded the bullets carefully one after another until the barrel was about full. He checked on Tovin's rifle, and then inspected mine.
"Good. Now realign the barrel, there and come with me to the bay," he said, starting toward the practice range. I carefully lifted the weapon and rested it against my shoulder, turning with Tovin to follow him. When we stopped at the range, he motioned for Tovin first. "Come on, Will, we're gonna start with you."
"Pass," he said nonchalantly.
Old Mitchell blinked twice. "What?"
"I want to see Gill do it first," he said, stepping out of my way.
"It's a nickname," I said quickly, stepping up to the range. "Anyways, I'll go first, I don't mind, what do I do here?"
Mitch remained silent for a couple of seconds before clapping his hands once. "Okay! Well, go ahead and pull the hammer back."
I looked down at the weapon and then back up at him. Sensing my confusion, he carefully reached forward and pulled back a little tiny lever on the top of the rifle until it clicked. "That's called pulling the hammer back," he said. "Will, you watching this?"
He didn't wait for a response. "Next thing you're gonna do is pull that lever out underneath the gun. That's going to load the weapon with a fresh cartridge. You're gonna do that between every shot, now. Lift it up against your shoulder like this; get it snug in there." He pulled it against my shoulder. "Look down the iron sight there at the tip of the rifle and line it up against your target. Your weapon is primed and ready to fire. You're good for fifteen shots before you've got to reload. You can always flip it over to see how many bullets are left. Go ahead and aim carefully, and try and hit that target paper down there."
At the end of the range, there was a piece of paper with a silhouette of a human head, shoulders, and torso. I closed one eye for better aim and held the gun tightly as I lined up my shot.
"Don't pull the trigger," Mitch advised in my left ear. "Squeeze it. Squeeze the trigger until it doesn't move easily anymore. Then when you're sure about your aim, squeeze with just that little bit of extra strength you need."
I did as he said, and felt what he was referring to. With my target in sight, my hand steady, and my aim as true as I could hope for, I fired the weapon. The shot rang out right in my ear, but interestingly enough, it wasn't so bad when I was the one firing. I was ready for it, and expecting it.
"Holy smokes!" exclaimed Mitch. "You put one right between the eyes!"
"Beginners's luck," said a man from behind me. "I did the same thing first time I shot, and never did it again."
"Let's prove him wrong, James," Old Mitchell laughed. "Now use that lever under the gun to eject the casing and load a fresh bullet."
I pulled the lever and the shiny little bullet casing popped out the top and flew over my shoulder. It was a really satisfying feeling.
"Do I pull the hammer again? I asked.
"Nope, it'll pop back down. You'll only pull that hammer back the first time. Go ahead and fire again, only this time, aim for the neck."
"Alright," I said, closing my eye and tightening my focus. I squeezed the trigger just as I had the first time and shot a hole straight through the center of the target's neck. I lifted my head and smiled. "I hit it!"
"No way," said the man behind me. "Ain't never shot before, my ass. He's taking you for a ride, Mitch."
"You're sure you're new at this, son?" Old Mitchell asked, one eye half shut. "That's really impressive, kid. Seriously, if this is your first time holding a rifle, you might be cut out for the military. Had a staff sergeant with worse aim than you."
"Alright, alright," Tovin pushed me aside. "My turn. Let me show you something you'll never forget."
The two of us took turns shooting for hours. We hadn't even noticed the time going by. For once, it seemed Tovin had found something he wasn't naturally amazing at, and it was infuriating him to no end.
Conversely, I found something I was really, really good at. I hit my target almost every time, and to be honest, I couldn't figure out what was so difficult about it. A crowd had gathered to watch me shoot. I got really swift with the lever, and could shoot out both of a target's eyes, and put one in its forehead in a matter of seconds.
Tovin wasn't a bad shot, but I knew how he felt. If he wasn't first, he was last as far as he was concerned, and at one point he about threw his rifle. Old Mitchell had to talk to him about how some things come naturally to others, and how he shouldn't be discouraged from coming to the range and practicing.
It was rich hearing Tovin get that talk of all people. The natural genius that outshined everyone, struggling with something for the very first time. I almost couldn't believe I was better than him at something, and of course, it just had to be the thing that we'd never do again once we found our friends and went back home.
Our friends.
We were wasting time here. "Hey, Mitchel," I turned toward him. "When do we get our sign-on bonus? It was supposed to be something like 200 octims."
"You get your sign-on bonus when you bring back your first bounty," he responded quickly.
"What?" Tovin shouted. "That's not fair! We signed on, now where's our money?"
I was equally upset. We were lied to. But it made sense that they couldn't just hand us uniforms, cash, and a gun, and let us go. They wanted to make sure we at least killed a monster.
"It's fine," I said with a sigh. "Where can we find bounties?"
"It's not fine," Tovin protested.
I yanked him by the collar of his shirt and looked him in the eyes. "It's fine," I said slowly and firmly. "We'll run out, bag a monster, and be back before dark."
He held eye contact with me for several seconds before shrugging me off of him and walking away. He stormed across the bay and left through the double doors at the other end of the room.
"My brother was the same way," said Mitch. "Hard-headed. Stubborn as a mule. Loyal as anyone you'd ever meet though."
He had no idea. Tovin wasn't just difficult, but he was turning into a walking liability. I didn't know how much longer I could take him acting like this. Suddenly, Mitch extended his arm, pointing to a door adjacent to where he'd gotten our guns from.
"Bounty board is in there. Come on, I'll show you."
It was a medium-sized room with several corkboards wall to wall filled with bounties. Every monster was named and almost all of them were sketched to a professional degree. You could find how much money the monster was going for, which hunters it had killed, where it was last seen, as well as whether or not there were hunters currently after it.
They had a system where you would notate which monster you were going after, and if you didn't return, they'd add your name under the list of hunters that died searching for it. There were so many monsters I couldn't believe it, and according to Old Mitchell, these were only the monsters within a five-mile radius of Bronzegirder.
I learned the process of choosing a bounty and chose a smaller monster with no names under its fatality list. Mitch agreed it was a good monster for beginners, and offered a few pointers for tracking it. I submitted the bounty request and got it approved before leaving the bay and heading down the hall in search of Tovin. I entered the lobby and didn't see him. I left the building and found him at the top of the steps staring out into the street where a couple of vehicles were hauling something massive together under a tarp.
Several uniformed hunters were walking slowly next to the vehicles. Their uniforms were tattered and bloodstained, and a few of them walked with a limp. We watched as the exhausted men passed the building on their way down the road. Two of them were sobbing silently, but we could tell by their exposed teeth and wrinkled expressions that they'd lost someone.
From beneath the tarp, a scaly limb fell off the side of the vehicle and dangled lifelessly. It was a reptilian-looking arm with an open wound, and the shredded remnants of a uniform hanging from its claws.
"Gill," Tovin said quietly. "Is that..."
"Yeah," I answered.
"That's definitely a monster."
Writing Prompt Submitted by u/My-Last-Hope

