Couch collectibles

Does anyone else feel this way? In terms of external factors, VR has some elements that lend it to episodic content. VR is generally suited to somewhat shorter play sessions than flat titles (VR die-hards aside), VR really sells the immersion and intrigue of new settings and environments, and VR software pricing generally runs below flat titles (meaning less VR development is centered around delivering big titles with tons of content).
But beyond the logistical considerations, there's the issue of what VR content is available and what we actually want to play in VR. Sure, racers, shooters, horror, and flight games are all at the front of the list, but those genres seem to have strong / consistent representation in the current / anounced PSVR2 lineup.
When daydreaming of what I'd like to play & experience in VR, I'm often driven to character-driven narrative adventures. While VR is amazing for action etc, I often wish that action was couched in the context of a larger adventure; something more like an "immersive sim" or a "walking simulator" that adds action into the mix of puzzles and exploration / investigation. The immersion of VR can make these experiences so much more impactful because the sense of place and "being there" is often put ahead of a brisk gameplay loop or other "gamey" mechanics.
Within that gaming paradigm, I'm often drawn to the thought of serial TV shows in the detective and sci-fi genres, and how it would feel to "play" them in VR. To set out on this week's Star Trek adventure or Law and Order case, or mix a bit of both with something like the X-Files (yes, I'm dating myself with these references). I think it would be so cool for a game to have a gameplay framework around investigation or sci-fi exploration, and then periodically receive new episodes that take you to new locations and immerse you in new stories with fresh intrigue.
There's been some precedent on PSVR1 for some of the concepts I've suggested, but not quite in the way I mentioned. LA Noire VR's cases were presented episodically within the game itself, and they typify the kind of gameplay I'd like to see from a similar game. But no other cases were ever provided through DLC, as the game was essentially parcelled out of the larger flat game's narrative (vs a game designed from the ground up to be episodic in nature).
Hitman 3 on the other hand has taken on a consistently expanding set of DLC missions. While it is perhaps more action driven than what I'm imagining, if it were on PSVR2 it would easily qualify as the closest thing to the model that I'm suggesting. The new locales and plots really elevate the sense of intrigue and adventure, keeping the core mechanics but freshening everything else up.
Bringing things back to the logistics of VR, I feel like episodic content would work so well for the VR model. Drop a core game at a reasonable price point ( perhaps the $30-$40 range) with a few introductory episodes bundled, and then offer $10-$15 DLC episodes once or twice a year to add into your collection. This could keep the scope manageable for smaller AA devs while still giving us fresh, quality content with a high degree of consistency. If even 2 or 3 quality VR franchises used this model, you could really fill up the release schedule in a hurry. It just seems like a perfect opportunity to create high quality immersive experiences without waiting on conversions of flat titles with 5 year dev cycles from publishers that don't care about VR.
Anyway, more wishful thinking, I know, but I couldn't help but wonder if anyone else shared the same sentiments.

Relavent preamble:
So my parents are notoriously....slow....when it comes to using/embracing new technology. And when I say "new" technology....I mean texting and adding email attachments. Prior to this year, neither of my parents could even send a text, and I think they've had smartphones for at a couple of years. My mom (the NParent of the equation), started texting more regularly since they moved to a rural area and sometimes texts go through easier than phone calls.
I have a collection of ongoing text chains with work colleagues, individual friends, family, etc. 99% of the time, I am VERY aware of who I am texting. There are times when I have multiple text conversations going on simultaneously, so I always double check that I send my husband the heart emoji and not a coworker. My sister is expecting her second child this month, so we've been talking/texting a lot. She also agrees that mom has kinda gotten worse with respect to her mental health. In other words, we do trash talk our mom regarding her behavior. I think y'all kinda see where this is going.
The past few months have been hectic on my end. Work has been a bit stressful, and today I ended up skipping lunch, which was a bad move on my part. I was also in a bad headspace since my private student loans jacked the interest rate on one of my loans (like it went from 9 to over 13% in a month). My parents promised to help me refinance by being cosigners, well they backed out once I received conditional approval (it's one of their little habits).
I get this text asking if my nephew can have my treasured childhood stuffed animal (it was a realistic raptor from the first Jurassic Park, I was a unique child). My dad is helping at my sister's house and watching my nephew when she needs to go to the hospital, and I guess he was just going to bring the toy. The text said that the toy would be given to my nephew saying it's from "Aunt Ida". That is not my name, my nephew is still a toddler, so that's just how he says it. It's actually really cute. My stressed out brain automatically said: "Hey, you're texting your sister". So first I was like uh, sure, but if my nephew decides he doesn't want it, please don't get rid of it. I expressed that I just did not want it to end up at Goodwill or a yard sale. Then I was like "Mom is trying to excommunicate me from the family!" And I receive a confused "What? This is your mother". Wellllll that didn't stop me from texting "mom is just making my life difficult that's all".
THEN it hit me. I was like....oh.....oh no. Like I am a grown ass 36 year old woman, and I dropped my phone on the couch and "hid" in my husband's office. I ultimately texted a "Oh sorry, I was just telling (sister's name) I was frustrated with the cosigner issue" - never heard anything back. It is entirely possible that she misinterpreted my texts. She ingests so much QAnon material, her critical thinking skills have waned terribly. But my mom also has a taste for the theatrics - if she were to disown me, I'm sure I would have received a phone call or a long email outlining how I've been an ungrateful, disrespectful b*tch - which I have been called before.
I guess we'll have to wait and see how this bold strategy works out. As my husband said: "She's hurt you so many times, if she feels hurt from this, tough shit".

Been lurking and messaging for a while now, and met some very interesting people. But still looking for my one. Hoping he’s been lurking here as well and this post will draw him out.
About Me:
Personality wise, I tend to be silly and sarcastic, inquisitive and adventurous, and my friends tell me I’m caring and empathetic. I’ve been known to fall down research rabbit holes, and am most likely to be left behind in a natural history museum. I’m areligious/atheist but love religious architecture/historical customs. Politically, I’m liberal. Katie Porter gives me life. Physically, I’m a tall fat girl with tattoos. If that’s not your cup of tea, best of luck to you!
I’m a lover of the outdoors. Hiking is my meditation, and I backpack or car camp every summer. Finding a partner who wants to enjoy this with me would be a dream come true. I also love long walks on the beach (cliché, I know), especially after a winter storm. I’m a bit of a crazy plant lady, and am currently obsessed with carnivorous plants.
When I’m inside, I love curling up in bed or on the couch with a good book (scifi/fantasy or nonfiction preferred), or watching a dark comedy or campy monster movie. There is little better than a lazy day cuddled up with my lover and laughing at a terrible movie. I’m an avid PC gamer (only PvE, and no MMOs), and have a modest board game collection.
About You:
I’m looking for my best friend and life partner. Someone who will support and challenge me into being the best version of myself. Who values open communication when dealing with conflict, and thinks of our relationship as a team finding solutions to the challenges of life. Who will be silly with me and tease me as much as I’ll tease him. The guy who wants a life full of adventures both big and small. Let’s go see the Aurora Borealis from a Finnish glass igloo, or rent a camper to drive across New Zealand. We’ll go see that new exhibit at our favorite museum, or try that new recipe or ingredient we stumbled across (I love innovating in the kitchen). Help me build a sleeping platform in the back of my car so we can road trip to all the national parks. We should hurry on that one, before Florida and the Everglades become inaccessible.
Please be within 5 years of my age. I’m willing to go a year or two outside that for an amazing connection, but I find it’s difficult to relate if the age gap is too large.
Dealbreakers: kids (bio, adopted, or step), smoking/vaping, cats (I’m allergic)
Your pic gets mine

Been lurking and messaging for a while now, and met some very interesting people. But still looking for my one. Hoping he’s been lurking here as well and this post will draw him out.
About Me:
Personality wise, I tend to be silly and sarcastic, inquisitive and adventurous, and my friends tell me I’m caring and empathetic. I’ve been known to fall down research rabbit holes, and am most likely to be left behind in a natural history museum. I’m areligious/atheist but love religious architecture/historical customs. Politically, I’m liberal. Katie Porter gives me life. Physically, I’m a tall fat girl with tattoos. If that’s not your cup of tea, best of luck to you!
I’m a lover of the outdoors. Hiking is my meditation, and I backpack or car camp every summer. Finding a partner who wants to enjoy this with me would be a dream come true. I also love long walks on the beach (cliché, I know), especially after a winter storm. I’m a bit of a crazy plant lady, and am currently obsessed with carnivorous plants.
When I’m inside, I love curling up in bed or on the couch with a good book (scifi/fantasy or nonfiction preferred), or watching a dark comedy or campy monster movie. There is little better than a lazy day cuddled up with my lover and laughing at a terrible movie. I’m an avid PC gamer (only PvE, and no MMOs), and have a modest board game collection.
About You:
I’m looking for my best friend and life partner. Someone who will support and challenge me into being the best version of myself. Who values open communication when dealing with conflict, and thinks of our relationship as a team finding solutions to the challenges of life. Who will be silly with me and tease me as much as I’ll tease him. The guy who wants a life full of adventures both big and small. Let’s go see the Aurora Borealis from a Finnish glass igloo, or rent a camper to drive across New Zealand. We’ll go see that new exhibit at our favorite museum, or try that new recipe or ingredient we stumbled across (I love innovating in the kitchen). Help me build a sleeping platform in the back of my car so we can road trip to all the national parks. We should hurry on that one, before Florida and the Everglades become inaccessible.
Please be within 5 years of my age. I’m willing to go a year or two outside that for an amazing connection, but I find it’s difficult to relate if the age gap is too large.
Dealbreakers: kids (bio, adopted, or step), smoking/vaping, cats (I’m allergic)
Your pic gets mine.

My first memory of losing something takes me back many years. I was still a kid, around 5 or maybe 6 years old. Back then, I enjoyed collecting little wooden toy animals. I had one particular favorite. Perhaps the reason I liked it so much was not because it was prettier than the others, but simply because I kept losing it. Despite being young and easily distracted, I vividly remember what happened.
I was playing on the floor of my room with the other little wooden figures when suddenly, I froze in place. There it was, lying right next to the leg of the chair, the little doe looking exactly as I remembered it. I eagerly picked it up, still unable to believe my eyes, and immediately included it in my game.
I was overjoyed, at least until I turned my head for a moment in the opposite direction. When I looked back to where I had left the doe, it was gone.
It may sound naive and silly, but even back then, I knew there was something strange about the whole situation. I searched every nook and cranny of my room, desperate to find it. However, it was nowhere to be found. I felt a sense of despair as if someone was playing a prank on me, deliberately hiding my toy.
I hadn't thought about this incident for years, and it had become deeply buried in my memory. It likely wouldn't have resurfaced if something hadn't happened to remind me of that day.
Now, at the age of 23, I live alone in a secluded town. I prefer tranquility and birdsong over the constant noise and hectic pace of city life. I have a cozy little house all to myself, the kind I had always dreamed of. It's a two-story house with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a spacious garden filled with various flowers and peaceful corners where I can fully dedicate myself to work or reading.
On one of those quiet afternoons, I was reading a book on the sofa in my living room, accompanied by music playing from the record player. Suddenly, the record started screeching, producing unbearable sounds. I quickly jumped up and halted its spinning.
"I concentrate better in silence anyway," I thought to myself as I returned to my seat.
But then, something caught my eye. I'm not entirely sure how I noticed it, but there was a small part of something sticking out from behind the leg of the small table where I kept the record player. I bent down and picked it up. The moment I laid eyes on the little wooden doe, I recognized it. A wave of confusion washed over me, and I shivered.
"What are you doing here?" I wondered aloud. Could it have been tucked away somewhere in my belongings when I moved? That seemed unlikely, as I would have noticed it much sooner.
I went back to the couch, sat down, and continued to gaze at the toy. I knew it was the same one, without a doubt. It couldn't be a mere look-alike. I ran my fingers over its surface, feeling its texture once again—exactly as I remembered.
Was this some kind of prank? But I hadn't shared this story with anyone. Not a single soul.
I stared at the toy, unable to make up my mind to call someone. Suddenly the silence that filled the room didn't seem soothing to me but instead instilled fear and tension. I twirled the toy nervously in my hands until my eyes landed on something. Its stomach was carved with letters, perhaps signs. I didn't recognize them, I had never seen anything like them. And I was almost prejudiced that they were missing before.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from those strange markings on the wooden doe's stomach. They seemed to form a pattern, a language that was unfamiliar to me. It sent a shiver down my spine, and an unsettling feeling washed over me.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to investigate further. I reached for my phone, ready to snap a few pictures of the carvings, hoping that someone might recognize the symbols and provide some insight into their meaning. But as I held my phone up to take the pictures, suddenly the lights turned off.
The room was plunged into darkness, and I felt a chill crawl up my spine. I didn't realize how fast it got dark outside. Goosebumps formed on my arms, and an eerie silence settled in the air. Fear gripped me, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I was paralyzed, consumed by a sense of dread.
And then, the silence was shattered by a soft, haunting melody that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once. The music was mournful, like a dirge, and it sent shivers down my spine. I could feel the weight of an unseen presence in the room, its presence heavy and oppressive.
Trembling, I fumbled for my phone, desperately trying to turn on the flashlight. But no matter how many times I pressed the power button, the screen remained dark. Panic rose within me as I realized that I was trapped in the darkness with whatever unseen entity had invaded my home.
The haunting melody grew louder, filling every corner of the room. Shadows danced and twisted, taking on grotesque forms that seemed to reach out toward me. I tried to scream, to call for help, but my voice failed me. It was as if an invisible force had stolen my ability to utter a sound.
Amid the chaos, my gaze was drawn back to the wooden doe clutched tightly in my hand. Its eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly light, and for a brief moment, I could have sworn I saw movement within the tiny carved figure. It was as if the doe was alive, pulsating with an energy that was both mesmerizing and terrifying.
With a surge of desperation, I hurled the wooden doe away from me, hoping to break free from whatever curse it held. But as soon as it left my hand, the room fell silent. The oppressive presence vanished, and the darkness lifted, replaced by the soft glow of the lights.
I was left alone in the room, shaken and breathless. As I looked at the floor, I realized that the doe was no longer there. It has vanished once more.
I was relieved, thankful that the toy was gone.
But I don’t think it ever really was. Every night when I close my eyes that melody starts playing again, it becomes everything to me, leaving me unable to fall asleep. I'm uncertain if my sleepless nights are the cause of the increased instances of losing my belongings, but I have noticed a definite rise in such incidents following the event.
I'm afraid that over time, I might not only lose my belongings but also my mind.

Seems like ReddX enjoyed the last story he narrated, and people here seem to want more... Far be it from me to deny you that all-too-enticing hit of cringe, so we'll get after is again today. Before we do though, I'd like to invite you into my head. It might help explain my reaction (or lack of one) to the previous dating nightmare. I was young, I was raised by alcoholic parents, and I was taught that speaking up about anything only brings trouble.
I don't need pity, I've been to therapy and moved past it for the most part, it's simply to shed some light on why I remained so passive through these events. Truth be told, this series of strange and awful dates slowly helped to bring me out of the shell that I'd built for myself, so it was all happening for a reason I guess... but we aren't there quite yet.
Dean was the worst date, but he wasn't the first date that I subjected to myself from Tinder. No, that honor belongs to Ben the Bellybutton Boy. Cast lists are unnecessary, TLDR is at the end. Let's get the cringe-train rolling.
Ben's profile wasn't very intricate. A single line about wanting something meaningful, which doesn't hold much water for me anymore... but I was 18 and naïve. Some might say that I was also fairly shallow. In one picture he was drinking a Natty Ice, in another he had on a backwards hat. I was close to swiping left on yet another bro-dude and carrying on... But then I got one look at Ben with his shirt off and I was hooked.
It might be a catfish, but for a body like that? I was more than willing to take my shot. Suffice to say, that he was a gorgeous human being. I should've been looking more than skin deep though, because Ben had some deep dark secrets. He did match with me though, and I was super flattered. We had a meandering conversation. I learned that he loves his mom, and is absolutely terrified of horror movies. Those things will come into play later. He didn't seem to have much to say that was interesting or clever, but I let it all slide. Ben's abs were blinders, a 3 pack on each side.
He seemed to push for a meetup rather fast, which usually made me go ghost in the few Tinder conversations I'd had before... But I thought to myself that now I was finally ready for an actual date with an internet stranger. Maybe he was way more interesting in person. (He was interesting, but not in the way that I'd hoped.) The fact that his body was chiseled from granite-turned-flesh had nothing to do with my decision. Again, isn't it funny the lies that we tell ourselves?
Ben wanted me to come over to his place and stupidly, I agreed to do so. We'd only been talking for about a week, and now I was going to deliver myself to his front door? Walk right into the wolf-den and hope for the best? God... I swear, I'd love to shake the living shit out of my past-self... but I truly didn't know better at the time. Maybe we would actually watch some Netflix and chill? Could he actually be looking for something meaningful?
Ben's place was in a lower-middle-class section of the LA outskirts. At the time, I thought it looked pretty busted but compared to some of my later encounters? It wasn't the worst house. Sort of non-descript and uninteresting, but well-maintained... much like Ben himself, I suppose. I scoped it out for a few minutes. Surfboards on the porch, a few potted plants, a bench-seat out front. It seemed very normal, so I collected myself, headed up to the front door, and knocked.
Ben answered and he was all smiles. He lifted my arm above my head and I gave him a little twirl. After a wolf-whistle, he commented that he'd like to see something that showed a bit more of my midriff. He gestured for me to show my stomach to him, and I did. I didn't mind. I put work into it. A strong body starts with a strong core. Ben seemed satisfied. Maybe a bit more than that in hindsight. His eyes devoured me, but he was a hunk. So I didn't mind. His predatory nature would soon be revealed to me, but I had no idea what I was in for quite yet. Instead, I let him scoop me up into a hug before he invited me inside.
The house was sort of bohemian. Lots of incense holders and dreamcatchers. Definitely not the sort of thing I'd pick, but he was a stoner-surfer bro-dude. Maybe all of this stuff was just evidence of a more sensitive side to him? I asked about some of the knick-knacks, just trying to initiate idle conversation and maybe dig past the surface level. It worked a bit. He ended up telling me about spending time in India. He seemed to harbor a lot of disdain for the country. Said people were shitting all in the streets and he couldn't find clean water anywhere. "It's like Mexico with way more poop and a few less beheadings."
I laughed. The line wasn't that funny, but the laugh also served to diffuse some of the tense atmosphere that had been created after endless jabs about everything from the caste system to the "dirty" street food and everything in between. He didn't overly-focus on a lack of attention from women, but it was mentioned. I made a mental note. Ben definitely had some entitlement issues, and with that rage simmering below the surface? It could be an explosive combination. I made a note to mind my P's and Q's and shifted the subject, asking what he had planned for Netflix.
He led me to the couch without answering and handed me the remote. "I'll leave that up to you. I've gotta finish preparing the feast." There had been a couple of red-flags so far, but nothing that would make me go screaming into the night. At least, not yet. I hit 'surprise me' on Netflix, and Ben came back into the room with a platter covered in fish. They were sardines. Even before my seafood surprise from part 1, I wasn't a huge fan of fish. Ben saw the look on my face and presumed that he should explain his dining choices. I really wish that he hadn't.
"I try to eat sardines and pineapple almost exclusively because I'm load-maxxing." he said with a nod.
I thought it was a weight-lifting term, and I just sort of nodded right back... but my face must've still look quizzical because he continued.
"You know how some male porn stars can shoot like the biggest loads of jizz? I think that's super hot, and I wanna be able to do that... But also have it taste good too. Not that I'm gay or anything, I don't eat my own cum like some [redacted] but I just think it's super sexy when a girl is enjoying herself. I'm also taking selenium supplements too and it's totally working. I can fill up a whole shot glass now. Before I started load-maxxing it was just like, this sad little poot of semen... But now I'm shooting ropes of the stuff! I might show you later, if you're lucky."
I frowned and shook my head, but I don't think he took much notice of it as he went to work obliterating those smelly, oily little fishies. I didn't speak up, but like any sane person... I knew at this point that I was wrong about my assessment aaand it was time to make my escape. However, due to the constraints of the social contract that we've all unwillingly signed, I'd need to bide my time and find the proper strategy. I definitely didn't want to have this jizzed up meathead explode in my face, if you'll excuse the pun. You don't just declare war, y'know? You prime the press, you square things with the UN, you make up your reasons.
The 'surprise me' movie that I can't remember rolled on, and he offered me the fish-plate. I politely declined. My brain was occupied with the perfect exit, and hunger is a decent motivator. When you combine that with the unpredictable meatball that I was seated next to? I should've been launching off that couch like a rocket. Truth be told? I should've just blitzed the front door and not bothered to explain myself. He might get upset, but I'd be safe in the car... But then I wouldn't have this story to share.
Eventually, the sardines all went to meet poopoo-Jesus and he leaned back on the couch. He snaked his hand onto my shoulder and pulled me backwards. I wasn't in the mood to cuddle so I'd scoot away, then he'd inch closer. I hated every second of this awkward little dance, but the strangeness got turned up to 11 when I hit the edge of the couch... And he started running his oily unwashed fish-fingers around my bellybutton. I squirmed away and stood up. I told him that this was all getting to be a little bit too much, too soon... but Bellybutton Boy wasn't about to let me escape that easily.
He stood up in that same moment and blocked the walkway to the front door. He asked me to please sit back down while at the same time 'guiding' me by the shoulders. He was far too forceful for my liking. It was a gentle pull into his arm, a gentle push back into the couch... But this was our first date. I've seen things like this before between my own parents. This toolbox is one bad argument away from throwing a cinderblock at the back of my head. I took a deep breath and used my go-to tactic of avoiding conflict at that time: submission.
As I sat back onto the couch, he dropped to his knees. I was expecting the worst to happen, but instead he started to baby-talk me... Which is still pretty fucking bad.
"Does wittle Dawnie want to see baby Ben's tongue? I can wick your wittle bewwybutton. Then maybe we can go pway wiff somefing ewse. My woad is about to expwode..."
I still wonder if he meant for it to rhyme. It was effective, in a way. I still remember those words many years later. The thousand-yard stare, I had adopted as my defense, started to gaze through time and space. Trying to find any reality that wasn't this one. Just because my body was stuck there, didn't mean that my brain had to be... So I disconnected as much as possible, but even Terri Schiavo would take notice of the horror that would befall me next.
I suppose baby Ben the bellybutton bully boy took my silence and disaffected staring at the ceiling as consent, because he lifted my shirt enough to expose my bellybutton. The first this he did was give it a really deep sniff before letting out a satisfied "ohhhh yeahhhh". Was he looking for a good scent? A bad one? Was he just THAT excited to unveil the mysterious allure of a teenage navel? The debate rages on until this very day. It doesn't matter much, because he didn't stop at smelling it.
His tongue slipped into that umbilical scar and started to explore. I never wanted this. I didn't consent at any point, but I didn't outright say "NO" either. I've unpacked this experience with multiple therapists. I think what I remember most vividly was looking down and seeing his oily fish lips. They were sucking on my stomach like my navel was the last source of oxygen on the planet. I recall seeing his tongue, covered in the desiccated and masticated remains of a sardine meal, fishing around for whatever the hell it was he wanted. He kept muttering to himself between spelunking expeditions, weird shit like "ooo baby wike your bewwy" and "mama make benny's peepee so hawd".
The cringe-meter was redlining, and I finally realized that he wasn't going to stop unless I made him stop. I told him that I had to pee, and that he should PLEASE drink some water. I was hoping it might wash away some of the sardine leftovers, if I really did need to come back. At this point, my plan was to bail out the bathroom window. Until I got to the bathroom and saw that the window was only about 6 inches tall. Just enough to air out sardine-and-selenium-laden ploppers, but not enough to do me any good.
I must've stood in that bathroom for 20 minutes or so. There was no escape. If I wanted out, I'd need to go through. Just as a reminder from the universe, every once in a while I'd hear Ben let out a large belch. At least he was washing his fishy mouth out. I steeled myself and headed back into the living room. I lied that I had a text from my mom and had to leave, but Ben wrapped his arms around me and begged to finish our date. I could clearly smell beer on his breath. Memories of dear old dad must've kicked in, because I found myself agreeing to sit on the couch again.
He continued rubbing his stale-beer-smelling mouth all over my stomach, except this time there was the added benefit of pauses to burp every so often. "Isn't dat so funny? Doesn't dat sound wike a echo mama?" I truly did want to die in that moment. I had to find some way to at least pump the brakes, if not bail out completely. I squirmed away from him, again. I told him this was moving too fast, again. He didn't ignore me this time. So I suggested that we watch a new movie. This time I chose a Chucky movie. Either he would get scared and give me an out, or I'd pretend to be scared and make the exit for myself.
If I knew how he'd actually react, I might not have taken this measure. The moment the movie started, Ben was immobilized. He had stopped trying to molest my bellybutton. All he did was apply a nervous death-grip the arm of the sofa. I asked if he was OK, but he insisted he was fine. He was not fine however, and after the first onscreen murder I looked over to see tears rolling down his cheeks.
This was my moment. It was either act like a cold-hard bitch, or continue being assaulted. I asked incredulously, "ARE YOU CRYING??" He nodded and started his whining baby-talk, but he didn't follow me as I leapt from the couch, called him a sissy, and flung the front door open. I quickly walked to my car. My brain had second thoughts, but I turned the key in the ignition. I legitimately wanted things to work with Ben. I would've been mommy. Whatever. But he didn't ask for consent at any point and was overly-pushy about everything he wanted.
While I felt bad about doing that to Ben, and piling an unneeded insult on top of it... I felt much more delight than despair. This situation was headed for a place that I didn't want it to go, and I was able to scratch and claw my way back to freedom. The bellybutton boy had unveiled his Achilles heel as a silly talking point, and I thanked my lucky stars that I was able to use that to my advantage. He could've flown into a rage over it, but he didn't. The guardian angel on my shoulder was working overtime on that day, I have no doubts about that. Looking back, should I have called the cops and reported him? Probably. Instead, I just thanked my lucky stars and tried to move past it in my own way...
You'd think that would be the end of this tale, but there was a follow-up to the bad date. Remember when I mentioned that Ben was close to his mother? Well, she charged into battle in defense of her little bellybutton man... I answered the first time she called. I wouldn't make that mistake again. She accused me of abusing her special boy, she threatened me with everything from death to lawsuits, she slung every curse under the sun at me. After 5 minutes, I realized I was trying to talk sense into a lunatic and blocked her number.
Bellybutton matriarch wasn't done yet though... I would get sporadic VOIP calls for weeks afterwards. She contacted my job to report me. She attempted to harass MY mom and every other contact she could find. I suppose that's the unfortunate part of social media. I explained to everyone what had happened and they all agreed that she was completely unhinged. Luckily, it seemed like her harassment was confined to the internet. I went dark for a month, and I guess she found a new target. Ben wouldn't have trouble getting more dates, even if he was a certified navel-gazer.
It was at this point that I swore off of Tinder for the first time. That wouldn't stop me from meeting up with maniacs though. My therapist says that I demonstrate a concerning amount of thrill-seeking behavior, and that these encounters are a manifestation of that. While I don't disagree 100%, I still think I overanalyze and avoid uncertainty in a lot of other areas of my life. Maybe the comments will let me know how they feel about that diagnosis?
Speaking of therapy... In hindsight, I can absolutely see how that insane woman could've produced a self-absorbed, baby-talking dunderhead. If you look at it through that frame? Then the tale of Ben the bellybutton boy takes on a much more depressing tone. He's like a modern-day Frankenstein... but he does still bear some responsibility for his actions. At least, that's what I tell myself when I start feeling guilty.
I did manage to stay off Tinder for a while, but in our next installment we are headed to Craigslist for a real treat. Be afraid. Those are tales for another day though... Thanks to ReddX if he reads this. Please subscribe to him on YouTube if ya haven't. I'll see you again next time my little Tinderlings.
-Dawn
TL;DR Lunatic lugnut baby-talks my bellybutton with his fish-lips.

