​
///11th of June, 2006
“Dad, the moon!” I shouted as I entered the garage. My father was on the floor, under his Bugatti 57SC Atlantic, obsessively removing and re-installing pieces of the car like he always did. He quickly got up, a smile on his grease-stained face.
​
“Finally!” He said with his beer-breath, grabbing a towel and cleaning most of his face, before running outside as fast as he could. I followed him. I don’t know why I always liked these moments. Any child would find them terribly boring. But I always reveled on them. Maybe it’s because they were the only moments he smiled. He positioned his telescope on our front yard, adjusted the lens, drank a beer can and started looking at the full moon above us.
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“Do you see it?” I asked, sitting on the grass next to him.
​
“Shut up.” He said, still looking. After half an hour of waiting, he started laughing. I opened my mouth to ask if he was seeing it, but I held my voice. Didn’t want to anger him.
​
“It’s blinking! It’s blinking Johnathan!” He laughed. I smiled. That wasn’t my name, though he called me that. Only several years later I would learn that was the name of his deceased younger brother. Every full moon, we would come look at it with the telescope. And he’d always call me Johnathan. Probably because he was always so drunk. But from always avoiding me or calling me “Brat”, Johnathan was a nice shift.
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“Can I see?” I asked, and he lowered the tripod so I could see the moon. There was a small light blinking on it’s surface. It was truly beautiful.
​
“Fine, my turn again.” My father shoved me back, adjusted the tripod back, and started looking at it again. “It’s blinking so much tonight… Maybe… Brat, get my camera!” He shouted at me. I quickly went inside the house, and looked around for the camera in the living room. There it was, on a little pile of beer cans and empty rythmol boxes in the corner of the room. I hurried back outside, as fast as I could, as I did not want to anger my father.
​
I stopped on my tracks as soon as I was out of the house. There was a strange being involving my father. It looked like a snake, but I knew it was anything but a snake. There were not snakes that big where I lived. And certainly not with human faces. My father seemed oblivious to it, looking through his telescope, but the thing was all around him, from the bottom of his legs all the way to the top of his head.
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“It’s blinking so much…” He said, in awe. The creature looked at me, locking eyes with me, and smiled, revealing several sets of sharp fangs. And then, it disappeared. My father looked at me, he was sweating. “I think… I need to lay down for a bit…” He muttered, before falling on the grass. I spent the entire night trying to wake him up, before my mother found me there crying the following day.
​
///09th of November 2021
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“And that’s why you decided to study astronomy? Really?” Melissa laughed.
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“Oh, come on, babe… Don’t make fun of my tragic past.” I said, finishing my waffles. She went to the fridges, grabbed the orange juice, and poured some in our cups.
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“Shall we toast?” She asked.
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“With orange juice? And what for?”
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“Your impending graduation. What else?”
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“Impending? Ha! I didn’t even start my capstone thesis.”
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“So, what will it be about? Venus, right? Or was it Mars?”
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“Nope. Too many people I know will already be working on planets like Venus and Mars. I thought about Neptune, but it’s too far away. So I figured, why not the Moon?”
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“Please, don’t tell me this is about your father.”
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“Mel, he wasn’t the best dad in the world. But he did left me his collection of vintage cars. This is what paid for my education.”
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“He didn’t left it to you, it was divided between you and your mother.”
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“Regardless, I feel like I owe him this. Apart from the cars, the moon was the only thing he loved.”
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“You owe him nothing, Ezra.”
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“I need to know what the blinking lights are! Lunar transient phenomena, it’s how they call them. There’s no scientific explanation to what they are.”
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“Just because there’s no known scientific explanation, it doesn’t mean one does not exist. And if there’s one, it’s certainly not creepy snake-man” She laughed.
​
///04th of September, 2022
​
The first thing you feel when you start seriously investigating the moon is how mysterious it is. We only went there a handful of times, and then never again. All reasons are given for this, but it never really felt right to me. Maybe what happened to my father always made me feel paranoid about the subject, but I somehow felt there were things about the moon that were hiding on plain sight.
​
The focus of my research, the lunar transient phenomena, is incredibly unknown. Few studies were done about it, and most of them were never published or were abandoned. The few that were made available were either from little-known universities in third-world countries, in languages that I couldn’t understand and without English translation, or mere compilations of recorded occurrences. I found some theories. The lights were caused by magnetism, or by gasses, or by asteroids, perspective…
​
But mere hypothesis were not enough for me. I needed to know. I needed to understand. I needed… I needed to confirm it weren’t those lights who killed my father that day.
​
So, I delved deep into the research. I spent weeks in my bedroom, reading books and more books, entering all sorts of websites, sending emails to experts, looking for anything that could give me more information. But through all my effort, the only thing I could find were theories or hypothesis, all of them with little to no evidence. In my search for answers, I started straying further away from modern science, entering strange websites and reading books that talked about blatant pseudoscience, like astrology or the paranormal.
​
///17th of February, 2022
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“So, what books will you be basing your capstone on?” My orienting professor asked. I could not see his face properly, we were talking through a videocall and he was not very tech savvy, so his eyes and nose were out of the frame.
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“Chris, I can only see your mouth!” I laughed.
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“Sorry…” He said, adjusting his camera. The framing was not perfect yet, but it was better. "Have you read the books I sent you?"
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"They... They were not what I was looking for."
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"What were you looking for, Ezra?"
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"I told you. Answers. I have been looking for answers, yet I only find questions."
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"We will only be able to find real answers when we actually set a lab on the moon. Until then, we will have to live with merely hypothesizing."
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"I know, but..."
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"Have you tried reading Kulikovsky?Or Hakan Kayal? Non-american studies in general."
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"Yes, professor Chris. But... All studies seem to contradict themselves. Some point to studies that I can’t find anywhere, like they don’t exist anymore. Like they were erased by someone…”
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“Some texts were never made digital or registered. It’s very unfortunate.”
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“Everyone tries to find a logical explanation... What if there isn't one?"
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"What is this truly about?"
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"What?"
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"It's just... You do know you can change your capstone thesis theme, right? Maybe an analysis of something more well-known could work better with your methodology."
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"Chris, I will not change my mind. We have discussed this before."
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"Well, well... I talked to one of my former colleagues, he is retired now, who also studied the moon, but his research was more focused on gravity. He told me there's a book called "A Study of the Moon with a New Lens" or something like that. Written by one Dr. Karl Hollfern in 1935."
​
"That is way before LTP was even catalogued."
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"Catalogued, yes. Recorded? No. Hollfern studied extensevely the lunar mysteries. Unfortunately, he was executed by the Nazis because he opposed them. But his research lived on. My friend told me they have one of his books in the library. But it's in German."
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///18th of February, 2022
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I entered the library carrying a bag full of German grammar books and a dictionary. I would not let a little language barrier stop me from getting to the truth.
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“Hello, how can I help you?” The librarian asked, barely averting her eyes from her cellphone.
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“I’m actually looking for a book that could either be in the astronomy section or in the foreign titles section… Can you help me?”
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“Which book?” She was still looking at her phone, seemingly playing one of those generic casual mobile games.
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“It’s in German. Old, from the 1930s. Talks about studies of the moon made at the time.”
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“Unusual request, but ok…” She put her phone on the counter, and started typing on the computer. “Can’t find it. Do you have the author’s name?”
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“Karl Hollfern.”
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“Uncanny. It’s unlisted.”
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“What?”
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“We have it in the library, but it’s not available. We usually do this when books are being cleaned. Usually takes a couple of days… It says it won’t be listed until… Until 2100?
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“What? How does this makes sense?”
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“I don’t know. I’ve been working here for sixteen years, and have never seen something like this. Regardless, I can’t lend you the book. I can’t even let you access it in library grounds.”
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///23rd of February, 2022
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I was drinking my Starbucks cappuccino while trying to make myself comfortable on the shopping mall bench, to no avail. I was tense. I had never involved myself with something like this. If my mother or girlfriend knew, they would kill me. An older man made his way out of the crowd and patiently sat down next to me.
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“You were supposed to be sitting on the bench next to Nike. But no problem.” He laughed.
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“Sorry. I got confused…” I facepalmed.
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“I got the book you asked me too. But the price is going to be different in your case.”
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“As in more expensive?”
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“No. Normally, I charge twenty five grand, or double If the job is hard. In your case, the job was ridiculously easy. I will be charging five grand only.”
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“Thanks! I’m transferring to your account right now…” I said as I typed on my phone.
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“The book is in your car.”
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“How did you… Oh, of course.”
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“Pleasure doing business with you.” He got up and left. I immediately went to my car. There it was, Eine Untersuchung des Mondes mit einer neuen Linse.
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///28th of February, 2022
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“Honey, are you still awake?” Melissa asked me. I was sitting on a pillow in the corner of the room, aggressively doing more and more Duolingo lessons.
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“I’m busy, Mel.” I said, without averting my eyes from the green owl.
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“Is this about that German book you have been taking everywhere?”
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“No…” I blatantly lied.
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“Honey, you’ve been up all night. It’s ten to six.”
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“What?”
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“You are obsessed with this shit, Ezra! Look at you! This is the third time I find you here studying German instead of sleeping!”
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“I’m sorry, but you do know I have a capstone thesis to finish, don’t you?!” I screamed back at her.
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“Oh. So this is what’s all about, right?”
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“Babe, it’s not like that…” Before I could say anything, she stormed out of the apartment. I stood there, frozen, for a minute or two, before I went back to my Duolingo.
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///3rd of March, 2022
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“Hello Ezra” Chris said, as I adjusted my camera. As usual, I couldn’t see his face properly.
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“Good evening, professor Chris.”
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“Ezra, are you okay? You look tired.”
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“I’m fine.” I said vehemently.
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“Ezra… I… I have bad news for you.” When he said that, I felt like a hand was smashing my heart. “The university has rejected your intended theme.”
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“W-what?”
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“You’ll have to pick something else. I’m sorry.”
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“What? Why?!”
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“Apparently there’s information about Lunar Transient Phenomena that is undisclosed to the general public. The feds were here yesterday, talked with the dean about it. Said that researching the LTP was considered meddling in national security affairs, and that all projects focusing on it were to be halted.”
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“Bullshit!”
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“I’m sorry. I know how much time you have already invested in this. But we’ll find something else, Ezra. There are more lunar mys…” I interrupted him.
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“Why is it so hard to research a simple lunar phenomena?! Every time I advance, everyone tries to block me! They will not stop me from uncovering what happened to my father!” I slammed the table.
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“What?”
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“This will not stop me.” I muttered, while ending the videocall.
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///8th of March, 2022
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After some turbulent days, I was finally making progress again. My knowledge of German wasn’t great, but knowing basic grammar, using online dictionaries, and with a little help from online German studying communities, I was making my way through the book.
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The book was almost a century old, yet I felt like I was finally making progress. The research by Hollfern was fascinating, but disturbing. He described how the “blinking moonlights” if watched carefully, could be interpreted as having meaning. My German was advancing but far from perfect, so I didn’t have the exact translation, but it said something about the moon speaking in some sort of secret code using the lights.
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It also referenced some books, most of which seemed to not exist anymore, but some of them not only existed, I also managed to download their scanned PDFs. It was pretty unorthodox for a scientific study. There was a book on symbols and sigils of different religions, a compilation of theological texts about Gnosticism, a book compiling works by Schopenhauer, and a Hindi scroll explaining Chakras.
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I didn’t understood yet how everything connected. Seemed like a strange collection of unrelated weirdness.
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///10th of March, 2022
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I stumbled upon something I had previously overlooked. There’s an work by Schopenhauer where he discuss reading the Upanishads, which are old Hindi texts. The Hindi text I had downloaded was translated to English, but what if I looked for the original? Maybe there was something I wasn’t shown.
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The original had a section that was censored in the English version that talked about a Devas that was corrupted by an evil unknown entity called that attached on it’s solar plexus and made it miserable with overwhelming sadness and pain. A thing described as a floating jester.
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///13th of March, 2022
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The phone in the living room started ringing. I left it there, unwilling to stop reading the book and trying to translate the contents. The call went to voicemail, and then I heard the caller recording it:
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“Hey Ezra, I know you’re going through a bad time, but as your orienting professor, I care for you. You didn't show up for any of your tests. I know you seem to be focused on your research, but this isn't the-" I unplugged the damn thing.
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///16th of March, 2022
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I got evicted after not paying my rent. Or I was supposed to be at least. I picked up my research stuff and rented a cheap motel room on the outskirts of my town. I could not pay for the rent, and least not for now, I spent most of my money buying books and old magazines during the last weeks. I don’t need a place to call mine for now. I just need to find the truth.
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I know the government will come after me. I’m coming too close. But if they want me to stop, they will have to kill me. I’ve already lost everything. This investigation is all I have left.
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///18th of March, 2022
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There's an old website that I found while researching. A true relic, seems to be from the early 90s. It contains old conspiracies theories, like stuff about the Illuminati and New Age, Satanic Panic, how Ronald Reagan was actually replaced, among other things. But there was something among the insanity that I felt was the last thing missing in my investigation. The true reason why we never returned to the Moon and why the Soviets never even attempted landing on it.
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According to that website, during the last moon expedition, in December of 1972, the astronauts were secretly instructed to find out what was causing the Lunar Transient Phenomena, and spent three days on the Taurus-Littrow Valley, the region where the phenomena was more frequent on the previous five years. They were carrying a seismometer, as the most influential theory at the time was that the LTP was being caused by moonquakes cracking the surface of the natural satellite and releasing gasses.
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But what the seismometer detected was that there were no such thing as moonquakes. Their equipments revealed humongous structures, seemingly biological or mechanical, moving under the moon surface.
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One day before they left, NASA detected an instance of LTP a few kilometers near where they were stationed, so the astronauts went there to check. What they found there was never disclosed, but some theorize they met one of the beings responsible for causing the blinking lights. And that was the reason humanity abandoned all expeditions to the moon. After five missions in three years, we never returned there.
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///20th of March, 2022
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I woke up feeling like my head was spinning. I was lying on the sofa of my motel room. Once again, I had spent the entire previous night and day reading texts cited by Dr. Hollfern. My tablet was out of battery, so I got up, feeling pain all over my body, and went looking for my charger. It took me a couple of minutes to notice the two men wearing dark suits, black ties and dark sunglasses sitting on my sofa. One of them had a silenced pistol on his hand.
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“Good afternoon, Ezra Thornbridge.” The one holding the firearm said, with a voice so ordinary it was scary.
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“W-what?!” I blurted, still trying to overcome the pain.
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“Oh, don’t mind us. We are just here to recover something.” The other man said, smiling.
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“Something that isn’t yours, yet you’re in possession of.” The man with the gun complemented.
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“I… Who are you?” I asked.
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“Right now, I’m the man pointing the gun at you.” The man with the weapon said, while his partner just shrugged.
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“Fine, I’ll return your damn book. But I already know about it. I already put the pieces together."
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"Oh, interesting. What do you think you know, Thornbridge?" One of them mocked.
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"The Solar Plexus Clown Glider. I have studied them in depth. Or do you prefer to call them like the Gnostic theologians called them back in the day? *Archons…*”
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“Look what we have here, Spencer. Like father like son.” The guy with the gun scoffed.
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“I told you we should have just doped him and looked for the damn book while he slept. He is totally gone.” Spencer said.
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“I’m not crazy! The Archons are real! They killed my father! They kill people! And you, instead of trying to protect the people, just hide their existence, just lie, just lie and lie and lie!”
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“How can you be so smart yet so stupid?” The guy with the gun said.
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“The Archons don’t kill people, Ezra. They just make you miserable and drown you in fear and pain.” Spencer said.
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“But I saw one kill my father.”
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“Your father died of chronic ventricular arrhythmia coupled with excessive alcohol ingestion. The thing you saw was merely an emotional parasite, feeding off his negative emotions and influencing him to indulge on them.” Spencer said.
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“Does this mean…”
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“Yes. It also infected you that day. That’s why you saw it. It’s been with you ever since. The more you learn about it, the more you dread, the more you obsess, the more you lose… You were feeding it all along.” Spencer explained.
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“And why do you think we tried to protect you, dumbass? If the knowledge was harmless, we wouldn’t be around breaking the law and breaking people’s necks to prevent it from spreading.” The guy with the weapon said.
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“It’s not too late, Ezra. When your father was alive, there wasn’t much we could do, but now we have technology to make them go away. But it has a cost.” Spencer explained.
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“What cost?”
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“You will forget your father. You will forget most about the moon and astronomy. Probably the entirety of the last few months. And there are probable side effects, like sporadic short-term amnesia.” Spencer said.
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“Or we can just fucking shoot you in the forehead right now to prevent the thing from infecting more people. Your choice.” The guy with the gun said. I just turned around and ran as fast as I can towards the window behind me. I jumped out of it, shattering the glass, and fell on the hard cold concrete of the parking lot. I tried to get up, my body was all cut from the glass, and I felt something warm on my back, even though it was raining.
​
“Are you stupid?!” I heard the guy with the gun shouting while he and the other agent descended the staircase that led to the parking lot. I finally got up, feeling cold from the rain, and tried to run, but could only limp. Yeah, jumping out of the window like I was in an 80s action movie wasn’t the best idea. I heard another click behind me, and fell to the floor. I could see the agents running towards me, smoke coming out of the gun. There seemed to be snakes around both of them, smiling witch their human faces and several sets of sharp fangs.
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I looked towards the sky. Among the raining clouds, I could see the moon above me, full and blooming. Blinking. Blinking so much.

it been a month (sorry but am even more poor now so i cant buy anything, i still have a few but i have to space it out)
am i sitting here at 10 pm (i write the review in multiple days sometimes lol) making a review because i have to declutter my cloths and am TERRIFIED, yes absolutely is it wort it yes
it a few days later and now am watching the fast and the furious am at the 8 right now, ill probably be done by tomorrow, it a fun marathon, right now the best one is the first, but like as a kid my fav was always the 3 one, guess when we grow up our taste grow up too lol
what's a duet: it a concept created by osmofolia (am pretty sure as i never seen it before) where a perfume is made by 2 perfume, so lets say you have exquisite corps that's the perfume you buy, when you receive it you gonna have 2 bottle, vanilla milk and smoked lavender musk, when you layer them on your skin, they become exquisite corps! but the fun part is that you have 3 perfume, and the 2 bottle you get are amazing layering notes (as it their hole purpose) so you can add them to any perfume you want
LIKES: tea, patchouli, tart fruits, close to skin smell, greens (grass, moss, leaf's of all sort (tomato leaf yum)), atmospheric/realistic, citrus, frankincense, cedar, most fruits actually, soil, roses, lavender, salt, sage, cannabis, rosemary, cozy gourmand, marshmallow, smoke, cinnamon actually most spice, pine/fir, violet leaf/violet, i like stuff that feel wet (fog, ocean, rain), ambergris
DISLIKES: ozone, aldehyde, oud, sandalwood, cinnamon leaf, big silage, white floral, especially tuberose and gardenias, but also just florals in general, alcoholics, vetiver, perfumy perfume, most milk, tar, when company say “for woman” or “for man”
HATE OR LOVE no in between: Hay, jasmine, incense, pink pepper, fancy woods, most resins, iris/orris, petrichor
to your attention: this is not really a critique, but it still normal i don't gush over everything, am talking about my taste not trying to sell you anything, i like all the company i talk about and if i don't i will say it. i am a bitch but don't let your feeling get hurt over a little dumb post please ;) love yall lets do this
​
HONEY DUST you mean pollen right?
notes: pollen, hay, honey, beeswax, powdered sugar
though: so on the bottle there the name of the duet (what a spellcaster leaves behind) and a number not the name of the note, and when i got them i was too lazy to look it up to make sure i wrote the right name so i just did it by memory, so now on my bottle it written "pollen" lol. i do think it perfect for this perfume it super dusty to the point were if you have pollen allergy i would tell you to stay away from this, it also gives me the same harshness grass perfume give me sometime but it not at all green wish is kinda weird too maybe the hay? idk but it welcome, this perfume is the mix of comforting sweater and seasonal allergy, weird but i love that in a perfume
color: golden yellow dust of pollen in a gold ornate jar sitting on a red tinted wood table
+
ANTIQUE BOOK if vanilla ice cream and white wood had a child
notes: paper, leather, glue, old book, cedar, vanilla, cetalox
though: every single book fragrance is either super chemical or super woody marshmallow there just no in-between and this is a woody marshmallow that dry down to a sandalwood-y thingy, i don't hate it but i do think it better as a addition to another perfume then by it own. but on it own i think it perfect for the book ladies that are a little (a bit) more conservative then me (and always ladies in a non gendered way lolll i just have a booktok person in mind and shes a woman, but it not a woman perfume none are)
color: a hard cover book with no letter printed on any of the page (your gonna say, oh a drawing pad, nah, a small hard cover where they just made a mistake on the print and there nothing) and also you know the wood you can find around lake and the sea, it super white and soft, that but in a 2x4

WHAT A SPELLCASTER LEAVES BEHIND cream pollen
notes: pollen, hay, honey, beeswax, powdered sugar, paper, leather, glue, old book, cedar, vanilla, cetalox
though: this is interesting the antique book note almost lost itself in the honey dust, but then you smell honey dust on it own again and your like ok i see it much more chill on the dusty-ness, i get it i get it, it also a perfect on the name i love it! what a spellcaster leaves behinds it so descriptive and cute and definetly perfect for the perfume, you can imagine the scene, a big dusty book closing, the dust particule going everywhere, someone closing a candle and then a door.
color: a huge dusty, very dusty book, with gold corner and yellowing pages
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VANILLA MILK sweet brown milk (smell better then it sounds)
notes: cream, caramel , heliotrope, vanilla, milk, musk
though: that's not for me, for sure, i mean to be fair my skin don't work with anything milk, my only love is milk shaka from Damask Haus, to me this is sickly sweet, but i don't think most would think that, if you like a milk caramel this is for you for sure, this is concerning because of the realism, i mean it smell like warm milk, and the thick light brown caramel that looks like melted plastic but actually taste pretty good, just very artificial, witch is weird cuz caramel sauce is so easy to make and i don't get why restaurant and ice cream shop don't make it themselves it like 3 ingredient, butter, sugar and cream, (brown sugar if you want butterscotch) but anyway you also have a bit of a floral note but it just adds to the warm milk, really interesting i see this being very popular with the gourmand people
color: a room temperature glass of milk forgotten on a oval shaped table, you know the big ones in wood, with a super big feet underneath, they always have some middle piece of broderie made by some grand mother and and a flower pot full of fresh flower (white heliotrope this time) on the other side of the table there a caramel cream pie
+
SMOKED LAVENDER MUSK gay fur
notes: lavender, smoke, oakmoss, musk
though: lavender smoke is a pretty common mix, i don't particularly care for but i love this, it fun it sexy and the lavender pretty realistic. if you know a bit about queer history, lavender been a symbol of gay-ness (lol) since the end of the 19th century, and idk if it since i know this fact that i believe all lavender perfume are gay, well this not the exception (i really don't think there one, it like violet) idk know why exactly but this perfume is just very queer to me, only downside, cuz it really smell good, it that it doesn't last super long contrary to vanilla milk that's super persistent
color: light purple fur coat, and a black leather cat suit with cowboy boots and a big chunky belt, but truly it just a smoke lavender love