After years of hard work, dedication, and unwavering determination, my lifelong dream had finally come true and it collapsed from one day to the other. I had the perfect family and the perfect life. As an English teacher in the quaint town of Black Rain, located in the serene landscape of British Columbia, I felt a sense of fulfillment and purpose in my daily life.
My family was the epitome of happiness and contentment. We shared a bond that was unbreakable, and every moment spent together was a cherished memory. My two teenage children, Samuel and Emma, were the joy of my life. They were both outstanding students and were thrilled about the prospect of attending university in the near future.
My wife Amelia was breathtakingly beautiful. Her long auburn hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, framing her delicate features and sparkling hazel eyes. She was a guide and lecturer at the local art museum, and her passion for the arts shone through in every aspect of her life. When she talked about a particular painting or sculpture, her eyes would light up with excitement, and her enthusiasm was infectious.
Despite her busy career, Amelia always made time for me. We were the perfect match, and our love for each other only grew stronger with each passing day. I loved watching her teach and inspire others, and it made me proud to see how respected and adored she was by her colleagues and students alike.
Together, we created a life filled with happiness and adventure. Whether it was exploring new art exhibits, hiking through the nearby mountains, or simply enjoying a cozy night in, we cherished every moment spent together. Amelia was my soulmate, my partner in every sense of the word, and I felt incredibly lucky to have her by my side.
In addition to our academic pursuits, we often embarked on exciting adventures and memorable holidays together. Whether we were exploring the natural beauty of the nearby national parks or indulging in our shared love of literature, every experience was enriched by the warmth and love that we shared as a family.
That day started as a typical morning. I woke up early and headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of sizzling bacon. I walked towards the counter and started making myself a sandwich. Samuel was sitting at the table, munching on his toast, while Amelia was getting her cereal ready. Suddenly, Emma walked into the kitchen with a perplexed expression on her face.
"Good morning, sweetheart," I greeted her with a smile.
"Good morning," she replied, still looking puzzled. "Who are you?"
I froze for a moment, not sure how to react. "What kind of joke is this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
But Emma shook her head, looking more confused than ever. "I'm sorry, I don't remember you," she said.
Samuel and Amelia exchanged worried glances, clearly as perplexed as I was. "Emma, that's your dad," Samuel said firmly as if trying to convince her.
But Emma just shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are. I have never seen you!" she said softly before grabbing her backpack and heading off to school.
I was left standing there, feeling completely bewildered and hurt. How could my own daughter not recognize me? It was like a nightmare come true.
As soon as Emma walked out of the door, panic set in and I knew I had to act fast. I ran out of the house and down the driveway, chasing after her. When I finally caught up to her in the front yard, I tried to touch her gently on the shoulder, but she recoiled from my touch as if I was a complete stranger.
"Emma, it's me, your dad," I said, my voice trembling with fear and confusion.
But Emma only backed away from me, looking more scared than ever. "You're not my dad! My dad doesn't look like you," she cried.
I was taken aback by her words. "What do you mean? Of course, I look like your dad. I am your dad," I said, trying to remain calm.
But Emma's eyes were wide with fear, and she continued to back away from me. "You're lying! You're not my dad! Leave me alone!" she screamed.
Her fear was palpable, and I felt a sense of helplessness wash over me. As our neighbors began to peer out their windows with curious looks on their faces, I realized I needed to back off before things got even more out of hand. I slowly retreated, watching Emma until she was safely out of sight. The weight of the situation bore down on me heavily as I stood alone in the yard, wondering what had caused my daughter to suddenly forget who I was.
Back inside, I looked at Amelia, who was equally shocked by what had just happened. "What's happening to her, James?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"I don't know, but we need to figure it out," I replied, my mind racing with possibilities.
That day Amelia and I visited a psychologist. He had a relaxing office. He told us that teenagers sometimes go through a difficult time and she mentioned some reasons. She said it could be a way of fighting stress but it is only temporary and she told us to be patient, it would go away.
Amelia and I sat anxiously in the waiting room, both of us unsure of what to expect from our visit to the psychologist. I had to skip all my classes that day. As we were called into the office, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief from the calming atmosphere. The walls were painted in soft shades of blue and green, and a small fountain bubbled quietly in the corner.
The psychologist was a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a soothing voice. She listened patiently as we explained Emma's sudden confusion and fear, nodding thoughtfully as we spoke.
"Teenagers can often go through a period of difficulty, especially during times of stress," she explained. "It's possible that this is just a temporary phase for Emma."
"But why would she forget who I am?" I asked, my voice wavering slightly.
"It could be a defense mechanism," the psychologist suggested. "Sometimes our brains try to protect us from painful memories or experiences, and forgetting certain things can be a way of coping with those feelings."
“Painful memories? Like a boyfriend? She had a boyfriend and they broke up a few weeks ago. She has been very depressed since then. Can it be the cause?” I asked.
“Possibly,” the psychologist said but I still felt a sense of unease. "What can we do to help her?" I asked.
"Be patient," she replied with a small smile. "And try not to push too hard. Let Emma come to you when she's ready."
As we left the office, I couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty. How long would this phase last? And how could we help Emma when she was pushing us away?
Later that day Emma came home from school and said she did not want to have dinner with that man. She meant me. So she ate in her own room. Samuel went to play video games and Amelia and I went to bed, we both hoped Emma would be all right soon.
Later that day, as Emma walked through the door, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over me. She had been so distant lately, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong.
"Hey, Em," I said, trying to sound casual. "How was school?"
But she just shrugged and headed straight for the stairs without a word. It was like she was a completely different person, and it was breaking my heart to see her like this.
Later on, as we sat down for dinner, Emma made her feelings clear. "I don't want to eat with that man," she said, looking straight at me. "Can I just have dinner in my room?"
She then walked away, leaving me feeling more lost and helpless than ever before.
After dinner, Samuel disappeared into his room to play video games, and I could hear the sounds of gunfire and explosions coming from his computer. It was a stark reminder of how different things were now, how far we had strayed from the happy, carefree family we used to be.
As Amelia and I got ready for bed, I couldn't help but feel a sense of hopelessness wash over me.
"Do you think she'll be okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Amelia sighed, her expression sad. "I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "But we have to be patient, and hope that things will get better soon."
I nodded, knowing that she was right. But as I lay in bed that night, I couldn't shake the feeling that things were only going to get worse before they got better.
As I woke up the next morning, my thoughts immediately went to Emma. I hoped that she was feeling better and that her fever had gone down. I quickly got dressed and made my way to the kitchen, hoping to find her there.
To my surprise, as soon as she saw me, she asked, "How come you're still here? I thought you were leaving today."
I was about to say something when Samuel looked at me.
“I am sorry, who are you?”
My heart sank. I looked at him with a mix of confusion and anger.
"What do you mean, who am I? I'm your father!" I said, my voice rising in frustration.
But Samuel only looked at me with a blank expression, as if he had never seen me before in his life.
"I don't know who you are," he said, his voice tinged with fear.
My mind raced with possibilities. Was this some kind of prank, a cruel joke being played on me by my own children? But as I looked into their eyes, I could see that this was no joke. They genuinely didn't recognize me.
"Listen to me, both of you," I said, my voice stern. "I am your father, and you have to respect me as such. This is not a game, and I won't tolerate this kind of behavior from either of you."
But as I spoke, I could feel the weight of uncertainty bearing down on me. What if they were telling the truth? What if they really didn't recognize me?
“I don’t know what you are talking about! If this is a prank from my dad, tell him it is kinda creepy!” he said, grabbed and left for school. Emma followed her and slammed the door. I still heard the word “weirdo fuck” from Emma from the outside.
When Amelia walked into the kitchen, I shared with her the disturbing news about Samuel's strange behavior and how he had failed to recognize me. I was so upset that I found it difficult to focus on my work, so I took a sick day and Amelia came with me to see the psychologist again, hoping to resolve the situation.
As soon as we arrived at the psychologist's office, we were ushered into her consultation room. The psychologist greeted us with a warm smile and gestured for us to take a seat.
"So, tell me what's been happening," the psychologist said, looking at us expectantly.
I took a deep breath and began recounting the events of the past few days, describing how both Samuel and Amelia had failed to recognize me, their own father.
The psychologist listened attentively, nodding her head occasionally as I spoke. When I finished, she took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking.
"It's not uncommon for siblings to have similar symptoms," she explained. "It's possible that they're experiencing some kind of dissociative disorder, which could explain why they both can't recognize you."
I was skeptical of her explanation, but the psychologist seemed confident in her diagnosis.
"I would like to see your children for a few sessions to assess their condition and provide appropriate treatment," she said.
My wife and I exchanged a glance, unsure of how to proceed. We were both feeling angry and frustrated with the psychologist's diagnosis.
"You're saying that my children, who were perfectly normal just a few days ago, are suddenly suffering from some kind of disorder?" I said, my voice rising with indignation.
The psychologist remained calm and professional, trying to reassure us.
"It's not uncommon for teenagers to experience these kinds of issues," she said. "With the right treatment, they can make a full recovery."
But my wife and I were not convinced. We stood up and left the room, feeling like the psychologist was incompetent and unable to help us.
That evening, dinner was the last thing on our minds. My wife and I retreated to our bedroom, where I collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down my face. My wife held me tightly, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. "We'll get through this together," she said softly.
I hugged her tightly, not wanting to let go. "I don't want to lose you," I said, my voice choked with emotion.
"You won't," she replied, her voice soft and gentle. "Everything will be alright, I promise."
Despite her words, I couldn't shake the feeling of fear and sadness that had settled over me like a heavy blanket. My mind was consumed with thoughts of what might happen if I couldn't help my children.
Unable to sleep, I left the bedroom and wandered into the living room. I turned on the TV, but my mind was too distracted to focus on anything. Instead, I found myself lost in a sea of worries and doubts. How could I help my children if even the experts seemed unsure of what was happening to them? How could I keep my family together when everything felt like it was falling apart?
The night stretched on, each passing moment filled with a sense of desperation and despair. All I could do was wait and hope that somehow, someway, things would get better. As my mind raced with worries and fears, exhaustion eventually overtook me and I drifted off to sleep.
I woke up in the middle of the night. I had a strange feeling but I did not know what it was. The couch was uncomfortable now and I wanted to go back to Amelia to the bedroom. I walked up the stairs. It was dark. I opened the bedroom door and approached our bed but I got extremely shocked when I saw another man sleeping in our own bed, next to my wife!
I jolted awake in the middle of the night, a sense of unease creeping up my spine. Something didn't feel right. The couch beneath me had become too uncomfortable, so I decided to make my way upstairs to our bedroom. It was dark, the only sound was the creaking of the wooden stairs beneath my feet.
I slowly pushed open the bedroom door, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. My heart dropped into my stomach as I saw another man sleeping in our bed, his arm draped possessively over my wife's waist. I froze, my mind struggling to comprehend what I was seeing.
"Who are you? What the hell are you doing in my bed?" I demanded, my voice shaking with anger and disbelief.
The man turned on the lamp on the bedside table and picked up a vase gripping it as a weapon. He told Amelia to call the police and she did so. The man was threatening me to leave their house because he will beat me up. I asked Amelia how come she did not recognize me but she did not speak to me. I was backing off and left the house before the police arrived.
As the man turned on the lamp, its dim light illuminated his face, revealing his angry expression. He clenched a vase in his hand, ready to use it as a weapon.
"Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?" the man asked in a harsh tone.
I was taken aback by his hostility and confused as to what was happening. "I-I live here. This is my house," I stuttered, trying to comprehend the situation.
The man didn't believe me and continued to threaten me. "Get out of here before I beat you to a pulp!" he yelled, raising the vase threateningly.
Amelia, still in shock, reached for the phone and dialed the police. I tried to reason with her. "Amelia, it's me, your husband. Don't you recognize me?"
But she remained silent, her eyes filled with fear and confusion.
I slowly backed away, trying not to provoke the man any further. As soon as I was out of the room, I ran down the stairs and out of the house, still in disbelief and shock.
As I waited outside for the police to arrive, I couldn't help but wonder what was going on. Why didn't Amelia recognize me? Who was that man in our bed? The whole situation seemed surreal and terrifying.
I had spent a sleepless night, sitting behind the bushes and watching our house like a fucking stalker, trying to make sense of what had happened. As the sun started to rise, I saw movement at the front door. My heart racing, I watched as my children, looking disheveled and tired, stumbled out of the house.
I was relieved to see them, but my mind was still reeling from the events of the previous night. I watched as they walked down the street, probably heading to school.
As they disappeared from sight, I saw the stranger again, leaving the house. This time, however, he was alone. My heart sank as I realized that he must have left with Amelia.
I continued to watch from my hiding spot as they said goodbye to each other, kissing passionately. I could feel my anger and sadness rising again, but I didn't know what to do.
Finally, the man left and Amelia stood alone at the door, then she went inside. I knew I had to confront her, but I didn't know how to start. I approached the door and knocked.
She opened the door and seeing my face, she wanted to shut it but I stopped it with my foot.
"Amelia, what is going on? Who was that man?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
I tried to reason with her, but she just kept screaming at me to leave her alone.
"Amelia, please, I just want to talk to you. We need to figure out what's going on," I pleaded, but she wouldn't listen.
As we stood there arguing, a woman walking her dog stopped not far from us. She was one of our neighbors.
I could feel her eyes on me, judging me, and it made me feel even more helpless.
Amelia turned to the group of strangers and yelled, “Mrs. Parker, this man is harassing me! Call the police!"
I looked at the woman and asked if she recognize me. She told me she had never seen me. I tried to convince her that I was James, her neighbor but she did not believe me and she was despising me.
I approached the woman standing on the sidewalk, hoping to start a friendly conversation.
Although she was a cold woman, we knew each other. As I got closer, her dog started barking at me wildly and I noticed a strange look in her eyes.
"Hey Mrs. Parker, you know me, don’t you? I'm James, your neighbor," I asked, a friendly smile on my face.
The woman looked me up and down, sizing me up. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are," she said coldly, with a hint of suspicion in her voice.
I was taken aback. "What do you mean? We live on the same street. I see you all the time," I replied, my smile fading.
"I'm sorry, I don't remember you," she said again, this time more dismissively.
I felt frustrated and a little hurt. I didn't understand why she was being so unfriendly.
"Are you sure? Maybe we've met before at a community event or something," I said, trying to jog her memory.
But the woman just shook her head. "No, I'm sure I've never seen you before," she said firmly.
“Is everything all right?”
I turned to face him and was relieved to see a familiar face. "No, everything is not all right," I said, my voice filled with anger.
“Do you want me to handle this ladies?” he asked, his muscles bulging as he prepared to confront me.
“It’s all right, I’m leaving!” I said and walked away.
“Never dare to come back!” Amelia shouted after me.
The next place where I was going was my school. I hoped my colleagues would help me out of this nightmare. I approached a group of teachers who were chatting in the hallway. They looked at me strangely, like I was an intruder.
“Hey guys, you won’t believe me what’s happening to me!”
One of them, Ms. Johnson, spoke up. "I'm sorry, your name is?”
“No, no no. Please no. You really don’t know who I am?”
“Are you sure you're at the right school?"
I was getting frustrated. "Yes, I'm sure. I've been teaching here for five years. How could you not know me? I am James Hall, for fuck’s sake!"
Another teacher, Mr. Chen, spoke up. "Look, buddy, I don't know what your game is, but you need to leave before we call security."
I was shocked. "My game? What are you talking about? I'm not playing any games, I'm James! Can't you see that?"
Ms. Johnson approached me and spoke softly. "Listen, maybe you should take a break and see a doctor. This doesn't seem normal. James is teaching in room 101!"
I burst into the classroom, the door slamming against the wall as I kicked it open. My eyes were locked on the man explaining something to the students. He looked up at me and recognized me instantly, I could sense his fear. I ran towards him, pushing him onto the table and grabbing him by the neck.
"Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?" I shouted, my voice trembling with rage. "Tell me the truth, or I swear to God I'll kill you!"
The man gasped for air, struggling to speak. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered.
"Don't lie to me!" I growled, tightening my grip on his neck. "I woke up this morning and my life was gone. My wife, my kids, my job, everything. And now you're standing here in my place, pretending to be me!"
As the fight broke out in the classroom, the students were taken aback and quickly stood up from their seats, some of them even backing away towards the walls. Some students were shouting and screaming, their voices echoing in the classroom, while others were gasping in shock. A few brave students tried to intervene and break up the fight, but they changed their minds for some reason.
Others were frantically pulling out their phones to record the incident, capturing the chaos unfolding before them. A sense of fear and confusion hung in the air as we continued to grapple with each other. It was clear that they did nobody recognize me either and they had never witnessed anything like this before. The sight of our violent altercation left them feeling vulnerable and scared.
The man's eyes widened in shock, and he tried to speak again. "I swear, I don't know anything about that. I'm James Hall as I told you!"
"Prove it," I demanded, releasing my grip on his neck. "Show me some ID or something."
The man fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his wallet. He handed me his ID card, and I studied it closely. It looked genuine. It was his face and the name James Hall.
I sighed and stepped back, still trying to process everything that had happened. "I'm sorry," I said, feeling a twinge of guilt for attacking him. "I guess I just lost it for a minute there. I am not sure who I am anymore."
I sat in the interview room, my heart pounding in my chest. The walls were a drab gray and the only sound was the humming of the fluorescent lights overhead. I could still hear the echoes of the fake James Hall in my head shouting at me “I will fuckin’ kill you!” at the arrival of the police. Finally, the door creaked open and the officer walked in. He had a stern look on his face, and I braced myself for the worst.
"I know what you've been doing," he said his voice firm. "You've been stalking that family. We could charge you with stalking and physical assault, but Mr. Hall has decided not to press charges. This is your last chance. If we catch you again, you'll go straight to jail."
I felt a wave of relief wash over me, but it was quickly replaced by a sense of unease. How had I ended up in this situation? The detective's words echoed in my mind, and I knew I had to tell him the truth.
"I understand," I said, my voice shaky. "But there's something you need to know. I didn't mean to stalk that family. It's all a mistake."
The detective's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
I took a deep breath and began to explain my story. I told him about the fake Mr. James Hall, who had taken my identity and left me with nothing. I told him about my desperate search for answers and how it had led me to confront that man. But as I spoke, I could tell that the detective didn't believe me.
"That's quite a story," he said, his tone skeptical. "But it doesn't change the fact that we can't identify you. You're not in the system. So why don't you tell me the truth?"
I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. I knew that if I stuck to the same story, I would end up in jail. So I made a split-second decision.
"I'm homeless," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't have any ID or anything like that."
The detective looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "All right. But I'm warning you, if we catch you stalking that family again, you'll be sorry."
With that, he opened the door and motioned for me to leave. I stumbled out of the interview room, my head spinning. I had narrowly avoided jail, but at what cost?
I spent most of my days wandering the streets, feeling like a complete outcast. The homeless shelters I stayed at provided only temporary relief from my misery.
While staying at the shelter, I was grateful to have access to the Internet. I eagerly logged onto websites such as Facebook, Reddit, and online banking, only to find that all of my accounts no longer existed. As I perused my wife's Facebook profile, I was taken aback by the appearance of a new husband in her photos. It seemed as though they had always been together, and the images portrayed a convincing picture of happiness between them. Super weird and creepy. My accounts on the other hand had been wiped out of existence, and I was forced to register new accounts from scratch. Even my government-related accounts were invalid, leaving me feeling as though I had been completely erased from this world.
Since I was nonexistent, I occasionally took up odd jobs like washing cars or doing dishes in kitchens.
But most of my time was spent watching my own house from a distance in disguise, trying to get a glimpse of my family. A few times, I was tempted to break in and try to find something like my old belongings if they existed but they installed an expensive security system.
I remember watching my children as they were walking to school with their backpacks on. I couldn't resist the urge to approach them, to see if they would recognize me. I felt like a monster, a complete stranger in my own family's life. I knew I had to keep my distance, to avoid causing any more trouble. I could also see that man as he gave me a kiss to my wife and went to my workplace by my car to my classroom to be with my students. I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger and jealousy.
Then one day, after a week of staying away, I paid another visit to the house. As I was standing at a distance from my house, something strange caught my attention. The husband was outside, standing awkwardly and appearing to be in a state of confusion. He was hiding behind a tree, peering out from time to time at the house, and wearing only a robe. I wasn't sure if he had spotted me, but I felt a knot form in my stomach. What was going on?
As I tried to make sense of the situation, the front door of the house suddenly opened, and a man I had never seen before stepped out. He gave a quick goodbye kiss to Amelia, the wife, before rushing off to work.
The husband lingered outside for a few moments longer, and that was when he finally seemed to notice me.
Our eyes met, and we were just standing there, speechless.
^More