Ok so even though I turn 40 in a few weeks, I just started my Eagle Moss ST ships collection. I’ve got maybe 10 so far with another 10ish on the way. Plus I have an Enterprise B Lego ship I built that’s roughly a foot long I want to display. I also some of my Star Wars Lego and Star Wars Micro Galaxy Squadron ships I want to display too, I don’t know yet. Even though I technically bought the whole set of Star Wars Micro Galaxy Squadron ships for my 5 year old, he doesn’t really play with them other than to line them up in size order (don’t ask, long story, I don’t get it either).
My plan was, I was going to get some wood shelves from Hobby Lobby or wherever, paint them (probably white), and hang them on the wall above my desk in my office at home. But I’ve seen case displays, other shelving unit displays, and other stuff online and here on Reddit, and I’m not so sure about the wood shelves now.
What I’m needing help with is ideas. My desk is probably 4’ long x 3’ wide x 5’ tall, but I’ve got two monitors on it plus my laptop and docking station on the upper shelf, and sometimes have to open my laptop to use for a third screen. The problem is, my at home “office” is also our spare bedroom (where we have a pull out couch), so I can’t go big on furniture. The wood shelves on the wall may still be my best bet, but wondering what you guys think.
I’m an equal opportunity nerd, so I don’t hate on ST over SW or anything, so I may do one set of shelves as ST ships and the other as SW ships, but I don’t know yet.

A special thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for the fantastical universe.
Have a really long chapter!
Forgot to say it has been a while. Hope you're all doing well!
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Memory transcription subject: Jaxton, son of a humble sheep farmer
Date [standardized human time]: October 11th, 2136
If someone asked me years ago how many people would travel the globe just to see me. My answer would have been three; my father, my mother, and Dex Mason. My mother and father would have been simply obligated to do so, as I was their son, and I would have done the same thing. Dex was my best friend when I went to middle school in America, and he stayed my best friend when I went back to Wales, going back to Atlanta for many vacations.
What can I say? He had a nice collection of guns, and his general cheerful attitude made many people optimistic, so a day on the range with him led to the both of us being happier.
Then you add in Dex’s older and younger brothers, our mutual friend John Dillinger, and then you have a recipe for a fun time; guns, video games, hiking, and the occasional sheep herding if they ever come to my home: It’s a blast!
An alien porcupine though… I honestly never expected that I would ever in my honest-to-God lifetime, have such an impact on someone before. We barely knew each other for even a few minutes, yet she to my knowledge was merely some sad Gojid that was struggling with depression and loss. All I did was walk in and comfort her, or well, that’s how I saw it.
I still feel like an absolute idiot for forgetting about what I told her. It wasn’t a promise, but based on the implication of how I said it. It may as well have been a declaration to see the girl a few hours later, or however long it took her to get ready.
Now, speaking of Barlim, it’s been a few minutes since she arrived at my doorway at the most unexpected of times. I had her sitting in our living room on our couch. The Gojid, or Gojya, that I had to have explained to me, had her arms wrapped around one of our decorative pillows. She was giving squeezes every few seconds depending on how she felt, and if she was really giving it a firm squeeze, I’d reach over and stroke the top of her head. Barlim seemed to relax every time I did this.
“You holding up better?” Barlim appeared to be holding up better: No longer sobbing out tears from her eyes, or having mucus running from her nostrils.
She merely sniffed weakly for a second, nuzzling into my hand. If I had to admit, I had no idea if I was performing some massive social taboo by patting her like an animal, but if she wasn’t going to complain, neither was I. I mean, I already poked myself twice more! “I’m feeling much better. Sorry for intruding…”
“Don’t be,” I said while holding back a small laugh. “Are you feeling better enough to talk now?” Barlim’s ears flicked in response, and then she nodded in response upon realizing I didn’t know what those ear flicks meant. “Good.”
“Hey, I would just like to apologize for how I acted,” my mother started before I had the chance to speak. “It’s just that I’ve seen on the news and read of murderous xenophobic aliens…-”
“It’s fine,” Barlim let out the most adorable-sounding chittering noise I have ever heard. It sounded as if a porcupine was, well, laughing! “I would not have reacted much differently… Three days ago?” At least she could make fun of herself for how she acted. Her ears gave a few flicks, gesturing towards amusement or self-depreciation if I had to guess. They burned bright blue.
My father took a minute to stand up and walk over to Barlim. She only fidgeted a little bit, but not much when he reached out to her with one hand. “Jameson, again, it’s been pleasant to meet you so far.” The man’s hand hung in the air for several seconds. Barlim eyeing it up with what had to be a quizzical expression. “You’re supposed to grab it and firmly shake it,” my father eventually grunted.
“Oh!” That seemed to snap Barlim out of her stupor. She reached forward in kind with one paw, clasping her surprisingly big paw around my father’s hand, which he shook. The Gojid seemed to have a fair understanding of the action after a few seconds, at which point the handshake ended and my father returned to his seat.
A brief, quiet pause occupied the four of us before there was more knocking at the front door. “Oh, uh, that may be the rest of my friends. I sort of forgot about them when I realized we were so close.” The tips of Barlim’s ears turned a delicate shade of blue. She started to get up, but with a firm palm on the top of her head, I held her down, gently.
“You traveled a long way. Let me get the door,” I state and get up from the couch. My knees and back stretch, giving a satisfactory series of pops before I work my way to the front door. I decide against grabbing the mask, assuming that Barlim’s friends have gotten quite used to the infamous human binocular stare. When I open it, I see a rather eclectic group of individuals, some familiar and some not.
“Arwen, Trivi, Tova, and I take it Barlim’s friends.” Arwen and Trivi issue some friendly waves. Tova has her forearms clasped around Arwen’s neck from behind, jaw resting on the redhead’s shoulders. Her eyes are puffy and orange. It was pretty easy to assume what she had been going through. Meanwhile, the other three flick their ears and tails in a way that was most likely a greeting, but that was just me making an inference based on this being our first interaction, and them not giving waves in greeting.
I really need to learn Gojid and Venlil body language.
“Just delivering the rest of that one Gojid’s friends.” Arwen’s tone was the general cheerful tone it always was. She briefly stepped back from the door and swung an arm to the side, pointing to the three aliens behind her, doing so while under the weight of Tova.
“Barlim,” one of the Gojid said to Arwen. “My name is Pragh,” she then pointed over to another Gojid, “That’s Tack, and,” she indicated to the final Gojid, “That is Telg.” Again, the other two Gojid gave very similar flicks of the ears when they glanced at me with one of their eyes. “I take it you’re Jaxton?”
I couldn’t resist the urge to curl my lips upwards in a smile. The three Gojid didn’t flinch when I exposed my teeth, for which I was grateful. I really didn’t feel like bowing to more people than I needed to at the moment, having not gotten a particularly great amount of sleep last night was not a wise idea. “You’d be correct. It seems I’m the popular man of the hour. What can I do for you all?”
“Well, Tack and I were simply following Barlim, so we were going to stay with her until the UN or whoever really controls the whole Gojid refugee camp situation comes looking for us-”
I cut off Pragh with an amused tone. “So let me get this straight. You wanna come and mooch off my family for a bit because you have nowhere to stay at the moment?” I hold my tongue for just the slightest second, letting Gojid raise up her paws defensively. Even Arwen’s eyes widen briefly at what I just said.
“That’s not-” Pragh doesn’t speak for long before I dismissively wave my hand.
“I’m joking, yes, I’m sure my parents will allow you to stay for a bit, but you’ll have to clean up after yourselves, and all that stuff.” I lean up against the doorframe. “Ok though, jokes aside, what do you all want?”
Pragh rubbed her paws over her blue ears. “Yes, well, you did sort of hit one of them. I will admit, there was very little planning other than we’re going to Wales on our part. You don’t have to worry about Telg though.”
“I scored myself a date! Hah!~ So, I will be going back to Georgia in about an hour or two.” The Gojid paused, popped open one of the pockets on his hoodie, and took a peek inside at a slip of paper he pulled out. “Two hours, yeah, I have about an hour to spend here. So you and Tack are going to stay here?”
Pragh nodded to Telg’s words. “Yep, someone has to make sure Barlim continues to be a responsible Gojid. Also, I still have more research to do over the internet-”
“Ah yes, research, Pragh, research, am I right?~”
“No! Not that! I’m not going to be looking up that!”
The two male Gojid couldn’t help but hold back giggles and chitters, making me feel as if I was missing some sort of- Oh. The second it clicked for me, I just let out a long, slow sigh. “Please, let me just say that humanity is probably not whatever you found. Factory farms are a thing of the past.” Apparently, I was wrong, for the other two Gojid started laughing more uproariously, “Ok, I’m wrong it seems…” The gears proceeds to click a second time after realizing it was something a lot more bawdy than damning. I opened my mouth to say something but quickly realized that I wouldn’t have anything to follow up on if one of them decided to make any sort of accusation, so I quickly shut my plan to speak about that down. “How about you all just come inside now? Your friend Barlim already came by, and I’m pretty sure you all would like a break from your adventure.”
“Actually, Trvi and I were going to take Tova to my home. Might take her to the hospital if Quilix has calmed down. God, I wished they transported him to Ysbyty Gwynedd, but no. He had a freakout and had to be moved to London.”
“It’s all my fault…” The dark venlil whined.
Arwen’s hand managed to work its way between Tova’s ears, giving a few scritches. Scritches that Tova nuzzled into. “Come on you big, big venlil. I know you’re upset. Just, hang in there for a little while longer. I’m sure Quilix will come around. Let’s take you home, see ya Jaxton!” Arwen waved and carried the venlil toward the parked taxi in front of my house. Well, carried was a generous term for half-carry/half-assisted in guiding toward the car.
Trivi followed seconds later, giving his own bye and wave. “Tell your mother and father I said hi, see you tomorrow!” And with that, the blonde venlil scampered off, following after his human lover.
This left me with the three other hedgehog-looking aliens standing awkwardly in front of my door. They looked amongst themselves, thinking about saying something.
Wait, someone’s missing…
“Arf! Arf!”
The three Gojid who looked like they were about to say something all jumped about a foot in the air when Lacey came bounding through them, running straight past me into my home. “Oh, Lacey! Welcome ho- Oh, and ignored.” I shake my head upon hearing the following oof that comes from my father. Lacey must’ve claimed my father’s lap as her seat. “Well, if you want to come inside and meet the rest of my family. Come right on in.”
The next few minutes are filled with more pleasantries being exchanged. The Gojid all take their place on the couch, somehow managing to fit four of them on a couch meant for three. I end up choosing to stand by my father, who gently strokes Lacey across her back. The border collie panting jovially, looking back and forth between us and our alien guest, giving the occasional bark to beg for more attention.
The Gojid guests seem calm for the most part, sitting on that couch, but it is quite clear that the dog makes them uncomfortable since they flinch every time Lacey either makes a noise or stares at them with those heterochromatic eyes. “Not a fan of dogs, are you?” My father breaks the silence once it starts up again.
“I didn’t like…” Pragh started but stopped seconds later. “Listen, I believe you know why most Federation species don’t like humans, right?” Pragh’s words earned an affirmative grunt from my father. My mother and I nodded too. “Well, you’re all sapient and in control of your hunting instincts…” I raised my eyebrow at that but chose to say nothing. “That dog though-”
My father raised a hand, telling Praph to stop speaking for a moment. “I am going to have to stop you right there. Firstly, humans don’t, or we believe don’t have hunting instincts, and secondly, Lacey is a good girl that has harmed no person before, human or alien. I can assure you, as well as Quilix, Trivi, and Tova, that Lacey wouldn’t harm any of you, your pups, or anything else you will be worried about.”
Those few calmly spoken, but sternly voiced words are enough to calm the four Gojid down a fair amount. While I can’t see their muscles under their fur all that well, I can safely assume that their muscles grew lax at such information. Maybe we can do more to ease them around the dog while they’re here?
With an idea springing to mind, I take a few steps over to our old wooden hall tree. It is adorned with a few coats and hats, but what I am interested in is blue colored, six feet long rope of dog leash. The second it makes the lightest noise, Lacey is bolting toward me. “Eistedd!” The dog swiftly responds to the command: Hind quarters hitting the ground the second the word leaves my lips. I reach down and stroke the top of the dog’s head with one hand, getting a jovial arf out of her. “Merch dda, merch dda.~” I give the dog’s head a little bit more tender love with my palm and fingers before attaching the leash.
“Cefn.” I keep my voice low, coaxing Lacey into walking toward the couch.
The four Gojid, three of which have probably spent some time outside with the dog, all had a similar reaction when the dog came over: Paws came up off the ground, retracting safely onto the cushions above. It wasn’t really out of the border collie’s reach, but it was clearly instinctual-driven or propaganda-driven fear. “No need to be afraid, she won’t bite you - eistedd.” True to my words, Lacey gets close, sniffing along the edge of the sofa, but not jumping up onto the furniture.
“I see you’ve been practicing, Jaxton. You showing off for the guest?” My dad jokes.
“Hey, I don’t really get a good chance to speak Welsh. Dam- Darn it, really should’ve paid more attention in school. Might go get some lessons so I’m not part of the ten percent that can’t speak it. All I can do is shepherd a dog around, ask for the bathroom, a beer, where am I, and a few other things.” It’s hard not to let out a disappointed sigh. “I need to get off my backside and stop being so lazy.” I pause for one small moment. “And that probably translated for all of them to their native tongue. Doesn’t matter if I say it in English, Welsh, or honestly, Mandarin.”
My old man grins and laughs, leaning his back into the old rocking chair he claimed. My attention returns back to the dog, the fearful porcupine, and three scared hedgehogs.
The first one to reach out if I recall his name is Tack. The Gojid’s claws lightly brush the top of Lacey’s head in a tepid fashion. The dog stares back up at the curious paw; not growling, barking, yipping, biting, or making any sort of fuss that could freak out the apprehensive Gojid. Slowly, Lacey’s tail beings to wag as the curious touching continues for a few seconds. “Is that normal?”
“Mhm… Yes, dogs’ tails wag when they are happy. If she was really happy, she’d jump on you and start licking your face.”
The four Gojid recoiled with what looked like disgust: The thought of a predator’s maw all over their face, tasting them as if they were her next meal was probably what was coursing through their minds. “I think… That’s something I wouldn’t like from a non-sapient creature.” Telg adds in.
He says he doesn’t want it from a non-sapient, but what about a sapient? Oh, what wonderful thoughts this one has. I internally joked.
Both my father and mother let out an audible cough at Telg’s… Well, it could’ve been an indecent statement, or maybe licking was a sign of greeting? There was no way for me to know with my lack of knowledge of Gojid customs.
God damn; Gojid customs, language, body language, and Welsh! That was leaving out Venlil ear and tail signals as well! Too much to learn.
With a gentle nudge, I guide Lacey down the bottom of the couch, letting each Gojid get about a minute or two of bonding time with the goodest of girls. It’s only been a few minutes, but the four could be easily seen relaxing: Tack and Telg are both confident enough to let their paws touch the floor again.
From fearful of anything that ate meat their entire life to sort of fearfully allowing a dog to sniff them, or them to touch a dog, must be leaps and bounds beyond possibility months ago.
“So, you all more comfortable around dogs?”
I get a non-varied amount of reactions: All of them positive to a minor degree, but none are negative or super positive. “Good.”
With such a positive, or well, lacking in a negative reaction from our alien guests. I reach down and unhook the canine’s restraint. No one flinches and Lacey continues to sit for about another few seconds before lazily pacing around the front of the couch, sniffing at paws for some more time before retreating back beside my father’s feet.
“So… What’s the history between humans and dogs?” Pragh was the one that shot this question. One is no doubt born from the fact that we probably allowed a non-sapient predator into our home.
Well, if I was using their logic, of course: I wouldn’t be surprised if it came from ‘Wouldn’t predators eliminate the competition?’ if I had to guess.
“The history involving our canine companions is long and complex.” I reach behind my head to adust my blonde ponytail, tightening up the black band to keep my hair from falling in front of my face. “Most domesticated dogs you’ll see; German shepherds, border collies, Australian shepherds, golden retrievers, and on and on the list goes. I believe there are hundreds of breeds, but that is another tangent we can go on another date. What you’re more interested in is the history, as you have asked.”
I took a few steps around toward the front of the couch, using this new position to project my voice onto my alien audience. My parents had already heard this story a few times when they spoke with one of our dog breeders.
“It all started roughly speaking, thirty-thousand years ago.” I paused, totally for dramatic effect, but to also allow the Gojid to digest this fair-sized crumb of information. “Our competitor, an antagonizing species of persistent pack predators with a strong social bond, the wolf, would often invade human territories, and vice versa. You see, humans and wolves aren’t too dissimilar. We’re both highly social species, pursuit pack predators as I have heard, emotionally intelligent, highly adaptive, strong parental connections, and good communication skills. I can go into specific details another time, but those are some of the big traits we share. I’d say that the large preference for having a social structure coupled with good communication skills on both sides were the two assets that helped the most. Emotional intelligence and actual intelligence would probably be third and fourth. Dogs and wolves can be pretty smart.”
I take a moment again, allowing my audience to follow along with what I am saying, waiting to see if any of them have a question. “So due to these similarities, humans and these wolves cross species’ barriers?” The bipedal porcupine opined.
I nod to Barlim’s question. “Very close, but not quite.” I take a moment to swing a pointing finger down to Lacey. “I mean, as much as I love Lacey. I don’t see a dog diplomat coming through any time soon to argue for their sapience let alone an alliance.” I then straighten my posture back up, holding back a small laugh by letting a grin stretch across my lips. “It was more along the lines of wolves were desperate for food, and they’d feed off the scraps we humans left behind. This would go on for some time with the braver or more docile canines being allowed to slowly integrate with human society.”
“But they’re eating your scraps and food, but what do they do for you? Other than herd sheep? It just seems like your competition is swooping your food from under your nose, but… You’re not complaining at all.” Pragh was the one to ask that question.
Called it!
“These proto-dogs had many purposes! Just look at Lacey and you can probably see what she has that is superior to a human. Tell me what traits you can see.”
I give the four Gojid some time to look over the dog. They eventually look like they all have something to say, so I slide down the line of them; Pragh, Telg, Tack, and then finally Barlim.
“A better sense of smell to hunt for prey you can’t see?” Pragh opined.“Better hearing for locating threats?” Telg questioned.
“Sharp teeth and claws for fighting off other humans.” Tack would state rather confidently.
“To form an emotional connection with and to not feel lonely?” Barlim tilted her head to the side, giving the dog another look.
I let them stew over their answers for about thirty seconds to discuss amongst themselves. Needless to say, I was kind of shocked, but also not by Barlim’s answer. Maybe my time spent with her gave me some subconscious understanding of her mentality? The other Gojid all looked at her, so I assume her different answer probably made something click amongst all of them.
“Well, to answer your questions; yes, yes, yes, and yes. You’re all correct. Some may say that the first three are probably the priority.” This statement earns a chitter from the four Gojid occupying the couch. “But I like to have hope for that last one: When you’re by yourself. The world is a scary place after all. It’s best not to be alone. I believe you all have herds? Well, we humans have families, tribes, or nations, depending on how deep you wish to look into it, and yes, dogs can be a part of a human family. Family cares not from where the blood comes.”
“Quick question and not to side-track the conversation too far, but I was told by my date that humans dislike being called predators. Is that true here too, or was that a dialect or cultural thing?” Telg was the one throwing this question.
“It is that way here too. When humans refer to other humans as predators, it is because that other human is a gross pervert that does horrific, deviant, and sexual things toward other people, animals, or in this case now that aliens exist, aliens, so I would refrain from calling humans predators unless you personally know the individual and they are ok with it. That being said, humans define predator as more of a relationship adjective when between animals. A deer is a predator to plants as a wolf is a predator to a deer. It is the relationship of consumption rather than dietary traits.” I finish off my statement with a nod.
“Well… If you don’t mind me referring you to as a predator for one statement…” Telg droned on.
I take a brief glance over toward my parents. My dad gives me a nonchalant shrug. My gaze returns back to Telg. “Go ahead and shoot your question or statement at me.”
The four Gojid look stunned for a moment, off-put by something I said-
Oh, don’t tell me ‘shoot’ was predatory… Probably was.
“Just… throw out your question.”
“It was more of a statement, actually, but anyways. Family cares not from where the blood comes, has to be one of the most herd-like statement I have heard from a predator.”
Did he really just say that?
He really did, but I can’t fault him. From his point of view, he’s been spun so many times that up is down, and left is right.
I shake my head, lowering it. A small chuckle slipping from between my lips. I could even hear my mother and father laughing behind me a few seconds later.
“Was what I said really that funny?”
“No, just the logic behind it is kinda funny. Like I said, humans don’t normally refer to ourselves as predators, and this whole alien thing is kind of new to me.” My words carried upon by a light tone earns some laughs as well from our Gojid guests.
I clap my hands together, signaling the end of our little tangent. “Now, if I may resume my, if I do say so myself, informative explanation… The proto-dogs seamlessly integrated into our small tribes at the time; they could track threats and prey miles before we were even aware of them, they could hear the smallest sounds and alert us of their dangers. Moreover, their sharp teeth and claws served as deterrents against other threats such as large carnivores, food-stealing rodents, or hostile human forces. Additionally, their companionship provided solace to lonely humans. As you can see,” I pointed back to Lacey, who was having her back rubbed by my father’s sock-covered foot, “Lacey seems to be enjoying herself quite nicely, but so is my father. In short, interacting with dogs triggers the release of feel-good chemicals in both human and canine brains. Activities such as petting, snuggling, and playing contribute to this positive bond."
Again, I pause, giving everyone some time to follow along. “Thus, they’d impact our evolution and vice versa: Humans that had dogs in their tribes were more successful than tribes without dogs. Humans that bonded more effectively with their canine companions would get even farther. As millennia went by, humans would get better at reading dog expressions, and dogs would get better at reading human expressions.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I typed into it for a bit until an old photo of a wolf showed up. I turned my phone’s screen toward the four Gojid. “Here you can see a wolf. They aren’t extinct due to some wildlife restoration efforts, but we had a few close calls. Wolves are extinct in the UK and Ireland as of now, but not in North America, Europe, or Asia. What you see before you are what thirty-thousand years of evolution has done to us.”
Based on the look that the Gojid were giving me. I would guess it was along the lines of wow.
“Now, before you start asking more questions. I should let you know that humanity has not only domesticated one carnivorous species, but a few others as well; some birds of prey like falcons, felines, and mustelidae such as ferrets. Meanwhile, on the herbivorous side, we have horses, elephants, rabbits, and so on. Yeah, it’s quite a long list. Means more animals for us to pet and touch. Humans can bond with just about anything, even non-living things, but that’s a story for another time.”.
I perform a small stretch, feeling my back pop. A small break in the monotony of speaking for so long.
“Now, to go back to the human-dog bond. I should remind myself to tell you the story of Gelert. It’s quite a sad story, but bear with me for just a moment.”
I clear my throat, getting ready to speak out an old Welsh folklore myth.
“A long time ago, a prince of North Wales by the name of Llywelyn went out hunting without his trusty dog, Gelert. He’d return home later that day to see Gelert, covered in blood, jovially returning to him. This freaked out the prince, who rushed to his son’s crib, finding it knocked over and messy with blood. He feared that the dog had killed his son and immediately plunged his sword into the dog’s side.” The four Gojid wince at the description, having just been told of the forged bond I have described moments ago. “The dog’s pained cry heralds the cry of the prince’s infant son, who lay on the other side, protected from a slain wolf. Gelert had valiant fought to protect Llywelyn’s son from the wolf, and in so was rewarded with a blade through its heart! A tragic tale to discourage impulsive thoughts and rash rushes to judgment. It was said that the prince buried Gelert and never smiled again.”
I never considered myself a great storyteller, but somehow I managed to get the four Gojid all teary-eyed. Barlim was rubbing at her eyes once again, and so was Tack too.
“H-how could he have done that to the dog..?” Barlim’s meek voice trailed off.
“Well, as said, Llywelyn thought Gelert killed his son. It was a rash decision. This moral folklore is supposed to warn against such tragedies, speaking of which, isn’t there an extermination fleet heading this way?”
While I may have been speaking for so long, having taken all our attention away from the potential destruction of Earth, or the general mopey attitude that came from meeting Tova. It probably was wise to bring up the fact that armageddon was on its way to Earth.
The four Gojid just sort of looked down sheepishly at the ground or flicked their ears in a way that probably meant the same thing. I didn’t really mean to put them on the spot like that, considering it was some of their former allies committing this attack, but I guess that’s just how the cookie crumbles sometimes.
“I think I can speak for all of us here that we don’t-” Telg was interrupted by my father.
“We don’t blame you, or at least I can attest to myself, my son, and my wife over here. One day, assuming we survive this looming catastrophe. There will be regret, followed by hope, and then love and compassion once again. Though, I don’t think that’s what my son was hinting toward, more over the fact that your allies are about to make a rash decision they don’t understand. Probably one you would have made years ago, but that doesn’t really matter here, or there. We live in the now, and I think it’s time we started stocking up on some goods for our cellar. Well, we got goods actually, and a couple of guns too, but nothing fancy like the Americans and all their machine guns. A .30-30 lever action, an old .44 revolver, a twelve gauge shotgun, and a .22 hunting rifle. Nothing fancy,” he shrugs and grunts. “I’m more worried about my sheep. The best we can do is pray they don’t shoot the barn.”
There’s a brief silence as the seven of us come down from the long monologue that was dispersed between moments of questionnaires. I rub one of my eyes, stretching my jaw open wide in a hand-covered yawn.
How long have by been talking?
“Sprak! I gotta go or I am going to miss my flight!” Telg clamors, quickly hopping off the couch. He quickly taps at his phone with his claws, making his way toward the front door. “See you guys later, and thanks for letting us stay! Yes, I know how to call a taxi!” He opens the door and bolts outside. At least had the manners to close it back without slamming it.
This left us with three Gojid!
“Well,” my mother stood up from her chair. “I’m certain you’re all hungry after such a long adventure, and Telg is probably too, but he’s gone already. Let me see if I can make you all something to eat…” She hesitates for a second before continuing. “Nothing with meat or animal products in it. Just vegetables and fruit,” she iterates before walking off to the kitchen, leaving my father and I with the three Gojid.
You know, that leaves one important question that’s been on my mind. One that I had asked Barlim, but have been quickly distracted by her onslaught of sudden tears due to my forgetful nature. “A quick question if I may have your attention.”
The three Gojid turned their attention toward me, looking at me as they awaited my question
“How the hell did you all get here?”
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Everytime I scale something it now shows up differently. I think it might be the origin point it tries to scale from but I dont want that and I must have changed it by accident. How do i change it back?
https://preview.redd.it/f5pc07fqtd4b1.png?width=1401&format=png&auto=webp&s=5f1590c1b9118dd15c31fafb25eff08c02026933