EXQUISITE CORPS They are cold like porcelain
notes: lavender, smoke, oakmoss, musk, cream, caramel , heliotrope, vanilla, milk, musk
though: you know i bitch a lot about name accuracy but this is spot on, does it smell like a crops, i mean no, not that i know of (and idk every dead i seen was in dust form not corps form) but it has this cold creaminess mix with the floral it just exactly the name. this is amazing if you put just a little bit of the vanilla milk (my opinion, but don't you think this concept is amazing for that you can dose your 2 perfume to make exactly the combi you prefer) i just think it better when it the smoky floral that take the lead it more mortuary less floral caramel
color: cold, soft but lifeless skin. resting on a pile of white and purple flower, white coffin, 2 small marble column on each side to witch rest on top flower pot. people crying
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7/11 STEAMED MATCHA LATTE a dammed good matcha latte
notes: steam, matcha, warm milk, green tea, cream
though: this is the best of them all, by far, on it own, it just so perfect, the matcha super realistic, it super creamy it has this amazing grass quality and i just sweet enough, as a tea note lover THIS, IS perfect. i were it the most out of the 6 and any combination of the 6. oh last thing it kinda also smell like white chocolate just so you know but there literally nothing else i can say to this perfume it a perfection in simplicity
color: white chocolate and matcha ganache, i kinda want to make a matcha latte recipe but it would be too long cuz there way to many step to make a fancy matcha latte, you'll have to imagine it lol
+
COLD RAIN ON PAVEMENT perfectionism
notes: cold air, humid air, puddles, rain, concrete, tar
though: i hate ozone/aldehydes, but objectifly this one is not too bad, osmofolia has a goesmin single note that is actually realistic rain this one is not (to me) but it still adjacent, it wet, bright, soapy and and a bit floral, i mean ofc i wont like a perfume that give me a headache, but that's not the perfume fault right like, i know this perfume is beautiful, it gives me Ghibli rain scene, like in Arrietty, Totoro or Kiki the Little Witch, it rain but in a very aesthetically pleasing way, am doing a fast and furious marraton but after i feel like watching all the ghibli movie
color: walking next to a flower shop after the rain, a little brightness in the thick of the concrete jungle

ON THE CORNER OF JINHU ROAD too pretty
notes: steam, matcha, warm milk, green tea, cream, cold air, humid air, puddles, rain, concrete, tar
though: every one that read my reviews know 2 thing for sure about me, i hate ozone/aldehydes like we seen right before and i have weird references, well weirdly i don't hate this, i mean not on me it would still give me a head ache like ozone/aldehydes always do but it pleasant, i think it the creaminess, it kinda chill out the harshness of cold rain on pavement, but it still has the buzz-ness, it like a soapy, after the rain drinking a matcha latte (that has some kind of white floral syrup in) it pretty, too pretty for me
color: walking next to a flower shop after the rain, a little brightness in the thick of the concrete jungle but the flower shop is also a coffee shop and you get yourself a matcha latte
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
MIX AND MATCH, if you get it you get it if you don't you don't ok
Matcha + Milk = Brown Sugar Matcha Latte
Matcha + Lavender = Dirty Matcha
Matcha + Book = White Chocolate BonBon
Matcha + Pollen = Fancy HoneyBee With Her Little Tea
Milk + Book = Alpha, Eating At The Library
Milk + Pavement = Frolicking, Naked After The Rain
Milk + Pollen = Sexy Picnic
Lavender + Pavement = Smoking In The Flower Field
Lavender + Book = Gay Woodworker
Lavender + Pollen = Ashtray, Potpourri
Pavement + Pollen = Electric Bee, Buzz Buzz
Pavement + Book = Little Bookstore In Old Montréal
Pollen + Book = Reading in the Sunroom
​
i could do a combi of 3 perfume but that just to much work, but if you do please share in the comment your favs lolll
this month as been kinda hell, am still working on my move (to no where lol) and am nowhere near done, now am starting to make the boxes (tomorrow) and it stressing me the fuck out, anyway on that note, how do you make pr? loll (half joking) cuz yeah i miss doing these review, but dont worry i still have maybe 5 review left if i don't count the discontinued stereoplasm
​
also, have a great night love xoxo

///11th of June, 2006
“Dad, the moon!” I shouted as I entered the garage. My father was on the floor, under his Bugatti 57SC Atlantic, obsessively removing and re-installing pieces of the car like he always did. He quickly got up, a smile on his grease-stained face.
“Finally!” He said with his beer-breath, grabbing a towel and cleaning most of his face, before running outside as fast as he could. I followed him. I don’t know why I always liked these moments. Any child would find them terribly boring. But I always reveled on them. Maybe it’s because they were the only moments he smiled. He positioned his telescope on our front yard, adjusted the lens, drank a beer can and started looking at the full moon above us.
“Do you see it?” I asked, sitting on the grass next to him.
“Shut up.” He said, still looking. After half an hour of waiting, he started laughing. I opened my mouth to ask if he was seeing it, but I held my voice. Didn’t want to anger him.
“It’s blinking! It’s blinking Johnathan!” He laughed. I smiled. That wasn’t my name, though he called me that. Only several years later I would learn that was the name of his deceased younger brother. Every full moon, we would come look at it with the telescope. And he’d always call me Johnathan. Probably because he was always so drunk. But from always avoiding me or calling me “Brat”, Johnathan was a nice shift.
“Can I see?” I asked, and he lowered the tripod so I could see the moon. There was a small light blinking on it’s surface. It was truly beautiful.
“Fine, my turn again.” My father shoved me back, adjusted the tripod back, and started looking at it again. “It’s blinking so much tonight… Maybe… Brat, get my camera!” He shouted at me. I quickly went inside the house, and looked around for the camera in the living room. There it was, on a little pile of beer cans and empty rythmol boxes in the corner of the room. I hurried back outside, as fast as I could, as I did not want to anger my father.
I stopped on my tracks as soon as I was out of the house. There was a strange being involving my father. It looked like a snake, but I knew it was anything but a snake. There were not snakes that big where I lived. And certainly not with human faces. My father seemed oblivious to it, looking through his telescope, but the thing was all around him, from the bottom of his legs all the way to the top of his head.
“It’s blinking so much…” He said, in awe. The creature looked at me, locking eyes with me, and smiled, revealing several sets of sharp fangs. And then, it disappeared. My father looked at me, he was sweating. “I think… I need to lay down for a bit…” He muttered, before falling on the grass. I spent the entire night trying to wake him up, before my mother found me there crying the following day.
///09th of November 2021
“And that’s why you decided to study astronomy? Really?” Melissa laughed.
“Oh, come on, babe… Don’t make fun of my tragic past.” I said, finishing my waffles. She went to the fridges, grabbed the orange juice, and poured some in our cups.
“Shall we toast?” She asked.
“With orange juice? And what for?”
“Your impending graduation. What else?”
“Impending? Ha! I didn’t even start my capstone thesis.”
“So, what will it be about? Venus, right? Or was it Mars?”
“Nope. Too many people I know will already be working on planets like Venus and Mars. I thought about Neptune, but it’s too far away. So I figured, why not the Moon?”
“Please, don’t tell me this is about your father.”
“Mel, he wasn’t the best dad in the world. But he did left me his collection of vintage cars. This is what paid for my education.”
“He didn’t left it to you, it was divided between you and your mother.”
“Regardless, I feel like I owe him this. Apart from the cars, the moon was the only thing he loved.”
“You owe him nothing, Ezra.”
“I need to know what the blinking lights are! Lunar transient phenomena, it’s how they call them. There’s no scientific explanation to what they are.”
“Just because there’s no known scientific explanation, it doesn’t mean one does not exist. And if there’s one, it’s certainly not creepy snake-man” She laughed.
///04th of September, 2022
The first thing you feel when you start seriously investigating the moon is how mysterious it is. We only went there a handful of times, and then never again. All reasons are given for this, but it never really felt right to me. Maybe what happened to my father always made me feel paranoid about the subject, but I somehow felt there were things about the moon that were hiding on plain sight.
The focus of my research, the lunar transient phenomena, is incredibly unknown. Few studies were done about it, and most of them were never published or were abandoned. The few that were made available were either from little-known universities in third-world countries, in languages that I couldn’t understand and without English translation, or mere compilations of recorded occurrences. I found some theories. The lights were caused by magnetism, or by gasses, or by asteroids, perspective…
But mere hypothesis were not enough for me. I needed to know. I needed to understand. I needed… I needed to confirm it weren’t those lights who killed my father that day.
So, I delved deep into the research. I spent weeks in my bedroom, reading books and more books, entering all sorts of websites, sending emails to experts, looking for anything that could give me more information. But through all my effort, the only thing I could find were theories or hypothesis, all of them with little to no evidence. In my search for answers, I started straying further away from modern science, entering strange websites and reading books that talked about blatant pseudoscience, like astrology or the paranormal.
///17th of February, 2022
“So, what books will you be basing your capstone on?” My orienting professor asked. I could not see his face properly, we were talking through a videocall and he was not very tech savvy, so his eyes and nose were out of the frame.
“Chris, I can only see your mouth!” I laughed.
“Sorry…” He said, adjusting his camera. The framing was not perfect yet, but it was better. "Have you read the books I sent you?"
"They... They were not what I was looking for."
"What were you looking for, Ezra?"
"I told you. Answers. I have been looking for answers, yet I only find questions."
"We will only be able to find real answers when we actually set a lab on the moon. Until then, we will have to live with merely hypothesizing."
"I know, but..."
"Have you tried reading Kulikovsky?Or Hakan Kayal? Non-american studies in general."
"Yes, professor Chris. But... All studies seem to contradict themselves. Some point to studies that I can’t find anywhere, like they don’t exist anymore. Like they were erased by someone…”
“Some texts were never made digital or registered. It’s very unfortunate.”
“Everyone tries to find a logical explanation... What if there isn't one?"
"What is this truly about?"
"What?"
"It's just... You do know you can change your capstone thesis theme, right? Maybe an analysis of something more well-known could work better with your methodology."
"Chris, I will not change my mind. We have discussed this before."
"Well, well... I talked to one of my former colleagues, he is retired now, who also studied the moon, but his research was more focused on gravity. He told me there's a book called "A Study of the Moon with a New Lens" or something like that. Written by one Dr. Karl Hollfern in 1935."
"That is way before LTP was even catalogued."
"Catalogued, yes. Recorded? No. Hollfern studied extensevely the lunar mysteries. Unfortunately, he was executed by the Nazis because he opposed them. But his research lived on. My friend told me they have one of his books in the library. But it's in German."
///18th of February, 2022
I entered the library carrying a bag full of German grammar books and a dictionary. I would not let a little language barrier stop me from getting to the truth.
“Hello, how can I help you?” The librarian asked, barely averting her eyes from her cellphone.
“I’m actually looking for a book that could either be in the astronomy section or in the foreign titles section… Can you help me?”
“Which book?” She was still looking at her phone, seemingly playing one of those generic casual mobile games.
“It’s in German. Old, from the 1930s. Talks about studies of the moon made at the time.”
“Unusual request, but ok…” She put her phone on the counter, and started typing on the computer. “Can’t find it. Do you have the author’s name?”
“Karl Hollfern.”
“Uncanny. It’s unlisted.”
“What?”
“We have it in the library, but it’s not available. We usually do this when books are being cleaned. Usually takes a couple of days… It says it won’t be listed until… Until 2100?
“What? How does this makes sense?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been working here for sixteen years, and have never seen something like this. Regardless, I can’t lend you the book. I can’t even let you access it in library grounds.”
///23rd of February, 2022
I was drinking my Starbucks cappuccino while trying to make myself comfortable on the shopping mall bench, to no avail. I was tense. I had never involved myself with something like this. If my mother or girlfriend knew, they would kill me. An older man made his way out of the crowd and patiently sat down next to me.
“You were supposed to be sitting on the bench next to Nike. But no problem.” He laughed.
“Sorry. I got confused…” I facepalmed.
“I got the book you asked me too. But the price is going to be different in your case.”
“As in more expensive?”
“No. Normally, I charge twenty five grand, or double If the job is hard. In your case, the job was ridiculously easy. I will be charging five grand only.”
“Thanks! I’m transferring to your account right now…” I said as I typed on my phone.
“The book is in your car.”
“How did you… Oh, of course.”
“Pleasure doing business with you.” He got up and left. I immediately went to my car. There it was, Eine Untersuchung des Mondes mit einer neuen Linse.
///28th of February, 2022
“Honey, are you still awake?” Melissa asked me. I was sitting on a pillow in the corner of the room, aggressively doing more and more Duolingo lessons.
“I’m busy, Mel.” I said, without averting my eyes from the green owl.
“Is this about that German book you have been taking everywhere?”
“No…” I blatantly lied.
“Honey, you’ve been up all night. It’s ten to six.”
“What?”
“You are obsessed with this shit, Ezra! Look at you! This is the third time I find you here studying German instead of sleeping!”
“I’m sorry, but you do know I have a capstone thesis to finish, don’t you?!” I screamed back at her.
“Oh. So this is what’s all about, right?”
“Babe, it’s not like that…” Before I could say anything, she stormed out of the apartment. I stood there, frozen, for a minute or two, before I went back to my Duolingo.
///3rd of March, 2022
“Hello Ezra” Chris said, as I adjusted my camera. As usual, I couldn’t see his face properly.
“Good evening, professor Chris.”
“Ezra, are you okay? You look tired.”
“I’m fine.” I said vehemently.
“Ezra… I… I have bad news for you.” When he said that, I felt like a hand was smashing my heart. “The university has rejected your intended theme.”
“W-what?”
“You’ll have to pick something else. I’m sorry.”
“What? Why?!”
“Apparently there’s information about Lunar Transient Phenomena that is undisclosed to the general public. The feds were here yesterday, talked with the dean about it. Said that researching the LTP was considered meddling in national security affairs, and that all projects focusing on it were to be halted.”
“Bullshit!”
“I’m sorry. I know how much time you have already invested in this. But we’ll find something else, Ezra. There are more lunar mys…” I interrupted him.
“Why is it so hard to research a simple lunar phenomena?! Every time I advance, everyone tries to block me! They will not stop me from uncovering what happened to my father!” I slammed the table.
“What?”
“This will not stop me.” I muttered, while ending the videocall.
///8th of March, 2022
After some turbulent days, I was finally making progress again. My knowledge of German wasn’t great, but knowing basic grammar, using online dictionaries, and with a little help from online German studying communities, I was making my way through the book.
The book was almost a century old, yet I felt like I was finally making progress. The research by Hollfern was fascinating, but disturbing. He described how the “blinking moonlights” if watched carefully, could be interpreted as having meaning. My German was advancing but far from perfect, so I didn’t have the exact translation, but it said something about the moon speaking in some sort of secret code using the lights.
It also referenced some books, most of which seemed to not exist anymore, but some of them not only existed, I also managed to download their scanned PDFs. It was pretty unorthodox for a scientific study. There was a book on symbols and sigils of different religions, a compilation of theological texts about Gnosticism, a book compiling works by Schopenhauer, and a Hindi scroll explaining Chakras.
I didn’t understood yet how everything connected. Seemed like a strange collection of unrelated weirdness.
///10th of March, 2022
I stumbled upon something I had previously overlooked. There’s an work by Schopenhauer where he discuss reading the Upanishads, which are old Hindi texts. The Hindi text I had downloaded was translated to English, but what if I looked for the original? Maybe there was something I wasn’t shown.
The original had a section that was censored in the English version that talked about a Devas that was corrupted by an evil unknown entity called that attached on it’s solar plexus and made it miserable with overwhelming sadness and pain. A thing described as a floating jester.
///13th of March, 2022
The phone in the living room started ringing. I left it there, unwilling to stop reading the book and trying to translate the contents. The call went to voicemail, and then I heard the caller recording it:
“Hey Ezra, I know you’re going through a bad time, but as your orienting professor, I care for you. You didn't show up for any of your tests. I know you seem to be focused on your research, but this isn't the-" I unplugged the damn thing.
///16th of March, 2022
I got evicted after not paying my rent. Or I was supposed to be at least. I picked up my research stuff and rented a cheap motel room on the outskirts of my town. I could not pay for the rent, and least not for now, I spent most of my money buying books and old magazines during the last weeks. I don’t need a place to call mine for now. I just need to find the truth.
I know the government will come after me. I’m coming too close. But if they want me to stop, they will have to kill me. I’ve already lost everything. This investigation is all I have left.
///18th of March, 2022
There's an old website that I found while researching. A true relic, seems to be from the early 90s. It contains old conspiracies theories, like stuff about the Illuminati and New Age, Satanic Panic, how Ronald Reagan was actually replaced, among other things. But there was something among the insanity that I felt was the last thing missing in my investigation. The true reason why we never returned to the Moon and why the Soviets never even attempted landing on it.
According to that website, during the last moon expedition, in December of 1972, the astronauts were secretly instructed to find out what was causing the Lunar Transient Phenomena, and spent three days on the Taurus-Littrow Valley, the region where the phenomena was more frequent on the previous five years. They were carrying a seismometer, as the most influential theory at the time was that the LTP was being caused by moonquakes cracking the surface of the natural satellite and releasing gasses.
But what the seismometer detected was that there were no such thing as moonquakes. Their equipments revealed humongous structures, seemingly biological or mechanical, moving under the moon surface.
One day before they left, NASA detected an instance of LTP a few kilometers near where they were stationed, so the astronauts went there to check. What they found there was never disclosed, but some theorize they met one of the beings responsible for causing the blinking lights. And that was the reason humanity abandoned all expeditions to the moon. After five missions in three years, we never returned there.
///20th of March, 2022
I woke up feeling like my head was spinning. I was lying on the sofa of my motel room. Once again, I had spent the entire previous night and day reading texts cited by Dr. Hollfern. My tablet was out of battery, so I got up, feeling pain all over my body, and went looking for my charger. It took me a couple of minutes to notice the two men wearing dark suits, black ties and dark sunglasses sitting on my sofa. One of them had a silenced pistol on his hand.
“Good afternoon, Ezra Thornbridge.” The one holding the firearm said, with a voice so ordinary it was scary.
“W-what?!” I blurted, still trying to overcome the pain.
“Oh, don’t mind us. We are just here to recover something.” The other man said, smiling.
“Something that isn’t yours, yet you’re in possession of.” The man with the gun complemented.
“I… Who are you?” I asked.
“Right now, I’m the man pointing the gun at you.” The man with the weapon said, while his partner just shrugged.
“Fine, I’ll return your damn book. But I already know about it. I already put the pieces together."
"Oh, interesting. What do you think you know, Thornbridge?" One of them mocked.
"The Solar Plexus Clown Glider. I have studied them in depth. Or do you prefer to call them like the Gnostic theologians called them back in the day? Archons…”
“Look what we have here, Spencer. Like father like son.” The guy with the gun scoffed.
“I told you we should have just doped him and looked for the damn book while he slept. He is totally gone.” Spencer said.
“I’m not crazy! The Archons are real! They killed my father! They kill people! And you, instead of trying to protect the people, just hide their existence, just lie, just lie and lie and lie!”
“How can you be so smart yet so stupid?” The guy with the gun said.
“The Archons don’t kill people, Ezra. They just make you miserable and drown you in fear and pain.” Spencer said.
“But I saw one kill my father.”
“Your father died of chronic ventricular arrhythmia coupled with excessive alcohol ingestion. The thing you saw was merely an emotional parasite, feeding off his negative emotions and influencing him to indulge on them.” Spencer said.
“Does this mean…”
“Yes. It also infected you that day. That’s why you saw it. It’s been with you ever since. The more you learn about it, the more you dread, the more you obsess, the more you lose… You were feeding it all along.” Spencer explained.
“And why do you think we tried to protect you, dumbass? If the knowledge was harmless, we wouldn’t be around breaking the law and breaking people’s necks to prevent it from spreading.” The guy with the weapon said.
“It’s not too late, Ezra. When your father was alive, there wasn’t much we could do, but now we have technology to make them go away. But it has a cost.” Spencer explained.
“What cost?”
“You will forget your father. You will forget most about the moon and astronomy. Probably the entirety of the last few months. And there are probable side effects, like sporadic short-term amnesia.” Spencer said.
“Or we can just fucking shoot you in the forehead right now to prevent the thing from infecting more people. Your choice.” The guy with the gun said. I just turned around and ran as fast as I can towards the window behind me. I jumped out of it, shattering the glass, and fell on the hard cold concrete of the parking lot. I tried to get up, my body was all cut from the glass, and I felt something warm on my back, even though it was raining.
“Are you stupid?!” I heard the guy with the gun shouting while he and the other agent descended the staircase that led to the parking lot. I finally got up, feeling cold from the rain, and tried to run, but could only limp. Yeah, jumping out of the window like I was in an 80s action movie wasn’t the best idea. I heard another click behind me, and fell to the floor. I could see the agents running towards me, smoke coming out of the gun. There seemed to be snakes around both of them, smiling witch their human faces and several sets of sharp fangs.
I looked towards the sky. Among the raining clouds, I could see the moon above me, full and blooming. Blinking. Blinking so much.