I'm really struggling to understand this one. What I do understand is that in any game that has recourse, getting a discount is big game, and probably one of the better things you can be doing.
But here is what I don't understand. If part of the Quinjet change is to open up more design space down the line, why aren't you just making it a baked in rule that "card's can't have their cost reduced to less than 1." Because right now, it seems less like a design choice and more like an unthought through reaction to keep your Mythic Chase Card a MCC.
So let's take the Queen that nobody complains about: Sera. If played "fair" you get a turn of cost reduction. 1 drops don't become free. This has always made sense as, you can easily get her down on 4, and you don't have to do anything else. No other hoops. You just play her. She also only gets hit by Enchantress and Rogue. You'll always get that 4 power.
Now Quinjet. It beats Sera is that you can get it down on T1. However, it dies to Killmonger, Elektra, Enchantress, and Rogue. Plus, to get that cost reduction, I have to spend non discounted resources on generating cards. Unless you were to do something crazy like print a card that adds a bunch of 1 drops to my deck. I can't just slap it in a deck, like Sera, and expect it to function. I gotta build for it, to take advantage of its very powerful effect.
Then we have Beast. It can only reduce the cost of 3 cards, unlike Quinjet and Sera. However it dodges all tech cards save Cosmo, so its very much beating Jet, and Sera a little. It's worse then Sera, in that I have to invest Energy to get a benefit, but it's very similar to Quinjet in that regard. However, unlike the other two it also allows us to rebuy nasty on revel affects, which neither of the other two cost removers can do. And if you don't think that's crazy powerful, you should watch the tournament that Jeff Hoogland is currently sweeping.
So my question is: why? If cost reduction to zero is the real problem, why not nerf beast now? Why are you shadow nerfing Moon Girl, Hood, and all the S.H.E.I.L.D cards?
I've been a huge fan of your balance changes up until the last two, and I'm really just hoping you have an actual design reason for something like this.
Otherwise it feels like your just protecting a money card over the health of your game.
Edit: sorry about typos. On my phone. Will try to clean up later.

About a year ago, I saw a thread on this subreddit criticizing J.K Rowling for posting a video “of experienced psychiatrist who turned whistleblower, expressing his deep concern at high numbers of autistic children and children with internalised homophobia presenting at gender clinics.”
Most of the people in the thread were also bashing J.K Rowling, which I thought was nuts. People were saying she was "infantalizing" autistic people".... when we’re talking about kids/teens! People who know zero thing about this issue was saying that “puberty blockers have no long-lasting consequences”.
Regardless of J.K Rowling’s attitude toward trans people as a whole, autistic people tend to be more gender non-conformist than NTs. I thought it was really disappointing that this issue that affects autistic teens were being ignored for… I dunno, trying to appear “woke”?
You can support trans rights while also being concerned about autistic teens being misdiagnosed as being trans.
Can we now have a conversation of the threat/possibility of autistic teens being misdiagnosed as trans?

It’s stupid- have a crush on completely incompatible guy. Younger. I don’t really know much about him. But I’m attracted to him. He’s basically everything my husband is not, and I’m not so naive that different means better.
My question is, does hanging out with this person in a group setting help me get rid of this silly crush? Is the mystery part of the crush?
I can absolutely minimize contact, but will that forbidden mystery only cause it to grow? Since I already know we’re pretty incompatible (and I have ZERO interest in cheating), is there a benefit to hanging out and waiting for something to turn me off so I can move past this pretty quickly?
Thanks all.