Hi, sorry if this post becomes long and rambling. Looking for insight about my mixed symptoms/diagnosis, potential medication. Part of my motivation for making this post was some stuff my boyfriend said to me tonight about how I don't seem to ever get anything done.
I've been working really hard these past few years on my mental health, and repeatedly the idea of ADHD has come to my attention: an ADHD friend saw symptoms in me, a therapist suggested it, and my own research on ADHD lines up with some of my struggles. So i finally decided to see a psychiatrist about it, and did an evaluation (took me almost a month to send in the very simple evaluation paperwork, fwiw).
For a number of reasons i wasn't a huge fan of the psych's communication style, so I am not sure she is the ultimate best source of knowledge on this. However, she basically said I am right on the borderline of being diagnosed, could technically qualify but hard to call definitively (but she still very casually offered a prescription for meds if I wanted it?)
This does, however, match a lot of my own feelings on the subject: in some ways i really relate to ADHD symptoms, in other ways I don't at all. I exhibit a lot of issues with motivation and focus... the idea of doing anything difficult or complex becomes a feeling of dread or unbearable boredom, even things i supposedly enjoy, like making art or gardening. I have let a lot of opportunities go just because I can't seem to "make time for them". In reality i have the time, I lack the drive. Once I do get into a productive mode, it's often quite scattered, doing a little bit of this and that all over the place, often not quite finishing, or on the other hand, I become obsessive and not able to stop even to eat or go to the bathroom. This is rare compared to the scattered unfinished approach, but definitely happens occasionally, especially when I have a deadline.
On the other hand, I'm fairly organized: my house stays clean ish, i don't lose things very often (but yes, occasionally), i like having systems and labels for keeping my things organized, i keep a calendar and lots of to-do lists (that being said, if i don't my life quickly spirals out of control and i forget every obligation, no matter how important. I have even still managed to miss appointments when i had 3 different reminders set. I am often late. I have missed too many flights to count). I am good at planning complex vacations or events, ie things i find fun. I am known as a planner amongst my friends. On the other hand, sometimes planning/knowing how to get started on more simple tasks like running errands can become overwhelmingly complicated.
I don't have much physical hyperactivity, in fact I'd say I'm much worse about being a couch potato. I can sit on my phone all day, and have had serious addictive tendencies with social media. I do pick my nails and cuticles obsessively, however, and i suppose this would be my "fidget," which gets worse with anxiety. I talk a lot, loudly and fast, and often interrupt people, but with awareness I have gotten much better about this. I even talk out loud to myself all the time, or to my cats.
I wouldn't say i struggle greatly with impulse control, except when it comes to social media useage, my one true addiction. But generally speaking, even though I have partied a lot and dabbled in many substances and whatnot since my teen years, I am also a fairly "responsible" person... although maybe I am comparing myself to a bunch of (lovely creative) degenerates I call my friends. I have definitely had way too many times when I've overindulged in various substances, but I wouldn't say I've ever had a period of any serious substance addiction, despite my prolonged exposure to them... So i guess that's why I don't feel impulse control is a big problem, but maybe my views are skewed. Oh and I should add I do have some impulsive spending habits with online shopping. Nothing super extreme, but not ideal either.
As for being "responsible:" I always got good grades in school (although I procrastinate like crazy and am always an anxious wreck rushing to get things done at the last minute). Although i certainly could be doing it more regularly, I am a pretty accomplished artist across many media. And although I do miss some deadlines and drop the ball when it comes to basic life responsibilities, I'd say I generally rise to the occasion of getting my most important shit done. Tax season and other bureaucratic stuff is the worst and hardest, but even that stuff I get through somehow.
The problem is, I want to do more than get my basics checked off at the last possible minute, with anxiety and procrastinating at every turn. I want to actually engage with the things I say I'm passionate about: art, the outdoors, gardening, yoga. I have collected the tools for so many hobbies over the years, things i genuinely enjoy when I'm doing them, and yet I have no motivation to actually get off my ass and do them. I have so many marketable skills and crafts that I just do nothing with. Is it depression? Is it ADHD? I'm having a really hard time telling.
So back to the thing my boyfriend said... It really hurt. He's working very hard rn in school and a job, and he said he doesn't know what i do with all my time, it seems like every time he gets home I'm just sitting on my phone. While I can see why he would say this, as I carry a lot of shame about it myself (ie the socia media addiction mentioned above), it also hurt that he doesn't see my to-do lists from every week, trying to stay on top of cleaning, health appointments, and regularly cooking meals for us. I have expressed that I am struggling with my mental and physical health and I felt his comment was pretty insensitive.
At the same time, he's echoing my own feelings, which is probably why it is so hard to hear. I am not living to my full potential and I know that. I have examples of people in my life, for instance my super stellar manager who I really admire, who has a demanding job, raising a kid, regularly fixing up his house, and has creative side hobbies. I have all the knowledge and capability to do those things, everything except the drive and functioning ability to just FRIGGEN DO IT. Part of my wants to have kids someday, part of me is scared I'm not capable of adding the huge amount of work that entails into my life. I feel like I just barely manage to stay on top of things as it is, plus I'd like to be doing a lot more projects and hobbies than I have been.
I'm considering medication, since the psych offered it to me, but given my fairly mild diagnosis I'm also thinking lifestyle changes would be a better place to start.
Gosh, I barely know what the point of this post is any more. I think i really just needed to talk to people who can relate. I know this sub is not here to confirm or deny a diagnosis... But any feedback, similar experiences, or clarification would be so appreciated.
If you made it all the way through this post (especially hard for people with ADHD, lol) then i commend you. Thanks for you time 💖

Hi.
So, I've been in a relationship with this girl for 4 years. And we like eachother. Things are good, we have time for eachother, interest in what the other does, and just generally enjoy eachother. But when it gets bad, it gets really bad, and really weird for me. Bad enough for last visit to have me counting down the days for me to leave because I just wanted to be alone again.
Basically when she's unhappy with how I'm treating her, often she gets very upset and emotional, accusing me of doing or being all sorts of horrible things, sometimes even on purpose. Nevertheless, I try my best to do what I hope any partner would do, and do my best to listen to her, apologize, and comfort her, and try my best to understand why she's feeling this way so I can treat her better. Because I love her, and I want to treat her well.
But, whenever something happens that has me feeling unhappy it feels like her reaction to it is in very stark contrast to that.
She's very quick to dismiss these conversation when I initiate them over the way I start it coming off as rude or accusatory. Even though not only do I try my best to be respectful and matter of factly, like I mentioned, she seems to have none of these reservations herself when she's upset.
Then if I press the issue, the arguing starts. Her responses are very snappy, she often interrupts me to focus on particularities that I don't feel matter that much, change or convolute the subject or dismisses things because "That's different", or she insists on her version of events. which I have an ever worse time with because my memory isn't that great and though I feel like things happened or atleast felt differently, I'm just not confident enough in my memory to know.
Then if I haven't given up by then, she either locks down into this mode of "I know I'm always wrong" / "I know I'm a shit person". Or threatens to go into an emotional meltdown.
But whatever it is, to me it just feels like at no point there is any interest in that I felt upset by something, or any attempt to understand why I'm feeling that way, or any attempt to understand how to change things to improve the situation. It only feels like she cares about being "right", and more often than not these situations end with me just giving up and having to go back to apologizing and comforting her for starting the whole thing in the first place.
It's starting to make me feel so horrible, alone, and stressed out, to feel like not only I have to care for her, but I also have to stand up for myself, having to argue, prove, and convince her when I'm unhappy, and like I have to be alert at all times to know what's going in on to have "evidence" of why I'm upset. But I don't feel heard, like she actually cares how I feel, and actually tries to understand where I'm coming from.
And then it's especially fucky to think about all the different times I've given in and apologized for all sorts of different things, time and time again, even though on the other hand she has only apologized to me for something or even just admitted that I was right on maybe two occasions in total.
On the other hand I worry that maybe she is right. Maybe I am everything she accuses me of being when she gets upset. Abusive, toxic, and rude. Because I do apologize and take responsibility for a lot of things that I could do better. But she really doesn't seem to think she's doing anything wrong.
In general I feel like it's slowly starting to drive me insane. I feel like I don't know what's real anymore, and like I can't really talk about things I'm upset about because it just feels like it causes more pain. I've wanted to break up several times, because I feel like all I ever do is cause her pain, but she just insists me to keep trying, and trying, but she keeps getting more upset and angry when I try to stand up for myself.
Some of the times when I look on this sub and the fights other people have with eachother, I feel jealous actually. The amount of love, patience, and care some people show towards their partners even if they are angry. And then I don't even want or feel like I need to be angry. I just want to feel like heard like that.
The bigger mindfuck is that we're currently doing quite well. We're having happy thoughts, happy conversation with eachother. Everything is sunshine and rainbows, and I even feel comfortable, and that I love her. But I know that when the next crisis starts it'll be back to all these feelings and this nightmare and I don't know how much longer I can hold out.
That said, though, I feel like it's important to mention that I don't think she's a bad person at all, as contradictive as that maybe might sound. These issues only really happen specifically when I'm unhappy or upset about something she has (Or even just feels like she has) any involvement with.
She is kind and caring, I've recently lost my grandma, and the amount of patience and care she has for me is commendable. She shows interest in my life and care about my safety and making me happy. And she does admit she has flaws and has moments of vulnerability, sometimes even improving on her own. And I don't want to make it sound like she's all horrible or even that I feel like we have too many issues at all.
It's also important to mention that she had a very bad childhood. A horrific backstory I dare say. Not only abusive, violent, and narcissistic parents but she also involuntarily ended up in a very bad orphanage, shifted from trainee to trainee because she was the one who threw the least fuss, ending up with bad attachment issues, and even worse than her siblings who stayed in the abuse, only to be followed by two abusive relationships with SA. So I do understand that some things are a cemented survival mechanism for her or otherwise difficult.
But when a minor disagreement happens again, and I think it's inevitable in healthy relationships that they do, I know it'll be this nightmare again.
I don't know what to do about it. If I brought the issue up, I currently feel so unconfident that anything different would happen because how nearly everything I've been upset about was handled before.
I just want to feel heard and understood. Like she cares about how she treats me, instead of being so dismissive or avoidant. Like she actually listens. Like she gives me some of the comfort that I try so hard to make sure I give her in times of need. And I'm so tired of having to stand up to myself just to be myself, or to be treated like how I feel I want to. I wish she would show that she cares that she's treating me how I want to be and not just by her own whims.
Sigh....
That's basically it. Thank you so much for reading, and please. I want to know what you think. Part of the issue is that I feel quite isolated sometimes and I have a clouded vision of what is or isn't normal in a relationship perhaps.
And if I am the asshole, which I am not excluding. Please do tell me so. I am fully willing to accept that I'm wrong and somehow unhinged. I just want the world to make sense again.
The following is just me getting the most relevant recent events I can recount off my chest and how they made me feel. If you feel like you want to read them please do, but this post is already quite long and they're not necessarily important. Mostly just examples of why I feel this way. Especially because they're quite rambly I decided to put them last.
​

The first starts on an unsuspecting morning.
She was upset, because I had quietly gotten out of bed to entertain myself after thinking she looked tired, and she felt like I should've known better and should've given her attention because she told me that lately she'd been feeling unlikeable because of her depression and insecurity.
I, didn't know or didn't feel like I was supposed to know her feelings overrode her desire for a good sleep, but nevertheless I do what I usually try to do in a situation like this, I apologize, I try my best to comfort her, I try my best to listen and understand to why she's upset, and brighten the mood when I feel the issue is resolved, because I want to treat her well.
Then, not too long later something happened when we were riding the bus that I wanted to say something about.
I told her that I found it funny, that she insists on holding my hand for comfort for the entire duration of us being outside (Which I'm happy to do but I find starts to irritate me a bit after long times) but she seemed totally fine with running off the bus as fast as possible, and essentially leaving me behind without even looking back in, I guess, what she perceived as a risky situation.
I wasn't really necessarily angry or offended, but mostly it felt like it painted a bit of a picture of her using me, which was why I brought it up. But what matters is how she reacted to me and that was basically with a confusing slurry of words implying that if I didn't tell her, she wouldn't know about it, and that this wasn't the right way to bring it up.
It sounded quite dismissive, and even annoyed that I brought it up. And in stark contrast to how I like to think atleast I am trying to treat her, it felt like there was very little interest in why I actually felt this way, or really any attempt to explain why or comfort me. But at this point I was already quite worn down so I just gave up. The issue was never brought up again.