///11th of June, 2006
“Dad, the moon!” I shouted as I entered the garage. My father was on the floor, under his Bugatti 57SC Atlantic, obsessively removing and re-installing pieces of the car like he always did. He quickly got up, a smile on his grease-stained face.
“Finally!” He said with his beer-breath, grabbing a towel and cleaning most of his face, before running outside as fast as he could. I followed him. I don’t know why I always liked these moments. Any child would find them terribly boring. But I always reveled on them. Maybe it’s because they were the only moments he smiled. He positioned his telescope on our front yard, adjusted the lens, drank a beer can and started looking at the full moon above us.
“Do you see it?” I asked, sitting on the grass next to him.
“Shut up.” He said, still looking. After half an hour of waiting, he started laughing. I opened my mouth to ask if he was seeing it, but I held my voice. Didn’t want to anger him.
“It’s blinking! It’s blinking Johnathan!” He laughed. I smiled. That wasn’t my name, though he called me that. Only several years later I would learn that was the name of his deceased younger brother. Every full moon, we would come look at it with the telescope. And he’d always call me Johnathan. Probably because he was always so drunk. But from always avoiding me or calling me “Brat”, Johnathan was a nice shift.
“Can I see?” I asked, and he lowered the tripod so I could see the moon. There was a small light blinking on it’s surface. It was truly beautiful.
“Fine, my turn again.” My father shoved me back, adjusted the tripod back, and started looking at it again. “It’s blinking so much tonight… Maybe… Brat, get my camera!” He shouted at me. I quickly went inside the house, and looked around for the camera in the living room. There it was, on a little pile of beer cans and empty rythmol boxes in the corner of the room. I hurried back outside, as fast as I could, as I did not want to anger my father.
I stopped on my tracks as soon as I was out of the house. There was a strange being involving my father. It looked like a snake, but I knew it was anything but a snake. There were not snakes that big where I lived. And certainly not with human faces. My father seemed oblivious to it, looking through his telescope, but the thing was all around him, from the bottom of his legs all the way to the top of his head.
“It’s blinking so much…” He said, in awe. The creature looked at me, locking eyes with me, and smiled, revealing several sets of sharp fangs. And then, it disappeared. My father looked at me, he was sweating. “I think… I need to lay down for a bit…” He muttered, before falling on the grass. I spent the entire night trying to wake him up, before my mother found me there crying the following day.
///09th of November 2021
“And that’s why you decided to study astronomy? Really?” Melissa laughed.
“Oh, come on, babe… Don’t make fun of my tragic past.” I said, finishing my waffles. She went to the fridges, grabbed the orange juice, and poured some in our cups.
“Shall we toast?” She asked.
“With orange juice? And what for?”
“Your impending graduation. What else?”
“Impending? Ha! I didn’t even start my capstone thesis.”
“So, what will it be about? Venus, right? Or was it Mars?”
“Nope. Too many people I know will already be working on planets like Venus and Mars. I thought about Neptune, but it’s too far away. So I figured, why not the Moon?”
“Please, don’t tell me this is about your father.”
“Mel, he wasn’t the best dad in the world. But he did left me his collection of vintage cars. This is what paid for my education.”
“He didn’t left it to you, it was divided between you and your mother.”
“Regardless, I feel like I owe him this. Apart from the cars, the moon was the only thing he loved.”
“You owe him nothing, Ezra.”
“I need to know what the blinking lights are! Lunar transient phenomena, it’s how they call them. There’s no scientific explanation to what they are.”
“Just because there’s no known scientific explanation, it doesn’t mean one does not exist. And if there’s one, it’s certainly not creepy snake-man” She laughed.
///04th of September, 2022
The first thing you feel when you start seriously investigating the moon is how mysterious it is. We only went there a handful of times, and then never again. All reasons are given for this, but it never really felt right to me. Maybe what happened to my father always made me feel paranoid about the subject, but I somehow felt there were things about the moon that were hiding on plain sight.
The focus of my research, the lunar transient phenomena, is incredibly unknown. Few studies were done about it, and most of them were never published or were abandoned. The few that were made available were either from little-known universities in third-world countries, in languages that I couldn’t understand and without English translation, or mere compilations of recorded occurrences. I found some theories. The lights were caused by magnetism, or by gasses, or by asteroids, perspective…
But mere hypothesis were not enough for me. I needed to know. I needed to understand. I needed… I needed to confirm it weren’t those lights who killed my father that day.
So, I delved deep into the research. I spent weeks in my bedroom, reading books and more books, entering all sorts of websites, sending emails to experts, looking for anything that could give me more information. But through all my effort, the only thing I could find were theories or hypothesis, all of them with little to no evidence. In my search for answers, I started straying further away from modern science, entering strange websites and reading books that talked about blatant pseudoscience, like astrology or the paranormal.
///17th of February, 2022
“So, what books will you be basing your capstone on?” My orienting professor asked. I could not see his face properly, we were talking through a videocall and he was not very tech savvy, so his eyes and nose were out of the frame.
“Chris, I can only see your mouth!” I laughed.
“Sorry…” He said, adjusting his camera. The framing was not perfect yet, but it was better. "Have you read the books I sent you?"
"They... They were not what I was looking for."
"What were you looking for, Ezra?"
"I told you. Answers. I have been looking for answers, yet I only find questions."
"We will only be able to find real answers when we actually set a lab on the moon. Until then, we will have to live with merely hypothesizing."
"I know, but..."
"Have you tried reading Kulikovsky?Or Hakan Kayal? Non-american studies in general."
"Yes, professor Chris. But... All studies seem to contradict themselves. Some point to studies that I can’t find anywhere, like they don’t exist anymore. Like they were erased by someone…”
“Some texts were never made digital or registered. It’s very unfortunate.”
“Everyone tries to find a logical explanation... What if there isn't one?"
"What is this truly about?"
"What?"
"It's just... You do know you can change your capstone thesis theme, right? Maybe an analysis of something more well-known could work better with your methodology."
"Chris, I will not change my mind. We have discussed this before."
"Well, well... I talked to one of my former colleagues, he is retired now, who also studied the moon, but his research was more focused on gravity. He told me there's a book called "A Study of the Moon with a New Lens" or something like that. Written by one Dr. Karl Hollfern in 1935."
"That is way before LTP was even catalogued."
"Catalogued, yes. Recorded? No. Hollfern studied extensevely the lunar mysteries. Unfortunately, he was executed by the Nazis because he opposed them. But his research lived on. My friend told me they have one of his books in the library. But it's in German."
///18th of February, 2022
I entered the library carrying a bag full of German grammar books and a dictionary. I would not let a little language barrier stop me from getting to the truth.
“Hello, how can I help you?” The librarian asked, barely averting her eyes from her cellphone.
“I’m actually looking for a book that could either be in the astronomy section or in the foreign titles section… Can you help me?”
“Which book?” She was still looking at her phone, seemingly playing one of those generic casual mobile games.
“It’s in German. Old, from the 1930s. Talks about studies of the moon made at the time.”
“Unusual request, but ok…” She put her phone on the counter, and started typing on the computer. “Can’t find it. Do you have the author’s name?”
“Karl Hollfern.”
“Uncanny. It’s unlisted.”
“What?”
“We have it in the library, but it’s not available. We usually do this when books are being cleaned. Usually takes a couple of days… It says it won’t be listed until… Until 2100?
“What? How does this makes sense?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been working here for sixteen years, and have never seen something like this. Regardless, I can’t lend you the book. I can’t even let you access it in library grounds.”
///23rd of February, 2022
I was drinking my Starbucks cappuccino while trying to make myself comfortable on the shopping mall bench, to no avail. I was tense. I had never involved myself with something like this. If my mother or girlfriend knew, they would kill me. An older man made his way out of the crowd and patiently sat down next to me.
“You were supposed to be sitting on the bench next to Nike. But no problem.” He laughed.
“Sorry. I got confused…” I facepalmed.
“I got the book you asked me too. But the price is going to be different in your case.”
“As in more expensive?”
“No. Normally, I charge twenty five grand, or double If the job is hard. In your case, the job was ridiculously easy. I will be charging five grand only.”
“Thanks! I’m transferring to your account right now…” I said as I typed on my phone.
“The book is in your car.”
“How did you… Oh, of course.”
“Pleasure doing business with you.” He got up and left. I immediately went to my car. There it was, Eine Untersuchung des Mondes mit einer neuen Linse.
///28th of February, 2022
“Honey, are you still awake?” Melissa asked me. I was sitting on a pillow in the corner of the room, aggressively doing more and more Duolingo lessons.
“I’m busy, Mel.” I said, without averting my eyes from the green owl.
“Is this about that German book you have been taking everywhere?”
“No…” I blatantly lied.
“Honey, you’ve been up all night. It’s ten to six.”
“What?”
“You are obsessed with this shit, Ezra! Look at you! This is the third time I find you here studying German instead of sleeping!”
“I’m sorry, but you do know I have a capstone thesis to finish, don’t you?!” I screamed back at her.
“Oh. So this is what’s all about, right?”
“Babe, it’s not like that…” Before I could say anything, she stormed out of the apartment. I stood there, frozen, for a minute or two, before I went back to my Duolingo.
///3rd of March, 2022
“Hello Ezra” Chris said, as I adjusted my camera. As usual, I couldn’t see his face properly.
“Good evening, professor Chris.”
“Ezra, are you okay? You look tired.”
“I’m fine.” I said vehemently.
“Ezra… I… I have bad news for you.” When he said that, I felt like a hand was smashing my heart. “The university has rejected your intended theme.”
“W-what?”
“You’ll have to pick something else. I’m sorry.”
“What? Why?!”
“Apparently there’s information about Lunar Transient Phenomena that is undisclosed to the general public. The feds were here yesterday, talked with the dean about it. Said that researching the LTP was considered meddling in national security affairs, and that all projects focusing on it were to be halted.”
“Bullshit!”
“I’m sorry. I know how much time you have already invested in this. But we’ll find something else, Ezra. There are more lunar mys…” I interrupted him.
“Why is it so hard to research a simple lunar phenomena?! Every time I advance, everyone tries to block me! They will not stop me from uncovering what happened to my father!” I slammed the table.
“What?”
“This will not stop me.” I muttered, while ending the videocall.
///8th of March, 2022
After some turbulent days, I was finally making progress again. My knowledge of German wasn’t great, but knowing basic grammar, using online dictionaries, and with a little help from online German studying communities, I was making my way through the book.
The book was almost a century old, yet I felt like I was finally making progress. The research by Hollfern was fascinating, but disturbing. He described how the “blinking moonlights” if watched carefully, could be interpreted as having meaning. My German was advancing but far from perfect, so I didn’t have the exact translation, but it said something about the moon speaking in some sort of secret code using the lights.
It also referenced some books, most of which seemed to not exist anymore, but some of them not only existed, I also managed to download their scanned PDFs. It was pretty unorthodox for a scientific study. There was a book on symbols and sigils of different religions, a compilation of theological texts about Gnosticism, a book compiling works by Schopenhauer, and a Hindi scroll explaining Chakras.
I didn’t understood yet how everything connected. Seemed like a strange collection of unrelated weirdness.
///10th of March, 2022
I stumbled upon something I had previously overlooked. There’s an work by Schopenhauer where he discuss reading the Upanishads, which are old Hindi texts. The Hindi text I had downloaded was translated to English, but what if I looked for the original? Maybe there was something I wasn’t shown.
The original had a section that was censored in the English version that talked about a Devas that was corrupted by an evil unknown entity called that attached on it’s solar plexus and made it miserable with overwhelming sadness and pain. A thing described as a floating jester.
///13th of March, 2022
The phone in the living room started ringing. I left it there, unwilling to stop reading the book and trying to translate the contents. The call went to voicemail, and then I heard the caller recording it:
“Hey Ezra, I know you’re going through a bad time, but as your orienting professor, I care for you. You didn't show up for any of your tests. I know you seem to be focused on your research, but this isn't the-" I unplugged the damn thing.
///16th of March, 2022
I got evicted after not paying my rent. Or I was supposed to be at least. I picked up my research stuff and rented a cheap motel room on the outskirts of my town. I could not pay for the rent, and least not for now, I spent most of my money buying books and old magazines during the last weeks. I don’t need a place to call mine for now. I just need to find the truth.
I know the government will come after me. I’m coming too close. But if they want me to stop, they will have to kill me. I’ve already lost everything. This investigation is all I have left.
///18th of March, 2022
There's an old website that I found while researching. A true relic, seems to be from the early 90s. It contains old conspiracies theories, like stuff about the Illuminati and New Age, Satanic Panic, how Ronald Reagan was actually replaced, among other things. But there was something among the insanity that I felt was the last thing missing in my investigation. The true reason why we never returned to the Moon and why the Soviets never even attempted landing on it.
According to that website, during the last moon expedition, in December of 1972, the astronauts were secretly instructed to find out what was causing the Lunar Transient Phenomena, and spent three days on the Taurus-Littrow Valley, the region where the phenomena was more frequent on the previous five years. They were carrying a seismometer, as the most influential theory at the time was that the LTP was being caused by moonquakes cracking the surface of the natural satellite and releasing gasses.
But what the seismometer detected was that there were no such thing as moonquakes. Their equipments revealed humongous structures, seemingly biological or mechanical, moving under the moon surface.
One day before they left, NASA detected an instance of LTP a few kilometers near where they were stationed, so the astronauts went there to check. What they found there was never disclosed, but some theorize they met one of the beings responsible for causing the blinking lights. And that was the reason humanity abandoned all expeditions to the moon. After five missions in three years, we never returned there.
///20th of March, 2022
I woke up feeling like my head was spinning. I was lying on the sofa of my motel room. Once again, I had spent the entire previous night and day reading texts cited by Dr. Hollfern. My tablet was out of battery, so I got up, feeling pain all over my body, and went looking for my charger. It took me a couple of minutes to notice the two men wearing dark suits, black ties and dark sunglasses sitting on my sofa. One of them had a silenced pistol on his hand.
“Good afternoon, Ezra Thornbridge.” The one holding the firearm said, with a voice so ordinary it was scary.
“W-what?!” I blurted, still trying to overcome the pain.
“Oh, don’t mind us. We are just here to recover something.” The other man said, smiling.
“Something that isn’t yours, yet you’re in possession of.” The man with the gun complemented.
“I… Who are you?” I asked.
“Right now, I’m the man pointing the gun at you.” The man with the weapon said, while his partner just shrugged.
“Fine, I’ll return your damn book. But I already know about it. I already put the pieces together."
"Oh, interesting. What do you think you know, Thornbridge?" One of them mocked.
"The Solar Plexus Clown Glider. I have studied them in depth. Or do you prefer to call them like the Gnostic theologians called them back in the day? Archons…”
“Look what we have here, Spencer. Like father like son.” The guy with the gun scoffed.
“I told you we should have just doped him and looked for the damn book while he slept. He is totally gone.” Spencer said.
“I’m not crazy! The Archons are real! They killed my father! They kill people! And you, instead of trying to protect the people, just hide their existence, just lie, just lie and lie and lie!”
“How can you be so smart yet so stupid?” The guy with the gun said.
“The Archons don’t kill people, Ezra. They just make you miserable and drown you in fear and pain.” Spencer said.
“But I saw one kill my father.”
“Your father died of chronic ventricular arrhythmia coupled with excessive alcohol ingestion. The thing you saw was merely an emotional parasite, feeding off his negative emotions and influencing him to indulge on them.” Spencer said.
“Does this mean…”
“Yes. It also infected you that day. That’s why you saw it. It’s been with you ever since. The more you learn about it, the more you dread, the more you obsess, the more you lose… You were feeding it all along.” Spencer explained.
“And why do you think we tried to protect you, dumbass? If the knowledge was harmless, we wouldn’t be around breaking the law and breaking people’s necks to prevent it from spreading.” The guy with the weapon said.
“It’s not too late, Ezra. When your father was alive, there wasn’t much we could do, but now we have technology to make them go away. But it has a cost.” Spencer explained.
“What cost?”
“You will forget your father. You will forget most about the moon and astronomy. Probably the entirety of the last few months. And there are probable side effects, like sporadic short-term amnesia.” Spencer said.
“Or we can just fucking shoot you in the forehead right now to prevent the thing from infecting more people. Your choice.” The guy with the gun said. I just turned around and ran as fast as I can towards the window behind me. I jumped out of it, shattering the glass, and fell on the hard cold concrete of the parking lot. I tried to get up, my body was all cut from the glass, and I felt something warm on my back, even though it was raining.
“Are you stupid?!” I heard the guy with the gun shouting while he and the other agent descended the staircase that led to the parking lot. I finally got up, feeling cold from the rain, and tried to run, but could only limp. Yeah, jumping out of the window like I was in an 80s action movie wasn’t the best idea. I heard another click behind me, and fell to the floor. I could see the agents running towards me, smoke coming out of the gun. There seemed to be snakes around both of them, smiling witch their human faces and several sets of sharp fangs.
I looked towards the sky. Among the raining clouds, I could see the moon above me, full and blooming. Blinking. Blinking so much.

Background: I have been at my company for nearly 5 years; company size is less than 100 people. I came in as an experienced Mechanical claims adjuster, moved up to claims supervisor, then to claims Manager over that department. About 6mo in I was taking over the IT duties for that dept. At the time we were going like a weed so it was simply setting up new workstations and registering the system on the domain, nothing hard. In 2021 they fired the guy that was handling their IT support. They have an MSP that handles 1 firewall, MS partner, and endpoint AV.
I took over IT support duties late 2021 + being Claims manager (over 50 people). My IT duties included everything from user support to reviewing/approving IT related service bills. I am even reviewing vendor contracts as our needs grow or shrink. My pay contract was structured as 35hrs Claims + 5 hrs IT = 40hrs for a base salary of $56k, I could pull up to 12hrs per week for additional IT time at a different hourly rate. I pulled over $62k for 2022 under this pay scale.
After March 2023, that claims department is no longer, our partner was going a different direction for claims adjudication and did not renew our contract.
I have been in limbo since March as to what the company wants to do with me. Right now it looks like they are wanting me to stay in my seat to take claim calls (as a claims supervisor) plus IT manager at the base pay of $56k (salary), no option for OT or additional IT pay like last contract.
Reality check: I see this is I am performing the job of IT Manager, as a one man shop. I do not want to do claims anymore. I feel that $56k is low pay for IT Manager, am I smoking crack thinking this?

I spend all of my daylight hours scared and alone in this musty old cellar.
It’s woeful, and I bet it smelled this bad even before everything around here turned to crap. Great. My second sentence and I’ve already resorted to swearing. When I decided I’d start this diary (five minutes ago when I got a tiny sliver of signal) I thought it would be my poetic and deeply-moving goodbye to the world. Maybe I’d write about love and loss, or maybe the splendour of nature. Then, when all is done and dusted, I’d have left something to be remembered by. As well as my corpse, of course.
This was a bad idea.
*
Okay, I’m an idiot. There’s nothing else I can do down here. I’ve rooted through every cardboard box a hundred times, organised and reorganised my supplies, I’ve even built a fort. So, I’m back. Hello. Again. God, this diary is going badly.
But there’s just enough light coming through the boards I nailed over the cellar’s tiny window to type by. So I may as well type. Stops me staring up at the window just waiting for a shadow to pass by.
Maybe I'll just write and not hit Submit. Right, where to start? Well, my name is – actually, I think I’m going to refer to myself as ‘X’. That sounds mysterious. If you’re reading this and want to know my real name, I still carry my purse. My railcard is in there and, if you really want to know who I am, go find me and fish it out. I won’t bite...
So, my name is X. I live in a little English village in the middle of nowhere. Before all this happened, I had a mum, a dad, a sister and there was a boy I liked, his name was Jonah.
*
I couldn’t think of anything else to write so I waited until I came back from my rounds. That’s the stupid name I have for when I go outside at night scrounging for stuff. Drinks are the hardest. I only trust bottles or cans, or did, and I was running out of places to search for them. But I guess that doesn’t matter now.
My leg is doing alright actually; didn’t hold me up at all. I saw Jonah too. He’s looked better, I have to say. It’s strange because this is only the second time I’ve seen him since we came here. Maybe his ears were burning.
Anyway, I found some tinned pineapple in a creepy old caravan I hadn’t searched yet. Had to bust the door open with Old Trusty – which I thought might attract some unwanted attention – but it was fine. I’m actually eating the pineapple right now, tastes good. I also found a radio in there. I already have three down here, but none of them work. Not that the caravan radio works either, all you get is static. It’s just nice to collect something. You know, to have a hobby.
*
I can tell the sun is rising. I managed to sleep for a couple of hours, but I woke up after a bad dream. I know some people can remember their dreams, but I never do. I wake up and grasp at them, but I never manage a hold before they fade away. It’s like trying to pinch the corner of a wisp of smoke; the harder you try, the quicker it fades to nothing. I’m just left with a sensation, a kind of imprint which sums up the most intense part of the dream.
And a cold sweat. That’s new.
*
I’ve been through the box of photo albums I found at the back of the cellar again. I’ve looked through them a few times now, but I always notice something new.
There’s a photo of this little girl playing with a pretend guitar. I can tell it’s pretend because it doesn’t have strings, only brightly-coloured plastic dials. Kind of like My First Guitar Hero or something. The girl has dark hair and she looks a tiny bit like my sister did a million years ago. I don’t have a picture of my sister. I suppose I could go and get one from my old house, but it’s right in the middle of the village. I’m lucky I wasn’t torn to shreds the last time I went back. So, what I’ve done is put this girl’s photo in my back pocket as a substitute.
I guess I should probably write something about my real sister now. But I don’t think that’s a good idea just yet.
*
Daylight is starting to fade and I’m getting ready to go out on my rounds. I always take my satchel with me, packed with useful objects. I have Old Trusty (a crowbar) which sticks out of the top for easy access, a small toolbox, a pair of heavy-duty gloves (there’s a good story about how I got those, I might write that one down later) and a hammer. I carry a penknife I found down here in my pocket, my purse and phone, and a torch in my hand.
I don’t like to use the torch because its battery is running out and there’s always the chance it might attract them. I probably shouldn’t have used it last night when I got back. Maybe I’m starting to enjoy this writing malarkey? I need to be careful with luxuries.
*
Okay, that could have gone better.
Picture the scene: I’m using Old Trusty to try and lever a kitchen window open, when one of them just walks right through the garden hedge. Seriously, straight through it. It’s not the mightiest of hedges but, still, it just appeared like it was walking through one of those Japanese paper walls. My satchel was on the ground, but I legged it anyway. I’m not stupid. I know I can go back for it tomorrow. I felt strangely naked without it on the way back here though.
Like I said before, I need to be careful with the torch so I think I’ll try and get some sleep now.
*
I slept pretty well last night; no nightmares or cold sweats. Maybe a midnight chase was just what I needed to blow away the cobwebs.
I actually woke up wondering about you. If you’re reading this, who are you? If you’re like me, living through this village nightmare, how have you managed to go this long without being killed or whatever? Maybe you’re Army or some such. Maybe you’re just some kid who’s played so many videogames that surviving all of this was already second nature to you. Or maybe you’re like me; living on borrowed time and searching for a good place to die. Maybe Future Me was brave enough to tap Submit on my diary and you're currently reading this on your phone or computer.
Here’s an idea. Maybe you can carry on this diary from wherever I left it at. God, I really hope this isn’t my last entry, although I suppose any entry might be. If you do carry the diary forwards, and I'm a corpse, maybe it will become cursed. Spooky.
*
I’ve been preparing for my next excursion.
If I know I’m going somewhere I’ll likely run into an ugly, I like to take extra precautions. And I want my satchel back. It was a present from my dad, and I know it cost him a lot of money.
So, I’m taking a pair of shears from the shelf of old tools down here. That way, if I lose Old Trusty, I’ll have a backup weapon.
If you are local, I wonder how you like to kill them? Pretty morbid question I know, but everyone around here seems to have their preferred method. The last villager I saw alive carried a pair of mini cricket bats and seemed to have bludgeoning down to an art form. He never saw me though, I was watching from a grove of trees as he killed his way along the main road near the village.
That was before I decided to stay inside during the daylight hours. We can at least see a little bit at night; ambient light and everything. They can’t though. I’ve seen them, they bump into things. It’s pretty funny to be honest. If they hear a noise, they walk in the direction of the sound, never trying to avoid any object in their path. They either bash said object out of the way, or, like that hedge, blunder right through it. Obviously bigger things stop them dead (ha!) though. If that happens, they sort of shuffle backwards and then try again a few times. Eventually – and I’ve seen this too – they just give up and stand there, waiting for something else to attract their attention.
That’s not how it works in the daytime though.
*
I think it’s about an hour before the sun sets so it’s nearly time to head out. I’m going to change my bandage. One minute.
Okay, it didn’t look that bad really. The original scratch wasn’t too deep and now the wound seems to be doing that scabbing thing I remember from normal injuries. It just doesn’t smell very good. A bit like when you walk past a bin that needs emptying.
Anyway, I’ve applied more antiseptic and redressed it. Time to go.
*
That was fun. I’m glad I had those shears with me.
I got my satchel back you’ll be happy to know. And I got inside that house I’d been trying to break into as well. More through necessity than choice in the end, but I’m pleased I did. I found more batteries! That means I can justify writing at night a bit more. In fact, the people who used to live there (I think the husband owned the local garage) were pretty well kitted out. There were a lot of tins in their cupboards, and they’d even left a shotgun. It wasn’t loaded though.
Not that I need a shotgun. I didn’t tell you this before, but I have my grandpa’s old service revolver. He always told me and my sister that it was decommissioned, but my dad apparently knew otherwise. I keep it tucked into the back of my jeans at all times. It had three bullets, one of them is gone, so only two left.
I’ll only be needing the one of course.
*
Morning. I’m feeling pretty low today. I think concentrating on getting my satchel back took my mind off things, but now I feel pretty deflated.
Surely that’s understandable? The village I knew and loved has been replaced with this sodding hell. I miss my family, my friends, TV and hot dinners and Instagram. Before all of this I was a pretty positive person. Sure, I had a bit of trouble getting up in the morning, but, once I was up, that was it. I’d meet the day’s challenges head on, try to enjoy myself as much as I could. Not today though.
Maybe if I write about Jonah I’ll cheer up. Not Jonah as he is now of course, Jonah when he was all smooth-skinned, curly-haired and bright-eyed. Now he’s like the anti-Jonah or something. His face looks like it lost a fight with an angry lobster. No, wait, I’m supposed to be writing about Jonah version one here.
He’s one of those people that I can’t remember meeting. My family has always lived around here and so there are lots of people who have just always been, if you get me. I always thought we would drunkenly get it together at a party – that’s what I’d usually do if there was a boy I liked. Classy.
*
I’ve perked up a bit. Out of sheer frustration I went upstairs (naughty, I know) and looked out of a window. Sure, I saw an ugly, wandering aimlessly as they always do, but I saw that the trees are starting to turn too. That means it’s nearly autumn, and I love autumn!
My sister and I always used to go out and kick leaves at each other in the autumn. I don’t know if it was because of her low centre of gravity, but my sister was amazing at it. She could somehow whip up a blazing whirlwind of golden-yellow and fire-red, surrounding us both in a leaf storm that I couldn’t help but flail my arms madly at. Then we’d both fall backwards into the leaves laughing, me wondering how on earth what had happened was possible. She was that good.
God, I let her down in the end.
*
I think I’ll stay away from the house with the shotgun tonight. It usually takes a day or two for a group of uglies to disperse once they’re all riled up. I could use the rest of that tinned food I suppose, but I’ve got plenty to be getting on with for now.
Instead, I think I’ll swing by another farmhouse I was scoping out before I decided to turn nocturnal. I never met the people who used to live there, but I remember Mum telling me they liked their privacy. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me visiting now though.
Also, there’s a woodland between here and there and I might be able to find some leaves to kick about a bit. I think that would make me feel close to my sister again.
I’ll check back in later.
*
I’m still alive, but only just.
I made it through the woods just fine (only the odd leaf on the forest floor at the moment though, sadly), the trouble started at the farmhouse. I couldn’t get in – the doors and windows were barricaded – so I tried one of the outbuildings. Locked. It had a cat flap though.
My first instinct was to leave it, but then I wondered if there might be something useful inside. Lord knows what thinking about it now. I lifted the cat flap with one hand and shone the torch beam through with my other. That’s when an ugly dived at my pinkies. Luckily, it misjudged its leap and got a mouthful of plastic cat flap instead. As for me, I fell backwards onto my bum.
Next, the damn thing started bashing on the door from the inside. I don’t think it could ever have got out, but the noise attracted more uglies from out of nowhere. I only just managed to outmanoeuvre them and hightail it back into the woods.
That’s not the worst of it though. On the way back my leg started to hurt. A lot.
*
I woke up this morning and I’m walking with a limp. It’s funny, Dad had a limp when he and Mum died. He was nailing planks of wood across our windows and doors because there was no signal (as per bloody usual) and we thought that what was happening here was probably happening everywhere. It's only recently that I realised this was an isolated, local outbreak. Anyway, Dad dropped the hammer onto his toe, he always was useless at DIY. I think it was only a couple of hours after that when he and Mum were taken.
It was like a wave of death. No, not like, that’s exactly what it was. A hoard of uglies swept through the village, probably originating from the secret research facility in the woods we're not supposed to know about. My sister and I wouldn’t have had a prayer if Mum and Dad hadn’t charged down the first few that got into our house. They gave us just enough time to escape, to run away and leave them to die. My sister was screaming all the way and I had to drag her like she was four again.
She wouldn’t speak to me for a few days after that. I didn’t blame her, I hated myself too. But I would have hated myself even more if I hadn’t done what I did next. On my own, I snuck back into our house with the crowbar I found here. Then I dispatched my parents. I can’t bring myself to type it any other way. It wasn’t like in the movies, I didn’t pound their skulls into mush whilst sobbing, ‘Why?’ over and over again. I just found them, or what was left of them, forced the crowbar through each of their eye sockets, and came straight back here.
Then came the crying.
*
I haven’t told you about the heavy-duty gloves yet, have I?
After I got back from our old house, my sister started speaking to me again. A shared, day-long cry will do that for sisters. Once we felt up to it, we decided to explore the parts of the farmhouse we hadn’t searched yet. All the bedrooms were empty, only a few belongings flung about the place (I suspect the previous tenants left in a hurry). The problem came when we investigated the attic. Once we’d opened the ceiling panel in the upstairs hallway, once we’d pulled the compact staircase down, I went up. My sister stood at the top of the hatchway shining the torch beam over my shoulder. And that’s when it touched me. Terrified, I fell to my left, screaming as the thing came crashing down on top of me. I was yelling things like, ‘Shoot it!’ and, ‘Run!’ but my sister was just laughing her head off. I soon realised that my attacker was in fact a shop-window mannequin.
I think the people who previously lived here must have been arty (or into some seriously freaky stuff) because the mannequin was dressed in scarves, bandannas, ties, watches – loads of things. The rest of the attic was pretty empty but at least we got the mannequin’s gloves.
*
I’m not feeling good at the moment. I’ve got a sore throat and I’ve coughed up blood a couple of times. My leg pain is getting worse too.
I don’t think I’ll go out tonight. I have enough tins left and one of them is a Full English In A Can. Sounds pretty disgusting, but intriguing at the same time. I’ve been saving it for near the end. A sort of consolation prize.
*
There are two mattresses down here. Obviously one is mine, and the other one was my sister’s. After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. I don’t have a photo of her, only Guitar Girl’s. Her bed is the only thing of hers I have left. And she didn’t even sleep in it that many times.
*
The tinned Full English was vile! You’ve got to laugh though, what else can you do?
*
I’m crying as I write this. Tears of sorrow, shame and regret.
It happened as we were searching a cottage just off of the main road. We’d used Old Trusty to get inside, and I’d rushed straight into the kitchen to find the food. We’d run out more than a day before and I was famished. My sister followed me into the kitchen, a wide grin on her pretty little face because I was sitting there with an open can of beans. Then one of them came at her from behind. I must have walked right past it on my stupid way to the cupboards. It bit into her neck and blood gushed over the tiles in a torrent. As she yelled out in agony, I leapt up and implanted the crowbar right into the thing’s skull. It crumpled to the floor, but the damage was done.
‘Don’t let me lose myself.’ That was the last thing my sister whispered to me before she passed out. Her wound was much more severe than mine is, and much closer to the brain. That seems to make it quicker. I took grandpa’s revolver from behind my back and blew her brains out.
I buried her in the back garden.
*
After my sister died I went kind of crazy. I took Old Trusty out across the fields and pulverised every ugly I could find. I don’t even remember it that well, it was just, find, kill, find, kill…
We’d only been going out in daylight before then but, in my anger, I carried on through the nights. That’s how I learned about their inability to evade in darkness. Eventually, though, one got me. I found three munching on a dead cow and ran straight at them. Took out the first two easily enough, but the third managed to scratch my leg with a bloody fingernail just before I clobbered it into oblivion. Once I realised its nail had broken the skin, it was like a switch had been flicked inside me. That’s it, I’m dead too. I lost my bloodlust and came back here.
*
If none of this had happened, I think my sister would have eventually gone into medicine. I was doing okay at College but she was top of her class at school. And she had a really kind nature too. She’d never squish any bugs that got trapped in our house; she’d get a glass, scoop the little critter up and seal it inside with a book. Then she’d take it outside and release it, even if it was a wasp.
*
I’ve decided that here’s not the place. I'll hit Submit and then I’m going to do it in those woods I wrote about; consider this diary as my Note. I’ll be able to find a nice spot to sit and look at the trees, some place that's calm and peaceful. I’m going to leave the picture of Guitar Girl in this cellar, she belongs in this house. The tree leaves will remind me of my sister more than any photo ever could anyway.
I guess all that’s left to say is thank you for listening.
I know it’s possible that no one will ever read this, but that’s not really the point is it?
Love,
X