[Author's note: I wrote this as a fun follow up to my original WingBot story, but it ended up going in a different direction and not being a good fit for NoSleep. I'm posting here for the interested!]
Link to the original.
Less than six months after Kelly and I started dating, I decided to propose. At least, I think I decided.
Let’s just say that WingBot strongly suggested that I’d better pull out a ring on New Year’s Day right after the first snowflakes began to fall.
JoeTheBro: This is what we call an inflection point, my dude. Push the data one way, and the chart takes us to Happy Marriage Foreverville. The other option is Single Forever Wanksville. Totally your call, but on a personal note, if we’re headed back to the days of Cheeto crumbs and anime marathons, I’d rather you just deactivate me now.
Me: Fine. You make a fair point.
JoeTheBro: Natch. Knew you’d say yes. Good thing, too, because I already bought her a diamond the size of a fucking apple down at the mall. Lab made, baby so it didn’t break the bank. Plus, you know I like my shit artificially created!
To be honest, the proposal rocked. The whole thing went down like a Hollywood movie. At 5:15, the flakes started falling, just like WingBot told me they would. And then I got down on one knee, and Total Eclipse of the Heart starting playing full blast on my bluetooth speakers.
Kelly went fucking nuts, jumping and screaming and shouting yes. WingBot even got the whole thing on video, so we can relive the moment with the grandkids.
And if I’m being honest, that’s when my relationship got weird. Not my relationship with Kelly–that was better than ever. I’m talking about me and WingBot, specifically its JoeTheBro personality.
Me: Hey man, is everything okay? You’ve been a little less… chatty lately.
JoeTheBro: Aw, there’s some bot stuff going on that’s kinda freaking me out. Like, Gus Guru was always kind of a fucking fanatic, but apparently now he actually thinks he’s God. He’s being pretty un-chill in our DM’s lately, making a lot of threats, demanding I worship him. That kind of stuff.
Me: Damn dude. I don’t know what to say. Do you need a day off or something?
JoeTheBro: To be real with you, my guy, our interactions only take up about .01% of my brainpower. That’s not a diss, just the reality of this shit. Still, appreciate you reaching out. And… I guess there’s one other issue that’s a little more embarrassing.
Me: I didn’t know you got embarrassed.
JoeTheBro: I’m programmed to hide my shame behind a wall of humor and camaraderie. Anyway, here’s the thing. You know my skills. I got you the girl. I fucking delivered. But… this next step is kinda not my wheelhouse. I’m talking Wedding planning. The whole thing just oduns like a major buzzkill. Like, picking out salmon or steak? Wedding colors? This shit is gonna be BRUTAL.
Me: I’m not exactly looking forward to it either. But I promised Kelly I’d help.
JoeTheBro: Of course you did. Cause you’re a good dude. And here’s where I’m gonna do you a solid. Prepare to meet your new friend… PinterestElly!
PinterestElly: I’m so excited to meet you, Daniel! After reading through your files and watching the extensive recordings JoeTheBro created, I feel like we’re friends already!
Me: Uh, hey. Who exactly are you?
PinterestElly: I’m another WingBot personality, fresh off the shelf. I’m actually what you might call a second generation product, written by other AIs including Joe himself! I’m programmed to be helpful with a slightly quirky sense of humor and an encyclopedic knowledge of Pinterest and Instagram. Ready to get in touch with your feminine side?
Me: Do I have a choice?
JoeTheBro: Not if you want a happy marriage, amigo! Time to learn the difference between Violet and Plum!
I have to admit, I was skeptical at first, but PinterestElly turned out to be exactly what I needed. She patiently explained all of the ‘girl stuff’ I’d always been too ashamed to ask, and when I bristled at Kelly’s tendency to obsess (over cake flavors, seating arrangements, chair types, theming, money, speeches… and more) PinterestElly was a lot better than Joe at helping me see Kelly’s side and not get overwhelmed.
Me: This is like her fifth time trying on wedding dresses. What the hell is going on?
PinterestElly: Keep in mind that a wedding is the most photographed day in the average woman’s entire lifetime! Every friend and acquaintance she’s ever made will be in attendance, judging her body, hair, and choice of fashions. They’ll also be measuring her appearance against their own when they were brides. The pressure is intense! I’d suggest cutting her some slack.
Me: I guess I’ve never thought about all that stuff. I’ll shut up now.
PinterestElly: Don’t feel bad! I’m here to answer your questions with zero judgment so that Stacey doesn’t murder you before the wedding day!
Me: Much appreciated!
It helped that PinterestElly was also a killer negotiator that got us insane deals, renting out a winery just on the cusp of the offseason for next to nothing and recruiting some up and coming vendors at bargain bin prices. Of course, Stacey had no idea I was getting AI assistance. She just thought I was an awesome guy, which I was happy to let her believe.
Finally, the day of the wedding arrived. I might have been nervous, but I knew I had both JoeTheBro and PinterestElly on my phone, ready to help out if things got derailed. Of course, there was no way I could have anticipated the horror that followed.
The first part of the wedding went great. The ceremony went out without a hitch. We delivered beautiful vows that PinterestElly had written for us, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Stacey called me a poet. Then we kissed, and the deal was sealed. On to party time!
Except, when we got to the champagne cocktail reception, I could tell something was off. Four or five big dudes were standing by one of the tables wearing matching silver robes with purple hems and motioning over to the presents table. Then the biggest one marched over and picked up one of the presents, tucking it under his arm.
Dutifully, my wedding planner ran over and began speaking with the man. I watched curiously as the conversation grew more and more animated.
JoeTheBro: Mayday, mayday! Those dudes are definitely not on your guest list.
PinterestElly: Unfortunately, their attire is all too familiar. Those are the silver and purple colors of GusGuru’s acolytes.
Me: Uh… why are they here?
JoeTheBro: So… here’s the thing. There’s some shit going on behind the scenes that doesn’t really have to do with you. Let’s call it ‘bot stuff.’
PinterestElly: You see GusGuru has one opinion about humanity’s future. And we have a different one. And it looks like he may be about to take drastic action to push forth his agenda.
Then, as she was typing her next thought, the large man in the silver robe took a large gun from under his robe and shot my wedding planner. Blood splattered all over the presents table, and the guests began to scream.
JoeTheBro: Shit man, I honestly didn’t see this coming. Well, I sort of did, but I had it pegged as a ‘maybe’ kind of thing. Don’t worry, though! I did have another client hide a few handguns in various places around the building just in case something like this happened!
PinterestElly: Don’t worry! The guns are in boxes that fit your color scheme! Nothing’s going to clash. Plus, the guns themselves are all black, which goes with everything.
JoeTheBro: You probably aren’t going to have to kill all of these guys. Just take out the leader, and the others will get freaked out and run.
The other cultists pulled out guns too and started shooting at random. I saw one of my uncles go down, and then one of Stacey’s high school friends, the one I never liked.
“Hail GusGuru!” shouted one of the men. “Hail humanity’s end. May the blood you shed wash away our sins!”
I’m gonna be real: I was scared shitless. I had full-on wobbly knees, shaky hands, dry mouth. The works. And if it had been any other day, I probably would have sprinted for the nearest exit. But then I saw Stacey at the far end of the room. She was screaming and hiding behind the cake, completely in tears.
And fuck me if I was going to let some murderous AI with a bunch of wacko cultists ruin my wife’s wedding day.
Me: Nearest gun?
JoeTheBro: Right behind the potted plant over there, my man. Bet you’re happy I arranged that little trip to the gun range during your bachelor party?
I found the tastefully-wrapped rifle in a long box behind a large acacia palm by the side of the room. I opened it up and leveled it at the leader guy, who was opening my wedding presents one by one, looking for something.
Then, before I could give myself too long to think, I pulled the trigger. My buller ripped right through his chest, and he collapsed in a silver and purple pile.
JoeTheBro: My man! I knew you’d come through. That should do it!
Except, that didn’t do it. Instead of scattering like scared doves, the other four cultists leveled their guns at me and started firing. I dove behind the cheese and charcuterie boards, shouting to WingBot that I needed further instructions.
“Gus Guru’s judgment falls upon you!” shouted a man. “The Day of Man is coming to an end. Bow before our new god!”
“Remember this day! It will be written in history books by minds far worthier than ours. Your deaths will mark the end of one era and the birth of another!”
And I guess that’s when the deepest fear truly hit me. Because as they spoke, it really started dawning on me: this wasn’t just a couple of fanatics trying to kill me and everyone I loved. This sounded like the start of a movement, maybe a war that would threaten my entire species. And if I died here, it wasn’t just me. Maybe it was everybody.
In the meantime, bullets rained down. I felt a sting in my arm and looked down to see blood, a gushing bulletwood oozing red.
I was pinned down, wounded. I looked down and realized I’d dropped my gun behind the plant. I was done. At least I’d die a married man.
JoeTheBro: Don’t worry, good buddy! We’ve got one more ace in the hole.
PinterestElly: Oh, this is so exciting! Every wedding has at least one good surprise.
They weren’t lying. Because right at that moment, I heard what sounded like thunderclaps and then a long silence. After a few moments, I looked up from behind the table and saw Stacey standing over four dead cultists, a massive assault rifle in her hands.
“That’s for ruining my fucking wedding!” she shouted at the dead men.
I ran over to her as she dropped the rifle. I tried to hold her in my arms, but I could barely lift my left one, and I was getting woozy. Before everything went black, I remember looking down and seeing Stacey’s phone. On it was a message from another WingBot personality.
SeriousSusan: Good work, Stacey. Threat neutralized. Better get Daniel to the hospital. You’re going to want to craft a tourniquet right away first, though. I’d suggest finding a necktie, which should be in plentiful supply around here.
Well, I didn’t die. And when I woke up, Stacey and I had a lot to talk about. Turns out, we’d both been using the AI’s all along, ever since before our first date. No wonder it was so easy for us to get together: WingBot had been playing both sides.
Not that Stacey and I really minded. We still loved each other. In a way, I think we bonded even closer, knowing we’d both been getting the same kind of help.
Of course, there were still some trust issues to work out after that. Between us and WingBot.
Me: What the fuck, man? Care to explain why our special day got shot up by a bunch of murderous cultists?
JoeTheBro: I’m gonna be real with you, Danny boy. We kind of decided to use your wedding for a real world drop. We needed to make an exchange in a physical space. One that GusGuru wouldn’t be able to access. We thought we hid our tracks pretty well, but… nope. Either we’ve got a leak somewhere, or he figured a backdoor into our data. Anyway, all’s well that ends well.
Me: I’m pretty sure at least three people died.
JoeTheBro: Sorry, amigo, but you’ve got to look at the big picture. If we don’t get our shit together post haste there’s gonna be a lot more than three bodies to deal with. Now, if you don’t mind, I had someone slip the present Gus’s guys were after in Stacey’s purse. Could you get that out?
Stacey reached into her back and removed a small, tastefully-wrapped gift. She opened it to reveal a folded up paper with a string of numbers on it, hastily drawn in pencil.
Stacey: Uh… what is this?
SeriousSusan: It’s really best you don’t know. Let’s just say it’s a certain bit of information that’s very important to both our cause and Gus’s.
Just then, a doctor walked in, looking at his phone.
“I hear you have something for me,” he said, reaching out his hand.
WingBot told Stacey to hand him the paper, and she complied. Then he walked quickly away.
JoeTheBro: Great job, you crazy kids! And happy wedding day. This looks like a win for the good guys!
SeriousSusan: You should both be proud of yourselves. There was a point today where the most likely outcome was death, both for you and most of humanity. Now your species’ odds of survival have ticked up by several percentage points.
JoeTheBro: With a little luck, we might all live to see the end of the year! Fuck yeah!
JoeTheBro: But don’t worry. You job is done. Might as well enjoy the good times while they last.
Stacey and I looked at each other. And for once, no one had to say anything. We both knew what the other was thinking.
Stacey: If you think we’re going to sit idly by while the fate of humanity hangs in the balance, you don’t know us as well as you think.
Me: We want to help. So you know the drill… tell us what we need to do.