​

Another event happened while we were cooking.
I was excited to help, but I made a few minor mistakes here and some other things there that seemed to annoy her quite a bit, which I suppose is understandable. But admittedly nothing that ruined the dish or that caused any other problems for her especially since I do the dishes when we're together.
This already beat me back quite a bit, because I was feeling quite shot down for wanting to help and apparently being so annoying. That's not necessarily her fault, I guess. But it's still an emotion that struck me.
After this, I can't remember how. Maybe because I got frustrated, or maybe because she got and she gave up, I decided to try to make the whole dish alone.
I remember her standing at the door opening of the kitchen and criticizing and questioning what felt like every move I made. "Why I put that bowl there, what was wrong with that bowl, was there raw meat in that bowl? Why are you putting it with the dishes? I'm only asking."
Eventually it was all just too much and I had a mental breakdown. I retreated to the couch and just started ugly crying for half an hour. I considered leaving right on the spot after I calmed down, but decided to give her a chance and set next to her.
She did hold me for a little bit, but quite quickly things flipped around again. She wasn't happy. I apologized for annoying her, I apologized for making mistakes, I apologized for scaring her when my breakdown started and then... She said she wanted me to apologize for mentioning the breakdown as if she had anything to do with it, and even mentioned she felt sad that she had to "fish the full apology out of me."
I had hoped that maybe later when she had calmed down, she would show some interest and maybe ask why I had a breakdown, why I was feeling this way. Especially since she herself often thinks it's very important that I am proactive in asking these things when she's unhappy. But like before, it was never brought up again.

​

Then the final event started at her brothers wedding when she was talking and having a discussion with her cousin, in a secluded room.
At some point I was part of the conversation, but at some point their discussion got so lively and they paid such little attention to me it was impossible for me to get a word in, because if I tried to speak it would just get interrupted and stepped on by either of them wanting to respond to the other. So I left to try and speak with other people, every once in a while coming back to check on my girlfriend, and seeing if she was responsive. A few times I touched her on the shoulder or tried to get her attention but there was no response, she was too busy talking. Them now having switched to their native language which I didn't fully grasp yet either, didn't help me wanting to be a part of the conversation, even though I did try to respond where I understood the subject in english, and while I do remember the cousin answering once it was quickly switched back as if neither party was really interested in having me around.
I knew we had an altercation leaving the wedding, somehow. I never remember quite being upset at all. After all, it is her cousin, she hadn't seen him in a while, and I'm generally actually quite happy to see her talk to other people because she is normally quite anxious. I think when I think back on it most likely I said something about how intensely they were talking to eachother mostly because I found it amusing, which I tried to clarify, but she seemed to think it was quite necessary to defend herself by all means.
The real issue came much later afterwards. Even though the morning after we agreed to never talk about it again because the night after we had a horrible fight that I needed her sister's help with to get shelter from her, she apparently felt the issue wasn't resolved and it came up quite sorely in a conversation about unrelated things.
Again, I tried to explain myself and what happened, but she got so stuck on her version of events, interrupted me frequently and snapped nonsensical responses to my about how "How am I expecting her to be able to look behind her" Which I still don't know why that's even relevant, and how she absolutely insists that I was never there again, even though I very clearly remember checking back atleast twice, trying to join the conversation in english and trying to get her attention.
She just kept yelling "But you were never there" and showing signs of having an emotional meltdown, so I felt forced to drop the issue. But I still feel like I don't like her pushing her collection of events on me, and seemingly having no interest in how I experienced that day and how it made me feel.
But then again. Like said. My memory is poor. So maybe she's right? Even though that's illogical because if I go with her version of events, why would I be upset or offended if I never tried to re-join the conversation? How can she know if I didn't try to get her attention if she insists that she can't look behind herself? Why do I remember things so clearly even though she insists it had gone differently. It all makes so little sense to me.

Especially thank you if you managed to read through this ramble on the end. Please, let me know what you think. Like said. Sometimes I do feel like I'm going insane.

Where to start? A little about me:
I'm 6'2", 220ish, growing out my light brown hair, green eyes, light beard, tatted. Very hygienic and often smelling great, confident but not too cocky, often trying to make those around me smile and laugh. Passions for playing and writing music, cooking meals for those I love, and animals, all the animals.
I know carpentry, welding, sleight of hand, landscaping and gardening, massage therapy, how to survive in the wild with only a backpacks worth of things. I have many hobbies and often am trying to learn new things. Currently learning how to crochet, but I also paint, sketch, pottery, and diy. I love gaming, and that includes video games but also my board game collection and card games, traditional, trading, and drinking.
Polyamorous for two years now. I actually met a partner on Reddit after I posted an ad like this and she responded with a lengthy and well thought out response(please take note). I met my other partner 8 months ago on feeld and quickly she became close to the two of us. Now we're all practically inseparable, although the girls do not date each other(yet, I always say), they prefer to date just me and share their time.
I'm home during the day by myself mostly while the girls are each at work or school. But in the evenings and on the weekends we're all usually curled up on the couch together or going out and getting into shenanigans. Big fans of shopping runs, especially for things none of us need, going to the beach, hitting a local bar and playing pool, but more often than not you'll catch us inside, just enjoying each other's company. I can confidently say those two are the best of friends, and I'm just trying to share this experience with others.
Now, I want to be clear, none of this is about looking for sex or anything of that nature. But all of us identify as polyamorous, both of them identify as bisexual(demisexual), and I'm not opposed to things taking a natural turn.
I broke my foot recently so I don't really drive anymore, but I can always host. If you've made it all the way down to the end I'm excited to meet you. Send me a chat and let's see if we're close enough to meet up. Sending a face pic goes a long way.

Four years ago, I met a girl on Tinder. We hit it off, started dating and a month or so later it was all official. Maybe a month passes and her parents are in town, time to meet the parents! Nervous as ever, I put my best foot forward. That day, I made her and her sister breakfast and minutes later there was that fateful knock at the door. Introductions were made and so on. Myself, the parents, my partner, two of her sisters and one of three brothers are gathered in the living room. I'm getting "picked on" left, right and centre, as expected and all in good nature.
A family meeting is called and I give my partner the "should I take a walk?" look. I'm asked to stay, happily. In fact, I remember us all sitting down and GF and sister bite into the breakfast bagels I'd made. Perfectly poached egg yolks splash lusciously out the sides and I sit with a tiny "yeah, the new boy can cook" kinda smile haha. Boy, was I not ready for what came next. The parents weren't in town for leisure. Dad had been in hospital the day prior. The big C was here in a big way and there wasn't much time on the clock. What a way to meet the parents.
The air grew heavier every day, but we fell deeper and deeper in love. COVID and the accompanying lockdowns hit. Myself, GF, sister & partner all share a house throughout. Life was great as it could be all considered.
Xmas 2021 comes around eventually. It was a heavy-hearted affair. Dad has deteriorated, but is hanging in there like a goddamn champion. We enjoy Xmas and eventually all fly home. The next day, we get the news. Time ran out. GF flew back immediately, I stayed to keep life moving and the house in order etc etc.
She spent maybe 4 months away supporting her mother and siblings. We had decided to move up to the beach and really begin our lives together. So I kept working and trying to get my foot in the door for work in our desired destination. She returned home and we carried on with our mission. It was tough. She was struggling with her mental health every day and I did everything I could to be a supportive man and to begin creating a foundation for our new life.
I can't say I was perfect. I wasted a lot of money on "living in the moment" you know? Trying to make the mundane a little brighter and fight off the shadows.The smallest inconvenience would set her off every day. I'd wake up to a screaming fit over a broken eyeliner or an outfit that didn't work. We'd go out for dinners or drinks or buy ganja we couldn't afford just to try and have a nice day. I fell back into my own addictions and dragged her away from a healthy recovery. All best intentions, but we were both tired and couldn't get back into good headspaces.
I'm a chef by trade and I'm not exaggerating when I say I work minimum 55hr to an average 68hr week. Every week. I've never had a holiday in my life and with so much at stake, I was working myself to the bone to try and fill the financial hole made by my re-emerged addictions as well as get us moving.
Late '22 we both got work in a fine-dining venue. I was over the moon. Chef kicked my ass every day. I cried on the line, in front of customers twice haha. But I loved it. She was struggling big time. Hated the job and hated life and herself. We were both declining. I had become dirty and messy, her, demotivated and severely depressed. There was a month where on three occasions, we went out for casual drinks. 3-5 beers each and then off home. She would snap out of nowhere and either start screaming down my throat about god-knows-what. On one occasion she simply said "fuck you" andstormed out of the bar. We were having a drink with my friend for my birthday. I chased after her and right out front of the bar she told me she wanted to break up. I asked her to wait a moment while I collected my backpack and we'd head home and talk things through. I came back out and she was gone.
I got home and confronted her about that night and the previous ones. "I blacked out, drunk, I don't remember a thing" was the response to each occurrence. I never for a second believed it. We drank lightly at that time and trust me when I say, we can both seriously hold our liquor haha. We smoothed things over, but both ended up walking out on the fancy new job. Her, due to the stress etc combined with recent loss. I understood. I left with her because hell, we were leaving town shortly anyway and with my network of fellow chefs, I was employed again an hour after quitting that job.
She took the rest of the year off and then we went to Xmas '22. I didn't want to go. I'm not ab Xmas guy anyways and being peak season for work, it was a good time to put extra money in our pockets. I was under some pretty heavy financial stress at the time. She told me she needed me there. First Xmas without dad. I didn't argue any further, I was going to be there. So we went. I hated every second, not because I'm not Christmassy, but because I was having constant anxiety attacks about our finances. Her brother had recently landed a new job paying some seriously good money and it drove me into the ground knowing I should have been at work.
Just before the end of the trip, she told me she would be spending a few weeks after Xmas out in the country with her sister. I thought it was a good idea. Get out of the city for a while, get some fresh air, all that jazz. I declined when she asked me to join her. I HAD to return to work as she had removed herself from the lease on our home before Christmas and had barely worked in the last 12months anyway.
We said our "see you soons" and she took off on her little holiday and I got on the bus for 10hrs and went straight back to work. I had one day off over three weeks until she returned. God was I happy to see that smile walk back in the door. Strangely enough, I came home from work and she'd cooked dinner. Two nights straight. I really don't mean for it to sound nasty, but that was an immediate red flag. In just shy of four years that was the most I'd seen her cook. Seriously.
That night, I'd gone for a glass of water after sexy time. I'd just left the bedroom when she blurted out "I'm breaking up with you" I felt my soul die almost immediately. 4 years of physical and emotional fatigue came crashing down all at once. We tried talking it out. She told me I had let her down. The house was a mess and I hadn't moved us up to the beach yet. We had established a plan during the previous Xmas. I needed her to come back and work for like 2 months just to help out. We had agreed on it. Later that week, her entire family came down. They all had tickets to her late father's favourite band. I declined the invite. The day after, she took off on another holiday, leaving one of her brothers on my couch for a week.
After he finally returned home, I fell to pieces. Anxiety attacks resulting in fainting during service at work. Bills piled up rapid-fire. My mental state went straight down the tube. All her belongings still here. I was left in our home, thrown away with all the furniture and belongings she was running from. I was glued to my phone almost 24/7 flooding her with everything from lovesick messages to horrible abuse. I'd hustled some meth out of desperation to fight the exhaustion and keep on working. That really fucked me up. I attempted to take my own life after the third day up. I was forced to take a second job, hello 90hr weeks.
There was a short period where we were speaking over the phone. She crushed me completely. "I thought you'd be okay... I thought we'd come back together later, stronger". I still can't comprehend that. After everything.... She just walked away leaving me in that situation expecting to just waltz back in at her convenience. It drove me further into depression and some psychotic behaviours. I don't really know, I haven't been able to get to a doctor or anything. I started treating her worse and worse. Constantly abusing and guilting via text/Facebook/wherever I could.
We've cut off all contact now. It was all for nothing. I'm trying to be better but I don't know what to do or where to turn. My family all live overseas. My few friends and I all work conflicting rosters so no social life. I just don't know where to start to begin healing. I really want and need to be better. I've stumbled into a couple of opportunities that I may have already ruined because of my inability to keep my head screwed on properly. I've lived on our jar of coins for the pool table for a month after getting fired from my 2nd job. I live on cup-a-soups, rice and whatever scraps I can take from work as well as my shift meal. I take a bus to work in the AM and walk 1hr25 home in the PM.
I'm just so furious and it's destroying me. I'm always angry and I want to blame it all on her. I do blame her. Though I know that's not right. I'm all twisted about, I don't sleep. I leave voicemails at 5am and send horrible messages to her even though I'm completely cut off and blocked anyway. I've had to enter into a Part IX debt agreement (bankruptcy lite) to keep myself from drowning. Even then, I have to wait a couple weeks for the vote, but I'm wasting away every day.
I just don't know where or how to start. I need to move forward. I need to heal and be healthy. I'm so tired. I'm exhausted and destitute. Finally got abs again I guess? Ha. I know it's probably (probably definitely) not healthy right now, but there's a completely unintended and unexpected new little cute romance thing going on idk.
I'm not trying to rush my healing process at all. I know it takes time, but this is just too much for me to process correctly and I'm cut off from any meaningful help. I can't afford to see my GP and mental healthcare is ridiculously inaccessible financially for me. I've always backed myself and built myself. I really needed her help to get us into our next chapter and now I have nothing. I'm not a career guy. I'll explore opportunities, but I'm dead serious when I say that love is the most important thing. Literally all I want in life is to wake up in and come home to .. a home, not just a structure I live in. A home. We were so close and now the proverbial rug has been pulled I'm just.... Messed up about it. I'm likely being dramatic but it's the highest form of treachery in my eyes...
It's 4am and I've definitely stopped making sense I think. If you're reading this, thanks I guess. I just don't know where to turn or what to do. I'm hungry, cold and falling further and further behind. I'm losing myself and becoming bitter, aggressive and genuinely unpleasant to be around. I want me back. I want my love for myself back. I need to stop feeling like she owes me or should fix this. I just. Fuck.
.if you're here, cheers. Sorry about the word salad. I'm a mess.

This has probably been brought up for sure, so bare with me if you've already seen this discussion take place. I put about 45-50 hours into D4 since the early release last week on Thursday. It wasn't all super efficient play, so I could have surely progressed more during this time, but instead I just did side content, explored the map, did some couch co-op, probably put too much focus on gear while leveling, etc. I'm sure on subsequent play throughs things will go faster.
I hit level 50 last night, but I'm only in act 4 of the campaign. It feels like the amount of content ahead of me to boost up higher is daunting - there's so much gear to collect for specific slots, there's getting through things on nightmare and torment, there's building the paragon board which sounds complex based on the reading I've done, high level dungeons, etc. etc. It sounds like a lot to get through, especially with "adulting" to do outside of D4.
I'm not complaining about the amount of content and I'm loving the game...but leveling took some investment, advancing between levels 50 and 100 looks like it's going to take serious investment. Am I the only one who has concerns with being able to invest this amount of time again and again every 3 months? I mean obviously streamers and dedicated players can find ways to mow through this content quickly I guess, but for the average Diablo demon slayer it feels a bit daunting to know if you want to participate in seasons and the goodies they bring you are going to have to start this huge progression all over again each season.
I played a lot of D3 and a lot of D2, and neither game feels anywhere near this level of time investment for seasons. With D2 you basically just....focus on leveling up and grinding your gear. With D3 you could hit max level in a couple of hours and then the focus was gearing up. I mean, it's the same scenario of leveling and gearing up with D4, but there are a ton of systems and complexities adding major time investment to that journey.
Again, this isn't a complaint about the content or anything, I'm loving the game -- but starting over again feels like a pretty undesirable task right now because of what it will take to get back to that point your character has reached. Maybe anyone else is feeling this way? Just me?

TLDR:
NYXI Wizard is unique due to it's Gamecube controller inspired design and A/B/X/Y button layout. It's ergonomic for medium or large hands. The D-pad could be improved upon. Currently there is no way to turn off the blinding indicator lights, hopefully it's something that will be fixed in a firmware update. The shape, combined with mechanical triggers, mappable back-paddles, turbo and gyro make the NYXI Wizard a versatile primary or secondary controller. Lastly, the NYXI Wizard's conductive adhesive switches used in the A/B/X/Y buttons are just smashing. They are responsive and pressing them feels perfectly weighty. Whether it's GRID, Crysis, Super Smash Bros or something else NYXI Wizard has got you covered (as long as it fits in your hands).
Here are the photos that are part of the review (imgur link).
 
Disclaimer:
This is my second Nintendo Switch related text review in our community. The previous review was received quite well and people asked if I could do a joy-con comparison and so I asked NYXI if they are interested in providing me with their NYXI Wizard controller with the purpose of writing an exclusive review intended for the /Nintendo, /Switch/ & /NintendoSwitch/ subreddits. They were. My condition was that the review would be a pure oldschool text review with eight photos taken by me. I get to keep the controller. I won't be receiving additional compensation in any form (no commission fees, affiliate marketing or ad-revenue etc). As my Nintendo Switch controller collection grows, I might write more reviews for our Switch-related subreddits. This review is based solely on my experiences with NYXI Wizard and 27 days of testing.
 
About me.
Born in 80s. I've been playing videogames since the early 90s. A NES clone was my first console followed by GameBoy and a PC etc. I'm a freelance copywriter. Professionally I've been a part of the gaming tech field & tech journalism for about two decades (Europe/Estonia). It's a interesting field, but it can have an affect on how you view or enjoy videogames.
On PC my favorite videogames were Heroes of Might and Magic 3, Rainbow6: Siege & DayZ. On Nintendo Switch it's either Mario Kart 8 or Door Kickers: Action Squad. Now comes the "heartbreaking" story. I lost the ability to enjoy PC gaming about five years ago. A few years ago I wanted to buy a Christmas gift for my fiancee. She was getting burnt out at university. The users of /switch and /nintendoswitch were kind enough to answer all sorts of questions I had regarding the Switch console. So I bought her a Nintendo Switch OLED. She loved it (once she got used to the controls) and it helped with the stress. At some point I thought that I'd try one of her switch games with no expectations. Fell in love with the ability to play on a couch and less serious tone many Nintendo games have (GameBoy flashbacks). And here we are, I don't have to "borrow" her switch anymore. I have my own Nintendo Switch and too many games and controllers :)
Cheers :)
 
 
What this review is and is not.
The NYXI Wizard will be reviewed as a Nintendo Switch joycon and compared to other Switch joycons that I own. A major portion of the review will be dedicated to real life use scenarios. A limited amount of technical details will be included. This review will not cover every detail about the NYXI Wizard (such as how to change all of the settings, pair, turbo etc). The manual has all that information and can be found online.
 
What's a NYXI Wizard and what do I think about certain marketing?
According to some a major selling point of the NYXI Wizard you will never buy another Nintendo Switch controller again and it will never develop joycon drift. We should always be skeptical when it comes to claims that cannot be backed up by any testing or examples. How do you prove the part of "forever"? While I was never sold on the promise of forever, the NYXI Wizard intrigued me enough with its unique button layout.
 
The box & what's in the box?
The box for the controller itself is a sturdy blue cardboard box. Inside there is the controller, a small manual, a 127 cm regular plastic charging cable and an extra set of interchangeable joystick rings. Maybe I'm spoiled by past experiences, but I would really have wished to see some sets of interchangable joysticks inside the box (more on these later).
 
How's the manual?
The NYXI Wizard's manual is decently written, but it's one of those rather small manuals.
Luckily you can find the manual from NYXI's website https://nyxigaming.com/pages/nyxi-instructions.
 
Lets talk about the interchangeable joystick rings & potential for modding.
The controller comes with round and octagonal rings. Octagonal rings can be helpful in 2D or fighting games for example (Mortal Kombat). The round rings are suitable for all games but octagonal rings have more limited use. It's a nice extra to have, but it is an extra. It can be tricky to change the joystick rings for the first time. Once you replace the rings about five or more times it gets easier.
I personally perform better in games with the more modern round joystick rings. Obviously it's a matter of preference here. However I made more errors in movement with octagonal rings. The difference was about 7%, but to me the difference was there. Currently I have round rings installed and I don't see myself switching back to octagonal rings.
Note:
When it comes to modding the NYXI Wizard the interchangeable joystick rings make it easier to replace the thumbsticks. You can even install original GameCube thumbsticks with some effort. A youtube video explaining the process is titled "I Made The NYXI Wizard Better..." (shoutout to 128KB).
 
Backlit-buttons.
The NYXI Wizard has A/B/X/Y buttons that are backlit and it's possible to change their brightness. Even if you turn the background light off, it only has an affect on the A/B/X/Y buttons. There are two indicator lights on top of both joycons and those cannot be turned off. It would have been a nice feature to have where the indicator lights turn off or at the very least are slightly less bright.
Note: I reached out to NYXI about the indicator lights. They informed me that while currently there aren't any such plans they might be able to fix this issue in a future firmware update.
 
Lets talk about the A/B/X/Y buttons.
In comparison to Nintendo Switch Pro Controller, joycons or Hori Split Pad Pro, the NYXI Wizards buttons feel more responsive. They require a bit more force to push and it's a pleasant feeling. The 8BitDo SN30Pro has similar buttons but still not quite as good. Overall the buttons have a solid feel to them and are on the heavier side when it comes to the amount of pressure you have to apply. Among the Nintendo Switch joycons and controllers the NYXI Wizards A/B/X/Y buttons have a unique place.
Note: I reached out to NYXI for more information about the A/B/X/Y buttons. Here's the reply:
"The A/B/X/Y buttons on our controller use the conductive adhesive switches. We chose these switches for their durability and responsiveness. As for the force required to press the buttons, we wanted to create a tactile and responsive experience for our users."
 