I spend all of my daylight hours scared and alone in this musty old cellar.
It’s woeful, and I bet it smelled this bad even before everything around here turned to crap. Great. My second sentence and I’ve already resorted to swearing. When I decided I’d start this diary (five minutes ago when I got a tiny sliver of signal) I thought it would be my poetic and deeply-moving goodbye to the world. Maybe I’d write about love and loss, or maybe the splendour of nature. Then, when all is done and dusted, I’d have left something to be remembered by. As well as my corpse, of course.
This was a bad idea.
*
Okay, I’m an idiot. There’s nothing else I can do down here. I’ve rooted through every cardboard box a hundred times, organised and reorganised my supplies, I’ve even built a fort. So, I’m back. Hello. Again. God, this diary is going badly.
But there’s just enough light coming through the boards I nailed over the cellar’s tiny window to type by. So I may as well type. Stops me staring up at the window just waiting for a shadow to pass by.
Maybe I'll just write and not hit Submit. Right, where to start? Well, my name is – actually, I think I’m going to refer to myself as ‘X’. That sounds mysterious. If you’re reading this and want to know my real name, I still carry my purse. My railcard is in there and, if you really want to know who I am, go find me and fish it out. I won’t bite...
So, my name is X. I live in a little English village in the middle of nowhere. Before all this happened, I had a mum, a dad, a sister and there was a boy I liked, his name was Jonah.
*
I couldn’t think of anything else to write so I waited until I came back from my rounds. That’s the stupid name I have for when I go outside at night scrounging for stuff. Drinks are the hardest. I only trust bottles or cans, or did, and I was running out of places to search for them. But I guess that doesn’t matter now.
My leg is doing alright actually; didn’t hold me up at all. I saw Jonah too. He’s looked better, I have to say. It’s strange because this is only the second time I’ve seen him since we came here. Maybe his ears were burning.
Anyway, I found some tinned pineapple in a creepy old caravan I hadn’t searched yet. Had to bust the door open with Old Trusty – which I thought might attract some unwanted attention – but it was fine. I’m actually eating the pineapple right now, tastes good. I also found a radio in there. I already have three down here, but none of them work. Not that the caravan radio works either, all you get is static. It’s just nice to collect something. You know, to have a hobby.
*
I can tell the sun is rising. I managed to sleep for a couple of hours, but I woke up after a bad dream. I know some people can remember their dreams, but I never do. I wake up and grasp at them, but I never manage a hold before they fade away. It’s like trying to pinch the corner of a wisp of smoke; the harder you try, the quicker it fades to nothing. I’m just left with a sensation, a kind of imprint which sums up the most intense part of the dream.
And a cold sweat. That’s new.
*
I’ve been through the box of photo albums I found at the back of the cellar again. I’ve looked through them a few times now, but I always notice something new.
There’s a photo of this little girl playing with a pretend guitar. I can tell it’s pretend because it doesn’t have strings, only brightly-coloured plastic dials. Kind of like My First Guitar Hero or something. The girl has dark hair and she looks a tiny bit like my sister did a million years ago. I don’t have a picture of my sister. I suppose I could go and get one from my old house, but it’s right in the middle of the village. I’m lucky I wasn’t torn to shreds the last time I went back. So, what I’ve done is put this girl’s photo in my back pocket as a substitute.
I guess I should probably write something about my real sister now. But I don’t think that’s a good idea just yet.
*
Daylight is starting to fade and I’m getting ready to go out on my rounds. I always take my satchel with me, packed with useful objects. I have Old Trusty (a crowbar) which sticks out of the top for easy access, a small toolbox, a pair of heavy-duty gloves (there’s a good story about how I got those, I might write that one down later) and a hammer. I carry a penknife I found down here in my pocket, my purse and phone, and a torch in my hand.
I don’t like to use the torch because its battery is running out and there’s always the chance it might attract them. I probably shouldn’t have used it last night when I got back. Maybe I’m starting to enjoy this writing malarkey? I need to be careful with luxuries.
*
Okay, that could have gone better.
Picture the scene: I’m using Old Trusty to try and lever a kitchen window open, when one of them just walks right through the garden hedge. Seriously, straight through it. It’s not the mightiest of hedges but, still, it just appeared like it was walking through one of those Japanese paper walls. My satchel was on the ground, but I legged it anyway. I’m not stupid. I know I can go back for it tomorrow. I felt strangely naked without it on the way back here though.
Like I said before, I need to be careful with the torch so I think I’ll try and get some sleep now.
*
I slept pretty well last night; no nightmares or cold sweats. Maybe a midnight chase was just what I needed to blow away the cobwebs.
I actually woke up wondering about you. If you’re reading this, who are you? If you’re like me, living through this village nightmare, how have you managed to go this long without being killed or whatever? Maybe you’re Army or some such. Maybe you’re just some kid who’s played so many videogames that surviving all of this was already second nature to you. Or maybe you’re like me; living on borrowed time and searching for a good place to die. Maybe Future Me was brave enough to tap Submit on my diary and you're currently reading this on your phone or computer.
Here’s an idea. Maybe you can carry on this diary from wherever I left it at. God, I really hope this isn’t my last entry, although I suppose any entry might be. If you do carry the diary forwards, and I'm a corpse, maybe it will become cursed. Spooky.
*
I’ve been preparing for my next excursion.
If I know I’m going somewhere I’ll likely run into an ugly, I like to take extra precautions. And I want my satchel back. It was a present from my dad, and I know it cost him a lot of money.
So, I’m taking a pair of shears from the shelf of old tools down here. That way, if I lose Old Trusty, I’ll have a backup weapon.
If you are local, I wonder how you like to kill them? Pretty morbid question I know, but everyone around here seems to have their preferred method. The last villager I saw alive carried a pair of mini cricket bats and seemed to have bludgeoning down to an art form. He never saw me though, I was watching from a grove of trees as he killed his way along the main road near the village.
That was before I decided to stay inside during the daylight hours. We can at least see a little bit at night; ambient light and everything. They can’t though. I’ve seen them, they bump into things. It’s pretty funny to be honest. If they hear a noise, they walk in the direction of the sound, never trying to avoid any object in their path. They either bash said object out of the way, or, like that hedge, blunder right through it. Obviously bigger things stop them dead (ha!) though. If that happens, they sort of shuffle backwards and then try again a few times. Eventually – and I’ve seen this too – they just give up and stand there, waiting for something else to attract their attention.
That’s not how it works in the daytime though.
*
I think it’s about an hour before the sun sets so it’s nearly time to head out. I’m going to change my bandage. One minute.
Okay, it didn’t look that bad really. The original scratch wasn’t too deep and now the wound seems to be doing that scabbing thing I remember from normal injuries. It just doesn’t smell very good. A bit like when you walk past a bin that needs emptying.
Anyway, I’ve applied more antiseptic and redressed it. Time to go.
*
That was fun. I’m glad I had those shears with me.
I got my satchel back you’ll be happy to know. And I got inside that house I’d been trying to break into as well. More through necessity than choice in the end, but I’m pleased I did. I found more batteries! That means I can justify writing at night a bit more. In fact, the people who used to live there (I think the husband owned the local garage) were pretty well kitted out. There were a lot of tins in their cupboards, and they’d even left a shotgun. It wasn’t loaded though.
Not that I need a shotgun. I didn’t tell you this before, but I have my grandpa’s old service revolver. He always told me and my sister that it was decommissioned, but my dad apparently knew otherwise. I keep it tucked into the back of my jeans at all times. It had three bullets, one of them is gone, so only two left.
I’ll only be needing the one of course.
*
Morning. I’m feeling pretty low today. I think concentrating on getting my satchel back took my mind off things, but now I feel pretty deflated.
Surely that’s understandable? The village I knew and loved has been replaced with this sodding hell. I miss my family, my friends, TV and hot dinners and Instagram. Before all of this I was a pretty positive person. Sure, I had a bit of trouble getting up in the morning, but, once I was up, that was it. I’d meet the day’s challenges head on, try to enjoy myself as much as I could. Not today though.
Maybe if I write about Jonah I’ll cheer up. Not Jonah as he is now of course, Jonah when he was all smooth-skinned, curly-haired and bright-eyed. Now he’s like the anti-Jonah or something. His face looks like it lost a fight with an angry lobster. No, wait, I’m supposed to be writing about Jonah version one here.
He’s one of those people that I can’t remember meeting. My family has always lived around here and so there are lots of people who have just always been, if you get me. I always thought we would drunkenly get it together at a party – that’s what I’d usually do if there was a boy I liked. Classy.
*
I’ve perked up a bit. Out of sheer frustration I went upstairs (naughty, I know) and looked out of a window. Sure, I saw an ugly, wandering aimlessly as they always do, but I saw that the trees are starting to turn too. That means it’s nearly autumn, and I love autumn!
My sister and I always used to go out and kick leaves at each other in the autumn. I don’t know if it was because of her low centre of gravity, but my sister was amazing at it. She could somehow whip up a blazing whirlwind of golden-yellow and fire-red, surrounding us both in a leaf storm that I couldn’t help but flail my arms madly at. Then we’d both fall backwards into the leaves laughing, me wondering how on earth what had happened was possible. She was that good.
God, I let her down in the end.
*
I think I’ll stay away from the house with the shotgun tonight. It usually takes a day or two for a group of uglies to disperse once they’re all riled up. I could use the rest of that tinned food I suppose, but I’ve got plenty to be getting on with for now.
Instead, I think I’ll swing by another farmhouse I was scoping out before I decided to turn nocturnal. I never met the people who used to live there, but I remember Mum telling me they liked their privacy. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me visiting now though.
Also, there’s a woodland between here and there and I might be able to find some leaves to kick about a bit. I think that would make me feel close to my sister again.
I’ll check back in later.
*
I’m still alive, but only just.
I made it through the woods just fine (only the odd leaf on the forest floor at the moment though, sadly), the trouble started at the farmhouse. I couldn’t get in – the doors and windows were barricaded – so I tried one of the outbuildings. Locked. It had a cat flap though.
My first instinct was to leave it, but then I wondered if there might be something useful inside. Lord knows what thinking about it now. I lifted the cat flap with one hand and shone the torch beam through with my other. That’s when an ugly dived at my pinkies. Luckily, it misjudged its leap and got a mouthful of plastic cat flap instead. As for me, I fell backwards onto my bum.
Next, the damn thing started bashing on the door from the inside. I don’t think it could ever have got out, but the noise attracted more uglies from out of nowhere. I only just managed to outmanoeuvre them and hightail it back into the woods.
That’s not the worst of it though. On the way back my leg started to hurt. A lot.
*
I woke up this morning and I’m walking with a limp. It’s funny, Dad had a limp when he and Mum died. He was nailing planks of wood across our windows and doors because there was no signal (as per bloody usual) and we thought that what was happening here was probably happening everywhere. It's only recently that I realised this was an isolated, local outbreak. Anyway, Dad dropped the hammer onto his toe, he always was useless at DIY. I think it was only a couple of hours after that when he and Mum were taken.
It was like a wave of death. No, not like, that’s exactly what it was. A hoard of uglies swept through the village, probably originating from the secret research facility in the woods we're not supposed to know about. My sister and I wouldn’t have had a prayer if Mum and Dad hadn’t charged down the first few that got into our house. They gave us just enough time to escape, to run away and leave them to die. My sister was screaming all the way and I had to drag her like she was four again.
She wouldn’t speak to me for a few days after that. I didn’t blame her, I hated myself too. But I would have hated myself even more if I hadn’t done what I did next. On my own, I snuck back into our house with the crowbar I found here. Then I dispatched my parents. I can’t bring myself to type it any other way. It wasn’t like in the movies, I didn’t pound their skulls into mush whilst sobbing, ‘Why?’ over and over again. I just found them, or what was left of them, forced the crowbar through each of their eye sockets, and came straight back here.
Then came the crying.
*
I haven’t told you about the heavy-duty gloves yet, have I?
After I got back from our old house, my sister started speaking to me again. A shared, day-long cry will do that for sisters. Once we felt up to it, we decided to explore the parts of the farmhouse we hadn’t searched yet. All the bedrooms were empty, only a few belongings flung about the place (I suspect the previous tenants left in a hurry). The problem came when we investigated the attic. Once we’d opened the ceiling panel in the upstairs hallway, once we’d pulled the compact staircase down, I went up. My sister stood at the top of the hatchway shining the torch beam over my shoulder. And that’s when it touched me. Terrified, I fell to my left, screaming as the thing came crashing down on top of me. I was yelling things like, ‘Shoot it!’ and, ‘Run!’ but my sister was just laughing her head off. I soon realised that my attacker was in fact a shop-window mannequin.
I think the people who previously lived here must have been arty (or into some seriously freaky stuff) because the mannequin was dressed in scarves, bandannas, ties, watches – loads of things. The rest of the attic was pretty empty but at least we got the mannequin’s gloves.
*
I’m not feeling good at the moment. I’ve got a sore throat and I’ve coughed up blood a couple of times. My leg pain is getting worse too.
I don’t think I’ll go out tonight. I have enough tins left and one of them is a Full English In A Can. Sounds pretty disgusting, but intriguing at the same time. I’ve been saving it for near the end. A sort of consolation prize.
*
There are two mattresses down here. Obviously one is mine, and the other one was my sister’s. After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. I don’t have a photo of her, only Guitar Girl’s. Her bed is the only thing of hers I have left. And she didn’t even sleep in it that many times.
*
The tinned Full English was vile! You’ve got to laugh though, what else can you do?
*
I’m crying as I write this. Tears of sorrow, shame and regret.
It happened as we were searching a cottage just off of the main road. We’d used Old Trusty to get inside, and I’d rushed straight into the kitchen to find the food. We’d run out more than a day before and I was famished. My sister followed me into the kitchen, a wide grin on her pretty little face because I was sitting there with an open can of beans. Then one of them came at her from behind. I must have walked right past it on my stupid way to the cupboards. It bit into her neck and blood gushed over the tiles in a torrent. As she yelled out in agony, I leapt up and implanted the crowbar right into the thing’s skull. It crumpled to the floor, but the damage was done.
‘Don’t let me lose myself.’ That was the last thing my sister whispered to me before she passed out. Her wound was much more severe than mine is, and much closer to the brain. That seems to make it quicker. I took grandpa’s revolver from behind my back and blew her brains out.
I buried her in the back garden.
*
After my sister died I went kind of crazy. I took Old Trusty out across the fields and pulverised every ugly I could find. I don’t even remember it that well, it was just, find, kill, find, kill…
We’d only been going out in daylight before then but, in my anger, I carried on through the nights. That’s how I learned about their inability to evade in darkness. Eventually, though, one got me. I found three munching on a dead cow and ran straight at them. Took out the first two easily enough, but the third managed to scratch my leg with a bloody fingernail just before I clobbered it into oblivion. Once I realised its nail had broken the skin, it was like a switch had been flicked inside me. That’s it, I’m dead too. I lost my bloodlust and came back here.
*
If none of this had happened, I think my sister would have eventually gone into medicine. I was doing okay at College but she was top of her class at school. And she had a really kind nature too. She’d never squish any bugs that got trapped in our house; she’d get a glass, scoop the little critter up and seal it inside with a book. Then she’d take it outside and release it, even if it was a wasp.
*
I’ve decided that here’s not the place. I'll hit Submit and then I’m going to do it in those woods I wrote about; consider this diary as my Note. I’ll be able to find a nice spot to sit and look at the trees, some place that's calm and peaceful. I’m going to leave the picture of Guitar Girl in this cellar, she belongs in this house. The tree leaves will remind me of my sister more than any photo ever could anyway.
I guess all that’s left to say is thank you for listening.
I know it’s possible that no one will ever read this, but that’s not really the point is it?
Love,
X

https://postimg.cc/BtQXQ0TK before
https://postimg.cc/jw8qJDHJ after
imgur kept taking down my links so changed to postimg
Background: Currently mid 30s, 5'10 and 150 lbs , struggled with gyno for a good 10+years (acne/scarring is another issue but honestly does not bother me as much). Used to lift seriously (weight 200+) but stopped in recent years. I never seriously considered gyno surgery as it is expensive and I felt that cutting out a portion of my tissue would somehow cause me to die much earlier so was never really motivated to pursue the surgery. I have tried stand alone cycles of SERMs (Nolva and Ralox) with varying results. Ultimately the gyno always came back even if there was some minor benefit from the cycles so I knew it was unsustainable in the long run.
I shopped around for quotes from the top rated mentioned surgeons on reddit and most of the quotes were really high ($10k-$16k...). I felt that my case was minor and didn't want to spend that much on something I wasn't that passionate about. I eventually came upon posts from others who have went with Dr. Braithwaite (Chicago) and was shocked that the price was so low (most quotes I seen were ~$2-3k range). The before/afters looked great so I went ahead and ended up getting a virtual consultation with Dr. Braithwaite and got a quote after a brief video call confirming my gyno ($3,200 total for gyno surgery + minor lipo; my cost is on the lower end as my case is not major). The main reason the surgery price is lower than most is because there is only local anesthesia administered. I had my consult mid March and was able to book my appointment for end of May. Overall out of pocket cost for me was the cost of my flights, one night hotel stay, and any public transport to and from the airport (I flew in to O'Hare, you can easily take public transport and walk if you want to save cash). I became ultra paranoid that someone was brush into me cause me to bleed internally so I ended up just taking Uber on the way back.
Office visit: I arrived early the day of surgery and waited until my surgery time slot to see the Dr. Based on his assessment, the Dr. indicated that he would also lipo a portion of my upper chest near my armpit as I had some irregular fat stores there (probably because I used to be much bigger).
The surgery itself was fine. The Dr. and his staff were very friendly. The most painful portion of the surgery was the initial shots to administer the local anesthesia, especially into sensitive tissue. All of the surgical work was done through the incisions made on my areola. The fat was first all scraped out to more easily separate the gland. The scraping was a bit uncomfortable especially as some of the fat taken near my armpit area was not fully numb but that was to be expected. The most mentally horrifying part of the surgery was the gland removal. The gland is removed and cauterized at the same time, so from a sensory perspective you can hear the revving of the cauterizer, smell your tissue being cooked from the cauterizer as it is also being carved from your body, and you can see the smoke (or vapor from the cauterizer) from your gland being burned. The combination caused me to freak out internally so I closed my eyes and focused on breathing through my mouth. Only other odd portions is sometimes you get shocked or slight burn from the cauterizer as the local anesthesia isn't perfect but if you are in pain the Dr. adjusts. The surgery was certainly not quick but overall I think it went smooth (not that I have any other experience). The resulting gland removal was pretty big for me relatively as my body is overall small. Not much fat was removed as I guess my chest before had a small amount of fat and gland in the worst positions to cause my chest to just look disgusting. Note that there are no drainage tubes here with as the thought process here is that the fluids will naturally dissipate over time and avoids the risk of drainage tubes/additional aspirations needed. Seromas forming is part of the healing process - I am not OCD and based on my reading of everyone's experiences, I understand I may have scar tissue or false alarms that the gland has come back, but in looking at my nipples I do not think there is much chance my glands can make a comeback unless I started blasting.
The follow up appointment was the next day to mainly see if there was any internal bleeding. I was very worried the night before as my armpit area became more bloody and filled with fluid, but the Dr. assured me that was normal from lipo and it was only filling because the compression vest was constricting the fluids. I ended up having some foam inserts added to the armpit area to attempt to alleviate the constriction from my armpit area.
Results: The before photo is the morning before the operation. The after photo is the day after. Most important things to note from the after photo is that my bottom chest looks indented because that is where the compression vest is most compacted/ends. Also the chest right above the indent is actually filled with fluid- that isn't my actual pec (I am swollen, not swole). I am confident this will even out once the fluid disappears as based on even the current look, I should be able to wear anything I want once I heal so I'm not worried if there is a small imperfection that may remain after all is said and done. I just want to heal as fast as possible and not get caught up in the details before the process finishes. I trust the process and know that healing will take months. The look of my areolas is already a night and day difference
Feel free to ask me any questions, I have still yet to process what a change this is but I am already pretty sure this is going to be one of the best things I have ever done for myself. There simply isn't a better price point for quality that I am aware of for a US gyno specialist. Right now my main concern is to avoid getting any hematomas because dealing with that would be too stressful, so I am trying to avoid going outside and just taking it easy for the next week.