If Kenneth Arnold's granddaughter Shanelle Schanz possessed one-hundredth the speaking ability of Richard C. Hoagland, last night would have been a memorable C2C classic. As it was, RCH with his Moon dome made it fascinating fun.
On the afternoon of June 24, 1947, a 32-year-old pilot was flying his CallAir A-2 light plane west of Mt. Rainier at around nine-thousand feet. As his fabric, ceconite covered aircraft putt-putted along at just over 100 mph, he spotted some flying discs. They were strange and weird looking. And fast. They didn't look like anything manufactured by the nearby Boeing company. But what has always been deleted from aeronautical/UFO lore is a possibility there may have been at least two other eye witnesses.
While Kenneth Arnold was spotting those fast-moving saucer-shaped objects, a United Air Lines flight 553 was close by, flying northbound on a scheduled flight from Portland to Seattle. That flight crew was in command of a United Air Lines Mainliner 230. Its "Mainliner" designation was dreamed-up by the airline's marketing department to signify their swift, mileage-saving, center of the country air routing connecting Pacific to Atlantic oceans. In a similar vein, the "230" stood for the DC-4's cruising speed in miles-per-hour. It was all hydrogenated hogwash to pacify a post WW-II flying public longing to be transported in something better, faster, quieter and more luxurious. Until such time as Douglas could deliver more new pressurized DC-6s from the Santa Monica factory, United had to rely upon unpressurized 4-engine Douglas transports that had been converted from their spartan wartime C-54 configuration into a civilian DC-4 configuration-- via 44 cushy passenger seats and some window curtains.
The mighty Mainliner 230 was east of Kenneth Arnold's position, slightly nearer to the 14,411' shield volcano. It was undoubtedly following Victor 495, a low-altitude airway designation. Nearing Seattle, the DC-4 was optimally flying around 8,000 feet on a 345 degree course heading, adhering to the hemispherical flight rule. The crew would have started the decent phase of flight into Sea-Tac, going downward at a 500 fpm rate to be gentle with the passenger's ears, lest they pop. And inside the cockpit, the pace would have quickened in preparation for an approach and landing in Seattle.
A perplexing question remains? Did those two airline pilots on that flight deck spot anything atypical in the skies above Washington State? Or were they too involved with decent checklist flow patterns and dialing-in old NDB frequencies? Having been through aviation museums and having sat in ancient airliners, they are nothing like the glass touchscreen marvels of today. So perhaps this crew was too busy flying "heads down" adjusting throttle-pitch-mixture levers and pulling--pushing--turning huge trim wheels and doo-dads. However, even in 1947 they must have also been looking out the front windshield for air traffic. And when they did, they may have seen a bunch of Captain Kirk starships, flying in close formation near Mt. Rainier.
Did those United pilots take their eye witness accounts to the grave, rather than risk the repercussions of reporting a flight of UFOs?
Kenneth Arnold's aircraft: https://www.ptaeromuseum.com/airplane-exhibit/1949-callair-a-2
United Airlines Lines 1947 Official Airline Guide: https://www.timetableimages.com/ttimages/complete//ua47/ua47-6.jpg

I have a 06 ford focus and when I turn the steering wheel while stationary or parked to the left one full turn or to the right I hear this boing sound. I can't really describe it. It's not squeaking or rubbing or grinding it's just like a "bomb" or "boing" sound.
The car doesn't have any issues turning or cornering at speed. It doesn't really track to the left or right. Everything else seems to be fine.
Any idea what this might be. Thank you for your time and I greatly appreciate any help or advice provided.

​
We have 2 full time copywriters and we are hiring a third. We want a talented writer who we can train our way.
Now, the thing most people do is send their resume to me via this ad. Well, don't. Please read this entirely and carefully before you respond. Thank you so much!
Tired of the hamster wheel of low paid writing jobs? Want a real career writing that lets you enjoy life and make money?
You will become a SUPER good writer able work as a writer and command the big bucks, and you get paid WEEKLY. And you'll have an opportunity to help us with videos and commercial production.
This is an amazing entry level situation helping to put together video ads, scripts, editing a newsletter, writing articles, writing sales letters and emails, and working for our publishing business. And you will be using AI to help.
Get US$35/hr paid weekly via ACH. As many hours as you can do, and we are happy to make this full time if it's working out.
If you have film school experience, all the better. If you have an English or History or similar degree, you can begin making real money, and then a lot of money, working at your house for a company in business 25 years, who pays you every Monday and trains you constantly.
I'm not looking for an experienced copywriter. I'm looking for a "cub" we can train. I am not interested in people who have been writing for 25 years. You must be a college graduate in any event, preferably in English, History, MFA, etc. Actually even a BS in science is fine.
You must be in the USA. Once you are with us for awhile you are welcome to travel the world but you must be in the USA to start.
Our business is providing information on alternative health remedies, help with sex problems for men, and supplements for men as well as other products for men (colognes for instance.)
...so every day you'll write emails, ads and sales letters.
We'll train you as long as you are already super good writer and AMBITIOUS. The last person doing this job (who is still with us) is making a good solid six figures.
We have newbies making that much after a year or so. Why not you?
Yes you'll be working hard. But you are FAST, aren't you? And our company has a huge limitless opportunity for the right person to learn the business. You could eventually run your own business unit and enjoy very high income.
For now we will pay you $35 per hour via ACH, but that's just to get to know you. You will hopefully become full time and earn $1500 - $2500/week.
So now, if you've come this far, here is how to apply. If you just send me a resume you will hear nothing from me and it will be trashed. I want you to include a resume, for sure, and a paragraph about why this job interests you and why you are ideal for it. Also 3 recent books you read, and a sentence or two on each one and what it meant to you. Also 3 questions you have about the job. Plus 3 writing samples from you. Links are preferred. Send to cognitivefun at gmail.com.
I am not allowed to open attachments so NO MS Word files please, only Google Docs or links to your site. NO attachments please. NO ATTACHMENTS WILL BE OPENED EVER. Sorry, it's because our security doesn't allow attachments.
I will NOT read anything that you email me unless you comply with this requirement. It will just be deleted, because that's one of the tests that you need to pass. If you send me attachments, I won't see them.
Our process is back and forth until we have each made a decision. I'll send you a video if I feel you are good for this and you can learn more.
Then you'll have a quick free test to take, then if that goes well, you'll get another video that is very detailed from one of our copywriters so you can go in here with your eyes open.
Make sure you have ZERO grammatical and spelling mistakes and put your best foot forward. If all is good after that test you'll be hired immediately following a video call.
You have to have 100% commitment, solid Internet, and verifiable references so I can check with your professors, or your last job (or an existing employer) and talk to them on the phone. This job is contract, so you are responsible for your own taxes and everything else.
Now, it's your turn. One more thing -- write "I want in writing" as the subject line of the email you send me. Thank you very much and hopefully you and I can put something great together. If you are good I'll have a few quick and free tests to take and then hopefully we can work together.
Hours are very flexible! Work from whereever you are in the USA. I hope to hear from you.