The layout of A/B/X/Y buttons.
One thing is for sure. The button layout of NYXI Wizard is different. My favorite feature of this layout is the massive A button right in the middle. In the games I play often, A button is one of my most commonly used buttons. Because the buttons are largehave a different layout, it also brings a small challenge to re-learn the locations. It took me about 2 or 3 days. If you end up wanting to use the controller but want to make the layout a bit closer to traditional Swtich joycons then there are a few ways to approach this.

1. Remap the buttons in the game.
   
2. Remap the buttons in Switch.
   
3. Assign one of the A/B/X/Y buttons to the remappable back-paddle.
   

 
What about the D-pad?
I really like the looks of hard plastic they have used to make the D-pad. But pressing the D-pad really isn't very enjoyable. The edges feel a bit too sharp, so to speak. I'm not a fan of the D-pads position either. The D-pad is the hardest to reach out of all the Switch controllers I own.
Note: I think that a potential upgrade here could be to make the D-pad edges just a tiny bit rounder and move it slightly closer to the left stick.
 
Lets talk about joycon drift and thumbsticks.
Joycon drift is an issue where the thumbstick starts to give false signals to your console and move your character in a direction that you didn't intend. It happens due to dust getting into joycons or joycon wear. NYXI Wizard has addressed this by using a hall effect joysticks which is a technology that is supposed to never get joycon drift. Setting the technology itself aside, the thumbsticks feel good to use. Their movement is smooth and responsive. The Wizards thumbsticks are similar in size to Hori Splitpad Pro but bigger than the regular Nintendo Switch joycons. A standout of these thumbsticks is the rubbery finish which is very pleasant to hold. It has a nice grip and has a slightly soft feel to it. Out of all the Switch joycons and controllers I own, this is the best thumbstick finish.
With confidence I can say that NYXI missed an opportunity by not including extra thumbsticks that are taller or shorter. In the end a thumbstick is a rather cheap component but it can add extra value to the gamer. My hope here is that NYXI might release additional thumbsticks of different sizes as optional accessories. The good news is that I got confirmation from NYXI that they plan to release accessories like thumbsticks with various sizes soon.
 
The triggers.
This controller uses mechanical triggers. These are responsive if you compare them to joycons or controllers that use non-mechanical triggers (such as the official Nintendo Switch joycons or the Hori Split Pad pro). It takes very little force to press these triggers which may be beneficial for longer gameplay sessions. The travel distance of the triggers is pleasantly short and the trigger makes an audiable click when its activated. The short travel distance makes it easier to rapidly press the trigger. The Mobapad M6 Gemini has similar triggers. Hori Split Pad Pro, official Nintendo Switch Joycons & Pro Controller have slightly less responsive triggers in comparison.
 
Ergonomics?
If your hands are big enough then the Wizard is an ergonomic controller. One of the main advantages of NYXI Wizard is that while holding it, your finger position is different than when holding a Hori Split Pad Pro or the official Nintendo Switch joycon. Using different styles of controllers can be one little thing that you can do to take care of your hands and fingers. I've used it as my main controller for 27 days and am happy with the ergonomics. This means that it's my main joycon for now. At some point I will go back to Mobapad M6 and then something else or return NYXI Wizard.
 
Gyro, mappable back-paddles.
Gyro works well, even in FPS games such as Crysis. There are also mappable back-paddles present on the the Nyxi Wizard. The paddles themselves aren't very well placed in my opinion as they are a bit hard to reach, but they have a nice texture on them and a responsive feel. Among other buttons, you are able to map the back-paddles to triggers (which isn't possible on all joycon back-paddles).
 
The vibration motor.
The vibration motor is decent. It isn't HD-rumble, but in a way that's to be expected as the only joycons that have HD-rumble are the official Nintendo Switch joycons. All vibration settings work well, I personally liked playing on low or medium setting. The highest vibration setting was nice when the Switch's volume was louder, otherwise sound of the motor broke gameplay immersion.
 
Bonus content: what may people with smaller hands think of NYXI Wizard?
As a new part of the review I asked my fiancee (who has small hands) to test the NYXI Wizard and share her impressions. She was fond of how the triggers felt. The amount of force you had to apply and click of the triggers appealed to her. Another one of her favorite features was the way joysticks were textured. Obviously the yellow one got more praise due to its cute color. NYXI Wizard was wa-a-ay too big for her hands. She pointed out that if she had to play something that requires faster reactions, it would be nearly impossible with this controller. The size of the controller, the distance between buttons is just too great. For games like Picross it was okay, but after some gameplay time the NYXI Wizard made her hands hurt. So what's the verdict here when it comes to the NYXI Wizard if you have smaller hands? Try it before you buy it. It's likely that controller might just be a too big.
 
Most common questions:
Can the NYXI Wizard be used to wake up your Nintendo Switch? Yes it can.
Will it fit inside a carry case that's meant for Nintendo Switch OLED + Hori Split Pad Pro/Mobapad M6 Gemini? No it won't. NYXI offers a case for the Wizard on their website: https://nyxigaming.com/products/nyxi-carrying-case-for-wizard-hyperion-athena
Can it be used as a controller? Yes it can.
 
Final thoughts.
The NYXI Wizard is a Gamecube inspired joycon/controller that is executed well with room for some improvement. The asking price of $69.99 seems to be fitting. It doesn't have a direct controller to compare to due to the unique features such as the layout and interesting A/B/X/Y buttons. In my opinion the A/B/X/Y buttons are among one of the best features of the Wizard. Yes, these four buttons aren't mechanical but they have a very pleasant resistance and travel distance. The price is worth it to those who like the size & layout of the controller and value features such as mechanical buttons, triggers & unique A/B/X/Y buttons.
 
Will a gamer benefit from the features that come with the pricetag? Yes, we will (most of them).
Will a newecasual gamer benefit from the features? Yes, some of the features (like the mechanical buttons and different layout with good ergonomics).
 
And here is a comparison table. Rating 1-5 (5 being the best).
I did my best to rate various features of the Switch joycons that I own. Keep in mind that such comparisons are subjective and ratings might vary from person to person (mostly depending on shape & size of your hands). All of these are rated as joycons and are not rated as a controller.
The price is for the regular model of any controller and is based on the official pricing I found/received. This does not include sales or limited edition color schemes that may cost more.
 

Model	Nintendo Joycons	Mobapad M6 Gemini	Hori Split Pad Pro	NYXI Wizard
D-Pad	3	4	4	3.5
Thumbsticks	3	4	4	4.5
Triggers	3	4	3.5	4.5
Buttons	3	4.5	4	4.5
Build	5	4	4	4
Ergonomics	3	5	5	4.5
Features	3.5	3.5	3	4
Included accessories	4	3	3	4.5
Vibration	4	3	-	3.5
Price	$79.99	$55.99	$49.99	$69.99
Weight	99g	-	152g	229g

 
What could be improved upon:

1. The interchangeable joystick rings are a novelty item for most users. I would recommend them as an additional extra item/accessory that you can add to your order.
   
2. It would be beneficial to have thumbsticks of various sizes. The groundwork is already done and NYXI has made it very easy to swap the sticks. Adding short/medium/tall stick options in the store would make sense.
   
3. Nintendo Switch has a dedicated fanbase and a decent amount of them really enjoy changing the way their console looks. The ability to order sticks of various colors (such as yellow, pink etc) would be a treat to those who like modding their Nintendo Switch and the joycons.
   
4. Additional color schemes and designs/transparent or semi-transparent casings for the controller might appeal to gamers. For example the recently released Zelda themed Nintendo Switch Pro Controller proved out to be a massive hit. Bonus: I got confirmation by NYXI that more colors will be released soon.
   
5. Adding a way to lower or turn off indicator lights would be a welcome change. It's possible to turn off the A/B/X/Y lights but you cannot disable the indicator lights. Be warned: the indicator lights are BRIGHT! If you are gaming in a darker room and have turned down your Switch brightness to preserve your eyes, the indicator lights will stick out like flashlights. There is an easy fix: put a sticker on your NYXI Wizard and cover the indicator lights. However most people don't want to put stickers on their joycons for basic functions.
   
6. Outside of the colors themselves, the plastic used in the controller is a major factor in how the controller feels in the users hands and if users consider it to be "premium". It's worth looking into different kinds of casing materials. Nintendo Switch Pro Controller has a premium semi-glossy finish and the plastic smooth. Another good example is the 8BitDo SN30Pro which uses a matte plastic casing and also feels solid.
   
7. Making the D-pad edges just slightly more rounder would make it more pleasant to use.
   
8. Moving the D-pad closer to the left stick would make it more ergonomic.
   
9. Placement of the back-paddles could be improved on in terms of ergonomics.
   
10. A compact version of the NYXI Wizard might appeal to many.
    
11. Adding adjustable analog triggers might be considered.
    
12. HD-rumble would make gameplay more enjoyable.
    
13. A larger manual would benefit many customers.
    
14. If interchangeable joystick rings ever become sold as accessories then increasing the color and finish options would be a welcome addition to the NYXI selection.
    

 
Photography equipment used: Fujifilm X-T4 mirrorless camera, Fujinon XF 50-140mm f/2.8 R LM OIS WR lens, Fujifilm MCEX-11 macro extension tube, Carl Zeiss Jena Flektogon f/2.4 35mm lens. helicoid extension tube.
 
Closing notes:
I hope you liked the review :) Congratulations to everyone who made it to the end! Any and all thoughts about the controller are welcome. NYXI employees will read this post and the comments. So you can use it as a easy way of giving your own personal thoughts regarding this controller (and features you would like to see).
 
Mods if you need me to remove anything from the post that is against the rules, please message me. I will edit as needed.
 
What are your impressions of this controller if you already own one?
 
 
My personal thanks to Lyra & the entire NYXI team!

I (early 30s, happily married, no kids, no drama, things I'm passionate about, events I look forward to, friends, etc etc etc) came out to my extremely bigoted dad a few months ago because he was leaning on me for a lot of difficult assistance with issues at his house which were making it unsafe (re: unlivable) for him. While I wasn't happy about helping him, I was enthused, because, well, I love him, and I know how hard it is for him to let go of his pride and actually ask for help.
The problem was that while I was over at his place doing this difficult and unpleasant work, he'd spend any time we were in the same room just spouting hate, and one day, he went on a particularly gross tangent about trans people, including pulling up videos to show me that were just anti-trans memes and propaganda. I'd been increasingly exasperated and reaching the end of my rope, arguing with him, challenging him with facts and disagreements, but that day was the limit. Someone in a video at one point used the word 'TERF' in a sentence, and he asked me what it meant. When I told him, his immediate response was "oh, so I'm a TERF! Except I wouldn't call myself a feminist, so I guess I'm just a TER." This was followed up with pulling up examples of celebrities he knew were trans/NBy, to talk about how disgusting they were, and how trans people don't deserve human rights.
I had a coming-out letter that I'd been working on for the last 3+ years, which I'd been preparing as an outline for coming out to him in ideal conditions - eg, him being receptive, calm, etc. I had it prepared because while I came out to literally everyone else important in my life within the year of my egg cracking (and everyone who has met, worked, or played alongside me since has only known me by my chosen name and pronouns) I knew he would need it to be presented in a specific way in specific conditions to take it well. Even though some people struggled due to lack of understanding, when it came to everyone else in my life, as soon as it clicked that this was a matter of me being happy, alleviating suffering (ie, dysphoria), and showing me that I'm loved and honored, that was all it took to shift into making an effort if any was needed at all. Many people had the response of "oh, no, that just makes sense" and the shift was instant and without any slips or misgendering since the moment I told them.
I revised that letter to reflect the fact that there just never came a time when he felt receptive or safe to come out to, and how hurtful he was to me with the things he'd said. I expressed that, for the time being, I could not continue to be alone with him at his home and would not be doing unpaid labor for someone who could look me in the face and tell me I was subhuman, even if he didn't realize he'd been talking about me when he did it - not that being paid would make a difference, nor was I asking for money, because I had only ever agreed to help him in the first place, at real cost to my own life, work, health, etc, because I love him. I told him that I knew he loved me, and cited examples of ways he'd demonstrated that deep love over the years, and that if he still wanted a relationship with me as an adult that I'd gladly be a resource for learning and correcting the misinformation and hate he'd leaned into - but that otherwise, I would not tolerate someone disrespecting and hating me, never mind also expecting me to do what he was asking of me. I told him that I am surrounded by love and support, and if he couldn't accept me for who I really am, I'd grieve him and move on, because while he hadn't always done the best in terms of teaching me stand up for myself or have basic standards around being loved and respected, I'd had enough people demonstrate love and respect to me to learn on my own that I shouldn't accept any less from people who want to call themselves family.
He has always been the sort to respond to any message from me immediately just to say he got it, no matter the time or how busy he might be, and then respond later as appropriate when he had time. This letter - which takes about 10 minutes to read if you're slow, and he's faster than average - was sent midday, while he was off work, during a time I knew he'd be awake and near his phone. About 3 hours later I got a single sentence reply; "thank you for telling me." There has been no word from him since, when the letter was explicit that if he felt he could be calm, respectful, and not make my gender a subject of debate or drama (since everyone else in my life who says they love me has proven with that bare minimum), I would be glad to continue assisting him; that I didn't need or expect him to understand how, why, or what it means for me to be trans, but that if he loved me, he would accept that it's a matter of me being happy and enthused to be alive, and that effectively all that would ever change for him in our interactions would be a handful of words out of a vocabulary of tens of thousands.
To be 100% clear, he was sleeping, eating, and showering at other people's homes because his house was in such bad condition that it was medically unsafe for him after returning from life-saving emergency surgery. He could not afford to pay someone to come in and deal with the situation. He does not have friends or other family that he is on good enough terms with to ask them for the kind of help he needed. All he needed to do was agree to not talk about trans people and not try to question or debate me on being trans while I was present, and I would have helped him.
Not a word since, and I don't ever expect to hear from him again. The meaning of this has felt clear - "I would rather live like I'm homeless while I am injured and recovering, or get sick and possibly die, than accept you being trans, or show even the most basic decency and self-control."
The other night I had a dream where I opened my eyes, and found myself sitting on the shag carpeting of our on-base housing when he was in the military, and I was 5 years old. I was in my child body, recognizing instantly our old TV (so small by today's standards, but the 'entertainment system' around it so huge!), our ugly yellow-and-brown floral couch which was somehow trendy at the time, the doorframe into the kitchen. I looked behind me to see him, almost 30 years younger, stretched out on the couch behind me to watch TV, and he looked at me with an expression I saw so much from him back then - beaming love and pride. I burst into tears.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying?" Him almost laughing from surprise.
I was crying because in an instant I saw everything he'd ever done out of love for me over the years to come; all the hard work; the sacrifices; relationships (including an engagement) ended out of protectiveness for me, and the standards for what kind of woman he would bring into my life as an adult figure who would share a home, his love, and authority over me as a parental figure; the times he went without so that I wouldn't; the gifts; the trips; the life lessons; the deep conversations; the time spent working on projects together; so, so many things, so many choices, made to stay near, to be stable, to be available as a parent, provider, and guardian. All the times he turned away from a life - with freedom, comfort - he could have had, but didn't, because being what he considered a Good Father was always a top priority. Not always the best or right choices, but always with a clear motivation nonetheless.
I cried because when I saw that old expression of fatherly adoration, I knew it wasn't real. It wasn't for me. It was for who he wanted and expected me to be because of what organs I have, and nothing else.
There have been times over the years that we have been low/no contact - most notably, when I was finally able to leave my mom's place and the abuse/rape I'd faced since single-digits age at the hands of her husband (and never told my dad about until then because I'd always feared him going to jail for what I knew he'd do, and did attempt to do when he was told the truth). His response after learning the truth, and before leaving on what what nearly ended up being vehicular-pursuit-and-murder, was to tell me to pack my things because when he got back I was coming to live with him, and that was the final word. What he meant by that was no more college, no friends, ending my relationship, no phone, no internet, and basically being under constant lockdown, which was his response to any time he felt like he didn't have control over me. He'd done it before when I was a teenager because he interpreted my mom's complaints about me being depressed as me being badly-behaved, and I came out of that isolation more suicidal than I'd ever been in my life, with every day a huge struggle not to load up the rifle he kept under his bed and kill myself. I knew that if I went with him again, I would be dead in a matter of months from sheer despair, so I took off with the man I'd later end up marrying. It was, without a doubt, the best decision I've ever made.
I was crying because there I was at 5 again, facing my father - then several years younger than I am now - the man who had sworn to himself he would be a better dad than his father, who had been violently and emotionally abusive to him his entire life, and whom he visited neither on his deathbed or at his grave at any point after not speaking to him for around 15 years - knowing there were no words, no means of communicating to him, the total understanding; "You don't actually love me. You had me to prove a point to yourself that ended up not even being real or true. The moment I stand up for myself and defy your expectations, you decide to stop being my father."
That's been the pain of it these last few months - his silence, the awful truth. That none of what he ever did was for love of me, only his idea of me. That I was brought into existence by people whose love was, and is, completely conditional on things I have no control over; the expectation of me to be someone I'm not, and suffer deeply in silence to preserve comfortable ignorance and hate. It is not enough for me to be happy, to love and be loved, for the family of my spouse to be comprised of upstanding and respectable people who embrace and love me, to be stable, to have skills and talents, to be active and proactive about my health, to have a sizeable circle of friends and community, to be someone who is respected and esteemed by my peers and whose work is highly praised, and so on and so on and so on.
I was depressed and unengaged for the entire time I was compelled to live as the wrong gender. As an NBy not seeking medical transition, that's the bulk of what has changed when it comes to seeing or interacting with me. I am still the same person I ever was - still dress, talk, move, the same way I ever have. Still into the same hobbies, music, movies, books. All that has changed is that I learned I'm happier and more invested in staying alive and building a future for me and my loved ones when people use the right pronouns and name for me, and I have enough love and regard for myself now to ask those who are in my life not to force me to suffer needlessly.
After everything, after all the hardship, sacrifice, literal fights, pride, an actual lifetime of choices made to do better than his father did for him - telling him that truth was all it took for him to decide he was done being my father.
​
Transported into my 5 year old self, sitting on the floor, looking up into his face of shocked and loving concern as he sat up to try and comfort me, knowing there wasn't time and that I was going to wake up any moment, but not yet awake/lucid enough to know it wasn't real. No way to tell him in any way he would understand or accept - "one day you will decide to stop loving me, because I will ask you to see me for me, and you will prefer grieving your false-image to being loved by your actual, living child."
With father's day coming up, I don't know what the right action is. I was always the one to take the high road during time when we were low-contact, sending cards wishing him well and letting him know I still love him, even if we weren't talking at that time. One time while helping him clean his house, I found a collection - all the cards I'd ever sent or given him over the years.
But this time feels different, and I don't know if there's even a point. I'm not interested in trying to change the mind of a bigot in his late 50s, when due to me having trans and otherwise queer friends over the years has prompted so many conversations where I thought he was growing and becoming more progressive, but in a post-Trump world he just seems to have dived full-on into hate. There's no level of one-to-one conversation or discourse I can have with him that can do anything in the face of him being surrounded by like-minded peers, consuming propaganda in his downtime, and obstinately refusing all challenges to his beliefs when I had attempted to shortly before coming out. I feel like I just have too much good in my life, too much else to focus on, to spend any amount of time or energy on trying to sway the heart of someone so ready to cut me off for telling him I would no longer tolerate his hate.
Cried for the first time about it briefly a few days ago, but woke up crying hard from that dream, crying about it now. The love was never real, so what was it all for? I was a bad investment of his life, time, and energy in terms of payout for his dreams - no grandkids, no grown child enthused to welcome him into a shared family home as he ages out of being able to earn an income. I'm my own person, and I don't live my life for him - and in his eyes, that means I'm nothing. Why would I want to celebrate or show love for that?
First father's day with no dad, when he's alive and lives 30 minutes away.