Original prompt: [WP] As a top dungeon master of one of the underworld’s many hells a competitor challenges you with a new charge. However every punishment has failed. They swam the lake of fire unharmed. And turned the 7th circle into anger management. You interrogate the newcomer. (link)
Entertainment definitely isn't the first thing that comes to mind when people think about eternal damnation, but damn if it wasn't important. Even tormented souls could end up getting bored if left in the same agonizing torture for too long, and boredom led to complacency that led to... well, not suffering as much. It was doubly important for management, as we didn't even have the thrill of being eaten by wasps or having the flesh burned off our bodies to keep us busy. As such, among the dungeon masters of the underworld, there was something of a competition to see who could come up with the most dastardly torment for the wretched spawn left in our "care", with some token prizes for being the nastiest and most creative.
I was currently the champion, the sheer variety of torments I managed to pack into my domain was beyond compare. After all, who else had the sheer sadistic wherewithal to expose victims to (warning: yuck)steadily increasing temperatures while covered in acid-spitting maggots, such that the creatures burrowed into the flesh of the victims before dying and rapidly decaying within their flesh?. Still, I did admire the gumption of some of my coworkers.
As it happened, during one busy day of orchestrating torments, I received a message. The standard manner of sending messages was, of course, to brand them into the flesh of a damned soul then fire them from a cannon or catapult to their intended destination. This too was something of a competition, and it was impressive that I actually had to duck to avoid being plonked in the head by the flailing body.
The message itself was of interest as well. Lord Carbine had apparently had trouble with a soul who seemed immune to torture. It had even been causing quite a lot of problems for her because of the way she went about tormenting those under her watch. I actually considered Carbine one of my greatest rivals, her idea of creating an entire mini-society designed to drove those within it to constant stress and paranoia was downright diabolical, if a bit of a slow burn. Hell, it also meant her victims were basically torturing each other for the most part, so she had plenty of free time. Still, I assumed it would be a rather simple request, and branded the word "ACCEPT" across the messenger's groin, right below the long and elaborate message that had been etched into his torso.
Obviously he cried out in agony, especially when my minions dragged him to the cannon on his already-broken ankles, but I went about my business as usual. Really, he should've considered this before he murdered all those people.
When the new arrival entered, he wasn't delivered from the ferry in chains like most souls, nor did he float up from the inky wells as one who fell from the neutral zone would. No, he fell from the sky, most likely due to being fired from a message cannon.
Strangely, he wasn't screaming, but was shouting "WHEEEEEEEE" as he flew through the air. He struck the ground hard, but quickly started laughing as the dust cleared. No injuries, not even a scratch on his exposed skin. I quickly gestured for my minions to grab him, and began throwing him into various tortures.
The hall of blades did nothing, they just poked his skin without doing any damage. Given that he reacted by laughing, I had to assume he was ticklish as well. The pit of centipedes just skittered across him without actually biting or stinging him. In fact, he started falling asleep before he was dragged out. The lake of fire didn't do anything, for some reason the viscous fluid just didn't stick. The Kremlocks didn't try to stab him with their jagged spears, disembowel him, or even kick up some game involving throwing things at him, instead they apparently decided to start a musical number. Even the acid-spitting maggots just sort of gave him an exfoliation treatment instead of tormenting him.
Finally, I'd seen enough. Days of planning and failed torture, and now hours of frustration, it was time to bring out the last resort: Talking to him like an actual human being. My minions dragged him down to a meeting room, leaving him with a glass of water. It was salt water, of course, but he didn't seem to mind.
I left him for an hour to let him stew before entering, but he still seemed quite chipper when I arrived.
"So... you're the soul that's been giving everyone trouble?" I asked. Rhetorically, of course.
"Trouble? I don't want to cause trouble for anybody," he said. "Also, the name's John."
"Then why don't any of the punishments seem to work on you?" I asked.
"Oh, because I'm not meant to be here," John said.
"Right, you and every other soul in this place. Turns out nobody belongs in hell, who knew?" I said.
"I'm sure that's what they say, but I'm serious. I'm not here for torment, so the torment won't affect me. I just came to deliver a message. Is there an Oscar Cromwell around?" John asked.
"Oscar Cromwell? That was my name back when I was alive," I said. "I go by Dredge now."
"Ah, how fortunate! Claudia Cromwell had a message for you," John said.
"My mother? Is she here somewhere?" I asked.
"Oh no, she's my next door neighbor up in the Sunnyvale province of heaven, but she wanted to extend an invitation to you to her birthday... last week. Oh dear, it seems I got a little distracted..." John said. "I'm sure she'd still love to see you though."
"Wait, we can get deliveries from heaven down here?" I asked.
"Oh yes, but it's quite rare for those up above to send things down here," he said. "Honestly, it took me a few days to even realize you were down here, I'd assumed you must've been in purgatory given that Claudia was your mother."
"Okay, putting those rather rude presumptions aside: I might be management, but I'm still in hell. How exactly would I go about visiting heaven?" I asked.
"Oh, the invitation will bring you there," he said, handing me a postcard bearing the image of an idyllic small town. The words "wish you were here" were printed across it in a generic faux-cursive font. "Anyway, I've got to go, I've got more deliveries I was meant to have done days ago!"
With that, John left the room and began jogging outside. He put his fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle as he ran, a Pegasus flying down alongside him after a minute. John hopped onto the winged horse's back, and the two flew off into the sky.
I just stood there, quietly pondering exactly how a postcard was meant to get me to Sunnyvale. The material of the card appeared to be standard laminated paper and ink. Finally, I turned it over and found a small diagram of a door. It showed the card being used to swipe some kind of scanner next to the door, a scanner which didn't exist on any door in my region of hell. Visiting my mother was something I definitely wanted to do, she'd been dead for almost thirty years before I bit the big one and it had been years still since then, but it looked like it might have been difficult to do.
I already had business with other dungeon masters, so I made a mental note to check if any of them had scanners on doors within their domains. Then I came up with a strange plan, and swiped the card through the latch on the door, as if I was trying to break in. The door opened to a small suburban town, where people seemed to be going about whatever business they had. Since my wyvern was already being prepared to pick me up from other lands and could hopefully find his way to the heavens, I stepped through.
The people around immediately reacted to my presence, and not in particularly pleasant manner. Most politely averted their eyes from my nearly naked frame, as the loincloth I was wearing didn't leave much to the imagination, and the symbols painted on my skin didn't exactly make for a modest appearance. Some coughed or visibly held their breath as they got close to me, the acrid smell of the hells easily marking me as someone who didn't belong. It seemed the stench of several types of smoke, a cornucopia of harsh chemicals, burning tar, brimstone, and decay just didn't belong in the heavens.
Still, I asked one of the locals where to find Claudia Cromwell, and they pointed down the street toward a flower shop. A man was standing in front of the shop, a random townsperson who seemed to be pondering whether he wanted to enter or not. I simply shoved him aside, though instead of falling over he just slid along the ground on the soles of his shoes.
"My, how rude," I heard the man say as he walked over to the nearby bakery to ponder that instead. I could smell the delicious pastries inside from where I stood, but I didn't want to leave the pits unattended too long.
I ignored the comment and entered the shop. The door was far lighter than I thought it would be, so it swung wide and slammed against the doorstop under the force of my push. Everyone inside the shop jolted at my entry, which was a little embarrassing.
"Hello? Can we help you, sir?" the woman running the shop asked. She looked to be in her forties, but I recognized her immediately.
"Mom?" I asked. "Sorry, I missed the party."
"Oscar? My you've... changed," she said, clearly somewhat bothered by my general state of being.
"I was ten years old last time you saw me, so I'd certainly hope so," I said.
"Honey? Is this the son I've heard so much about?" asked a man wearing an apron emblazoned with the shop's logo.
"Ah, yes dear, this is little Oscar..." Claudia said. "Oscar, this is Richard. I know it might be a shock to see me with someone besides your father, but-"
"Oh no, dad's burning in hell right now. In fact, last time I saw him, that drunken lout was in Carbine's funhouse fighting to protect a Hawaiian shirt he didn't even like," I said with a chuckle. "I would've been more surprised if you'd held out this long waiting for him."
To be fair, that Hawaiian shirt was one of the nicer pieces of clothing the deprived populace of the funhouse had, but I still found it hilariously ironic since he'd always thought Hawaiian shirts were extremely tacky.
"Oscar! That's your father you're talking about!" my mother said.
"Sorry mom, but he didn't make any effort to hide what a shitty dude he was once you were gone. By the time I'd gotten news he'd drunk himself to death, I was just glad I wouldn't have to deal with him any more," I said.
"Oh, Oscar..." mom said.
She paused to process what I'd just said, but I felt like I needed to clear something up.
"Also, I'm not really Oscar anymore. These days I go by Dungeon Master Dredge, Lord of the Thirty-Third Pit of Hell, and/or Champion of Torment. Suffice to say, things didn't get much better after I left home," I said.
"Oh no... I'm so sorry, Oscar," my mother said, wrapping her arms around me. I carefully returned the hug, mindful of the fact that I wasn't sure whether I had some kind of super-strength or something. I could feel the shaking of her sobbing and tears dripping down my bare skin.
"It's okay, mom. On the bright side, I kept my nose clean and my chin high," I said. "...And hey, who knows? This town seems a bit sleepy to me, maybe I did get my eternal reward and torturing evil souls is just the purpose I was always looking for."
My mother released me from the hug, sniffling as she looked at me with red puffy eyes. "I-it's still good to see you, Oscar," she said. She quietly composed herself, drying her face and taking a look around the room. "Things have been good around here... I finally got to open that flower shop I always wanted... Oh, I should probably start introducing you to everyone. There's Sarah in the back there, Tim near the petunias..."
As she listed off more names, attempting to introduce everyone in the building to me, I noticed the clock on the wall.
"Uh oh, sorry mom. I'm supposed to talk to Dungeon Master Crack about some soul transfers in an hour," I said. "I've got to get moving or I'll be late."
"Okay, well don't let me keep you..." she said. "But make sure you come back sometime! I expect to properly catch up with my baby boy, and give you a taste of all the delicious goodies we've got around here!"
"Sure thing, mom. But maybe you should swing by the underworld next time, apparently the punishments are kind of fun if you're not meant to suffer from them," I said, waving as I left.
As I ran down the street, I raised my hand into the air and snapped my fingers. The sound hit the street like the clap of thunder, and my wyvern descended from the sky. Honestly, I'd assumed I would have to walk home, but it seemed that on this occasion, things had actually turned out right.

SBI but mostly bedrockbros.
Apocalypse Stories all SbI, Tommy-centric, or BedrockBros.
I'll put down my roots when I'm dead
“I had a little brother. He’s dead.” Wilbur mumbled, and Phil’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry, mate.” he said. Wilbur swallowed. “It’s fine. It was a while ago.” “How long ago, if you don't mind me asking?” Wilbur looked back at Phil. “A month.” Phil’s eyes widened. He inhaled sharply. That's not a while ago.
or
SBI in a zombie apocalypse
Endure and Survive
Short but is a mix of bedrock bros, Technodad, and Ranboo. It's short and sweet.
“You’re lyin’ to me,” the man said before Tommy could walk out the door. “Aren’t you? I know most groups scoutin’ the area around here, but none of them had a kid with them last time I checked. Unless your group’s not from around here and you 'wandered off' a bit further than anticipated—”
“Fuck off,” Tommy interrupted. “I don’t want to join your stupid group so you can stop trying to talk me into it. I’m better off on my own, anyway.” The man blinked at him, his mouth hung slightly open, but no words came out.
“I’m not part of any group. I’m on my own, too,” the man answered. “You just…you remind me of myself,” he added quietly. Tommy had to strain his ears to hear it.
Or: Tommy and Ranboo are, respectively, suffering during the apocalypse. Techno takes them under his wing.
Brain Dead in the Apocalypse
“Shush, old man. Quiet.” He hissed out, “I’m going for a… walk. I’ll find you two later. Thanks, for- uh, taking care of me, I guess? But also you overstepped my boundaries, like by a thousand times. So I’d appreciate it if you fucked off.” He crossed his arms, letting his bat lean against his leg as he leveled them all with a glare.
“You liked it when I was carrying you—“ Techno, like the fucking bitch he was, decided to throw onto the table. His lips pulled up into a smug smile as Tommy recoiled backwards, feeling his cheeks flush.
“Y-you’ve got it wrong! I fucking hate you, and Phil! The only reason I've stuck around this long is to grace the two of you with my company! I take it all back, neither of you are my idols and I hate you fucking bitches and I never want to see your ugly faces again—“ Tommy rambled, his voice going a couple of pitches higher against his will. Fucking puberty.
“But you said I was your favorite?” Techno innocently asked, “You never acted like this whenever I hold you while you shiver away, clinging onto me like a little baby bird.”
Or Tommy is an infamous villain who attracts the attention of the Syndicate in the apocalypse.
BDITA is one of my top three apocalypse fics because I really don't like zombie apocalypse fics normally. I usually hate them. But BMAF Tommyinnit in a zombie apocalyptic, I at least have to give it a chance and read it.
These are the other ones that are in my top three.
Forged in Blood and Bones
Tommy was just an orphan when the fucking zombie apocalypse hits. He doesn't expect to find a family during end-times, but here we are.
I can't choose which of the two come in slot two. But I'm leading towards "Thats my kid" it's definitely one of the best and the author doesn't give themselves enough credit.
That's my Kid, That's my Sunrise
When the apocalypse started Tommy thought he was going to die the first week. Turns out he lasted longer and with a little companion with him. Or Tommy and shroud the spider but add some angst (of course fluff as well)
[Rough start btw! My writing has improved since then I swear!]
I don't feel like it has a rough start, but it's good
Tainted Love
Thomas Theseus Innit was only 5 when the zombie apocalypse started, 7 when his parents both lost their lives to the weirdly smart and athletic zombies.
Now here he was; after years of surviving on his own, wondering if his decision to go into this strangely abandoned city was a good one.
Especially since the place holds a few walkers way too sentient for his liking, and why won’t they leave him alone? Or His awakening wasn't so peaceful.
The first thing he noticed was that burning feeling that clung to his skin the moment he entered the city.
Like he was being watched.
Then he realized how dark it was. It must still be night, but the soft moonlight that acted as his only comfort was now gone, replaced by a tall shadow. Tommy was confused for a moment, until the shadow moved.
He was up in an instant, whipping around to look at the bedroom window behind him.
There, squating on the apartment buildings fire escape, was a zombie.
It was right up against the glass, rapid breath causing it to fog from its proximity.
It’s blood shot eyes staring right at him.
SBI Zombie Apocalypse AU
This is a Sleepy Bois Inc and Co Zombie Apocalypse au. Basically I write out my interpretation of events that happen in the au and we vibe. They may be a little out of character but shrugs they probably act different in an apocalypse anyway let me live.
The description for the two part series is kinda shit but the actual stories aren't bad at all and are a good read. Again typically hate any and all apocalypse stories but I can read a decent amount.
All the lonely people
Two people lost after the end of the world. One is a boy, confused and scared, missing his older brother and only guardian. The other is a man, on the edge of losing his mind. Together they find each other and find what they are missing. Family.
My favorite duo Bedrock bros, but technodad/dadnoblade version, I've read all 150 tabs of Technoblade & Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF) No regrets I do it every couple of weeks because there are always new ones.
Big boys don't cry (even when they should
Hack, slash, hide. Technoblade was quite an expert at this whole apocalypse thing already. It was some time already after all.
Maybe six years? At least three since he had to start gathering things by himself. But Technoblade was proud to be the Provider in his little family. Heaven’s know that Wilbur wouldn’t be able to do half the shit Techno was doing.
Or: Technoblade centric zombie au. I promise, it's a GOOD ENDING, and no, Techno does not die
Honestly no my favorite read but it's still good and could be to someone else's taste. It's just not mine.
Zombie hunting is not an approved camp activity
Building a zombie apocalypse team is hard work, they have to be ready for absolutely anything the apocalypse can throw at them.
So when the apocalypse arrived, Technoblade was displeased to discover his team consisted of himself, three 13 year olds with exactly zero life preservation skills, and a broken figurine of an obscure comic book hero lovingly named Micheal.
When a zombie eventually takes him out, he's going to fist fight whoever decided that these were fair odds.
AKA Techno is a moody teen who hates kids but there's an apocalypse and suddenly he's in charge of three of them, they are the bane of his existence but they are also so small and he would die before he lets them get hurt.
10 out of 10 would recommend. This was a nice long one shot that is absolutely worth the read and probably a reread.
Vampire/Fledgling stories
What did he think about the blood
It's a series called kind smiles accompanied by crimson eyes.
They were one family of sadistic fucks, and that warmed Phil's heart.
OR
Wilbur takes his little brother hunting for the first time.
Behind the restaurant
Tommy's Sir decided to leave him, so now he gets his own food. And so one evening, Past the place where he usually steals from people, a strange looking rich pink-haired man walks, This is Tommy's best chance to earn his own food in weeks.
Or Tommy lives on the street and steals from everyone he sees, until he stumbles upon a rich vampire who seems to know where his Sire is.
Short and sweet story that I recommend if you're looking for a quick read.
I'll send my best regards
It's a 3 part series that I also highly recommend.
New Child Acquired
The Land of His Brothers
Tommy held his breath, his eyes squeezing shut. His feet were placed back on the ground, the hand loosed on his neck, hovering there, barely touching...
He opened his eyes, and looked up at the creature. It was staring at him, he couldn’t make out the emotion on its human-like face. Its golden eyes glistened, piercing, as they met eye to eye.
Finally, after a long moment it spoke, “Hullo.”
Or
There's a lack of Vampire fics in this Fandom and some of ya'll need some good parental figures in your lives.
The ending kinda sucks but it's an ending none the less and over all its a good read.socks.
What Are We Waiting For
“This is probably the worst cell they’ve tried to keep me in,” Tommy says out loud, mostly to himself. The other vampire at least shifts like he heard Tommy.
“I mean really, they’ve got you all chained up, but what about me? You’re big and all, but I doubt you could take me in a fight. I’m the best and biggest man out there, nothing can compare. You would really think that people would learn from their mistakes,” Tommy sighs. He pulls his knees up to his chest and sets his head on them. The humans had interrupted his sleep.
“I don’t think you could beat me in a fight,” the other vampire says after a minute, his voice sounding rough. It’s almost like he had been screaming.
“No, I definitely could. It’s not even a competition,” Tommy says, puffing his chest out. That one earns him a soft snort.
New Moon
“I need your help to kill a vampire,” He mumbles under his breath, his chest rapidly taking in air as his heart pounds in his chest, “Alright? There. Now let me go.”
Techno hums, his hands slowly unwrapping from around his neck, though one lingers. He pushes his chin up with one hand, trialing a finger down his neck with the other. Tommy shivers at the touch, being reminded that the guy in front of him is a fucking vampire.
“Who, little witch?” He croons, goosebumps running up along his arms as Techno stops at his pulse point, no doubt feeling how fast his heart was beating.
Or Tommy is a lonely witch that falls right into the hands of three waiting vampires.
It was one of the better vampire stories and a worth it read plus it's part of a series of different stories.
Soulmate-Alternate Universe
Soul Paint
Tommy remembered a time when his skin was painted with the marks of those, he knew, loved him. Until the day he realized they faded.
Exile Canon Divergence fic, where Tommy realizes the soul marks, shared with his family and friends, have disappeared. He’s convinced he’s become unlovable. His family tries to fix that.
Smoke fills the lungs
Dandelions represented rebirth, the first sign of life that sprouted after a harsh winter. So Tommy couldn't help but believe as those same petals spilled from his mouth that maybe he needed to die before he was someone worthy of love.
Or Exile BedrockBros Soulmate/Hanahaki AU
This is one of my favorite soulmate fics. It does include hanahaki in it, my guilty pleasure is Hanahaki, Major character death. Or neglected Tommyinnit fics.
I will look for you as the sun rises higher
What is your heart's true desire?
What is it that you really want?
The question was asked too often by people that the gods decided to lend an ear.
Thus, soulmates were created.
OR
MCD March prompt #15: 'Hold still' with bedrockbros
Another favorite I recommend to read. It's short and sweet.
Withered Feathers
Tommy is a crime fighting vigilante by night. By day, he's a tired café worker. He ignores the wither rose and feather on his back. It's not important, his soulmates will come when they come. He needs to focus. The Syndicate is an ever looming threat for his vigilante persona. And his life outside of it is complicated as a nearing-adult pretending to be almost 20.
This story definitely could have put more focus on the soulmate aspect and be more descriptive in my opinion but it's not a bad read.
You're on your own kid )you always have been)
6,000 words and absolutely one of my if not my favorite bedrockbros soulmate fics. It's a good read and I've reread it a million times.
Branded Hearts and Golden Anchors
Everyone had at least one soulmate in Tommy’s world and everyone, par a select few, yearned for the day that words would begin to appear across their body, showing just what their soulmate thought of them, after all it showed only if it was utterly and completely true in their heart. It was how you knew you had met them because nobody could form a proper opinion of someone they had never met, right?
Yet maybe some could.
When Tommy was born, pink and screaming, a singular word scrawled across his heart, it’s ink black and damning with promise.
Mine.
OR: A possessive SBI soulmate AU
It gets dark towards the end, like real dark but not exactly dead dove do not eat. But in my opinion if you're more sensitive you might think that should be a tag.
As God Looks On in Abject Apathy
Technoblade was the blood god, he had no need for a soulmate. He fought and he killed without discrimination, he was something unholy, something monstrous, something made from blood. He had no need for weakness, for a soulmate.
Tommy dies on the battlefield. He dies young and bloody, with no soulmark, no soulmate.
Another favorite probably equal or more of a favorite than "you're on your own (you always have been)" highly recommend.
I Loved You Like The Sun
It had been hard, at first. To accept that they wanted him.
That he wanted him.
But they would wait as long as it took.
Tommy was theirs after all.
Or
(Platonic) SoulmateAu with AngelDuo fluff.
Oh, and TwinsDuo are there.
And it's a FosterAu.
It's so cute and is about angel duo and I just can't help but like it.
Brave face, talk so lightly, hide the truth
Tommy's never been real big on the whole soulmate thing, if he does have a soulmate they're probably not a huge fan of him due to the times he gets punched in the face or runs into tables. What he doesn't expect is his foster-brother, Wilbur, to be his soulmate.
Tommy’s eyes land on Wilbur, “Your soulmate is probably being abused.”
Tommy gets to watch the blood run out of Wilbur’s face, and how he goes deathly pale in about five seconds.
“Huh?” Wilbur whispers.
Crimeboys soulmate au + foster au. This is another favorite duo of mine, although nothing compares to my addiction for bedrockbros. Highly recommend but trigger warning includes talks of abuse and bullying.
Please don't fine me (I'm not ok)
Tommy does not breathe and he does not laugh and he does not swear. Tommy is not the harsh cry of a fledgling eagle soaring over the brisk mountain tops. Tommy is not the wind teasing the tall aspen, Tommy is not the babbling brook in the morning sun. Tommy is not life itself and he is not nothing at once.
Or at least, not anymore.
or: a c!bedrock bros hanahaki soulmate au with plenty of allium duo fluff as well <3
Has my top two favourite duos. Also this story has a special place in my heart always making me eye water. No I don't cry over stories! You're crying over stories!
Building Bonds
Tommy had been in the foster system since he was six, and every family he had been placed with since then turned him away within a couple months for being a "problem child". The only thing that had kept him going was the pale yellow band around his wrist and the bond that was connected to it.
Only, he hadn’t seen his soulmate in over two years and now he was standing in front of a new house, once again preparing to be thrown out within the month.
A little bedrock, a little angel duo, and lots of past trauma for Tommy. This is crime boy soulmate+foster au. Tommy and Wilbur are separated as Wilbur aged out of the system.
To Be Hesitant of Acceptence
Hey Tommy," he said, cheerfully. "Clocking in, big man?" he tilts his head, offering a smile.