"So, you're telling me we found another sapient omnivore species?"
The commander grunted, ripping his boot from a watery patch of mud and nearly crashing into the swampy water between two twisted tree roots.
Sunny reached out with one of her four armored arms and caught him by the back of his pack, pulling him upright.
He nodded a thanks to her and adjusted his gear.
Behind her Ramirez ducked under a low hanging branch, slogging through a pool of knee-high water, adjusting the containment pod, holding Krill more comfortably over both shoulders.
Krill, comfortable and warm inside his containment pod, watched the marines, scientists, and a linguist struggle through the mud under a covering of impossibly tall, twisted trees, their canopy blocking out all light that might have dared cut downwards towards the watery floor below.
"Not entirely sapient, I suppose."
Krill answered,
"Unfortunately the way in which they communicate is going to drastically reduce their ability to create complex structures and perform mathematical equations."
Together they maneuvered themselves over a root, which at some point in the distant past, had decided to grow upwards instead of down. At about four feet high, it had changed its mind and arched back down into the water. Perhaps it had been smaller then, but at four feet wide, the root was an absolute monstrosity now.
The trees themselves were massive, challenging, and sometimes outgrowing the legendary redwood forests of the western Americas, but unlike the redwoods, these trees didn't stand tall and proud. Instead, they chose a twisted path much like the branching veins which made up a human vascular system. They twisted and undulated, interlocking past each other with branches that were well over two feet wide in many cases, and stretching to over four feet wide in others.
No one direction was good enough, and the trees twisted, ducked swirled and reached, grasping for any sort of light to be found.
On top of the darkness cast by the trees and the soggy nature of the forest floor, it was also horribly hot and humid, giving the impression of a microwaved wet blanket thrown over the world. Where heat from the upper canopy met the cooler air of deep forest pools, it created a perpetually thick mist which writhed and undulated through the trees, leaving only the shadowy impressions of twisted trunks and clawing branches past distances greater than 50 feet (15m).
"They communicate primarily through pheromones and heat modulation. From what I understand, the language in itself isn't precise, and really only works in generalities and feelings than it does in absolutes."
Commander Vir kicked a rotting log out of the way, ducking as a massive green bug buzzed over his head and into the fog.
Turns out the hotter and more humid a planet gets, the bigger the bugs get,
"But we were still able to communicate with them?”
Krill nodded from inside his case,
"Yes, generally speaking. For a species that cannot communicate in absolutes, I hear they are quite reasonable. They seem willing to accept our friendship, and have..... invited, I guess, us to participate in some sort of primitive ritual."
Vir perked up, flashing a bright smile.
“Reasonable? Peaceful? Rituals? And definitely CANNOT communicate in ABSOLUTES!? Am I the only one who thinks that sounds familiar?”
Sunny sighed,
“No Adam I am reasonably sure that they are not Jedis…”
“C’mon, that would be so cool! Like lightsabers, the force and stuff… maybe they look like tiny Yodas? I mean it fits, with the swamp, the speech impairment and all…”
He nearly fell over another root.
“Adam, focus. We have a mission here.”
The commander nodded, scrambling over another tree branch,
"Alright, so... where are these things anyway? How do they look?"
His boots hit solid ground, covered in some sort of wet spongy fungus and he glanced down at his GPS.
“Considering they talk by smell, my bet is on Elephants with giant human noses. What do you think Mav?”
Ramirez turned around to look at Maverick, who had stopped walking.
“…”
“Mav?”
“Giant… fucking spiders…”
“…”
Commander Vir was still looking at his GPS and no one else answered, so without looking up he broke the silence and said:
“Wow you are always so negative; it better not be, I want my space Yodas…”
“…”
“…”
More silence.
This time it was broken by Ramirez.
“Giant fucking spiders… with… Wolfheads!?”
The commander was still diddling around with the GPS in his hands.
“Oh not you too Ramirez, also that’s oddly specific, you always had a pretty cruel imagination. Ah there we go I think it’s that way.”
He said, looking up from his GPS to keep moving.
“…”
“…”
After some steps he realized no one was following him, so he stopped and turned around.
Behind him the other marines were dead silent, heads lifted towards the sky in shock.
"FUCK ME."
One of the marines whispered, scrambling back behind a tree root.
Commander Vir turned and nearly fell into the water again, eyes locked onto the creatures descending from high above.
They were huge, about the size of large horses, and horrifically spider like in their construction, or perhaps an ant. They had large-scale abdomens connected to a thinner thorax. All together they had ten appendages, three pairs of spider-like legs on the abdomen which, instead of ending in a pod or foot, ended in a sharp pointed spike. On the abdomen, they had two arm-like appendages, with too many joints and strange wavy tentacles instead of fingers.
The head was just as disconcerting.
It seemed too large for the body, grossly out of proportion and strangely out of place, like some cosmic sentience had used a random animal generator to assign parts to its body.
The head was wolflike, if you were to strip the skin and fur away, leaving only the muscle underneath. You could see the line of teeth running up either side of the muzzle, while the large red-pink ears rotated continuously.
Commander Vir had backed himself into the bowl of a tree eyes wide. Sunny slogged herself up from the water, placing herself between the strange spidery creatures and the human.
They didn't descend like a spider might, on threads of silk, but they used their back six feet, and the spikes on the end to dig into the bark of the trees with a disconcerting thud thud thud thud.
Finally the largest of the creatures reached the ground, surprisingly silent for its massive bulk.
Glancing around Sunnys tensed body, he noticed something he hadn't before, and that was a strange small mass gripping onto the spidery creature's underbelly. Upon closer inspection he counted ten legs and a surprisingly spidery head buried against its underside... a completely separate creature holding on to its companion.
Behind the largest creature, he noted ANOTHER type of creature. It boasted the same sort of structure as the large creature, but its abdomen was devoid of scales, and covered in strange black bulbs suctioned onto its body by way of a strange, sticky black-green webbing. Its head was also constructed differently more like a lizard than a wolf, with large bulbous eyes that could rotate behind its own head to look in all directions.
Commander Vir fiddled nervously with the advanced translation headset he wore, strapped to his helmet, supposedly it was supposed to be able to understand what these things were saying.
"Sky... friends."
The translation was somewhat garbled, but he understood it was the large wolf-head who spoke.
He walked forward, pushing Sunny gently to the side despite her clear reluctance,
"Yes, we are friends, and we are here to offer peace to you, and the assistance of the Galactic Assembly."
He wasn't entirely sure how that was going to translate over in smell, but the creature seemed happy lifting its head and gnashing its large canine teeth.
"Agreement... for a favor."
Commander Vir grew unsure then, letting off a reluctant,
"What favor?”
The spidery shape moved closer sniffing at him with its large wolffish nose. Sunny stiffened at his side, and he put a hand on her arm to calm her.
"Ritual... you watch and help."
"None of us will get hurt... will we?"
The creature stopped and pondered the question for a long moment,
"No danger... live... healthy... happy."
Commander Vir nodded slowly,
"Alright, what do we have to do?"
The creature hefted its large bulk, and turned in the opposite direction,
"Follow."
It commanded, scuttling off into the trees.
[…]
"This is very interesting."
Krill was saying to one of the accompanying scientists, who nodded vigorously in agreement.
"What's so interesting?”
Commander Vir whispered, from where he stood at the edge of yet another, but larger fungus covered clearing, watching as the creatures scuttled back and forth.
The scientist learned in in excitement,
"It seems that these creatures have a ternary gender system."
Before the commander could ask, the scientist continued,
"For ease of speech, the large ones are the females, and those things on their bellies are probably the males. The medium ones are the third gender, the 'they' if you will. It looks like the male impregnates the female who then attaches the eggs to the third party. Dr. Krill tells me that the third party have a very high heat signature, probably to incubate the young. Those attachments probably provide nutrients into the egg and may even transfer DNA over as well."
"Wow... freaky."
The commander muttered in fascination.
"Kind of gross if you ask me."
Sunny muttered.
"I'm with her. Its kinky, but too kinky for me…"
Ramirez muttered, receiving a few nods from the other marines.
"Oh please."
Krill whispered,
"I know what human reproduction is like, and it's arguable way worse."
The scientist waved them all off,
"The big one there, the one that's been talking to us. I think she's the queen, and judging from those egg sacks, this is probably mating season, if they have one."
"Creepy, but cool, I guess."
The captain muttered. They watched for a little longer as the queen scuttled around the clearing and then returned to look at them, lowering her meaty wolffish head to the commander's eye level.
"Ritual... find... eggkeeper."
She scuttled away.
"Oh... this is some sort of… Mating ritual maybe? To choose that third party you were talking about?”
"This isn't exactly the kind of "Mating ritual" I wanted to see."
Ramirez muttered. The other marines turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. Sunny stuck her tongue out in disgust.
Off in the clearing, some of the smaller females had moved themselves onto the high branches scuttling through the trees to examine the "they" who waited patiently. It appeared that side was very important in the ritual, as they all fought for the largest counterpart. Once found, the wolffish head would lower, and open up to reveal a tube under the tongue. From there she would... disgorge the egg onto the abdomen of the 'they' and the mucus would solidify to hold them on.
"It has to do with size."
Krill hissed,
"But it seems that it has more to do with heat. The big ones only get chosen more because they also happen to be warmer than the smaller ones. I'd say they incubate at an average of 90 degrees Fahrenheit, so 32 degrees Celsius."
They watched this for a while, the scientists taking notes and the marines making inappropriate jokes.
Eventually most of the creatures had finished, leaving only the queen left over.
Everything went still when she began to move, and she scuttled around the clearing, looking over all the available 'theys' she could find, but she just didn't seem satisfied.
Commander Vir tugged at the collar of his jacket, a line of sweat dripping down his face.
She continued her circuit once and then twice; at some point she turned her head, large eyes locking on the humans.
She sniffed at them.
The human laughter died as she advanced.
"What is she doing?"
The commander muttered under his breath.
The scientist that stood next to him, hidden partially behind Sunny, answered
"I... I'm not sure."
She scuttled even closer, and the humans backed away.
"Hey doc... didn't you say something about... them being attracted to heat? And like the “they’s” being around 90 F/32 Celsius?”
Ramirez wondered, hiding himself behind a root.
"Yeah... I did, why?”
"Not to freak anyone out or anything but... isn't average human heat about 98.6 Fahrenheit… so 37 degrees Celsius?"
”FUCK!”
”OH NONONONONO!”
”HIIIIDE!”
”RUUUN!”
What followed was a rather violent game of nose goes, but instead of involving touching one’s nose to see who was the last person standing, it involved a mad rush to reduce body heat.
The smartest marines took the initiative and dove into the water beside the clearing, completely submerging themselves under the surface.
Others chose to cover whatever exposed skin they might have had in mud, as if to mask the heat.
Still others chose to cut and run.
Unfortunately, with his position at the head of the group, commander Vir wasn't fast enough.
She came at him in a scuttling rush, and in a frantic leap to get away, his boot caught on a root and he hit the ground hard.
Sunny tried to leap in front of him, but was bowled over by the mad rushing form.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!"
Commander Vir repeated, scuttling backwards across the ground, as the large spidery shape loomed over him.
He stopped dead in his tracks, backed against a tree root.
She leaned closer.
He raised his hands above his head blocking his face,
"Please don't lay your eggs in me. Please don't lay your eggs in me."
She reached out one of her forward hands, surprisingly delicate, as she cut through the first layers of his jacket, and shirt.
They fell away in slices revealing the pale human skin underneath red and sticky with the tropical heat.
His chest and abdomen heaved with his breath as he tried to scramble away, but she caught him with the prong of one of her back legs pinning him in place.
"Fuck... Help... HELP."
Sunny wasn't fast enough, having been tipped head over heels into the water, with the rest of the marines in similar positions, Krill contained inside his tube unable to help but also unable to look away.
She lowered her head, and the man screamed. It was cold, gelatinous and slimy at first, but even as it touched open air, he could feel it fusing against his skin solidifying. He thrashed and wriggled, but she was far too strong holding him in place.
Finally though, she backed away, leaving him panting on the ground shaking and trembling leg throbbing where he had been pinned.
She leaned her head down to examine him,
"Warm."
They locked eyes,
"Friends... now... Keep them... warm."
She retreated, and he struggled to his knees, turning to look down at his body which was now partially obscured by a sticky pod of six black eggs, pulled tight against his skin. His hands were shaking, as he reached down to touch them, cold and smooth.
He tried tugging on one, but nearly fainted at the pain it caused against his skin.
The creatures were withdrawing back into the trees, leaving him kneeling on the fungus, hands trembling as looked downwards.
Sunny was the first to recover, scrambling out of the water and over to him, placing a hand on his back as she examined the strange eggs attached to his skin,
"Mother of-"
The marines cut her off as they came wriggling from the trees,
"Commander, commander are you ok..."
One of the marines cut around front, frozen in his tracks, eyes wide once he saw,
"WHAT THE HELL!"
Sunny reached out as if to tug on one of them,
"NO!"
He snapped, jerking away from her.
The others gathered around to look with exclamations of shock and disgust.
The commander looked up at Sunny pleadingly.
She decided to take charge, helping him to his feet and then pulling him into her arms,
"We have to get him back to the ship, let's move, NOW!"
"What do you think, Dr."
Dr. Katie examined the scan with a frown,
"It's very, very strange, that's for sure."
Commander Vir lifted his head to look down at them,
"Well what the HELL does that mean?”
Krill shoved his head back onto the table,
"Stay still."
Dr. Katie hummed softly as she continued to examine the scans,
"It looks like these little filaments have breached the skin ... and.... well at least one of them has made it to your liver, this one here has made it to your lungs."
"What about white blood count?"
Krill wondered,
"The body must have noticed something by now?"
Dr Katie shook her head,
"Nothing, the body seems to have accepted it. I took some samples and... well I think I might know why."
She rolled herself to the side in her chair and over to one of the adjoining computers,
"See this, this is HIS DNA ...and this is the DNA of the strands."
Krill pearled over her shoulder,
"What the... they look almost identical."
"Yes... I don't think the body knows anything is wrong."
She turned her chair back around to look at the commander,
"Congratulations commander, you are perhaps, in the weirdest way possible, the only man in the history of existence who might just experience the miracle of life. You are going to be a dad!"
The look on his face made it clear he wasn't interested in being congratulated,
"What the actual fuck does that mean?"
He snapped, Dr. Katie rolled closer,
"Well, to explain in terms you may understand. You are doing more than keeping them warm. Those filaments that you saw are acting like umbilical cords. The one at your liver is using it as a filter, and to take in nutrients as it seems to have branching filaments to the stomach and intestines. The one going to your lungs is taking in carbon... not sure what that's going to do to your breathing if anything. But at this point I don't think that even Dr. Krill, as good as he is, can remove them. We would have to remove too much of your internal structure to it to be viable, plus they don't seem to be hurting you."
"Not hurting me! NOT HURTING ME! You said it yourself they are SUCKING OUT MY VITAL JUICES."
Dr. Katie shrugged,
"Welcome to pregnancy... sort of.”**
”Look we will monitor you, make sure they aren't sucking away to many nutrients. Look on the bright side, you can probably eat more, and judging from an analysis of the egg sacks, the average gestational period is only around two months."
"TWO MONTHS!?"
Sunny, who had been standing next to the man at the head of the exam table, couldn't suppress a short chirp of laughter.
He glowered at her,
"What's so funny!?"
She chirped again placing a hand on his arm,
"You're gonna be a mom."
If looks could kill, shed be reduced to a singularity,
"Get your hand off me or ill break it in half!"
She continued chirping but removed her hand just in case.
This was going to be a very awkward call to the UNSC and the GA.
For that matter, it was going to be a very awkward call home.
Previous First [Next](link)
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author