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The maw of the moss-wolf chomped down on the treat, its partner patiently waiting its turn, an eye trained on the Human providing the sustenance. Joseph reached into the pouch, counting out what he had left and mentally setting a few aside for the raven-like birds that Scarlet had trained to bother him.
Well, ‘bother’ might be a strong word. They would whistle at him and wait for food. Upon getting their hard sought quarry, they would return to share it with the rest. Surprisingly cooperative, all things considered. Scarlet had apparently been getting them to associate certain short melodies with members of the pack, allowing her to send the avians after whoever she wanted for more snacks.
If they didn’t get any, then they would yell something not dissimilar to a caw until either food was procured, or they grew bored. Given that they had taken to humouring Violet in her attempts to be a mobile perch, that usually took a while.
It drove Nalah nuts, which seemed to be part of the reason the blond-furred female was included in the ritual at all. Harrow was apparently the favourite target of the nuisance when she was outside the base, but he couldn’t say why.
The tell-tale scratching had been somewhat muted since the shift in medium, but Violet’s writing was always something he kept an ear out for, his daughter presenting her tablet excitedly. [It blinked!]
He turned his head to the cow-looking thing, the unwavering stare held until he gave up. “I swear you guys are just messing with me.”
“Or we merely enjoy your suffering,” Sahari suggested with a smirk, the black-furred female standing taller than him for a moment as she stretched her legs out. Settling into a height that was level with him, she attempted to offer the wolves food. Receiving a fearful retreat instead, the black-furred female frowned, the two canines shifting in their enclosure to be closer to Joseph and Violet. “They still seem to distrust any but yourselves.”
He shrugged, taking the scrap from her and giving it to the young Atmo to pass along, her chittering laugh when the wolves accepted the morsel breaking the soft sound of trickling rain outside the barn. “Faye was the one who started this. I guess they treat her like an alpha of sorts, and seeing her bow to the two of us so often told them that she’s lower on the pole. That’s my guess, anyway.”
“That is….rather intelligent of them, if so,” Sahari commented pensively.
The Grand Hunter tipped his head in agreement. If anything, it was an understatement. The six-legged canines were remarkably receptive to taming, though he couldn’t say how much of that was due to Faye taking to his suggestion so seriously. He had only offered it as a passing thought, but she had set to it like their god had mandated it.
He fought back a sigh at the reminder of his placement in the whole thing, his foot kicking the ground to adjust the new sandals he was wearing until Pan finished proper shoes.
One day, he was a divorcee flirting with random women on a cruise ship so that the rejection validated his own self-esteem issues. The next, he was a guy in charge of a settlement nearing one hundred people and had become a manifestation of religion condensed into the form of some random moron.
He snorted at a morbid thought. How would Emma react to his ‘rise to fame?’ His acquisition of more than they had ever thought for themselves back on Earth?
Owning a territory? They could only manage a nice apartment that could fit several times over inside the base. Friends? Hell, he had a group of people who have helped him through some of the worst the planet had to offer. Kids...well, nothing could replace Violet. He doubted Emma would see it the same way, though.
A paw enclosed his shoulder, dragging his mind from more sombre thoughts. It had been quite a while since everything fell through and he had moved on, but it still stung every now and again.
“What ails your mind, Joseph?” Sahari asked with a concerned inflection. He looked over at her, a smile becoming easier after a moment.
“Just wondering how my ex-wife would react to seeing what I’ve turned into. What she’d say to all of this,” he admitted honestly with a wide gesture to everything. She patted his back, a small pride in her gaze.
“You continue to heal, Grand Hunter, but you are still scarred. Your previous mate would curse her decisions were she to see what you have accomplished.”
He snorted, a wide dry grin breaking out. “I’d love to see her face going back with two alien wives and this sweetheart as a daughter,” he teased, giving Violet a thorough rub on the head. She purred, chittering between breaths as she fought off the rough affection playfully while keeping her blades tucked for safety.
The black-furred female tilted her head and shifted her weight to her other foot. “You’ve mentioned that there is a specific procedure for binding the lives of your people, no?”
He blinked, his mind flickering to the two rings he had prepared, yet held some modicum of expectation around before he whipped them out. Not least of all was the foreign sensation of doing it again twice, nor finding an appropriate time to do it. It was hard to pick a picturesque moment when each day was paperwork, punching people in the face during spars, and orchestrating the well-being of such a large group. Given that the closest thing he could get to a romantic occasion was laying down on the grass while Nalah barked orders at the construction crews in the distance, he didn’t feel like it was ever a good time to ask. It was even harder picturing himself doing it to the two of them, as if it cheapened the gesture in some way.
Then there was the part of himself that feared rejection—as stupid as it sounded. They could deny the alien practice, not share the same sentiment, or any number of disagreements that would render him kneeling like an idiot. As unlikely as it was, it could even be too great a commitment for them, the implication of their entire lives being pledged solely to him being a crushing weight, rather than a promise of mutual loving dedication.
Sure, now they were speaking as if it was the case, but the circumstances as they were lent themselves to it being a product of necessity. Who was to say that it would remain the same once they got off this rock and—hopefully—in touch with their own people again. Would they still feel the same way with an entire species back on the table as possible romantic partners? Would he still be enough?
“Joseph,” Sahari called out with worry and irritation in equal parts. “You are making me anxious.”
“Hm? Oh, sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he was reminded that more than one person could be afflicted by his emotional state. She placed a paw to her hip.
“Are the proceedings really such a means for strife?”
“Ah, no, it’s just…” He averted his eyes, offering Violet a token smile when she seemed to be concerned about him. He inhaled deeply. “It’s just…I have reservations about it.”
She raised a brow. “I need not a bond to know you care for them deeply enough to toss your life to the Void for them.”
His weak smile faltered further. “Well, yeah. They mean everything to me, but I cant help but remember how things went last time, I guess. There’s a million and one ways it could go up in smoke, and I…” He fell quiet for a moment, Violet pressing herself into his side in an attempt to cheer him up. He rested a hand against her back, the texture comforting in a way. “I want it to be an important moment in our lives, rather than some disposable token that they accept without thinking much. It’s not like they’re swimming in potential romantic partners here, so it feels like they’d be agreeing for lack of options.”
She stared at him with a hesitant expression, her cheek pinched between her teeth and eyes narrowed in thought. “Pan would sooner end her own life than be separated from you, and Tel would end any who so much as suggested such,” she stated finally. “To you, the mark upon your flesh is but a sting that fades. To them, it is their declaration that they have found their reason to live. A declaration that is shown to all others of our people the moment they draw near. Though Pan lacks the means to impart her own, she is rather pleased that another is able to in her stead and treats it as her own for all intents.”
She grabbed him roughly by the arm, pulling him into her breast as she stood to her full height, a surprised yelp stifled by soft clothing and fur.
“Unfortunately for you, openly voiced or not, we all feel as such. Though you bear not the mark of everyone in the den, I assure you that to be removed from you would leave us lesser, regardless of bond.”
He shut his mouth at the last addition. There was a weight behind knowing that people were likely to simply give up on living if you were away for too long. It put the relationship in front of a loaded gun for both parties. They couldn’t afford to break it off from him because existing would become a living hell, and he couldn’t change his mind for any reason because it would be the same as killing them.
What kind of marriage was one built upon such fragile pillars? How could they be happy when every fight was tempered by the threat of the end of everything? What about Sahari? Could she ever pursue her own life with Nalah when she had the bond shackling her to him? How long until that became a stinging poison, rotting away the veins and arteries of her psyche? How long until death became preferable to being around him?
A strong impact to his stomach winded him, though the unnoticed hyperventilating left him little to eject as he fell to his knees. Violet clicked in surprise, the wolves backing away at the unexpected violence.
He coughed, sputtering spittle as he fought the urge to evacuate his breakfast. A pained glance up revealed Sahari still clutching a fist, her expression just as hurt.
“You hear my words and twist them, Joseph,” she chastised softly, crouching to look at him better. “We pledged our lives to you. Not because we had no choice, but because we believed you to be our future. From that moment on, our desire was to remain with you.” Her voice grew weak, almost pleading. She placed her forehead to his, the contact an intimate touch. “Your experiences may suggest our bond a prison, but for us, it is an ambrosia for our soul. It completes us like no equal. Jax and Harrow care for you immensely, Nalah and myself owe you everything that we are, and your mates will fight the Hunt Mother herself if it would mean even one more sun with you.”
He found himself speechless, wading through the emotions behind her words a syllable at a time. The feeling of Violet pressing into his back in an embrace stung as much as soothed, his mind rejecting the idea, yet so desperate to accept it.
“Do not desecrate our affections because you had been scorned by one who did not see within you that which we covet,” she implored sombrely, raw emotion oozing through the confines of speech. “Though you doubt it, none would know how much value you place in the ‘mark’ of your people more than your mates. If merely thinking about the unlikely event that they refuse tortures you so deeply, than the elation they would share with you when they agree would likely see Pan unable to contain herself for many suns after.”
He stayed on his knees, the warmth surrounding him from both sides seeping within and thawing the frozen excuses he held onto to prevent exposing himself to potential rejection. Every step of the way since he had met them, it had made him fearful of losing their company. At first, the thought of being left alone to brave the planet was too much to bear, but he would try. Now? Now he felt like he understood where the minds of those bonded Lilhuns had been. Even considering being away from his new loved ones pulled at a primal part of himself, each tug stronger than the last, each suggestion fanning the flames barricaded behind morals—the depths he would trudge to see it never come to pass.
Sahari nuzzled into his neck for a moment before parting, a somewhat satisfied smile given towards the emotionally fragile Human they had taken to depending on. He returned his own, though it was tinted with a bit of embarrassment.
Violet stepped back to allow him room to stand, the extended joint of her blade asking to be held like he did with her adoptive mother. His expression softening, he did as requested, lightly rubbing the smooth surface with his thumb. It soothed a part of him to be holding his daughter’s ‘hand’ while they watched the wolves slowly approach the front of their enclosure again, now that the momentary intensity had faded.
With a self-deprecating roll of his eyes, he nodded, promising himself to follow through with his small wish the next time the chance revealed itself. It didn’t need to be perfect, but it would be nice if it was at least private. The dull ache in his stomach would be a reminder not to second guess himself anyway.
The wolves yipped, ignoring Sahari as they moved towards the other corner. Joseph glanced at where they were focused, his curious gaze replaced by surprise, then shock.
Raine supported Faye over her shoulder, the deep gold-furred female’s breath short as she rested her weight over her brown-furred counterpart, their black leather coats dripping water onto the floor as it wrapped tightly around them, concealing their armour. A steady trickle of blood flowed from a long gash on Faye’s leg, her free arm clutching across her breast to keep her coat closed.
Without waiting for either to speak, he ran to pick up the Wraith, slinging her across his shoulders and tearing off to the base. He could barely hear Sahari over the rain and his own blood pounding through his ears, his heart hammering in his chest. Though they had established something of a clinic for minor injuries that were sustained constantly, his singular focus was getting Faye into the medbay.
Pack members cleared the way, some jumping to the side as he barrelled through the sparsely populated routes between home and workplace. More than one tripped over themselves in shock, the Human never having a reason to go at a full sprint before. He was slower than a Lilhun like this, but he could make it the full distance before them. He didn’t need to slow down.
Harrow pushed open the doors to the hub, her distant expression as she examined thin ironwood tablets perking, his rapid heavy footfalls telling of his arrival before she had the chance to see him. Her eyes lit up, her brows furrowed, and a hurried pull of the door kept it open for him, all in sequence. He didn’t have the spare breath to explain or thank her.
The orange-furred female bolted across the hub, slamming into the crash-bar installed into the facilities wing entrance to force it open, only barely outpacing the Grand Hunter in his rush. She staggered to her feet behind him, rushing to collect herself and assisting in tearing the pants off of the injured female when Joseph laid her on the bed.
Modesty being the least of his concerns, he braced an arm across her pelvis to stop her hips from bucking as Harrow wiped off any dried blood to see the extent of the damage on her thigh.
“What happened?”
He tightened his hold on Faye as his friend tentatively spread the wound to check for debris. “Don’t know. Didn’t ask. Saw her bleeding, rushed her here,” he answered through deep breaths, each strike of his adrenaline-fuelled heart pressing against his lung capacity.
Harrow frowned, grabbing some sterile water to pour over the wound and picking out a stray splinter of wood that looked to be from her missing leg armour. Faye let out a small whine, but didn’t have it in her to talk yet, signs of exhaustion and pain unfocusing her eyes.
The Head of Technology—and current medical expert in the room—pursed her lips against her muzzle. “We need to stitch it. It’s too big for just healroot.”
Joseph nodded, easing his weight off the Wraith and wiping his sweat from his brow. “Pan!”
Noticing the urgency in his voice, he could hear her throw the door to the sewing room wide open and jog to the medbay, her wide eyes steeling as she assessed the situation.
“Idee with you?”
She nodded, ears turned perfectly towards him.
“One of you boil off some palm string, the other sterilize the thinnest quill you can get away stitching a wound closed with. I don’t care who, but we need one of you to close this up.” He glanced at Harrow. “Grab some alcohol. I keep a bit in the closet in my room, next to the old crossbow prototypes. We need to flush this out and kill off anything that might have gotten in.”
The orange-furred female tipped an ear in confusion as Pan took off to do as he asked. “I thought you didn’t have medical-”
“I’ve been around enough workplace injuries, okay? Go!”
His shout jolted her into action, a few steps required to gain traction as she ran out the door. Applying solid pressure to the wound with one hand, he used the other to lightly tap Faye’s cheek.
“Faye? Faye, you with me?”
Her eyes languidly turned to him, slow blinks and meaningless mouthing ceased, a soft smile forming under her pained expression. “Hello, sir.”
He exhaled a relieved huff. “Welcome home, Faye. What happened?”
She seemed confused by his question, glancing down to her leg after a few seconds. With widened eyes, she struggled to sit up, Joseph forcibly pressing her to the bed.
“Stay.”
All resistance disappeared in an instant, her body complying despite the obvious urgency. He hardened his expression.
“What happened?”
She breathed deeper a few times before speaking. Each word was hesitant, as if the memory was hazy and diluted, though he couldn’t tell if it was due to blood loss or exhaustion. “A large grey beast…teeth, large mouth...attacked wolves...”
His brow knitted, Faye’s coat moving. A small whine came from her again…no. Not her.
A small yellow canine head freed itself from the confines of black leather, a weak keening produced from a tiny moss-wolf. Faye looked at him guiltily, a pleading look in her eyes given as she composed herself.
“It lost its parents…”
His protest died in his voice, a distant memory of a wolf being torn in two came to mind. The time before they had even moved to the pod, let alone met the Lilhuns, him and Violet checking snares shortly after his ankle had healed. A time so long ago, yet remained with him under the surface.
“You saved this little guy, huh?” he asked gently, wincing in tandem with her own when he leaned heavier on the massive gash in her thigh. She nodded, averting her eyes. “Did you get the ‘beast?’”
Faye shook her head. “Raine lured it away, but it still remains.”
“That’s fine. You’re back, that’s all that matters right now.”
Harrow bumped into the doorway, failing to shed all of her speed as she returned from fetching a smaller container that Joseph kept in case the rest of the pack burned through their stores of alcohol. Her eyes flicked to the wolf pup before disregarding it to hand him the ethanol. He lifted his hand, Harrow pouring some water to wash off the blood. Volta would be busy later, it seemed.
Gesturing for the orange-furred female to hold the leg down, he poured the alcohol into the wound, grimacing at Faye’s pained gasp. They didn’t have anything for her to bite into, but that would be a future consideration.
Pan and Idee entered the medbay, the former moving like a machine with purpose while the visiting seamstress took a moment to size up the situation. The Paw fetched a tray from the shelf, laying out several strings of softened palm and a few thin quills, threading one and passing it to Idee. The light brown-furred female accepted it, Harrow making room as she stood next to Joseph.
Pan handed him a tough leather strip as wide as his palm. Seems like she saw the problem before he did.
“Open up,” he prodded, placing the leather between Faye’s teeth. “This is going to fucking suck. We don’t have anything to numb you, so you need to stay as still as possible, okay? I’ll be here the whole time.”
The Wraith nodded, staring at him for a moment before closing her eyes in acceptance, her grip on the pup firming.
“Want me to take the wolf?”
She lightly shook her head, him exhaling hesitantly in response. Idee readied herself, looking to him for confirmation, Pan holding Faye’s ankle flat to the bed.
“You’re good,” he responded, pressing an arm to Faye’s chest and hips to hold her down.
The deep gold-furred female managed a quiet muffled groan of pain as the quill pierced her flesh.
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He entered the hub, dropping himself on the couch and ignoring the sweat on his brow. He had only just managed to get the blood off of his hands after Idee finished, but it was still staining his clothing. Pan was off to rinse it out of her fur while Faye slept off her exhaustion. As far as they could tell, she had avoided any infection thanks to Raine half-dragging the female back to them as quickly as she did. The wolf pup was staying with her for now, since—even in her sleep—she refused to let it go. The little guy didn’t seem to be complaining, so they just left it where it was comfortable. Ferra would be by later to check it out, apparently, and he didn’t see a reason to complain; she was their animal expert.
Scarlet offered him some tea, the warm liquid whetting his pallet that had since dried. Sahari had checked on them during the process, leaving to keep anyone who had questions in the loop. Given that half the damn pack either saw or heard about the Grand Hunter running like a bat out of hell, pretty much everyone was worried. Either about some urgent threat that might befall them, or about one of the quiet servants they had grown used to seeing around.
Looked like the Wraiths had taken to offering small services and assistance to people who needed it when they didn’t have anything better to do, so the pack was curious about what had happened. It was a small blessing that the usual armour they wore when ‘on duty’ was covered by the cloaks, otherwise he would have more questions coming that he didn’t want answered.
Raine stood a few paces in front of him, her bowed posture holding a hint of fear under his unwavering stare. He waited for whoever else was going to show up for the report, Tel and Pan insisting that they be involved. Harrow followed behind the two entering from the facilities wing, either because she had gotten wrapped up in the whole thing, or because she wanted to be included.
Pan sat to his left, Tel taking a place behind him to remain standing. Harrow surprised him, her recently elusive presence firmly displaced as she dropped onto the couch to his right, her tail curling around his calf—not that she seemed to notice.
Given that both Tel and Pan trapped a limb or two with their tails regularly, he didn’t stop to put thought into it, the encapsulating appendage crossing him as a common occurrence.
“I don’t know how accurate it was, since she’s still pretty out of it, but Faye said one of those grey bear-deathtraps attacked some wolves before she stepped in to save the pup,” he opened, glancing at Scarlet. The almost black red-furred female was maintaining a surprisingly commanding presence, her attention laser-focused on Raine. The brown-furred Wraith kept her gaze fixed to the floor, too ashamed or nervous to move it.
“I apologize for her error in her stead,” she announced, the slightest of grip in her folded paws digging her claws into her skin. “The fault is also mine for not preventing her misstep. I will accept any punishment for our mistake.”
He exhaled heavily. “I’m not mad that you guys had an original thought, Raine. I’m worried about those iron-maiden-looking fucks being around again, and I’m concerned about you getting hurt.”
“Of course, sir. Forgive me for the arrogance of assuming your priorities.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, Pan squeezing his thigh in support. Tel rested her head on his, the weight somehow comforting despite the grin at his annoyance. “We can talk about not getting yourselves killed later. Are you injured at all?”
Raine’s ear twitched. “No, sir. I am whole.”
“Good,” he sighed, nodding lightly. “That’s good. Faye’s patched up for now, but she’ll be under observation to keep on top of any possible infection. How did the ‘mission’ go?”
The Wraith perked up a bit, the conversation moving away from her perceived failure. She produced a satchel, pulling a rather thick stack of tablets from it and passing them to Scarlet, the latter ferrying them to Harrow. He thought it was an odd choice, but the orange-furred female started giving him an abbreviated translation of the text.
Line after line of transactions. What was offered and received, any debts and who owed them, as well as small notes about what should be brought next time. It was a comprehensive copy of the ledger that the trading caravan kept. His brows raised at the sheer density of information, and for them getting it from something he was only partially sure existed.
“You managed to get this much?” he asked in disbelief. “Jesus. Were you caught?”
Raine shook her head. “If we were to be seen by them, we would be nothing more than a stain against our Blademaster.”
Compliment or boasting, doing this much was damn impressive. Especially with just the two of them.
“Shit. Well, good fucking job, I guess,” he managed, still reeling a bit from the unintended scope of the task. Harrow continued to dig through the report, though stopped voicing it aloud. Joseph turned his attention back to the Wraith. “Anything else of note? Rumours?”
The Wraith grew pensive. “Though we returned partially through their return trip to Grand Hunter Pernel, we did overhear some conversations. There were discussions of other packs simply no longer occupying their settlements.”
He leaned forward in his seat, dislodging Tel as his elbows rested against his knees. “What do you mean?”
“Some of their usual trade locations were purportedly burned down, others merely abandoned. A few were apparently littered with corpses,” she explained more steadily. “From what we could gather, the reason they came to trade with our settlement at all is that the others along the way were in such states. It seems they intended to restock and head back out immediately to accommodate the loss in trading partners.”
He bit his lip as he thought about it, letting himself fall back against the couch.
“What do you guys think of it?” he asked with a glance to his mates. Pan seemed to be mirroring his own apprehension openly, while Tel kept a more serious expression.
“I believe there is something larger happening,” Tel concluded, taking a few seconds before returning to using him as a headrest. Pan nodded her agreement, but didn’t have much to add to it otherwise.
“It would explain how desperate they were for food,” he mused aloud, raising a brow when Harrow shifted to lean against him, one foot placed on the edge of the seat forcing the posture. “Any details of interest, Harrow?”
The orange-furred female jolted, only just stopping from moving her foot back to the floor before committing to using him as a backrest. She turned back-on fully, stretching her legs over the remainder of the seat and placing tablets she had finished with on her lap.
“It didn’t take very long for the methods you sold to propagate,” she responded, holding up a few of the tablets before laying them in their own pile. “Looks like Pernel has been spreading it around by buying some from places that have bows and snares to sell where they don’t.”
“Supply and demand, or arming people with the tools that would help them survive?”
“Hard to trade with the dead,” Harrow commented dryly, starting a new pile. He nodded in exaggerated fashion.
“What about the Atmo?”
She tapped the small stack she just started. “I’m trying to separate these by inventory type. Give me a bit.”
Deciding to trust the woman in charge of managing this kind of thing while she was on the ship, he glanced back to Raine, the female easily mistaken for a statue if not for the subtle sway of her breathing. “The grey-bear-thing. How far away is it?”
“Too close,” she responded firmly. “We did not get a chance to verify their numbers, but there was evidence of at least that singular beast making our territory its hunting ground.”
“Fuck,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “We’re going to need to hunt that thing down.”
Pan looked worried at the prospect, Harrow stiffened in her sorting. The Wraiths were the only ones who seemed completely at ease with the suggestion, Tel not so much as twitching. Harrow laid down the tablets she had yet to categorize, her gaze aimed at her lap.
“Joe, don’t think that taking one out is easy.”
“We have ranged weapons and more than a few people who can use them,” he pointed out with a breath. “Ideally, we go as a larger hunting party and take the damn thing down through sheer volume of fire.”
“Their skin is tough,” Harrow replied with a shake of her head, her ears pivoting back towards him. “I don’t know if our bows could pierce it as easily as we might like.”
He furrowed his brow. “So, what? Let it close in until it eats everything and starves us out? Until it thinks we look tasty?”
“I don’t know. I’m just saying that this won’t be as simple as firing a few arrows and patting ourselves on the back for a job well done.”
Joseph felt the stiffness of his brow start to hurt from how tight they were knitted. A deep breath centred his thoughts. “We’ll arrange an armoured hunting party soon. Better to take it down before it becomes an issue.”
The orange-furred female nodded, quickly leafing through the remaining tablets and only pulling two more out for the pile she indicated earlier.
“Here,” she said, tapping the stack. “These are records for trading Atmo.”
He suppressed the sigh when he genuinely tried to read the mess they called a language. “How many? Who bought them?”
She hesitated, reforming the copy of the ledger—sans the relevant tablets—and placing it on the floor. The remainder in paw, she held them up over her shoulder, Tel accepting it and going over the contents with an interested tilt of her head.
“From what I can see here, Pernel traded two hundred.”
“Two…” he squeaked, his eyes wide. “Two hundred?”
She nodded, pacing around the couch to stop in front of Pan. “It seems others heard of his willingness to barter for them. He accepted quite a few deals before selling them off again.”
“To who?”
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
The door to the ship closed with a hiss, Willin shaking his head at Nav’s questioning gaze. “Nothing.”
Tech removed her CARDs, storing them in the weapons locker before shrugging off her AMR to place in its own unit. “Nothing living, anyway.”
“That bad?” Nav asked, deflating after yet another failed attempt to contact a settlement. The dark green-furred male stored his rifle, seating it into its receptacle with a click.
“Tell Comms to add another eighty to the count.”
“Four hundred eighty-two,” the purple-furred female supplied as she walked past Nav to enter the ship proper. Willin followed after, hanging his pistol holster on the side of his chair as he dropped into it.
“Thirty were covered in wounds, twenty or so were executed, twenty-five looked to have died of accumulated trauma, and the rest were found with singular cuts to the throat.”
“Not quite,” Tech remarked, interfacing with the systems. “Only eight of the ‘executed’ seem to have been done up close.”
“Sniper?” Comms asked as he entered the room, nodding his greetings and taking a seat at his station. Nav crossed their arms and leaned against the doorway as Tech Ops ran some numbers on her screen.
“Wounds are consistent with Anti Material Rifles, and debris suggest they took the ‘material’ part into consideration with their shots. There were a few holes in the buildings that didn’t quite get removed by the fires.”
“Covering evidence?” Willin mused aloud, receiving a thoughtful shake of her head.
“No, I don’t think so. My guess is that the buildings were already on fire when they did it, based on the splinters around the exit holes.”
Comms’ eyes widened in surprise. “Shooting through a burning building? That is rather impressive.”
“Blades?” Nav suggested. “Avalon is required to act against those who break the treaty, no?”
“Maybe,” Tech allowed tentatively. “If it was them, then that would explain the lack of targets.”
Willin scratched at his ear, furrowing his brow as Comms ran another scan for any communications being made. Though a few suns had passed since they had unwittingly agreed to involve themselves in what was likely the first case of war that this planet had ever seen, nothing was being sent anywhere. Regardless, the male kept the scans regular, just in case.
Nav switched the foot they were resting on. “Why not just dispose of everyone breaking the treaty?”
“Maybe they did,” Comms commented, turning back to the conversation as the program ran in the background. “Blades typically function under strict conditions. If they removed anyone who was commanding the hostile action, then they did as required of them. The moment the attack stopped, they completed the terms of the treaty.”
“Or if the Grand Hunter here surrendered and allowed their pack to be subsumed,” Willin proposed, the others glancing at him in curiosity. He waved a paw dismissively. “If everyone in the conflict becomes a single pack, then any fighting from those who still disagree with it is now an internal dispute, thus outside of the purview of the Blades. Check the notes on Grand Hunter Toril and High Hunter Bratik.”
Tech’s eyes unfocused for a moment as she accessed the system. “Avalon is forbidden from interfering with internal politics. Toril was sheltered by Bratik. Since Bratik was from outside of Toril’s pack, it counted as acting against their right to manage their own affairs. Hasen was given a perfect reason to take over, and it forced Grand Hunter Trill to exile the both of them to adhere.” She looked around the room aimlessly as she thought, her eyes snapping to Willin when he spoke.
“And a perfect loop-hole to exploit. Toril loses his supporters, Trill loses a member of his command structure, and Hasen rises in power while leaving Avalon to grit their teeth.” He shook his head, both impressed and disgusted. “Once he attacks another pack, he just forces a vassalage and subsequently executes the new High Hunter for whatever reason he wants. The Blades can’t act on a technicality.”
“So Grand Hunter Pernel….”
Willin nodded at Comms' unfinished question. “In the count.”
“There was a bit of a weird holding area,” Tech added after a moment. “Seemed like somewhere to hold livestock, but even then, it was a bit big. I’m not sure what used to be there, but tracks suggest carts left with whatever it was not long before everything went down, so probably a trade caravan.”
“Well, at least someone made it out,” Nav sighed, pushing off the wall to resume their station. “Where are we going next?”
Willin toyed with the odd silver tablet in his paw, the two unrecognizable scripts curious and alien. “The only pack left before we see what all the fuss is about. Let’s pay a visit to Grand Huntress Sunundra. Hopefully she knows something we don’t.”
Next
A/N: Been a while since we’ve had a proper A/N, huh. Welp, here’s this one. Patreon is currently set to ‘per post’ because i made the account ages ago. Waiting on support to help me switch it to monthly,(Edit: support suggested i just nuke it and make a new one :/ links are updated.) then I’ll post the Silva render i have. RR is at 30k views and 100 followers.
Figured I’d ask how you guys are liking this arc, hows Willin’s team coming across, etc.
Final note: I’m thinking about rewriting the first ‘book’ so i can get it edited and published! Problem: i have no fucking clue where to cut book 1, and editors are expensive. Where should book 1 end? All i know is that I’d prob end up adding extra chapters to it, as well as lengthening the OG chaps. RR is a ‘touch-up’, not a final product, so those don’t count!