"Yep, you clocking out, boss man?" he hiked his bag higher on his shoulder.

"Yep. Was gonna work overtime but my schedule changed at school again. Wil should be here though if you wanna bother him."

"Oooh, I might." He started to walk back to the employee area before he turned on his heels. "Tell Boob Boy and Yellowed that we still gotta do the thing."

Tubbo rolled his eyes. "Very specific, Tommy. And I will."

Or Tommy works in a store in a world where everyone has soulmate identifying marks at 18. Follow this short journey where he finds his soulmates and his reaction. Bad summary, but I promise the fic is good.
Classic Tommy being iffy about soulmates ans running away when he meets his soulmate. The amout of soulmate au, where he doesnt think he deserves one, has one, or doesn't want one is in so many fics
Paint me in colors (I can no longer see)
It was expected, everyone had soul mates and every one of them left a mark the first time they touched you. A brush of color to remind you that you are loved and loved back. It was human. Tommy loved without restraint and by the tender age of ten he had the habit of marking everyone he touched, and they stuck.
This is an angsty story. That all I have to say
I saw you on the train last night (and I just walked on by)
Platonic Soulmate AU CrimeBoys Edition
Wilbur soot is stuck in a time loop. The only way out of it is to find his “soulmate”.
Well, Wilbur doesn’t believe in soulmates.
TLDR: Time loop shenanigans with Wilbur Soot
I personally usually hate timeloop stories, but I make an exception for soulmate timeloops. Good read definitely recommend it. Crime boys soulmates au.
Forged in Love
"So don’t fucking underestimate me, Blade. Adults tend to forget that kids don’t exactly have strong morals to get what they want.” Techno stared down into the baby blue eyes, a familiar spark of thrill reaching his heart, the same spark he felt when he first met Phil.
“I doubt you have an extra mending book laying around.” Are you truly worthy of my curiosity?
“I actually do, prick.” Fuck. You.
—
Tommy may seem harmless at first glance, but Phil and Techno know otherwise. To be a gemsmith, a person who connects soulmates, is not a profession for those who are docile.
But Tommy is intriguing at first glance. Always talking, always moving, always challenging them. So they stick around. Not too long though, they have two other soulmates to find, but long enough to develop their relationship beyond customer and shopkeeper.
If only they realized why they were developing this relationship in the first place before the Hunters came knocking on Tommy’s shop.
Or
Local child is snarky enough to catch two war General’s attention and it escalating from there
This is one of my favorite longer soulmate stories and a very good read. I highly recommend it and on my opinion it's one of the better multi-chapter soulmate stories. Not better than "As God Looks On in Abject Apathy" in my opinion.
My Bond and My Enemy
Tommy is ready to visit the city on his own, without his coven following him. It's been five years since he's turned, so he thinks it's only fair. It's during this outing that he meets Technoblade.

OR
Soulmate AU, based on the prompt (SPOILERS) "Platonic soul mates except its a vampire who finds out their soul mate is either a Werewolf or vampire hunter" by bberry
A good read, short yet with a decent amount of words. Good choice if your looking for a quick read that's not a oneshot.
The chances for meeting your soulmate are slim but never zero
Tommy had three soulmates. He had named them Crow, Note and Poem according to the way he can identify them. Yet why must they be so hard to find? How is he meant to not doubt fate when he was already 16 and had not found his soulmate?
——————————
Or: Tommy doubts the red string of fate, therefore fate sends him off on a trip of chance to find his soulmates in different places. Who would have known an arcade would be the place he’d find his first?
It's cute SBI soulmates and absolutely worth the read and I love it and it has Technoblade meeting Tommy in person. It pulls on my heartstrings because they never got to do that IRL.
Sanguine Souls
The world hates soulmates.
It’s a contradictory thing, there are very good and very valid reasons for it despite how alluring the concept of soulmates is. It must be nice. Imagine someone fated for you to trust forever, to behold, in every waking moment, with lingering thoughts and associations about happiness and goodness and everything that should be lovely in any sort of relationship between two people. It’s a beautiful concept.
Too beautiful.
Technoblade blinks. There’s a familiar sound from the television. He looks up, and he sees the familiar flash of reds and blues on the television screen with a dreadful set of words underneath it.
‘SOULMATES CONFIRMED. ONE DECEASED.’

~+~
OR Soulmate AU where An Encounter with Death is a necessary requirement, according to the laws of the universe, to confirm who your soulmate is. Technoblade and Wilbur had gotten the wrong message one time, but the world corrects that when Tommy runs into them.
OR OR Twinsduo angst to give rise to Bedrock bros until it somehow turns into Neapolitan Trio in the ending. PROMPT: soulmate wasn't who they thought they would be
Tommy is Tommy, Techno is srubborn and denying the truth. Wilbur is just... angsty with bedrockbros soulmates in the mix. Good read I recommend and this is one of my top ten soulmate recs.
Gentle people (with flowers in their hair)
In a world where soulmates existed, Tommy didn’t want anything to do with it.
When he was eight, his father left Tommy’s mother, because he didn’t really want to marry her, but the universe forced his hand.
Now, he was sixteen, and staring with wide eyes as Wilbur Soot gestured wildly, revealing flowers on his arm identical to the ones Tommy had concealed before the stream.
or, Tommy doesn't want one soulmate, never mind three
Classic Tommy not wanting a soulmate because he's tramitized by his parents being horrible soulmates and not working.
Fae
the wild hunt of old (will bring something new)
Tommy could feel his presence behind him, keeping his mouth shut as a hand reached over, grasping the hand that had him in a grip, cutting the boy off from his words, like he had stolen them from his mouth himself.
“Who did this to you Theseus?” Muted gasps were shared as the drumming and whispers were joined by the howls of the hounds.
“All of them.” He whispered sadly, eyes unable to look away from the looks of hatred and betrayal. But there was no pity for them. They had made their beds and he knew that Techno would make them lie in them.

Tommy found his home in the forest. However his treatment from his own home will be their undoing when the Fae King unleashes the Wild Hunt.
Absolutely my favorite fae fic and a top 3 fic ever my ao3 list. Possessive Technoblade is there and is a little dark but nowhere close to dead dove do not eat. I could probably recite most if not all of this story.
Follow the golden hair and sapphires that stare back
"I know how to get there, I'm not the one lost, you are." The kid exclaims and Wilbur humours him. He knows kids like to put on a brave face although this kid seems to be pretty good at it.
"Oh yeah? Well, I guess you gotta help me out huh?"
The enthusiastic nod that follows is worth it as the kid jumps around like he's got too much energy in his tiny body.
"I will, but only if you do one thing." The kid says, almost seriously as he puts up a one finger.
Wilbur crouches fully now, hands still on his knees still.

"Oh yeah and what's that?"

The kids smile turns sweet as he rocks on his heels and folds his arms behind his back.
"Can I know your name?" He asks sweetly, like a kid asking for some sweets before bed. There's a fight going on in his head. A small part saying no but the bigger says what's the harm?
It's just a kid.
"I'm Wilbur."
Or
Wilbur cuts through a park to get home. Doesn't look where he's going and then, pop, he's in the world of the fae. It's part of a fae series where Tommy tricks sbi. Good read and super worth it.
Bullied by fae
The fae scrunches his nose and huffs, "I'm gonna send you to my brother so he can bully your ass and get you into our realm, dick'ead."
Techno only hums, sliding his basket down from his arm, to his hand, "Yeah kid, send me to big brother."
Or;
Techno meets fae!Tommy. He's not really how he pictured fae to be
It's just funny and makes me smile and it's Tommy being Tommyinnit but fae. Techno being Techno. Looking for somthing short and funny this is it.
Nectar and Blood
Blade had a quiet life.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened to him – which is why it came as such a shock when a boy walked into the smithy.
Blade could feel the difference in the boy before he ever laid eyes on him. He could feel the way the already warm forge seemed to burn brighter in the presence of the creature that just stepped in.
And of course, the sight of the fae – even dressed down to fit in with the townspeople more, they stuck out like a sore thumb. The boy's hair was shaped into perfect, shining golden curls. Their eyes shone as blue as the summer skies, and even their relatively drab brown clothing was perfectly clean, free of any mud or dust from the streets.
Blade paused in his work, enough to give a polite greeting. Whether they were inside a faerie ring or not, the fae always worked by the same rules. Such rules had been imprinted into Blade’s mind before he had ever been allowed to step outside of his family's home.
Tommys good at using Technos desire and affection against him. One of the good fae fics.

Background, I am a wheelchair user and have 27 medical conditions. I take over 40 tablets a day, as well as multiple opioids and medical cannabis. I can walk but only short distances and only with crutches. I can usually manage to stand still for 5 mins before I need to sit down or lean on a wall.
So today I went out on my crutches with my friend, he drove us and my wheelchair can't fit in his car. We went for fish and chips and I had to stand in the queue, I had to lean on the wall to stay upright. Then friend had to bring my food and drink over.
I dislocated my shoulder going down the steps because my shoulder couldn't support the crutch. Friend had to relocate my shoulder once he brought the food over. Okay fine, carry on with the day, eat our food (amazing seaside fish and chips)
We stopped at shop on the way back and I got halfway through the shop and my back started to go. I paid at the self checkout and lifting my 2l Dr pepper and 2l vimto bottles proved to much and my back completely gave out. My legs nearly buckled. Friend had to grab my shopping and half carry me to the door. I found a pole to hold tight onto and my back gave way. Thankfully I was sturdy because of the pole. I had to stand there for 5 minutes while my back unclenched and I could move again. Friend is panicking and offering to help me to the car and me being unable to communicate in full sentences because my brain turned to mush. I finally regain my balance and can get back to the car. It takes another few minutes to have the strength to lift my legs and back into the car.
When we got to my accommodation my legs and back were in so much pain I was making incoherent, nonsensical sentences, swearing a lot. I said stupid shit like "fuck a donkey" or "shit on a biscuit" stupid word salad that was hard to comprehend. I got home, smoked my medical cannabis, thankfully it's taken away most of the baseline pain, unless I move. Then I turn back into brain soup. I'm in phenomenonal pain, and this is a regular occurrence. I want to cry but the tears won't come.
This is the reward I get for taking my kid to the zoo and for a kids fun day. Going along paths that weren't built with wheelchairs in mind, climbing into things for my son's amusement and photo momentos. There were hammocks set up by the monkeys so you could see how it feels to sleep like the monkeys. So me and my son tried it. Going across the grass and chasing my son in my wheelchair during a water gun fight.
The reward I get for going on a date with a guy I'm falling hard for. For sitting on the grass with him while we discussed our relationship. Because I rode home in the cold because I fell asleep on the bus after the date, hitting bumps in the pavement I couldn't see because it was so dark.
This is what I get for living life like I'm Normal for a couple of days
Why do I get punished for a few moments of happiness?
My son identifies himself as my carer now, I watched as he told someone what his carer responsibilities are. He is 8 years old. I feel mum guilt because I brought him into this world knowing I was ill. But I never expected to be a single mum, I was supposed to marry his dad. And now my son is seeing through my everything is fine mask. He has grown up much faster than any kid should have to.
This got off track but I'm just having a bad day xx

Background, I am a wheelchair user and have 27 medical conditions. I take over 40 tablets a day, as well as multiple opioids and medical cannabis. I can walk but only short distances and only with crutches. I can usually manage to stand still for 5 mins before I need to sit down or lean on a wall.
So today I went out on my crutches with my friend, he drove us and my wheelchair can't fit in his car. We went for fish and chips and I had to stand in the queue, I had to lean on the wall to stay upright. Then friend had to bring my food and drink over.
I dislocated my shoulder going down the steps because my shoulder couldn't support the crutch. Friend had to relocate my shoulder once he brought the food over. Okay fine, carry on with the day, eat our food (amazing seaside fish and chips)
We stopped at shop on the way back and I got halfway through the shop and my back started to go. I paid at the self checkout and lifting my 2l Dr pepper and 2l vimto bottles proved to much and my back completely gave out. My legs nearly buckled. Friend had to grab my shopping and half carry me to the door. I found a pole to hold tight onto and my back gave way. Thankfully I was sturdy because of the pole. I had to stand there for 5 minutes while my back unclenched and I could move again. Friend is panicking and offering to help me to the car and me being unable to communicate in full sentences because my brain turned to mush. I finally regain my balance and can get back to the car. It takes another few minutes to have the strength to lift my legs and back into the car.
When we got to my accommodation my legs and back were in so much pain I was making incoherent, nonsensical sentences, swearing a lot. I said stupid shit like "fuck a donkey" or "shit on a biscuit" stupid word salad that was hard to comprehend. I got home, smoked my medical cannabis, thankfully it's taken away most of the baseline pain, unless I move. Then I turn back into brain soup. I'm in phenomenonal pain, and this is a regular occurrence. I want to cry but the tears won't come.
This is the reward I get for taking my kid to the zoo and for a kids fun day. Going along paths that weren't built with wheelchairs in mind, climbing into things for my son's amusement and photo momentos. There were hammocks set up by the monkeys so you could see how it feels to sleep like the monkeys. So me and my son tried it. Going across the grass and chasing my son in my wheelchair during a water gun fight.
The reward I get for going on a date with a guy I'm falling hard for. For sitting on the grass with him while we discussed our relationship. Because I rode home in the cold because I fell asleep on the bus after the date, hitting bumps in the pavement I couldn't see because it was so dark.
This is what I get for living life like I'm Normal for a couple of days
Why do I get punished for a few moments of happiness?
My son identifies himself as my carer now, I watched as he told someone what his carer responsibilities are. He is 8 years old. I feel mum guilt because I brought him into this world knowing I was ill. But I never expected to be a single mum, I was supposed to marry his dad. And now my son is seeing through my everything is fine mask. He has grown up much faster than any kid should have to.
This got off track but I'm just having a bad day xx

Background, I am a wheelchair user and have 27 medical conditions. I take over 40 tablets a day, as well as multiple opioids and medical cannabis. I can walk but only short distances and only with crutches. I can usually manage to stand still for 5 mins before I need to sit down or lean on a wall.
So today I went out on my crutches with my friend, he drove us and my wheelchair can't fit in his car. We went for fish and chips and I had to stand in the queue, I had to lean on the wall to stay upright. Then friend had to bring my food and drink over.
I dislocated my shoulder going down the steps because my shoulder couldn't support the crutch. Friend had to relocate my shoulder once he brought the food over. Okay fine, carry on with the day, eat our food (amazing seaside fish and chips)
We stopped at shop on the way back and I got halfway through the shop and my back started to go. I paid at the self checkout and lifting my 2l Dr pepper and 2l vimto bottles proved to much and my back completely gave out. My legs nearly buckled. Friend had to grab my shopping and half carry me to the door. I found a pole to hold tight onto and my back gave way. Thankfully I was sturdy because of the pole. I had to stand there for 5 minutes while my back unclenched and I could move again. Friend is panicking and offering to help me to the car and me being unable to communicate in full sentences because my brain turned to mush. I finally regain my balance and can get back to the car. It takes another few minutes to have the strength to lift my legs and back into the car.
When we got to my accommodation my legs and back were in so much pain I was making incoherent, nonsensical sentences, swearing a lot. I said stupid shit like "fuck a donkey" or "shit on a biscuit" stupid word salad that was hard to comprehend. I got home, smoked my medical cannabis, thankfully it's taken away most of the baseline pain, unless I move. Then I turn back into brain soup. I'm in phenomenonal pain, and this is a regular occurrence. I want to cry but the tears won't come.
This is the reward I get for taking my kid to the zoo and for a kids fun day. Going along paths that weren't built with wheelchairs in mind, climbing into things for my son's amusement and photo momentos. There were hammocks set up by the monkeys so you could see how it feels to sleep like the monkeys. So me and my son tried it. Going across the grass and chasing my son in my wheelchair during a water gun fight.
The reward I get for going on a date with a guy I'm falling hard for. For sitting on the grass with him while we discussed our relationship. Because I rode home in the cold because I fell asleep on the bus after the date, hitting bumps in the pavement I couldn't see because it was so dark.
This is what I get for living life like I'm Normal for a couple of days
Why do I get punished for a few moments of happiness?
My son identifies himself as my carer now, I watched as he told someone what his carer responsibilities are. He is 8 years old. I feel mum guilt because I brought him into this world knowing I was ill. But I never expected to be a single mum, I was supposed to marry his dad. And now my son is seeing through my everything is fine mask. He has grown up much faster than any kid should have to.
This got off track but I'm just having a bad day xx

Video: Return of the King (1980) - Éowyn vs Witchking

“For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? - Aragorn about Éowyn”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
This is part of a series exploring the hidden motives and actions of the main players during Robert's Rebellion, named LBJ in reference to the influence of Lyndon B. Johnson and the Vietnam War on GRRM's views and writings on war. LBJ also indicates considerations over whether Lyanna + Bobby B = Jon Snow. Previous installments include:

• Rhaegar Had To Be A Warrior
• Why Did Rhaegar Crown Lyanna?
  • Ice, Ice Baby?
  • Political Suicide?
  • Was She 'A Very Kinky Girl'?
• The Forging of Lightbringer: Blue Flowers & Narrow Visors
• Rhaegar Mistakenly Crowned Lyanna
• I am not fond of fish, but when fish is served, I eat it.
• All is fair in love and war...
• Kingsguard Loyalty
• Southron Ambitions & Lies

The last part examined evidence that the rebels lied to stage a rebellion to knock the dragons of the Iron Throne, ending with the question: If Rhaegar was taken hostage and prevented from defending himself against false allegations of kidnapping Lyanna, then how did he manage to return to fight at the Trident?

The Return of the Prince: Rhaegar at the Trident

Crowning Lyanna queen of love and beauty indicated to some that Rhaegar intended to set Elia Martell aside and make a new queen. So parallel to Arianne Martell's Queenmaker plot, which led to her solitary confinement in a tower, like Lyanna was confined in the tower of joy, Rhaegar, like the Queenmaker plot conspirators, may be imprisoned at Ghaston Grey in the Sea of Dorne. The precedent of the Mad King's imprisonment at Duskendale and the fact that Dorne has an Alcatraz-style island prison called Ghaston Grey - relating to Beauty & the Beast's Gaston, who imprisoned his romantic interest and lied to incite violence against his rival - supports that Rhaegar or his friends were imprisoned there. It's possible that Rhaegar is still alive; his status as the father of Elia's children may preserve his life. Martin stated Rhaegar was cremated, as is Targaryen tradition, when asked what happened to Rhaegar's body; this statement does not negate the possibility that an imposter's body was cremated in Rhaegar's stead. Or maybe he's truly dead, but there's good reason to believe Rhaegar wasn't present at the Trident where he supposedly died.
As mentioned in previous parts, it is strange that Rhaegar would supposedly leave three Kingsguard with Lyanna, while leaving Elia and their children, the first two heads of the dragon and the prince that was promised, in the care of his deranged father with no Kingsguard besides Jaime, who was kept busy guarding the King. Jaime's failure to protect Rhaegar's family haunts him...

"And the children, them as well," said Prince Lewyn.
Prince Rhaegar burned with a cold light, now white, now red, now dark. "I left my wife and children in your hands."
"I never thought he'd hurt them." Jaime's sword was burning less brightly now. "I was with the king . . ."

- A Storm of Swords Jaime VI
...but it ultimately fell to Rhaegar to ensure the safety of his loved ones, and the situation he left Elia and their children in was obviously dangerous, given that Aerys had to threaten Prince Lewyn with the safety of Elia and her children to convince him to command the Dornish troops. Some have argued that Rhaegar was so confident in prophecy that he underestimated the threat posed to himself and his children, but if that were the case, why bother guarding Lyanna and their alleged child? This failure, in conjunction with other evidence suggesting the abduction story was a farce, indicates that this person who returned from the south wasn't actually Rhaegar.
Recall that if Rhaegar truly abducted and impregnated Lyanna, evidence suggests he stayed with her at the tower long after she conceived. Dany claims to have been conceived soon before Rhaella fled King's Landing, and Martin stated Jon was born roughly 8-9 months before her, placing Jon's birth within a month of Rhaegar's death. Once he returned from the south, it would not have taken more than a few months tops to marshal the loyalist forces to oppose the rebel army. This implies he was at the tower for over a year, while a war raged nearby; why did he suddenly take an interest in the rebellion? Why not enter the fray sooner, when his help really could have made a difference? Walder Frey is ridiculed for arriving late to the Trident, but maybe Rhaegar is the one who truly deserves the moniker "the late lord". And if Rhaegar stayed away due to his love for Lyanna and desire to be with her, why not wait a couple more months so he could be there when she gave birth?
An obvious reason for Rhaegar to appear when he did is that Robert was starting to be taken seriously as a threat, and the crown prince gave heart to the loyalist forces during a pivotal battle; it's too bad this heart wasn't big enough to prevent the war in the first place. Crossing the Trident was also a tactically unsound move by Rhaegar, and it would have been to his advantage to draw the rebel army further south. During the War of the Five Kings, Stannis's forces also attempt to cross a river, the Blackwater Rush, but are spooked off by Renly's ghost:

My hirelings betray me, my friends are scourged and shamed, and I lie here rotting, Tyrion thought. I thought I won the bloody battle. Is this what triumph tastes like? "Is it true that Stannis was put to rout by Renly's ghost?"
Bronn smiled thinly. "From the winch towers, all we saw was banners in the mud and men throwing down their spears to run, but there's hundreds in the pot shops and brothels who'll tell you how they saw Lord Renly kill this one or that one. Most of Stannis's host had been Renly's to start, and they went right back over at the sight of him in that shiny green armor."
After all his planning, after the sortie and the bridge of ships, after getting his face slashed in two, Tyrion had been eclipsed by a dead man. If indeed Renly is dead. Something else he would need to look into. "How did Stannis escape?"