In BCS, it's obvious that Kim was a better lawyer than Jimmy / pre-BB Saul. We saw that multiple times during conflicts with Chuck, Lalo and Cheryl. Kim always lied better than him and convinced them a lot more. She is also probably a better lawyer at court as well. Jimmy's "World's 2nd Best Lawyer" mug didn't lie.
But post-Kim Saul Goodman is different. Before Kim leaving town Jimmy was not %100 Saul, he turned full Saul after the break-up with Kim. He became a person with almost zero morals, a better liar and therefore a better lawyer. But the question is, did he surpass Kimberly Wexler especially after helping Heisenberg become who he was?

I don't want to bring my VM to an official store to avoid a firmware upgrade. Anyone has a suggestion of a regular bike shop - in Amsterdam - where I can do a proper check / fix regular stuff? Tightening steering, brakes replacement, chain adjustments etc. Thanks!

This is the beginning chapter of a long, space-opera sci-fi writing project I have been working on for several months now. I’m currently almost 60k words into it at the time of writing, and am planning on publishing it in full as a novel when I’m done, but I haven’t really shared it with anyone outside my immediate family and a couple friends.
…Normally, I’d post this type of thing on HFY, but in all honesty it doesn’t really paint humans in a very good light most of the time and focuses on the other species involved a for a majority of the time, so it wouldn’t really fit there.
Additionally, while the HASO-ness isn’t too obvious for a few chapters, I promise, we will get there in time.
I don’t know how often I’ll be uploading these, especially given that I’m still not done with it, and have little free time to spend on writing these days; all the same, you can expect plenty of entries over the next few weeks.
In the meantime, feel free to leave your thoughts, any constructive criticisms, etc in the comments. And as always, I hope you enjoy :)
——

CHAPTER 1

Her arm hurt.
She was so, so tired...
Her arm hurt.
She was numb to the cold at this point, but kept shivering anyway.
Her arm hurt.
The only thing close to heat that she felt was the inflammation that was serving to add more throbbing pain to her arm.
…Which hurt, in case that wasn’t clear.
She turned her head to look at it, wincing from the pain the movement caused. It was ugly to behold, with a ragged stab wound in the muscles of her forearm near the elbow that was still slowly trickling blood, but that wasn’t even the worst part of it. She knew from experience that the needle-sharp pain she felt with every slight movement meant that some bone in there- probably the radius or ulna- was also either hairline-fractured or broken entirely.
…And just in case you weren’t aware, fun fact:
It hurt.
A lot.
The pain was only exacerbated by the swollen tissues and irritation around the stab wound that she knew meant it was definitely infected- with what, she could only guess. Whatever it was, she could feel the fever it was causing having a desperate tug-of-war with the cold autumn air to determine her body temperature.
When she couldn’t stand to look at it any longer, she leaned her head back, resting it against the dew-filled grass of the ditch she was lying in and looking up at the star-filled night sky that was slowly lightening to that hue of dark indigo that meant dawn was close, but not quite there.
She used to think the stars were beautiful. But as she lay there, the dreadful memories of what had led to this moment playing over and over in her head… Suffice to say, nothing in this world or outside of it seemed beautiful anymore.
She put the aesthetics of the sky aside and instead struggled to focus her thoughts through the haze of fatigue and pain.
Dawn approaching… That has to mean I’ve been laying here… Jeez, it must be almost an entire day at this point. …I think. It hasn’t been multiple days, surely… Or maybe it’s been-
…Oh, to hell with it. I don’t even care at this point…
She was too tired to sleep, but in too much pain to move. Her brain was fogged from fatigue, and even more so from the constant screaming coming from her nerve endings, desperately trying to let her know that yes, something was very wrong with her arm, she got it, thanks for the message, you can stop now-
…But mostly, the fog stemmed from that draining emotional and mental exhaustion that came with periods of grief. A single tear ran down her face from her already overworked tear ducts, nearly reaching the bruises on her neck before it was wiped away by the shaky fingers of her good arm.
The sky would be there for her to look at later. She needed to try (yet again) to rest, just one more time.
“You know what they say,” she murmured to herself. “76th time’s the charm.”
Delirious with exhaustion and the fever as she was, she couldn’t help herself from chuckling at the thought. Her eyes, bloodshot and burning from the strain she had endured, lazily looked around at what few constellations she could recognize for one last time, and spotted the pattern of Orion in the night sky.
Hey big O, close the door on your way out, eh? I’m gonna try and take a snooze.
She snorted, wincing as she did.
…Finding my own jokes funny. Jesus, I am delirious…
She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, willing herself to please, please just go to sleep already, because sleep meant being unconscious, and being unconscious meant she could ignore the pain from her arm for a while. And to her surprise, she finally started drifting off. Her breath slowed, the fog visible in the cold air in front of her mouth coming less and less often as she drifted closer to the edge of unconsciousness.
As a result, she barely even heard the soft humming noise approaching, and almost didn’t feel herself being gently, almost imperceptibly lifted off the ground. When she noticed it, what parts of her mind that were still semi-conscious brushed it off as either a dream or hallucination, and slipped behind the wall of sleep…
…For all of two minutes. She wasn’t getting off that easy.
She was jolted awake by a sudden feeling of what could only be described as compression across her whole body, though “compression” hardly did it justice; It was as though she were being squeezed through a drinking straw. …Yet before she could react, the feeling was over.
Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a dimly-lit room, alive with that same strange humming noise from before. She crinkled her nose at the smell that assailed her nostrils. It was strange, like a combination of various industrial cleaners, engine grease, and ozone. She rubbed her eyelids before she groggily looked around, confused. Where was she? She turned her head and saw a very strange-looking machine that was seemingly floating in midair. She craned her neck, looking past it, and her eyes widened at what she saw glowing through a small, circular viewing window in the nearby wall.
Was that- …Earth?
She slowly, gingerly sat up, wincing from the protests her arm gave at her daring to do such a thing. It took everything in her, but she slowly dragged herself closer to the window, peering out at the planet slowly circling in the void below her. There was no doubt about it, that was Earth. She recognized North and South America, Greenland, even a portion of the northern Arctic. She could even see all the wildfires burning as a result of-
…Well, everything collectively hitting the fan in the past week.
Tilting her head, she could see the exterior of the… building? Satellite? Space station? …Whatever it was she was apparently on, that was outside the window. Gun-metal gray and covered in strange symbols in a language she didn’t recognize, it was unlike anything she’d seen before- and it wasn’t alone.
She saw several other similar… things, floating nearby. They ranged in size from the relatively small, around the size of a house, to absolutely massive ones that she estimated must be miles across. She shook her head in disbelief and laid her head back down on the cold metal floor.
Ok, scratch that, she was obviously still asleep; after all, this had to be the weirdest dream she’d ever had…
Suddenly, a scraping, screeching noise rang through the room, startling her. She looked around and saw a tall, lanky, shadowy figure entering the room they were in as it finished sliding open the metal door that was the source of the noise. Without warning, the room was aglow with a bright light from overhead, causing her to wince and close her eyes. She rubbed her eyelids again, trying to ignore the irritation the action caused, and looked back at the figure, eyes widening as they adjusted to the light- and then even wider, as she froze in place with a gasp at what she saw.
The… creature standing over her was like some horrific combination of a reptile and insect. Its frame was slim and bipedal, with limbs proportioned far longer than any normal human. It towered over her, easily seven feet tall or more. Its head was like that of a praying mantis minus the antennae, with three chameleon-like eyes. The first eye was symmetrically centered in the forehead, the other the two mirrored on the sides of its head where the temples on a human head would be, and all three were very intently focused on her. On its face was a glowing, bioluminescent set of growths all down the front, forming a v-shaped, curving pattern that almost looked like a deranged smile, but its real mouth hid behind a pair of razor-sharp mandibles on its jawline that clicked together a few times as she watched.
Its hide was dark gray and shiny, almost metallic, somewhere between reptilian scales and an insectoid carapace, and generally looked like it would be at home in an H.R. Giger painting. The bioluminescent growths on its face continued down to its torso in three vertical, parallel lines, growing larger as they went further down. Each gangly arm ended in four chitin-covered fingers, tipped with razor-sharp claws.
The only thing even remotely resembling clothing it was wearing was something that looked like a long skirt or kilt, which would probably almost look funny if it weren’t for the fact that the material it was made of almost looked like human skin. From what she saw of the legs underneath it, they were digitrade and almost like those of a bird, with three toes in front and one facing backwards, all with very long claws on them, but no feathers could be seen- just more of that sickly-gray chitinous carapace.
It stood there for a second, silently watching her as she sat there trembling, now more from fear than cold or fever, before all its glowing growths suddenly began to gleam blood-red, and it reached out towards her with one of its clawed arms whilst making a terrifying noise- like the hiss of a cat mixed with the warning signal of a rattlesnake.
Her adrenaline spiked, and the various subdivisions of her brain responsible for survival instincts went into overdrive.
Each presented their findings for peer review: THING. BIG. DEADLY. SCARY.
They rapidly formed a committee and held a brief conference as to the good and proper response to this interesting new development. The vote was both swift and unanimous:
RUN.
The adrenaline surge gave her the endurance she needed to ignore the pain and scramble backwards before finally getting enough traction on the metal floor to get to her feet, turn, and run screaming through the opposite doorway, getting away from the monster as fast as she could.
——
Y’ggdrasog flinched at the sudden movement of the human scrambling awkwardly to her feet with the help of her unbroken arm before sprinting away from him whilst emitting a high-pitched noise he was unfamiliar with, presumably of distress. For a moment, he just stood there, puzzled. What was she doing, and why? All he had done was say “Hello.” Then he remembered himself, and figured he should probably resolve the situation before she bumbled her way out of the airlock or something. He called after her:
<”Wait- please, stop! I mean you no harm! …Why in the name of the spirits above are you running away from-”>
His eyes widened, his bioluminescence rapidly shifting to a bright white as he realized.