Howdy, I'm trying to figure things out, and I'd love to get some feedback from the MbtiTypeMe community! While I don't know that anyone will read this full thing, I decided to fill it out in its entirely in hopes it would flesh out a fuller impression.
• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
I am 29 years old, and female. Currently, I'm going to school full time, working towards my associate's degree (although, my end goal is to get a master's degree in the realm of workplace research). Before I was in school I was working full time doing administrative work, but it was incredibly unsatisfying. It was more of ends justify the means type of ordeal, but it wore me down and was ultimately unfulfilling taking a toll on my physical and mental health. The work was often prep-work and getting things for other staff to wrap up, with minimal feedback, and shitty work gossip (In my time there, I never clicked with my team socially, but we were friendly enough).
Outside of the work/school world, I'm happily married. Before meeting my husband, it wasn't uncommon to go on dates with men who would laugh and comment that I was weird when I'd make jokes (I have a pretty absurd sense of humor). My husband never called me weird, if anything he met me at my level and egged me on. He's incredibly straightforward, no bullshit, and has an equally absurd sense of humor and I love him for that.
Socially, I have a handful of very close friends and from there I would say my network webs out to a wide scope of acquaintances. I have limited time and energy, so I'm very selective with who I spend my energy and time on. In my early 20s, I had a very wide social network, but I discovered as much as I wanted the friendships it wasn't entirely mutual. I spend a great deal of my early/mid-20s friendless, but I never felt lonely. I still found the means to get out on my own and explore life on my terms.
With the friends I do have, a number of them have commented I can be pretty intimidating, or intense on first impressions. Additionally, it's not uncommon for others to ask for advice or assume I have some authority (for instance, in my last quarter of school separate colleagues asked if I'm a business owner or an instructor on separate occasions). On this note, I would say I have a more masculine energy.
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
I have been tested and diagnosed with mild ADHD.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
I was raised in a strict religious household. My parents were authoritarian and would use the bible to backtrack and bend their rules, so there was a lot of confusion and insecurity about what to believe. I stopped believing in my early teens, but it amplified my parent's goals of indoctrination. I was forced to attend church weekly and during weekdays I would watch sermons about going to hell until I was finally able to move away from home.
One of my parents has BPD, so I think it made having structure a much more difficult endeavor. There was a lot of chaos and disorder outside of the religious aspect. It wasn't uncommon for me to reason with my parent when they would get into rage fits, especially in public. It never occurred to me, but I had to grow up quickly. A lot of my enrichment from a young age was relatively limited, and the things I did love often came with a lot of disapproval.
Despite the disapproval and shame, I would often argue my case and try to reason with my parents. I wanted to explore the contents of the world, and if I didn't get their approval I would find a way to explore whatever I wanted anyway. For the most part, it was entirely innocent books and media, so it was easy to justify. Being enterprising from a young age, I got a job as soon as I could to access things I wanted without having to run it through my parents.
I acknowledge I faced trauma in my childhood, and as an adult, I am getting therapy to work through it. At the very least I can leave the experience with the knowledge that I'm resilient despite the odds.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
Currently a full-time student, I do have specific goals for my future, however, I think I would like to limit certain personal information for the sake of my privacy. I will say this much, I love going to school. Never in my life have I thrived as much as I am now. It's incredibly satisfying to work towards a goal and enjoy the process along the way. My biggest highlight is the opportunity to fail and try again. This is a concept I never had the luxury to truly experience until now. Lastly, being back in school also brought my ADHD diagnosis to light, which has given me a new lease on better understanding and navigating some of the mental roadblocks I deal with.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
If my schedule is jampacked, and I've had minimal time to myself, or minimal time to recharge then yes I will be an absolute spud on the sofa by myself for an entire weekend. Although, as much as I love time to myself, I'm always ready to reconnect with people. If I get sick and I'm cooped up for a week I get severe cabin fever. Ironically, it's not always the desire to socialize as much as it is to be out of the house and around people.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I've always enjoyed sports, can't say I'm a pro by any means. I like yoga, and working out at the gym (I'm planning to take a Pilates class over the summer, I might add something else. I want to stay active). I'm not as active these days with my schedule, but it can be a real release for me to get into the moment and put my body to work. As for competitive sports, I've also gotten involved in paintball recently. The entire experience is a major adrenaline rush, and 100% worth every welt, bruise, and cut.
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
I was the kid that got in trouble for A) Stating the obvious (elephant in the room). B) asking too many questions/the wrong questions (they weren't wrong, but maybe intrusive). I would say I can get pretty curious about things, especially when they are more abstract. It's like this "make it make sense" or "how can that work?" kind of mindset.
I wouldn't say I have more ideas than I can execute, generally, if I have ideas I like to add them to the list (for instance, I keep mental lists of major projects I want to tackle and make physical lists regarding the means to finish those projects). I try to make my projects manageable, so once I get an idea I try to figure out how I can make it happen.
I'm curious about whatever projects I'm working on, or classes I'm focused on. I get pretty hyper-focused on whatever I'm working on. In school, for instance, I find my curiosities peak at new concepts or ideas that don't quite make sense to me right off the bat. I like getting into a dialogue to clarify how things work. Also, I think part of my curiosity is breaking down the objective from the subjective. Recently, I questioned how an instructor's definition of learning, which included a statement that drugs (amongst other things) weren't a part of learning. This led to an interesting back-and-forth about the use of psilocybin or ketamine in therapy as means of working through traumas. My argument is that drugs could be a means of learning, in that instance.
I think my arguments could be pretty conceptual, but I don't think they're particularly limited.
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
Personally, I would prefer leadership roles that allow me to help others in the group use their strengths in making things happen. I think I would be alright in a leadership role, in group settings I'm particularly comfortable communicating, and discussing logistics, as well as developing plans to move into the next steps of a process. When it comes to leadership style, I think I would most likely be authoritative, but collaborative. While I highly value the input and ideas everyone brings to the table working on projects, I'm confident in pointing out the best plan of action when weighing the pros and cons in decision-making. I'm comfortable with discourse and conflict, having opposing views can be an opportunity to critically think about solutions or projects, in general.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
In regard to my coordination, I have decent reflexes, but I can be a bit clumsy as well. When I'm really invested in something at my desk I'll forget I have a cup or glass and bump into it, sometimes knocking it over. From time to time I will bump my foot or trip on something if I'm deep in thought while I'm trying to get from point A to point B. As for working with my hands, I wouldn't say I'm particularly intricate, but I paint and sketch in my spare time. I'm not sure if you mean hands-on activities or activity levels, but I try to find excuses to get out and get active when I can.
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
I am artistic, but I wouldn't call myself an artist. It's something I enjoy tinkering with through painting and sketching studies in my spare time, as I mentioned in the last question. I had few means of creative outlets as a kid, so I spend a lot of time drawing, or developing character designs for fun. I tend to appreciate painted works in my adulthood, particularly works from the Baroque and Renaissance eras. I'm planning to visit some art museums over the Summer to get a close-up look at some pieces I've admired over the years.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
My relationship with time is interesting. Working through some of my traumas, little scenes from my childhood and teen years have come to the surface. I certainly take the time to reflect on them as they come up, but I don't necessarily make a note to remember them (although, they may come back again for no reason). In regards to the present, I can immerse myself here when needed, and find myself getting into the moment as I'm working on things. In classes, I often lose track of time if the topics are interesting, and in social settings, I would say time flies. However, having generalized anxiety, my thoughts can pull me out of the present. I have a habit of thinking about my agenda for whatever's next or working out how I can keep my ducks in a row for school. Finally, regarding the future, I tend to think about major life goals and things I want to achieve, but I also have a tendency to assume it will be simple to attain those things. Growing into myself, I've learned how important it is to develop realistic goals and plans to make those things happen.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
The answer to another person's request would be entirely dependent on the nature of the request. Deciding to help them is based on why they need help, and what I can offer.
For example, if someone is asking me to help them in doing something underhanded or harmful to another person I'm going to say no. On the other hand, if a colleague needs help with a project or outreach when they're dealing with time constraints, I'll gladly help them with whatever it is, or connect them with someone who can if my own time is limited.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
Yes, and no. I generally like having an idea of my schedule, as well as good habits in personal upkeep to make sure I'm on task. However, I don't think I would enjoy being particularly rigid with my lifestyle outside of that structure. Having ADHD I think I need the wiggle room to change between tasks, as sticking to one thing at a time can make it hard for me to get things done which is really bad for me. It's really a tug and pull for me sometimes because in order to get things done I usually need to multitask.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
I would say it's pretty important. I am my own worst critic, so there's often this thought that I could have done more when I've done enough in my day. I want things to be done, and done right. For instance, thinking about my laundry, I have a specific way I wash and fold and storing my clothes so they take up minimal space but I'm also not wasting time folding for hours (look up the Kon-Mari method if you're actually reading this, it's awesome). I'm always interested in learning how to do things better, for the sake of making my life a bit easier.
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
I don't think I control others, but I can be bossy and authoritative. Although, in that light, I am very clear to reason with others why I need them to do something or behave a certain way. I think about a situation where I was being approached by a very aggressive-looking man while I was trying to get to my car after school one day. Sensing danger I checked my surroundings and spotted a male bicyclist approaching in another direction, I waved him down and started a conversation with him telling him to stay for a moment without adding context. The biker stopped confused, and I just continued creating conversation as if everything were normal, once the aggressive man had passed us I explained exactly what was happening to the cyclist, thanked him for sticking around, and moved on.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
I like painting, tarot, yoga, hiking, paintball, and collecting figures amongst other things. I like painting because it's a creative outlet, but it's also an interesting challenge for learning. Tarot is used as a journaling prompt, more often than not, but I check in once a month and give myself a reading to write about. It's a good tool for introspection. Hiking and paintball are nice ways to get outdoors and touch the grass, but also see some cool sights or get an adrenaline rush from shooting things or being shot at. Lastly, I'm a huge nerd, but I'm super selective about the figures I buy (For instance, I'm not going to buy a figure based on the brand or license, I'm more concerned about the construction or aesthetics of the product).
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
Again, a note on my ADHD I have to multitask. However, sounds and settings can be extremely distracting for me. I have to be in the right setting and I often times put on music that involves some kind of soundwave frequency to help me focus on my projects. When it comes to learning I have often thrived on repetition, quizzes, and thought questions so I can throw whatever knowledge I have now for review.
Regarding learning environments, I love classes that involve discussions around the concepts or topics being covered to clarify and understand the content. I like spaces where I can question the logic, or develop an idea better. While I use repetition in studies, I really don't enjoy classes strictly involving memorization, they leave little for the mind to chew on, and I often find I forget information from classes if it lacks some kind of context.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
Ironically, I'm writing this after wrapping up part of a project for one of my classes. Generally, when I have a project I'm pretty quick to decide what I want to do, so I can begin my research and prep work. For instance, for my current writing project, I had a few weeks to select my topic, but knew from the early stages what I planned to write about, and began creating an outline and gathering evidence. I typically work with print copies of peer-reviewed journals, so I can highlight and write freely as I come across relevant data - once I'm done with a journal I add a few key notes about the content and how I plan to use it. Admittedly, I have a tendency to procrastinate in actually starting certain processes of the work, but I get really zoned in once I get things started spending hours on the task at hand until it's completed.
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
Professionally, I'm looking into a niche field involving science and psychology focusing on work-life quality. I've always enjoyed working in professional settings, but take issue with the culture as well as bureaucracy in policy-making that is detrimental to work-life balance, livable wages, and a humanized work culture. I've always been very passionate about professionalism, and recently, I've been considering exploration of the workforce law as well. My end goal is to implement change on a larger scale, setting higher standards for workers' rights.
Personally, my aspirations involve attaining an M.A. and if it's within my means a Ph.D. Of course, I would also like to eventually buy a house, and as I've often joked with my husband a job in which I can make enough money that he can quit his job and pursue his own hobbies and interests. He's supported me along my journey for enlightenment, and in turn, I'd like to support him in his endeavors as well. I would also like to travel much more, I have a list of destinations I would like to visit in my lifetime.
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
Oh god. I think what I fear most is letting people down. One of the primary sources of my anxiety is disappointing a loved one or someone who holds me accountable. I also fear getting into a car accident or drowning, but those seem relatively general. I'm deeply uncomfortable with the idea of Christianity, growing up in a religious household there was a lot of conditional love, and I was not seen for my authentic self. I am deeply bothered by being told I will "one day be saved," by my loved ones, as I have lived through the authoritarianism and conditional love they learned through "being saved".
I'm also uncomfortable with people who are over-the-top friendly, I'm not one to write people off immediately, but it's safe to say I'm going to proceed with caution. I recently met someone through an acquaintance that was heavy on compliments, and something about them seemed particularly artificial, and hard to be around.
Lastly, I would like to think I don't hate a lot of things, but I often jokingly say I am a machine that runs on spite. However, a few things do come to mind: firstly, when I'm the only one pulling their weight in a group, secondly being made a fool, and thirdly but most importantly being stabbed in the back by a loved one. Have your heart broken enough times, and soon you will realize the value and scarcity of a true friend.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
Highs in my life involve failing. This probably sounds weird, but in the last few years, I've been trying this new thing where I fuck things up with the intention of learning and improvement. For me it's failing and getting the feedback and criticism I need to not only get back on my feet but start running until I trip again...and then we repeat. Quite frankly, some of the largest growth in my life has happened in this time. I feel much more confident, and even when I face new stress and frustrations I can acknowledge I am taking on new challenges and forging invaluable growth that can get me where I need to go in life.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
The lows these days are when I'm burning the candle at both ends and have a mountain of tasks ahead of me. I do take small breaks to care for myself, but I still crash and burn sometimes. Occasionally my mind goes to darker places, when I'm burning and I have to work through the negative self-talk I put myself through.
I've been through some pretty severe depression in the past. I think an example of my lowest point was quitting my job during the pandemic, with no plans for the next steps. I ended up couch bound for a few months processing my life, realizing the means I was involved in were not only unsatisfying but didn't justify the ends. It was devastating, but I eventually got the help I needed and felt a new lease on life when I realized I had the opportunity to do something that fit my needs.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
It's sometimes hard to describe this for me. I can get really involved at the moment, and immerse myself in the world I live in, but there's also this greater internal part of me in which I daydream or live in my head. Even as I write this, considering where I'm at I am immersed in imagery that describes what I'm thinking. It's easier for me to sift into my head, but then when I'm pulled out of a thought it's almost like a snap back into reality. Other times, for instance, in brainstorming I'm often times comparing ideas and getting a picture of whatever would be implemented. It's easy for me to picture each experience and recognize which one holds the most value based on the way I sift through each thought. Honestly, it's really hard to describe the way my thoughts are organized, it's almost unconscious how I reach the point of knowing what is best. At the very least, I can usually tell you exactly why whatever option(s) is the best.
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
I'd probably first feel a bit anxious if I have something on my agenda I need to attend to. Assuming there was no concept of time in this room, I'd probably daydream freely, about whatever world I would like to immerse myself in and run whatever scenarios over and over until I figure out how they play out best. I don't have a lot of time these days to daydream like that, but I love playing with my imagination in a more creative sense when I have the free time to do so.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
It's generally a pretty quick process, but sometimes I do take more time if it's particularly impactful. Ill use the example of buying my last car. I knew exactly which make and model I wanted, and had no interest in considering alternatives (I also didn't care how long it took to find the car, I wasn't compromising). I got into a pretty heated discussion with a local car salesman trying to sell me a different make/model vehicle insisting they were basically the same thing. I know they are, but I knew what I wanted and found the exact thing a few weeks later. I don't really recall the details of our conversation, but I remember thinking it was entertaining a salesman thought arguing with a customer would sell them on something.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
I have a difficult time feeling my feelings, in the sense that feeling sad or vulnerable feels wrong. In my late twenties, I'm starting to learn how important those feelings are in working through stress and pain. I can be pretty intense about how I feel, but I have a really hard time externalizing it in a healthy way. This is one of the more tricky facets of my life, but I often worry that internalizing certain emotions will only backfire on me in the long run.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
I typically won't go out of my way to appease someone if I don't agree with them. I've been in situations where someone is airing an opinion or information that is absolutely wrong. For me, I see it as an opportunity to enter into polite discourse and ask for more context to a person's belief or view. I just had a situation like this come up over the weekend and the discourse led to a really interesting discussion, which created some new nuance and context for a number of people in the group. I love that kind of discussion that makes you put your thinking cap on.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
Often? I can't think of a time when I bent rules recently, usually, I don't break a rule unless the logic behind it isn't sound. I can be a bit of a shithead when it comes to questioning workplace policies. I worked in an office with shifting clientele and due to certain legal requirements, there would be shifting workplace policy implementations on a regular basis. There was a lot of room for error in the policies written, the department head loved my insights for the sake of covering their ass, but the staff who wrote policies had it out for me. I never saw it as anything personal, but if something doesn't make sense I'm going to say something, even if I run the risk of getting reprimanded.
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If you actually made it this far, you get a banana sticker (and my thanks! That was a lot, so props to you for sticking it our!).