- A Storm of Swords Tyrion I
Like Garlan fought in Renly's armor at the Battle of the Blackwater, an imposter fought as Rhaegar at the Trident. "Rhaegar" wore black armor crusted with rubies, like Mance uses a ruby in a black iron cuff to disguise himself as Rattleshirt via glamor magic. Dany has a vision of her own face behind Rhaegar's visor, and red light glimmers through the visor like Melisandre's glamor-producing rubies glimmer redly.

And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. "The last dragon," Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. "The last, the last." Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

- A Game of Thrones Daenerys IX

Lady Melisandre was seated near the fire, her ruby glimmering against the pale skin of her throat.

- A Dance with Dragons Jon I

The big square-cut gem that adorned his iron cuff glimmered redly. "Do you like my ruby, Snow? A token o' love from Lady Red."

- A Dance with Dragons Jon IV
This is a world with glamor magic, skinchanging, and Faceless Men, and so it cannot be ruled out that an imposter fought as Rhaegar at the Trident. Dany seeing her own face behind Rhaegar's visor hints that someone besides Rhaegar wore his armor. Even Arya, who is said to resemble Lyanna, makes use of the face-changer Jaqen H'ghar at Harrenhal, where all this began... Jaqen H'ghar's name is near anagram for Rhaegar, incidentally. It suspends belief that soldiers would stop in the thick of battle to scoop up rubies, making it easier to accept that ruby-assisted magic was afoot.

When Ned had finally come on the scene, Rhaegar lay dead in the stream, while men of both armies scrabbled in the swirling waters for rubies knocked free of his armor.

- A Game of Thrones Eddard I
Perhaps the strongest piece of evidence against an imposter, however, is that Jaime remembers a conversation with Rhaegar before the battle, in which there are no obvious indications of deception.

And all for naught. They found only darkness, dust, and rats. And dragons, lurking down below. He remembered the sullen orange glow of the coals in the iron dragon's mouth. The brazier warmed a chamber at the bottom of a shaft where half a dozen tunnels met. On the floor he'd found a scuffed mosaic of the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen done in tiles of black and red. I know you, Kingslayer, the beast seemed to be saying. I have been here all the time, waiting for you to come to me. And it seemed to Jaime that he knew that voice, the iron tones that had once belonged to Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone.
The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate. "Your Grace," Jaime had pleaded, "let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine."
Prince Rhaegar shook his head. "My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour."
Jaime's anger had risen up in his throat. "I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard."
"Then guard the king," Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. "When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey."
Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime's shoulder. "When this battle's done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but . . . well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return."
Those were the last words Rhaegar Targaryen ever spoke to him. Outside the gates an army had assembled, whilst another descended on the Trident. So the Prince of Dragonstone mounted up and donned his tall black helm, and rode forth to his doom.

- A Feast for Crows Jaime I
Then again, one wouldn't expect a skilled Faceless Man to give up the ruse... Actually, no, I don't think a Faceless Man impersonated Rhaegar at the Trident.

Lyanna fought Robert at the Trident

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If I hadn't lost you already, I probably have now. But hear me out.
mediachomp.com/the-lord-of-the-rings-mansplaining/

“And she answered: 'All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.'
'What do you fear, lady?' he asked.
'A cage,' she said.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
This is the first ASOIAF theory I ever thought up. I suppose I was influenced by Éowyn of The Lord of the Rings in my thinking. Éowyn means 'horse lover', like Lyanna was half a horse herself, an advantageous quality for the warrior maid who fought on horseback and injured the Demon of the Trident.
Video: Ode to Liane
Many who prefer R+L=J also reason that Lyanna was the Knight of the Laughing Tree and was discovered by Rhaegar, to explain why he fell in love with her, despite the folly of returning the mystery knight's sense of honor with an ignoble crowning (I prefer the reasoning that Ned was that mystery knight). Some also assume Lyanna's heritage made her a desirable broodmare to Rhaegar, despite scant evidence that he was interested in warg blood, besides the likely assumption that dragon abilities are related to skinchanging. Lyanna fighting at the Trident is a parallel theory which uses those same elements of disguising oneself to fight for justice, with the aid of House Stark's innate skinchanging ability. Yet this outcome is more impactful, because the stakes were higher at the Trident. The very idea that Lyanna would choose to chill in a tower for over a year fucking a married prince with two very young children while her family and countrymen died in droves on her account is wildly inconsistent with her character.

“Robert will never keep to one bed,” Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm’s End. “I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale.” Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. “Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature.”

- A Game of Thrones Eddard IX
Lyanna was a fighter, the type to seek justice out herself, as she did when her father's bannerman was beset by bullies at Harrenhal. Lyanna also healed the crannogman's wounds; likewise, she would do what she could to heal the wounds caused by her disappearance.

"None offered a name, but he marked their faces well so he could revenge himself upon them later. They shoved him down every time he tried to rise, and kicked him when he curled up on the ground. But then they heard a roar. 'That's my father's man you're kicking,' howled the she-wolf."
"A wolf on four legs, or two?"
"Two," said Meera. "The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen. There he met her pack brothers: the wild wolf who led them, the quiet wolf beside him, and the pup who was youngest of the four.

- A Storm of Swords Bran II

The rest of his father's words were drowned out by a sudden clatter of wood on wood. Eddard Stark dissolved, like mist in a morning sun. Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn't be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. She slashed the boy across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout. "You be quiet, stupid," the girl said, tossing her own branch aside. "It's just water. Do you want Old Nan to hear and run tell Father?" She knelt and pulled her brother from the pool, but before she got him out again, the two of them were gone.

- A Dance with Dragons Bran III
Arya is often compared to Lyanna, and Arya fought Robert's heir at the ruby ford where Rhaegar allegedly died. She practiced swordplay with Mycah using wooden sticks, like Lyanna and Benjen fought with sticks in Winterfell's godswood.

"It has a name, does it?" Her father sighed. "Ah, Arya. You have a wildness in you, child. 'The wolf blood,' my father used to call it. Lyanna had a touch of it, and my brother Brandon more than a touch. It brought them both to an early grave." Arya heard sadness in his voice; he did not often speak of his father, or of the brother and sister who had died before she was born. "Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her."

- A Game of Thrones Arya II

"Mycah and I are going to ride upstream and look for rubies at the ford."
"Rubies," Sansa said, lost. "What rubies?"
Arya gave her a look like she was so stupid. "Rhaegar's rubies. This is where King Robert killed him and won the crown."

_

Beyond, in a clearing overlooking the river, they came upon a boy and a girl playing at knights. Their swords were wooden sticks, broom handles from the look of them, and they were rushing across the grass, swinging at each other lustily. The boy was years older, a head taller, and much stronger, and he was pressing the attack. The girl, a scrawny thing in soiled leathers, was dodging and managing to get her stick in the way of most of the boy's blows, but not all. When she tried to lunge at him, he caught her stick with his own, swept it aside, and slid his wood down hard on her fingers. She cried out and lost her weapon.
Prince Joffrey laughed. The boy looked around, wide-eyed and startled, and dropped his stick in the grass. The girl glared at them, sucking on her knuckles to take the sting out, and Sansa was horrified. "Arya?" she called out incredulously.
"Go away," Arya shouted back at them, angry tears in her eyes. "What are you doing here? Leave us alone."
Joffrey glanced from Arya to Sansa and back again. "Your sister?" She nodded, blushing. Joffrey examined the boy, an ungainly lad with a coarse, freckled face and thick red hair. "And who are you, boy?" he asked in a commanding tone that took no notice of the fact that the other was a year his senior.
"Mycah," the boy muttered. He recognized the prince and averted his eyes. "M'lord."
"He's the butcher's boy," Sansa said.
"He's my friend," Arya said sharply. "You leave him alone."
"A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, is it?" Joffrey swung down from his mount, sword in hand. "Pick up your sword, butcher's boy," he said, his eyes bright with amusement. "Let us see how good you are."
Mycah stood there, frozen with fear.
Joffrey walked toward him. "Go on, pick it up. Or do you only fight little girls?"
"She ast me to, m'lord," Mycah said. "She ast me to."
Sansa had only to glance at Arya and see the flush on her sister's face to know the boy was telling the truth, but Joffrey was in no mood to listen. The wine had made him wild. "Are you going to pick up your sword?"
Mycah shook his head. "It's only a stick, m'lord. It's not no sword, it's only a stick."
"And you're only a butcher's boy, and no knight." Joffrey lifted Lion's Tooth and laid its point on Mycah's cheek below the eye, as the butcher's boy stood trembling. "That was my lady's sister you were hitting, do you know that?" A bright bud of blood blossomed where his sword pressed into Mycah's flesh, and a slow red line trickled down the boy's cheek.
"Stop it!" Arya screamed. She grabbed up her fallen stick.
Sansa was afraid. "Arya, you stay out of this."
"I won't hurt him … much," Prince Joffrey told Arya, never taking his eyes off the butcher's boy.
Arya went for him.

- A Game of Thrones Sansa I
The deadly consequences of Lyanna's disappearance, based on the rebel's lies, would enrage the she-wolf, driving her to confront Robert in battle if given the opportunity. Thus, "Rhaegar's" rash decision to cross the Trident makes sense in the context of an inexperienced warrior maid chomping at the bit to avenge her father and brother. It even mirrors Arya at the Wed Redding, when she recklessly runs towards the Crossing:

"Maybe we can save her . . ."
"Maybe you can. I'm not done living yet." He rode toward her, crowding her back toward the wayn. "Stay or go, she-wolf. Live or die. Your—"
Arya spun away from him and darted for the gate. The portcullis was coming down, but slowly. I have to run faster. The mud slowed her, though, and then the water. Run fast as a wolf. The drawbridge had begun to lift, the water running off it in a sheet, the mud falling in heavy clots. Faster. She heard loud splashing and looked back to see Stranger pounding after her, sending up gouts of water with every stride. She saw the longaxe too, still wet with blood and brains. And Arya ran. Not for her brother now, not even for her mother, but for herself. She ran faster than she had ever run before, her head down and her feet churning up the river, she ran from him as Mycah must have run.
His axe took her in the back of the head.

- A Storm of Swords Arya XI
Lyanna would jump at the chance to practice swordplay with her guards while in captivity, and in particular she'd be eager to learn from the legendary Sword of the Morning Ser Arthur Dayne, like Arya learned from Syrio Forel, the First Sword of Braavos. As Rhaegar's oldest and dearest friend, Arthur could teach Lyanna to pass as Rhaegar in conversation.
Consider that after hearing a song about a lady throwing herself from a tower in grief, like Ashara Dayne allegedly killed herself over her brother's death, Arya thinks the lady should have sought revenge:

It made her angry to see Dareon sitting there so brazen, making eyes at Lanna as his fingers danced across the harp strings.

_

He is a man of the Night's Watch, she thought, as he sang about some stupid lady throwing herself off some stupid tower because her stupid prince was dead. The lady should go kill the ones who killed her prince. And the singer should be on the Wall.

- A Feast for Crows Cat of the Canals
As argued in the section on Kingsguard loyalty, Dornish Arthur Dayne was complicit in the betrayal of his friend and king because his sister's life was leveraged against him, like (fake) Arya's predicament leads Jon to betray the Watch. Being threatened with Ashara's death if he deserted his post is like how Arya murders Dareon the singer for deserting the Night's Watch. And yet Dareon's desertion is understandable, given that he was sent to the Wall due to a false accusation of rape, after he was caught abed with a daughter of Lord Mathis Rowan. Similarly, Robert falsely accused Rhaegar of raping Lyanna, when he was in fact guilty of raping her... only once.

The king touched her cheek, his fingers brushing across the rough stone as gently as if it were living flesh. “I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to her.”
“You did,” Ned reminded him.
“Only once,” Robert said bitterly.

- A Game of Thrones Eddard I
It would add a haunting dimension to Robert's claim that he dreams of killing Rhaegar every night if Robert glimpsed Lyanna once the rubies were dislodged and "Rhaegar" was in the stream. Alternately, if he knew Rhaegar had been killed already, he'd understand that he was fighting an imposter, and so Robert's allusion to Rhaegar dying a thousand deaths stinks of the rage the Mountain must have felt as Beric Dondarrion kept returning from death. Robert's inexplicable rage after his successful defeat of Rhaegar indicates something was off about this event in his mind.

"In my dreams, I kill him every night," Robert admitted. "A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves."

- A Game of Thrones Eddard I
Not only does Dany have a vision of her own face, a woman's face, behind Rhaegar's redly glimmering visor, but she also has a vision of "Rhaegar" saying an unidentified woman's name in the stream.

And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. "The last dragon," Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. "The last, the last." Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

- A Game of Thrones Daenerys IX

Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman's name. . . . mother of dragons, daughter of death . . .

- A Clash of Kings Daenerys IV
The world of ice and fire app claims that Rhaegar said Lyanna's name at his death, but that source is only semi-canon. Both Jon and Robb say their direwolves names as they die, and so it's possible that "Rhaegar's" final words are related to skinchanging.

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end.

- A Dance with Dragons Jon XIII

"Yes. Robb, get up. Get up and walk out, please, please. Save yourself . . . if not for me, for Jeyne."
"Jeyne?" Robb grabbed the edge of the table and forced himself to stand. "Mother," he said, "Grey Wind . . ."
"Go to him. Now. Robb, walk out of here."

- A Storm of Swords Catelyn VII
Dany also notes warrior maids with rubies, paralleling this idea that Lyanna was a warrior maid in Rhaegar's ruby-crusted armor.

warrior maids from Bayasabhad, Shamyriana, and Kayakayanaya with iron rings in their nipples and rubies in their cheeks

- A Game of Thrones Daenerys VI
Lyanna using a glamor to disguise herself is problematic, however, in that it wouldn't produce the iron tones in Rhaegar's voice that Jaime remembers, and her female body would put her at a natural disadvantage in combat, so skinchanging into a male body is a necessary component. But if Rhaegar's body wasn't available, the male she skinchanged into would then need to be glamored to resemble Rhaegar closely enough as to not arouse suspicions when she arrived in King's Landing. It also may be the case that Rhaegar's body was available, along with his armor, after torture left him comatose. Note that the ritual which leaves Drogo in a comatose state, in which Dany also goes into labor, involves shadows which parallel the shadows Bran saw in his vision of the Trident; these shadows may belong to Ned and Robert, as will be argued in a later part:

No, Dany wanted to say, no, not that, you mustn't, but when she opened her mouth, a long wail of pain escaped, and the sweat broke over her skin. What was wrong with them, couldn't they see? Inside the tent the shapes were dancing, circling the brazier and the bloody bath, dark against the sandsilk, and some did not look human. She glimpsed the shadow of a great wolf, and another like a man wreathed in flames.

- A Game of Thrones Daenerys VIII
We may assume House Targaryen has access to arcane devices, which the Kingsguard would be in a position to know about, given Bloodraven's use of a moonstone glamor in The Mystery Knight (which also depicts a warrior maid in black armor):

Dunk whirled. Through the rain, all he could make out was a hooded shape and a single pale white eye. It was only when the man came forward that the shadowed face beneath the cowl took on the familiar features of Ser Maynard Plumm, the pale eye no more than the moonstone brooch that pinned his cloak at the shoulder.

_

Mad Danelle Lothston herself rode forth in strength from her haunted towers at Harrenhal, clad in black armor that fit her like an iron glove, her long red hair streaming.

- The Mystery Knight
It's also possible that Lyanna had some sort of Faceless Man training; their ability to disguise themselves appears to be related to skinchanging.

"Mummers change their faces with artifice," the kindly man was saying, "and sorcerers use glamors, weaving light and shadow and desire to make illusions that trick the eye. These arts you shall learn, but what we do here goes deeper. Wise men can see through artifice, and glamors dissolve before sharp eyes, but the face you are about to don will be as true and solid as that face you were born with.

- A Dance with Dragons The Ugly Little Girl
Lyanna's defense of the crannogman, who travelled to the Isle of Faces in a skin boat to visit the green men, may have something to do with her access to these abilities.

"The finest knight I ever saw was Ser Arthur Dayne, who fought with a blade called Dawn, forged from the heart of a fallen star. They called him the Sword of the Morning, and he would have killed me but for Howland Reed." Father had gotten sad then, and he would say no more. Bran wished he had asked him what he meant.

- A Clash of Kings Bran III

"He passed beneath the Twins by night so the Freys would not attack him, and when he reached the Trident he climbed from the river and put his boat on his head and began to walk. It took him many a day, but finally he reached the Gods Eye, threw his boat in the lake, and paddled out to the Isle of Faces."
"Did he meet the green men?"
"Yes," said Meera, "but that's another story, and not for me to tell. My prince asked for knights."

- A Storm of Swords Bran II
So after receiving adequate training and equipment, a disguised Lyanna may then be allowed to leave her tower to confront Robert at the Trident, contingent upon her return in service to whatever oaths held Arthur at the tower against his will. A battle wound may then be the cause of Lyanna's bed of blood... Consider Arthur Dayne's legendary sword Dawn, likely inspired by King Arthur's Excalibur. During the fight at the tower of joy, Ned describes the blade as alive with light, like King Arthur once drew Excalibur and the blade shined so bright it blinded his enemies.

"And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

- A Game of Thrones Eddard X
Excalibur's sheath also had magical healing powers (keep in mind the dick and vagina symbolism of a sword and sheath). The legendary prowess of the Sword of the Morning thus may be related to his sword's hidden healing ability, and so after Lyanna sustained her chest wound at the Trident, she may be transported back south to be healed by Dawn. This seems unlikely, however, given how grievously wounded "Rhaegar" was.
If skinchanging was involved, then Lyanna never had to bodily leave the tower, and survived the Trident through spiritually returning to her original body, and her bed of blood was in fact caused by birthing Jon. If Lyanna had a consensual affair with her impressive guard Ser Arthur, it would dovetail nicely with another aspect of Arthurian legend, in which Sir Lancelot has an affair with Queen Guinevere at his castle Joyous Guard, despite his close friendship with King Arthur. The Sword of the Morning and the Demon of the Trident are not the only candidates for Jon's father; Oswell Whent is also a potential sire, in light of the parallel in which Cersei instructs Osney Kettleblack (who some believe is Oswell's son) to seduce Margaery to remove her as Queen; the rebels may have instructed Oswell to ensure Lyanna became pregnant, to dissuade Robert from marrying her so that he'd be free to wed Cersei to keep the Lannister's support, or to stage a death in childbirth so that Lyanna would be unable to spread the truth of her imprisonment. The idea that Lyanna became pregnant while confined also parallels Daena the Defiant's pregnancy despite her imprisonment in the Maidenvault.
On that note, unless Martin lied, it's indisputable that Lyanna gave birth to Jon... but when? Skinchanging removes the hinderance of a swollen belly and other bodily limitations, but if Lyanna did in fact fight while pregnant, she was perhaps not as far along as we're led to believe. If we accept that Jon was born roughly 8-9 moons before Dany, as Martin states, then the only way to adjust Jon's birth is to then assume Dany isn't who she thinks she is, that she wasn't born 9 moons after Rhaella's flight. Beyond typical lemongate reasons to doubt Dany's past, there's a discrepancy in which Viserys tells Dany of a midnight flight to Dragonstone, whereas Jaime recalls Rhaella and Viserys departing in the morning. This casts doubt on both Dany and Viserys's origins and allows us leeway to adjust Jon's birthdate. Lyanna giving birth before the Trident is possible, and though Robb is supposedly older than Jon, it's hard to pin down exactly when Robb was born; Jon could be older than Robb without it being noticed, as infants can differ greatly in size and development, as seen with Gilly and Mance's sons.
Speaking of Mance Rayder, I’m pretty confident he's Arthur Dayne.
So, given everything we're told about what kind of person Lyanna was, along with parallels between her and Arya involving swordplay and disguises, it's easy to see that rather than being the Knight of the Laughing Tree, Lyanna fought when it mattered most, to avenge her family at the Trident, against the man who truly dishonored her.
In the next part, we'll gaze into King Robert's magic mirror, Queen Cersei, to uncover strong evidence that he had Rhaegar tortured for the crime of crowning his betrothed. To preview where this series is headed, in its full audio/visual glory with greater detail, look here.