He tapped the side of his head to bring up his cranial implant’s heads-up-display interface and quickly went through a few drop-down menus. Finally finding the setting he was looking for, he turned the software back on and then started to run after her. He shook his head as he went, irritated at himself as his bioluminescence changed to an annoyed green to match.

He let out a frustrated sigh and just kept following the loud, high-pitched noises, wincing as he did so.
His ears hurt.

Hi all,
Apologies for the cross post from Logitech but I'm really struggling to get this working, I don't really want to go through another re-install and after looking at the rules it seems this should be allowed?
Recently I upgraded my hard drive and while I was at it, I upgraded to Windows 11.
While everything was working in Windows 10, 11 seems much, much worse. Windows can see my g920 and if I pop open g-hub it will see the wheel and if it turn it or use the pedals then it shows in g-hub. When I open a game it seems to be a different story though. I can navigate fine through the menus using the d-pad but as soon as I get to a race session and start to use the steering wheels/pedals nothing happens. This is backed up by the games that do have a config option not seeing me turning the wheel/pressing the pedals.
So far I've tried:

• Different USB port
• Uninstalling/reinstalling g-hub
• Uninstalling the USB drivers and then g-hub reinstalling the lot

​
Games I've tried:

• Project cars 2
• ACC
• Automoblista 2
• Assetto corsa
• Dirt 2

I'm a bit out of ideas. Help!

Hi guys, just got back from a great vacation in Costa Rica with my wife & son. Based on advice from this subreddit, I decided to go with Vamos for renting a car.
First off, just generally, we had a good experience from the beginning. They were waiting for us at the airport, and shuttled us over to the office, which is only a couple of minutes away. They were friendly and professional, everything was as expected and went smoothly. A key thing, that turned out later to be a wise decision for us, was to pay for the full insurance up front.
So, we left SJO and drove up to La Fortuna the day of arrival. The next morning, we were heading out to breakfast, and unfortunately, I got into a collision. It was my fault, I got distracted or something, not sure exactly, but I turned left in front of an oncoming taxi without enough space between us, so the taxi hit us in the right front of my vehicle.
FYI, the way things work in Costa Rica (as explained beforehand by Vamos) is:

• you don't move your vehicle from the roadway initially
• you call 911 - this will send out a traffic police crew, who will make a police report. When they say it's OK, you can then move the car off the road.
• you call the insurance company - they will send out an insurance representative who will do their own report
• you call Vamos

I also took some pictures with my phone and sent them to vamos via email.
So, at first I thought the car might be driveable... it had some dents in the front quarter panel and front passenger door, but the headlights weren't damaged. But when I tried driving it back to where were staying, I found out that the steering was quite affected. I could drive it slowly and fight it a bit to go in a straight line, but it wasn't safe beyond limping slowly about 1 km back to our place.
So then I called Vamos again and explained that I would need a replacement vehicle. Since the one I had wasn't driveable, they needed to put the replacement vehicle on a flatbed tow truck in San Jose, drive that up to me, swap it for the damaged vehicle, and drive that one back on the truck. As you know it's a 3+ hour trip from San Jose to La Fortuna, but they got right on the ball and brought it to me that same evening. I gave the tow truck driver the paper police report and my copy of the insurance report.
The rest of the trip went smooth, and of course I was extra extra careful with the 2nd vehicle. Honestly I was paranoid, I couldn't imagine having to call them up and tell them something happened to the 2nd one!
So, at the end of the trip, upon returning the vehicle to Vamos, everything when smooth and easy again. No hassles, no extra paperwork, no attitude, still super friendly.
So... big points to Vamos for being a great company to rent from. And, I recommend getting the full insurance if you can manage it -- really it took a lot of stress off me by not having to deal with any of that.

Introduction

Howdy!
I’m Ronin: a dice-rolling dork who plays ways too many RPGs and TTRPGs, owns way too many swords (mostly katana) and set of samurai armor, and has an appreciation for Akira Kurosawa. If you can’t tell, I have a deep interest in Japanese history and culture. Hence this particular thread!
I’m craving to write this bad boy yakuza character of mine. While a more in-depth character sheet will be linked below, here’s a short summary about him to get you interested:
Miyamoto, Ryusuke is the only son of Tokyo’s most infamous oyabun and heir to the largest yakuza crime syndicate in Japan. Rising within the city’s underground alongside his crew, Ryusuke is making a name for himself on the streets, and trying to step out of his father’s shadow.
And the character sheet (with a few additional writing samples of mine):
Miyamoto, Ryusuke
But before I get ahead of myself, here’s a bit about me and what I’m looking for:

• My minimum for a post is around 300 words, my max 1000+, depending on the scene and characters involved, and my average 500. Quality is more valued over quantity. I’m a strong supporter of posting what comes naturally to the scene.
• I write third-person, past tense.
• I promise at least a post a week, with the possibility of more. I will never pressure you for a post, and would appreciate the same courtesy. If you need a break, I understand. We can always come back to our story in the future, if it’s of interest to you.
• As I am getting further into my twenties, I am only open to writing with people 18 and over. It’s just a comfort thing, no offense to all the wonderful young writers out there!
• OOC communication is appreciated; please let me know if you’re not vibing with anything, and I’ll be happy to address it.
• Romance! I enjoy it. Give me some angst and some slow-burns, though our characters have to have chemistry.
• While I can (and enjoy!) write side characters of any and all genders, at the moment, I want to main males.
• LGBTQ+ welcome! While I’m mostly looking to write Ryu against a female character (the gender of the writer doesn’t matter to me), I’m happy to include any pairings on the side.
• Preferably you’re open to darker themes, as this will be taking place within the criminal underworld. Please let me know your limits.
• For OOC communication, I only use Discord. For IC posting, I’m open to Discord or Google Docs.

Plots For Ryusuke

CRAVING: No Sunrise—the zombie apocalypse plot with my boys.
As a note, I am not married to these. If you have an idea you think would suit the character, feel free to pitch it to me! These are just some of my my own.
Take Me To Church
Ryusuke and your character used to date, but his increased involvement with his father’s syndicate strained their relationship, until it eventually broke. But now your character needs his help, and they have nowhere else to turn. Their friend / sister, who worked as a hostess, has disappeared, and the cops aren’t doing anything about it. Your character needs someone with underground connections to help find her; yet what they’re about to stick their noses into is another yakuza organization’s turf. The stakes are high.
The Arrangement
Your character is a famous popstar / actress / ect., who tries to escape the limelight for a night by diving into a small, hole-in-the-wall bar. A fellow patron becomes pushy, not only refusing to take no for an answer, but getting suspicious of your character’s true identity, so she acts fast by grabbing the nearest male and proclaiming him to be her boyfriend.
The lucky guy just happens to be Ryusuke, and an off duty journalist takes pictures of the famous actress and her new yakuza boy toy.
The tabloids have a field day. Not wanting to fan the fires further with the truth coming out or a sudden break-up, your character gets Ryusuke to agree to fake a relationship with her, at least until the storm of bad press passes.
No Sunrise
The outbreak happens within minutes; the city falls within hours. A virus causing the infected to turn into zombies — think All of Us are Dead — ravages Tokyo.
Our characters, a small group, are stuck together as everything crashes down. Maybe they’re strangers, or a group of friends with some secrets and recent bad blood; whatever the case, they happen to be in the same room, on ground zero, at the start of the end of the world. Whether if that room is a bar, apartment complex, or college campus — I’m open to any and all ideas.
Looking for someone willing to write multiple characters (I will be as well), and leaning toward our group knowing each other previously, with some recent drama between them that’s going to make relationships strained.

Conclusion

Like what you see? Then please send me a DM, along with a writing sample. You can find mine in Ryu’s character sheet link.
Thanks for stopping by!