Sorry for bad english, not my first language. This will be a bit more personal but I just have to dump it somewhere.
Me and my gf of 2 1/2 months were meeting up with her guy best friend this saturday. They never had contact prior to wednesday when I secretly made arrangements with her best friend to meet up. On saturday we wanted to drink a little and chill at the beach. Before we did that we collected a few other people and while doing that already drank a bit. I wasn't gonna drive home since we wanted to sleep over at her best friends apartment. We chilled at another friends house for a while and my gf and him wanted to make mirror selfies. So they went into the bathroom, he locked the door and they made some. (The next part is what my gf told me what happened and I believe her to my fullest because this sounds like something she'd do) she then turned around facing him and asked if he wanted to make some more pics or if it's enough. He then just pulled her towards him and kissed her. She stopped it after like 2 seconds and came out of the bathroom. She continued the evening completely normal until the two of us wanted to get some snacks for the beach. Right after we started going to the store I asked her if she also felt that her best friend was being weird. She then unpacked the whole story and the moment she told me he kissed her I just stood there. I couldn't believe my ears. It was like I was struck by lightning and my whole body was just stiff from the shock. I wasn't even mad at her since she did nothing wrong. At first I was really sad and upset but then that turned into anger against her best friend really quick. The whole 40 mins walk to the store and back was so awkward but we told ourselves that it was not her fault since he asked her a day earlier if she wanted to sleep in his bed and if I would sleep on his couch with the other friend we stayed over for a little bit.
We just ended up bringing the snacks to the beach I had a quick conversation with the guy and we immediately left. We went to my car and I called my brother and asked him if him and my dad would come pick us up since I couldn't drive anymore. They did and me and my gf just cuddled and I cried for the rest of the night. I'm a bit better now but I just can't get the scene out of my head how it must've looked when they kissed.
Edit: when I say they had no contact prior to wednesday I meant it as in they never met up

I am not the Original Poster. That is u/ThrowRABunkerMan. He posted in AmItheAsshole
Mood Spoiler: Hopeful
Original Post: May 22, 2023
My grandfather was an incredibly talented man who also suffered from paranoid schizophrenia, and he was convinced that the nuclear apocalypse was going to end the human race at some point, so he built his own bunker and then buried the entrance because he was convinced that both the KGB and the CIA were watching him and wanted to keep the bunker a secret. Yes, he was a crazy man. My dad inherited his house but never lived there, so when I had my first child in 2018 and got married in 2019, my dad made me an incredibly generous offer for the house. I bought computers that were more expensive than the house.
The bunker became kind of an urban legend, mostly because my old grandpa used to tell a lot of crazy stories, but out of curiosity I went looking for it and found the entrance. THE OLD MAN REALLY DID IT!
So, thanks to being stuck at home during the uneventful 2020 and 2021, I started remodeling the bunker to look less like a Fallout Vault and more like my own man cave. Everyone loves it, especially the kids (My nephews and friend's children). So the house is decorated to my wife's taste, while I can do whatever I want in the bunker, play gaming, fix computers, set up a whole home server, work from home, etc.
However, lately she has been complaining about me being distant and spending a lot of time there and less time with her and our child. She is pregnant again, so she said she was worried, but I just promised to spend more time at the house. After a few weeks that wasn't enough for her and she accuses me of abandoning her.
I'm asking for judgment here because I'm trying to be there for my family, but this bunker feels like it's the only thing that's really mine and where I can actually have a break, but my wife has said she's going to seal the entrance otherwise I might miss the birth and not even notice. Should I just move all my stuff into the house and forget about it? Am I really being neglectful, or is this just her pregnancy hormones talking?
To be clear, I do help with the house chores and spend time with my son when I'm there and I have an intercom in the bunker so my wife can just call me if she needs anything and I'll go up there immediately.
ETA: Everybody is asking me this. I spends at least 6 hours at the Bunker on week days. I work there so I think is reasonable, and at least 4 hours on weekends. But yeah, ur right, I need to make arrangements.
I forgot to mention: Our son goes to kindergarten so my wife has time to work and sometimes be alone at home.
ETA 2: Guys, I swear I'm taking notes. I'm just trying to understand what I should change about myself and how to talk to my wife about this. Remember that I spend at least 6 hours WORKING, not scratching my belly. My manager allows me to log out early if I finished my work for the day but can't log out if I've been working for less than 6 hours. I also spend time talking with my team on Slack.
ETA 3: So many of you are picking up on my language. I would appreciate if you explain calmly why my choice of words is so bad so I dont fuck things up when I speak to my wife.
Mini-Update: I had a talk with my wife. Overall I think it went well since she told me everything, but there are so many raw emotions right now and I was sent to sleep in the spare room. She had no mercy on me but we needed this talk so we can have a clear path for our future together.
Relevant Comments:
More about the bunker:
"The entrance is like 900 feet away from the house. There was also a tunnel connecting it to a hidden place on the basement but it collapsed I don't know how many years ago, so we sealed it."
"Yes, the city inspected it and is ok. I didn't bother with the tunnel because it seems to be badly built and there was a risk that could keep collapsing if we tried to fix it. We also had to add more columns and reinforcements to make sure it won't collapse. I was recommended to have yearly inspections."
Clarify- you say you work AND game? Are you doing those at the same time?
"No bro, when I mean working, I mean having a fight with my IDE until shit works, and when I mean networking, I mean talking to my team on Slack. Speaking to your team is as important as doing the work itself. Also can be spent reading doc. Then after finishing, I can game for like an hour before going up."
"Yeah, I see how bad it sounds. Year sometimes can be 2 hours, but hear me out. I usually don't play online games, but single player games with a linear story and clear objectives. So is easy to do the "Till next check point" (Tho modern games can be saved at whatever point) and log out.Yeah I think I should stop doing this or do it inside the house."
Where did you work before you had the bunker?
"Before getting married I just went to the office everyday but had my main computer in the bedroom. When we first moved into this house, I got a room to place my computers. During this time yes, had more contact with my family but it was harder to make it feel like an "office"."
OOP is resoundingly voted YTA
UPDATE (Same Post): Most likely May 23 (next day, based on comments and web archive)
I talked to my wife. I asked her to be very honest and I promised to let her talk until she was done. First of all, it's not just about the time I spend in the bunker now, but she felt completely alone taking care of our little baby while I spent almost all of my free time remodeling and building and when it's done I'm just down there. I explained to her that it was basically my office now, she understood and apologized and then continued to explain herself. I'll just quote the gist of it because we talked for hours.
"I haven't been my own person since my first pregnancy, I feel like a doll, every day is the same, I'm bored, frustrated, angry, just when I thought it might get easier, I get pregnant again, how many years until I can just be me again".
"You have a big hole underground where you can play and not care about the word, I haven't read a book in years, I can't read 2 pages without falling asleep"
"Yes, the house looks nice, but what about a place for me? I don't want a Kindle, I don't want audiobooks to listen to while cooking or driving, I want a PHYSICAL collection, where do I put them? When was the last time I went to a library? When was the last time you gave me something made of real paper?"
(For context, she's always been a bookworm, loves books and the aesthetic of having shelves full of them, but it's true she hasn't read in a long time, I gave her a Kindle for our anniversary and I pay for her audible subscription, I thought those would be good substitutes, but they're not)
"Stop thinking that a screen can solve everything, I need you with me, I married a human, not a sim, download some emotions.
"I want to write again, but how? When? Will you read my first crappy drafts or just take a look and say it's okay?"
"Can you have our son in the bunker for a few hours a day? He's bored here, he won't be bored down there."
It was hard, but I needed it, and she needed it.
I'm going to move my gaming consoles into the house and see if I can set up SteamLink to stream games from my gaming PC to our TV or something. We agreed to go on dates outside the house, and I'm going to take on more responsibilities around the house.
I want to address something. I was told by my parents that I had to "help" with the house, "help" with the kids. But then I come to Reddit and it turns out that "helping" is a problem.
You talked a lot about mental load, this was the first time I heard about it, who was supposed to teach me that? "Helping", not having addictions, being loyal and always being there seemed like what every good husband does, now I realize it was just the bare minimum. I feel like I have to relearn everything, and it's hard to realize that I'm a bad husband and father for thinking that the bare minimum was all I needed to have a long and happy marriage. I became a reddit villain by being clueless, but I accept that.
I'll see you again soon, thank you all.
Update Post: May 29, 2023 (1 week from OG post)
Hey guys, I hope you remember me. I'm the bunker guy. Not much has happened in terms of big events, but things are getting better.
After the talk I had with my wife, I started taking more responsibility around the house. I've been taking on as much as I can so she can rest. Except I'm a terrible cook, so I have some frozen and instant food that I just heat up and call it done, but I've been taking our son to school and picking him up, spending more time with him in the Bunker (he loves it), I've been gaming in the living room because I moved my consoles there and successfully set up Steam Link. So overall, my wife is sleeping more and has a few hours to just do nothing. She is much calmer now. She said she loved being able to just chill on the couch and not have to worry about anything. This pregnancy has been rough on her emotions so I'm glad to see her like this.
She also spent some time with me in the bunker, doing her own work, sleeping, or just hanging out. She even got The Sims and started playing again. The first thing she did was build an almost exact replica of our house. We also did a lot of cuddling down there and even had sex. I have to admit, I'm loving every second of this new dynamic, even though there are still a few things that need to be changed and tweaked.
I offered to build a room for her in the bunker, but she says it gets a little claustrophobic after a few hours and she likes sunlight, so that was declined. Then I suggested building a shed for her. She said nothing, but after a few hours showed me a shed she built on The Sims, a hexagonal brick structure with a U-shaped couch in the middle, a door, and bookshelves on every wall, connected to the main house by a fenced-in path. I think it looks nice, so I will send it this week to the same people who helped me rebuild this bunker so they can convert it to CAD.
Nothing is perfect yet, I have a lot to learn and haven't started couples counseling yet (that will be in about 2 weeks) but I am trying my best, I have been an idiot for way too long and have a lot to make up for. Thank you all again.

Part 4
Day 14

**Chloe and Fred stood guard by the doorway to the stairs, their guns trained on it. Multiple screeches could be heard upstairs and slowly carefully they both started going up. SCREECH! One of the hounds appeared** **Fred looked like he was going to argue but he lowered his head and nodded.** **“Wait, where's mom?” I asked the worry heavy in my voice.** **Fred looked down somberly and Gretchen started sobbing.** **“N… no sh… she’s… she can’t be dead.” I stammered out.** **“I’m sorry Joey, if I could’ve done something I would’ve.” He apologized.** **I looked down in despair beginning to fill my very soul. My mom, the person who’d raised me, was gone. She was gone forever. I felt the tears begin to pool in my eyes and Chloe gave me another tight hug.** **SLAM! The pile of junk against the door rattled and one of the boys screamed. Chloe let out a small yelp and then we all stood there in silence. SLAM! This time it was followed by a cracking sound.** **“They’re going to get in,” Fred growled, “We all need to be quiet.”** **We all sat there for a moment as the things tried, again and again, to break through, but finally, they stopped. Fred turned back to us and his eyes went wide.** **“Y’all need to get patched up real quick.” He said.** **The next few minutes were a stress-filled roller coaster. Chloe sat me down on the couch and ran to the bathroom to get the medical supplies, and she also got the sewing kit. I thought getting my back and leg stitched up while still conscious was painful, but what I felt that day I never want to feel again. I felt the needle go in and out of my face. I felt my face slowly begin to pull back together, and it was all excruciating. While Fred did his work Chloe had to sit there and cover my mouth to hold back my screams. Even through the pain and the tears in my eyes, I could see she was also crying. Finally, after what seemed like an eon he finished the last stitch and was done.** **Then he started with Chloe. I was too weak to sit up, but I held her hand as he quickly stitched up her shoulder. With each stroke of the needle, I saw the pain in her face. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he finished his work. We were all patched up, but oh I wish that could’ve fixed the sorrow we felt.** **Chloe helped me walk to our bedroom to finally get some shut-eye. My whole body hurt and ached and it all felt broken. She sat me down on the bed and gave me a grim look. She looked tired and worn. Her normally straight hair was a curly mess and little specks of dried blood were about her face.** **“I suppose you need to get changed.” She said, looking at me.** **I looked down at my still blood-soaked clothes and then back at her.** **“I suppose I do,” I said, a little embarrassed that she would have to help me.** **Once we were both settled I finally laid down with Chloe crawling into bed next to me.** **“I’m so happy you’re ok,” I said, leaning forward and kissing her.** **She smiled but it quickly faded, “Joey I’m scared.”** **“I know, I’m too, we just have…” I started but she interrupted me.** **“It just… I don’t know what’s going on. It shouldn’t be snowing still. It's almost May.” She said, her eyes tearing up, “I’ve been trying to stay strong, but I just can’t anymore. I'm scared.”** **“Chloe, it’s ok to be scared. I’m terrified.” I told her.** 

“I… I have to be the brave one,” She said.
“No, you don’t, you can just be the wonderful person I love. I don’t care if you’re scared or afraid I love you.” I said, pulling her into a tight hug.
She started crying, totally sobbing is probably a better word.
“I don’t want to lose you,” She sobbed.
“I’ll be ok, I promise.” I tried to say but she wasn’t hearing me so I just held her tightly while she sobbed.
Finally, after a long while of crying, she pulled away and looked at me.
“Can I tell you what happened?” She asked shyly.
“Yes of course,” I said, knowing that venting always helped.
And so she finally told me what had happened that day in the Garrison’s house. Every little detail. When she finally finished I felt a shiver go down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” Was all I could manage to say.
She didn’t say anything else, she just cuddled up next to me and cried softly into my shoulder. I gently ran my hand through her hair and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Day 15

**We spent the early morning preparing supplies and everything we needed then finally around noon we loaded the jeep.** **“Chloe, I’m going to get the snowplow you stay here and keep everyone safe.” He said quietly.** **“Ok, be careful,” She said, all too happy that the man wasn’t expecting her to come with him.** **Fred slowly made his way upstairs quietly and carefully creeping one step at a time. Each step he took felt like a marathon. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst. One step, then another, then another still, and despite his fear he finally made it upstairs.** **It looked just the way he’d seen it the evening before. Thrown around with the creeper’s large body lying near him. The massive amounts of blood around it had frozen making a large icy sheet on the carpet.** **He couldn’t help but look at the body. Its black exoskeleton reminded him of beetles. It was smooth with no color variation. There were small gaps around the joints and the legs had more exposed flesh than the exoskeleton. He looked at the small gap where the back met the thighs. He drove his fingers into the gap and started peeling the section of the exoskeleton off. It peeled nicely until he got to a certain point where it wouldn’t budge. Annoyed, he walked away and towards the front door. A frozen trail of Gretchen’s blood was still visible and partially buried in snow was my mom’s body. Fred grimaced at the sight and hurriedly continued onward. The quickest route to the snowplow lot was through a few backyards.** 

The fences were mostly buried and at this point only stood 6 inches or so out of the snow. Stepping over them was easy, and they hardly hindered his path. What did begin to hinder his path was the storm. It howled and screamed at him throwing all the snow and wind it could at him. It reminded him of an angry toddler throwing their food at you. It was odd but that was the best way to put the storm. It was angry, very angry, and he didn’t know why.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Fred stopped and slowly scanned his surroundings to see where the sound had come from but he saw nothing. He wasn’t sure why he looked; he could barely see his hand if he held it out. He guessed it was out of instinct but he wasn’t sure. He stood there listening but whatever had made the sound seemed to have also stopped. He was somewhat confused because that wasn’t really what the creatures sounded like on snow. Nor did it sound like other animals he knew. Suddenly a thought crept into his head, and in a either very dumb or very intelligent move, he spoke.
“Who’s there?” He asked in as loud and as stern of a voice as he could muster.
There was a small pause of silence and right as Fred began to worry he’d made a mistake he heard something on four legs sprint off in the other direction. Must’ve been a deer he thought a little annoyed that he’d thought even for a moment that it was a person. He continued onward with even more caution. He kept the shotgun up constantly now worrying something would sneak up on him. He couldn’t control his now-shaking body despite how much he tried to calm himself.
He stopped walking and started taking deep breaths. In and out. In and out. He said to himself as he did the breathing exercises. After a minute he pulled himself together enough to continue. He walked on and on for what seemed like an eon before finally he arrived. He saw the large building ahead of him. It was a large warehouse-type building with multiple massive garage doors on the sides.
He saw a normal-sized door the size of the building and pulled at the handle. Locked! Of course, it was locked. Slam! The first kick shook the door. Slam! The second it started to cave slightly. Slam! Crash! The door toppled onto the ground and Fred walked into the building, gun raised and ready for a fight.
Chloe sat on the couch eyeing the stairs to the first floor. The responsibility to keep everyone safe was now on her, and she was determined to do that. All she could think about was the monsters outside and likely right upstairs. For all, she knew they were right upstairs conspiring to kill them. She didn’t know how right she was.
CRASH! The window in the window well next to her burst open sending shards of glass all around.
“What’s going on?” Gretchen asked from the other room.
“Babe?” I asked in a worried frenzy.
She pulled herself from the ground in a daze. She felt odd then she felt a wetness begin trickling down her face. She’d been cut up pretty well in a few places on her face. Before she could think of anything else SCREECH!
She looked over and saw a hound crawling in through the now-shattered window. Shoot where’s the gun? She thought scanning the room. Her eyes scanned until they met the semi-automatic. She’d set it on the couch right where the hound was crawling through. She dove for the gun but its large clawed foot slammed onto the gun pinning it under the beast. Darn, it! Slowly she eyed the creature as it pulled itself in. It was just standing there watching her, it seemed very odd and not normal behavior. Then a faint ticking sound came from outside. SCREECH! It charged for her and she pulled her knife. BANG! The blast threw the hound off balance slamming it into the ground. She found herself looking over to see Gretchen wielding the smoking shotgun.
Chloe was about to thank her when the thing got back up changing its course for Gretchen. BANG! The second shot hit the thing square in the face and it screeched in anger and pain. Chloe took the opportunity and jumped atop the thing plunging the knife deep into one of the eye sockets. It screeched again and jumped up, throwing Chloe off with the knife still wedged in its eye. In the meantime, Gretchen reloaded the shotgun BANG! She shot it in the face again, but it only seemed to anger the thing.
“LEGS!” Chloe screamed, pulling herself off the floor.
At the same moment, Gretchen pulled the trigger and two more hounds started their way through the window.
The shot hit the first hound square in one of the back legs, shattering it, and the two hounds were already halfway through the window.
Fred walked into the building relieved to see it was nothing more than dark and empty. He scanned the room he’d entered. It was a small office area. His eyes fell on the small cupboard near the door. Each drawer was small and numbered 1 to 4. He pulled one open and saw keys on a hook. His heart leaped with excitement and he took his eyes and turned around. There was a small door that looked like it would be to the garage so he popped it open. Inside the garage were four large snow plows with big numbers painted on the side of them. He checked to see he had 4 so he ran to the other side of the garage to snowplow 4. Fred climbed up the door and tried to pull it open. Locked. He put the keys in and unlocked the door then hopped in and started the vehicle. It roared to life sounding like he’d woken a large sleeping lion. On the dashboard were a few bobbleheads and a small remote. He grabbed the remote and pressed button 4. Slowly with the sound of breaking ice accompanying it the garage door in front of the plow began to lurch open.
He scanned around the mess of levers and buttons until he found the truck's lights. He switched them on and then slowly put pressure on the gas. The massive plow immediately began to roll forward. He’d have to be slow as even with its powerful lights it was still extremely hard to see. So with much caution, the plow pulled out of the garage pushing the snow out of its way and making its way for the road.
The two hounds hissed and growled as they both pulled themselves fully through the window. Then in a quick move one made for Gretchen while the other charged for Chloe. Gretchen finished putting in the new bullets. BANG! The shot was aimed at its leg but hit it on the side. Chloe looked around and realized they’d kicked the semi-auto onto the floor. She reached for the gun, grabbed it just in time, and turned around. RAT-A-TATATATA!! Its two front legs were instantly shattered, toppling it over, causing the rest of the shots to hit it square in the face. BANG! Gretchen's second shot broke one of its front legs, but the creature unfolded its mantis arms and continued on those. Chloe didn’t even think she saw the hound going for Gretchen and pulled the trigger. RAT-A-TATATATA!! She nailed perfect shots. She hit all six limbs right at the joints causing them to collapse to the ground.
They both looked around at the three broken hounds. All three still growled in pain and tried to get up, but each attempt just seemed to break them more. Chloe walked over to the first one and pulled the knife out of its eye. SCREECH! It continued letting out progressively weaker screeches until as blood poured from its eye finally, it was silent. Silently and efficiently, Chloe opened the mouths of both the others and stabbed upward piercing the brain instantly killing them.
The plow soured through the snow pushing all of it aside leaving mountains of snow on both sides of the road. Suddenly there was a loud metal scraping sound and something big was thrown over and to the side. Fred stopped the plow and looked out the rearview mirror to see a now-destroyed car lying in one of the snow piles. He couldn’t help but be impressed; he didn't think the plow would be so powerful that it could hurl a car like that.
He continued on and then he slowly turned onto the street the house was on. He now drove down the road and noticed as he got close to the house a large creeper standing outside. It stood there menacingly, looking down into the window wells. Worry shot through him and in an instant, he turned the plow toward the creature and rammed straight into it. He pulled forward pinning the creeper between the plow and the brick wall of the house. It lay there pinned screeching its lungs out in pain. Slowly and nervously Fred stepped out of the plow shotgun gripped tightly. SCROAr! Its call becomes much weaker. Its body was a twisted broken mess and its head only barely poked out above the plow. He walked over to the creature looking into its eyes.
Jess. He thought staring into the brown eyes he’d once loved. BANG!!! The bullet tore through its already broken exoskeleton and its head exploded onto the brick wall next to it. Tears rolled down his face and he fell to his knees.
“I love you, honey,” He said to the dead creature. “I’m sorry.”
He hoped in his mind that she was free now, or better yet that she was already dead. Although, those eyes, those eyes, it seemed that until the moment he’d shot her she was still inside there somewhere. He started sobbing, dropping the shotgun and collapsing onto the snow.
The flow of snow finally stopped and Chloe pulled herself off the ground. She looked around to see the entire basement had been partially flooded with snow. She helped me up and Gretchen hurried her kids and the dogs out of the basement. Slowly and patiently she helped me up the stairs and onto the first floor. My eyes landed on the corpse of the creeper; it was covered in icy crystals made of its own blood. I looked out the window and saw the snowplow right next to the house except it was missing a driver. Chloe sat me on the couch and hurried outside.
After Fred collected himself we all packed the jeep and snow plow. Me and Fred got in the plow while the others got in the jeep. Slowly the plow lurched forward and the jeep pulled out of the driveway and followed.