Total Eclipse of the Heart
The Nothing feasted upon the Lair of the Dragon kind. No one cared. No one saved it. Lost in darkness, and void, the sun guttered and died. Not with a bang, but with a whimper.
From the Nothing emerged a short bald man in red robes. The wisps of darkness and smoke nipped at his feet, but he kicked it away impatiently. With a snap of his fingers and a twirl of his hand he seized time and rolled it back. Back. Back…
From out of the darkness emerged first Dragonia and then her twin Lairona. The moon came into view and shot across the horizon. Finally the Sun shone again in the blackness of space.
All was well again.
Deep within the bowls of the Lair the ancient Vampire Dengali, Of the House of Style sat bolt upright in his coffin. He let out a devilish scream of pain. Time has rewound itself again! His Torpor disturbed by the destruction of the worlds. He was one of the few beings that could perceive this effect.
An insanity griped Dengali for this was now a regular torture that he could not escape. In a delirium he shouted “Ground Hog Day”! And fell sideways out of his coffin on to the dirt floor. He was parched. He was dry. Looking at his hand he gasped that it was zombie like and boney.
Dry popping and scrapping sounds could be heard as he crawled along the floor. He settled into a feral mind state, as he was a horror to see. His magical strength carried him along effortlessly.
A rat, a dog, then a human. A human! The blood surged through him! It pounded in his brain! His heart soked it up like the driest sponge. Then another human! Soon sense and understanding returned. The beating stopped, and Dengali tore his victim in half in frustration. He was struck from behind, but the blow bounced off of him like a child's toy.
Turning he effortlessly grabbed the huge man attacking him and bit down. He was dimly aware that this was a Barbarian caught up in a fit of rage. His fists striking him, and doing literally nothing to him. Slowly the attacks stopped. The barbarian grew pale, and died.
This was what he needed. A vessel with a strong connection to the positive material plane. A feast of life force. His body healed. His age fell away like dust in the wind. His golden hair regained it’s luster. He breathed a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of the long lost action.
Was this the thirtieth or thirty second time this has happened? He was not sure. What he was sure of was that the Red Guardian was near and still singing that annoying song…
“Turn around, every now and then I feel little bit lonely.”
Dengali spun around, and dashed towards him. Blurring at incredible speeds. He ran right up to the little midget, and tried to grab him with a force that could pulverize stone. He only found empty air. From behind him he heard the singing again.
“Turn around, every now and then I feel a little bit terrified, then I see the look in your eyes”!
The ancient Vampire turned around and ran forward, turning into a green glowing mist and surrounding the Dungeon Master. A moment latter he converged and reformed, standing in the same place that his intended victim was, but was now gone…
Growling in frustration he yelled “What the fuck do you want? What am I to do? Why do you torture me so? The night is mine! Forever is mine! What does it all mean?” He only heard the singing a short distance behind him.
“Forever is going to start tonight, Forever is going to start tonight! One upon a time I was falling in love, now I am only falling apart…”
Dengali fell to his knees in despair, and the Nothing ate him whole. The Nothing ate the worlds. The Nothing ate the Sun and the moon. In that Void. Dengali, somehow, heard the song still. A single tear rolled down the cheek of the Red Guardian, the Dungeon Master.
“Nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart…”
Time rewound itself again, but this time when Dengali finished feeding, he was alone in the darkness of the sewers. He tried something different. Climbing up to street level the Ancient One found that the small village he torpored in so long ago has grown into a metropolis. Looking up he beheld a magnificent Black Tower of High Sorcery.
Magic flowed through the streets in invisible streams like water upon the ground. His hearing detected thousands of heart beats. Never before had he sensed so much in one place. So much magic! So much power! So much blood!
Centering himself, he had to shut the sensory information out. It was too much. After a time, he became aware of a presence, watching him. Perhaps scrying him would be a better term. “I am the darkness, you will not hide in it from me.” Waving his hand Dengali spoke an ancient word of power, and from the shadows the magic opened to reveal a blue illusion of a cursed mage. This hologram of a Black Robed Wizard with the face of a horses ass and tail, emerged.
The ass twitched it’s tail in annoyance and spoke the ancient challenge. “Greetings Darkest one of the Blood! How may I assist the darkness of your soul?”
This gave the Ancient One pause. He had not been greeted so, in so long, that the honer slightly overwhelmed him. “Direct me to a market where I may find a seamstress to make me new clothes.”
The illusion bowed, and waived it’s hands in a grand gesture. For just down the street, where he indicated, the bricks moved and it was revealed that the city is in constant motion. Each city block drifting on a tide of invisible magic. However, that magic sang to him, in it’s inevitable way, revealing that the movements of the city were at his command and convenience. Even night and day are at his command allowing him to move in total darkness of night wherever he went, here.
Effortlessly the market presented itself to him and a seamstress store moved with up to his toes. Within, Dengali found the most drab and peasant looking clothing store he had ever seen. He glided over to the bolts of fabric openly revealing his Vampiric nature. This caused the two workers to drop to their knees and beg him to allow them to serve him.
The Ancient one disliked their accents as they reminded him of the people of the Northern Desert, a disgusting people that live in perpetual sunlight and tase like coal and ass mixed together. As if the very sand had infected their blood. The old memory stirred him and some time passed before he spoke.
The servants wisely stayed quite. “This is a peasants clothing store, I am in the wrong place.” With that he turned and glided out. Across the street the city moved to reveal a much nicer clothing store. The sign outside the location read “Brooks Brothers, Dark Town”. Dengali glided forward and stopped. Another Vampire had appeared before him and bowed in an old fashioned way quite deeply. Flashing his eyes bright red, the ancient one hissed and showed his fangs. Immediately the Vampire in front of him fell on his face and made himself as flat as he could, burying his face in the mud.
Several minuets past and Dengali finally snapped his fingers and allowed the junior Vampire to stand again. The mud fell from his face, and clothes like dust. clearly a minor magical effect. “Forgive me, most Ancient Sire, of my Sires, Sire. How may I assist the darkness of your soul”?
Dengali spoke slowly. “Do you not see the rags that rot upon my perfect form? Does it not shock you? Do you think that this is acceptable? That this is excusable? The younger Vampire replied “I do not think, I am an empty vessel for your will. I await your command.” He then froze in place and was unnaturally still.
The ancient one simply said. “Impress me”.
the younger Vampire pulled out a sealed pouch from within a hidden pocket. This bag of pure mana is priceless. He opened it and tossed a hand full of sparking dust all around the location. He cried out, arcane words of power followed by, “My shop.” The entire scene folded like an origami bird until they were standing in a completely different place. More handfuls of mana and more ancient words, and the cloth around them began to bend in spaceually unnatural ways until it formed itself into a fine suit of clothing. Black sequence fabric rippled and spun until the ancient one was immaculately clothed in custom clothing of the finest kind.
This made the ancient one happy. The magic began to dissipate, but not before it formed a very high, rigid collar denoting his station and age. Gliding over to the youth he suddenly grabbed him by his neck and hauled him up into the air. In one motion he bit his wrist and feed the younger one for just a moment. Then he put him down and blurred away.
The potent blood fell straight into the pit of his stomach. It was overwhelming. He lost control of his form and Vamped out devilishly. The Ancient Blood merged with him. He uncontrollably roared in ecstasy, and fell to the floor convulsing violently. His heart beat four times and then stopped. Quivering with power he appeared miserable, but the truth was that he felt so much pleasure that it hurt.
Feeling like himself for the first time in centuries, Dengali assumed a bat form and began hunting for more blood. Several victims later he heard a familiar voice raised in song behind him.
“And I need you now tonight,
And I need you more than ever
And if you only hold me tight
Well’ be holding on forever
And we will only be making it right
‘Cause we‘ll never be wrong.”
The Nothing feasted on the world around him, and he found himself and the Dungeon Master alone in a void of nothing that was somehow spinning like a top. Mana sparks flew off the Red Guardian, and he continued to sing very loudly now over the howling wind of the Nothing. Surrounded by blackness…
“I don’t know what to do,
And I am always in the dark
We’re living in a powder keg
And giving off sparks!”
Suddenly the air caught fire and the worlds were reborn in a massive mana explosion that blew Dengali’s golden hair back. He beheld the sheer magnitude of the rebirth of two supermassive worlds from a macro perspective. His eyes so wide, and his mind in shock trying to comprehend it all. “Such power”! He cried over the din of it all. “Who”? Stammering “What”? Reeling “How”?
The short little bald man just smiled and held out his hands parallel to each other. All of creation shrank, and then shrank again. The worlds revealed that they are really a part of a larger quasar, and then just one amongst many. It shrunk again, this revealed thousands quasars, then he slapped his hands together and it all flew outward until they were standing over the twin worlds in a God like perspective again.
The ancient One fell to his knees in wonder and blood tears ran down his face. He sobbed “You are more powerful than the Gods!” A look of fear invaded his face. “What am I to do?” He was only answered with more song.
“Once upon a time there was light in my life.”
The Dungeon Master’s Hands fell to his sides. He regarded the Vampire and sang.
“Now there is only love in the dark.”
The little bald man in red robes began to fade away…
“Nothing I can do,
Total eclipse of the heart…
Darkness and Nothing flooded in, drowning the ancient Vampire that doesn’t need to breathe. He rolled over and over in Nothing, eternal. In desperation and madness he tried to turn around…
Suddenly he found himself back in Darktown. He barfed some blood and kissed the ground. Standing, he was stunned to find not a mark upon himself. His new clothes were in tact, and he found himself standing in a cobble stone ally.
A flash of insight struck him. The Red Guardian is Neutral, but he always has a love for a group of do gooders, that are always fated to save the world! What a fool I am! He laughed out loud!
“I have to find the Hero’s and get them to stop this madness”!
Turning off the page, breaking the forth wall.
This NPC looks right at you.
His fangs come out, and his eyes glow red.
“Save Us”!
“All you have to do is show up and play”!
Then he fades away. Singing
“Turn around”
Fin

I'll try to be as brief as I can, otherwise this post will become an essay of me trying to promote Japan as the best vacation destination I have ever been to.
TLDR; Japan is great!
Background
The trip took place from 13 May 2023 to 27 May 2023. 9 people, ages ranging from late 20s to mid 60s, family from both my side and my wife's, took part in this trip. The 4 youngest members, including yours truly, planned for everything in this trip which includes the hotels, places we visits, international flights, domestic flights, meals, routes to take. It also helps that our youngest member is fluent in Japanese, while the rest of the youngsters can understand simple Japanese, thus YMMV.
Tokyo (13 May - 18 May 2023)
Tokyo was probably the most hated part of our trip as it involves a lot of walking. And the 5 old people were definitely not keen on walking much. So we really had to spend a lot of time looking for places to chill after half an hour of walking, which really slows us down. Even in train stations, we had to look for elevators since they were unable to climb stairs. There were really a lot of stairs in Japan.
Anyway, for the most part, we stayed in Kyobashi in Tokyo. We chose this area as it provides direct access to Haneda Airport via trains. It was also really convenient as every location we went to in Tokyo was accessible from Kyobashi Station, requiring little to no transfers.
A short review of places we went in Tokyo
Asakusa - It was crowded on a Sunday. Sensoji was nice to look at. Lots of street food around the area if you explore west of Nakamise Street. Kappabashi Dougu Street sells kitchenware and handmade crockeries, which are slightly pricey but good additions to my dining set. Spent around 5 hours here.
Ueno Zoo - Oldest zoo in Japan. Houses many animals that we don't see in Singapore, like the snow monkeys and shoebills. Pandas were definitely the main attraction. We queued for 15 minutes just to see them for 3 minutes. There is a system in place so that panda viewing is not overcrowded. In total, we spent almost 5 hours here.
Ameyoko Street - Shopping street. We just walked through this stretch after Ueno Zoo when everyone was tired. It was quite a touristy place where we did not find it interesting.
Meiji Shrine - Very beautiful shrine. Everybody enjoyed the walk from Harajuku Station to the shrine. The canopy provided shade on a hot day. Coupled with the cool weather, the walk was pleasant. We were also lucky enough to be able to witness a wedding ceremony happening at the shrine while we were there. Get your Omikuji (fortune slip) for JPY200. It comes with English translation.
Harajuku - Very hip shopping street. We were just here for Marion Crepes, nothing else. But if you are into fashion, feel free to spend time shopping here. The clothes are relatively cheaper as compared to places like Uniqlo.
Shibuya - A lot of construction projects are happening now at Shibuya, so it was slightly harder to get around. We went to a planetarium, and sat down for a "show", which was all voiced in Japanese, no subtitles. Very cool even if you don't understand anything as the start of the show basically placed you right in the heart of Shibuya, and allowed you to see the skyline. The youngsters also had a chance to go to the Pokemon Centre and Disney Store to do some light shopping. Go if you like these kind of things. If not, I would recommend skipping them.
Tsukiji Market - A local, slightly more touristy fish market. A lot of fresh seafood to try. Uni (Sea urchin) was in season. The most popular items were the tamagoyaki (rolled egg omelet) and hotate (scallops). We also ate at a local sushi restaurant and I had my first horse meat sushi. The chef even advised me that I should eat it without soy sauce. Very cool experience, probably something I'll never try if I did not go to Japan.
As you can see from above, we didn't go to many places in Tokyo as the oldies were pretty much restricted by their physical abilities to take long walks. I should also share that eating out is more expensive compared to Singapore (where we are from), with each meal costing around JPY1500 or more per person.
Hokkaido (18 May - 27 May 2023)
Hokkaido was really the highlight of this trip. It was clear that everyone enjoyed Hokkaido more than Tokyo. For the domestic flights, we flew via Air Do. To get to Hokkaido, we flew from Haneda Airport to Asaikawa Airport. To get back to Tokyo, we flew from Hakodate Airport. In addition, we rented 2 cars to fit 9 people, with 10 medium to large sized luggage. The distance between each city was usually about 2 to 3 hours drive. Essentially, we went from the west of Hokkaido to the east. So.. That definitely took a long while. so I'll break down the locations by cities.
Monbetsu (18 May - 19 May 2023)
Kamiyubetsu Tulip Park - A tulip park recreated to make you feel as if you were in The Netherlands. Very pretty place especially when all the tulips were in full bloom. We spent about 2 hours here just taking pictures and taking in the view.
Takinoue Shibazakura Park - A park where everything is pink! I have never seen a place so pink. We missed the sakura season in Tokyo but managed to catch the blooming of Shibazakura instead. It is really a sight to behold. In the park, if you are able, I would recommend climbing all the way to the bell to get a stunning view of the whole place. There is also a 3 minutes helicopter ride for JPY600 per person to get an aerial view of the park.
The tulip park was the reason why we drove 3 hours to the small town of Monbetsu. I think the drive was worth it if you like looking at flowers in full bloom. On a separate note, I have been to Monbetsu on another trip in 2019. There is a crab claw statue, a sea ice musuem and a seal sanctuary to visit. The town is not as boring as one might think.
Asahikawa (19 May - 20 May 2023)
Ramen Village - Just a place where 8 ramen restaurants set up shop. I highly recommend eating shoyu ramen in Asahikawa since that's what they're famous for.
Otokoyama Sake Brewery and Museum - It's in the name! Go here if you like sake. There's free tasting. The museum portion just showcases equipment used in the brewing process. It even shows how it was brewed in the older eras. There is also a tap where anyone can collect the spring water that they use to brew the sake. So.. BRING YOUR OWN BOTTLE!
Takikawa Canola Festival - We were just in time for the event. Canola (oil?) is the main export of the town of Takikawa. The festival only runs for 2 weekends. We were lucky to have been able to see this. Anyway, the festival was packed with people. So to alleviate overcrowding at the fields, the organisers did not allow people to go to the fields directly. Everybody is required to go to the festival location and take a shuttle bus to the fields. The bus timings were about 10 minutes from the next one, so even if the queue was long, we didn't wait too long. With any festival, there will always be snacks and other merchandise. Feel free to buy them and support the locals.
Furano (20 May - 21 May 2023)
Ningle Terrace - I think there were a total of 18 small craft shops in the area. Anyway, it's a place where you'll want to go after it turns dark. That's when the fairy lights come on and make it look magical. Personally, I wasn't into the crafts. But I bet they will be good decorations for your office desk or home.
Farm Tomita - A farm famous for lavender. It was raining heavily when we were there. So.. It wasn't a great experience. Coupled with the fact that lavender wasn't really in season, we could only see a small patch of purple. Potatoes here were great though! I would recommend getting some potato wedges or croquettes as snacks.
Furano Cheese Factory - We went there on a weekend. So, there was pretty much no production viewing. But no loss, since we were actually there for the pizza! The whole complex, including a pizza cafe, ice cream shop, factory and museum is nestled in a small woodland area. So you get to enjoy pizza and ice cream in the great outdoors! I highly recommend the pizzas.
Sapporo (21 May - 23 May 2023)
Tanukikoji Street - Shopping street! There's a Mega Don Quixote if anyone's interested. Otherwise it is really just another shopping street. What's cool about it is that there is also an underground mall that's linked to Susukino Station. So, you can shop above and under ground.
Nijo Market - A fish market just like Tsukiji Market but on a smaller scale. It was already past noon when we reached so most shops were closed or closing. The local shopkeepers here were friendlier though.
Odori Park - We took a 15 minutes walk from Sapporo Station to this park. It was not very impressive without sakura blooms or festivals. The iconic Sapporo TV Tower was at the head of the park. We chose not to go up the tower as we went somewhere higher.
JR Tower 36 - I believe this tower is taller than the Sapporo TV Tower. It costs JPY600 per person to ascend the tower. It offers a 360 degrees (more like 90 degrees x 4 sides) view of the city. On a clear day, you might even be able to see Otaru from the tower. You can also see the trains leaving and entering JR Sapporo Station.
Mount Moiwa - Unfortunately, it was foggy the night when we wanted to go up the mountain. So, we decided not to go. From what we researched, it offers a very pretty night view of the city.
So.. In Sapporo, we ditched the car and travelled via trains and legs, like how we did in Tokyo. Parking is expensive in bigger cities. It was a shame that we didn't get to go up to Mount Moiwa as I personally wanted to go up there. But.. There is always an alternative (maybe even better).
Otaru (23 May - 24 May 2023)
Sakaimachi Street - The biggest shopping street in Otaru. The road is lined with shops of various sizes on both sides. Highlights include a glass warehouse, the Romankan (Romance House) and the windchimes on the river. At the end of the street (or the beginning depends on where you start), is an iconic clock tower. I think it rings and blows steam out of its top every hour. Under the clock tower is my personal favourite, LeTao! Their bestseller, the cheesecakes, is the best! But I love their chocolate biscuits, The Noir, better.
Otaru Canal - You may or may not know that Otaru was a port town. The warehouses that line up beside the canal has since been transformed into shops. According to my wife, it is supposedly a pretty place to go to at night, when lights brighten the canal. But when we were there, it was a sad sight. The lights barely lit up the canal. So.. GO IN FEBRUARY when the snow light path festival is happening! There is also a gondola ride on the canal if anyone's interested. We were not.
Sankaku Market - A really small market beside Otaru Station. We had our crab lunch here! 3 crabs totaling 4.6kg for JPY45000. I think that the items sold here are relatively more expensive as this market is catered towards tourists.
Lake Toya (24 May - 25 May 2023)
Mount Usu - A volcano which last erupted in the year 2000. We took the ropeway up. Trust me! It is worth the trip. There is a terrace right beside the ropeway station where you can enjoy beautiful scenery of the lake and surrounding mountains. The youngsters also managed to climb 320 steps to go closer to the caldera of Mount Usu. While you don't see any lava, you can definitely see some smoke.
Meisui-no-Sato Rest Station - This is not really an attraction. But I wanted to give it a shoutout because it was definitely the most beautiful rest station I have ever seen. A suspension bridge links the rest station to a small forested area. And in that area is a spring! It was unexpected to see everybody enjoying a rest there and drinking spring water directly from the mountains.
The Lake Ko no Sumika - Our hotel for the night at Lake Toya. This hotel resort is situated right beside the lake. The hotel is also part of the Toya Sun Palace. If you stay in Ko no Sumika, you get access to the onsen and facilities of both hotels. But it doesn't work the other way round. So it definitely feels more exclusive. The Lake Ko no Sumika has the onsen on the 8th level, giving you an unblocked view of the lake and its beyond when you're taking a bath. For those who don't know, from April to October, a fireworks show happens every night between 8.45pm to 9.05pm. The fireworks show takes place on the lake, starting from the pier near The Lake Toya Nonokaze resort, ending in the middle of the lake, right in front of my hotel room. Did I mention that there is a balcony in every room that looks out to the lake? That's where we enjoyed the fireworks show. There is also an onsen bath in every room of the hotel for you to enjoy if you are shy about going nude in the public bath. To summarise, The Lake Ko no Sumika was luxury on another level. I highly recommend this heaven.
Hakodate (25 May - 27 May 2023)
Onuma National Park - It's actually a quasi-national park. Not sure what the difference is. But it is a beautiful park where there are bridges that link small little islands together. It'll take around 1 hour to walk the longest route and 15 minutes for the shortest. Honestly, I love this park. It was picturesque and it was also amusing to see young couples (the guy) struggling to row a boat.
Mount Hakodate - Boasts the world famous night view. While I agree that the view is beautiful, it is too packed for anyone to enjoy. Everybody is holding up their cameras and crowding near the railings for anyone to take in the scenery. Of course, to counter this, you can always pop by the restaurant or cafe and hope that you'll be assigned a seat by the window so that you can enjoy the view. I recommend that to go right before the sun sets. At the top, you'll have to choose if you want to see the sunset or the night view. Because there is no way that you'll capture both since everybody will crowd to one or the other. It'll always be more crowded when the sky turns dark and everybody is rushing to get off the mountain. So.. Be prepared to wait! Good luck!
Hakodate Morning Market - The morning market is awesome. You have access to fresh seafood and other produce. You can even haggle! We spend our 2 mornings there for breakfast. Amazing place to get delicious and slightly cheaper seafood. There is also a stall which lets you catch your own squid and they'll grill it for you. Long queue though. For reference, we had 2 crabs, weighing at 4.2kg in total for JPY37000. They'll lead you to a restaurant where they'll cook the crabs for you, for free! Don't be afraid to haggle and discuss with the shop owners.
Goryokaku - A fort turned into a park! The famous star(?) shaped park is a beautiful place. When we were there, we saw wisterias and fresh green trees. There is also a structure, which I believe was the residence of someone, which you can pay to enter. Nothing to rave about. But if you want to see some architecture in the middle of a park, you can see it here. Come here if you enjoy walking around a big park. If not, give it a miss.
To sum things up
It is safe to say that all of us enjoyed our trip to Japan. For my parents, it was their first time in Japan. Our itinerary could have been more optimised to cater to the old folks but we planned what we could. Everything else was pretty much on the fly.
While most Japanese don't speak English, they do have some basic understanding if you speak slowly and give them time to process what you said. Alternatively, learn some simple Japanese phrases. It'll make life a lot easier there. For the most part, we relied on Google Maps and Navitime apps to get around Tokyo. We googled for Mapcodes for our drive in Hokkaido.
Hope you enjoyed this lengthy trip report!

Previous/
The wagons or tanks rolled through the gate in a caravan that was more akin to a carnival than a group of tradesmen; all the wizards with their pointed hats were shaped magnificently against the browns and grays, some wore white porcelain dramedy masks beneath headwear as dark as pipe resin, men and women and those between—as that was common from where they hailed. Their company was perhaps forty and their mules and mares were thirsty and were led to troughs to idle while the wizards removed goods from their wagons or tanks and although it was not a spectacle for them to arrive within Golgotha’s walls, it was something still and the citizens gathered to greet whatever wizards they might know but mostly perhaps to whisper rumors on them. The wizards seemed a taller folk, but that was because of the hats, and they seemed wider too, but that was for the robes they adorned with costume jewelry, trinkets, or fingernail-sized lanterns which contained magical properties hung off their clothes as ornaments (some metal and other crudely wooden). I never knew a people that could trek the wastes in that time as well as me till I knew them.
Boss Maron was there at the gates with his wall men, hollering—shouting really, “The Whores of Babylon have come again!” And the bells signaled from atop the highest tower over the hall of Bosses and I met the front square with a morning headache and a cigarette. The Boss sheriff was clothed, cowboy hat pulled tightly to his ears, and he waltzed through the square, inspecting the new arrivals with his crotch out in front of him as he moved in a swagger like a cup of shifted water. Morning sunlight crested the wall to reflect on the pistol in his holster as it did on the star pin of his hat.
Among them, there was only one wizard I cared to see. Their name was Suzanne.
The hanged bodies of the men remained on the wall, dead and stiff and shifting to the little wind there was.
The square had filled with carts (some drawn by animals and others pushed on oil), and even if it were not for the bells which signaled their arrival, I’d have surely known their presence for the clatter of their metal engines.
“Well goddamn!” said Maron while examining a wizard, “What’s that you’ve got on your legs?”
The wizard, a young woman in plain pants wore a set of leg braces and whenever she moved, she did so in shifting her hips around. “Braces,” she said.
“What’s it for? Or is it some of your all’s secret whodo?”
“I’ve got bad legs. The braces help.” She said plainly, attempting to angle herself straight like a stick against one of the traveling party’s wagons.
“Bad legs?” Boss Maron’s expression was incredulous. “Who has bad legs? What sort of nonsense is it? If a lady like you’s made it this far in life with bad legs, then someone’s done you a disservice.”
She looked on questioningly while the other wizards continued with their unpacking or their conversating—whether it be amongst themselves or with the freckle-spaced citizens in the square.
“How are you to outrun trouble when you’ve got them?” He nodded at the young woman’s legs.
“I don’t.” Her face was red either because of the sun or because of the scrutiny. “I’m just bow-legged.”
“Damn,” he shook his head, “Well how much you want for one of them?”
“One of my braces?”
“Yeah. All I want’s the one anyway.”
“I need both of them.”
“C’mon. You wouldn’t notice just one missing. I mean, you’ve got a spare right next to it.”
Upon noticing a robed figure I recognized by the animals at the troughs, I moved to them instead and let Maron’s conversation fall to the wayside. The chatter of the crowd was wild and startled words came as a wizard exposed their collection of tonics to passersby.
“Suzanne,” I said.
The figure turned to face me, moving their head to look away from a mare they’d been brushing to expose one of those white porcelain masks.
I knew it and could not contain a smile.
“Harlan?” asked the figure. The mask on its face was split in the middle with hinges on either side and they opened it to show their face; it was Suzanne. They’d grown some hair around their throat and wore lipstick on their lips and dyes on their eyes.
“It’s good to see you.” I pushed myself into a hug with them and I could smell the travel off them but didn’t care.
They shifted timidly before hugging me back and I pretended not to notice. Once we’d separated, I looked on Suzanne’s face again and they were looking on at the hanging men on the wall. “Again?” they asked.
I nodded and shot a look towards the Boss across the way.
“What justice?” they asked no one while shaking their head.
Trying an answer, I said, “Justice is something man made, I think. I’ll leave men to men and the rest to God.”
“God.” Suzanne nodded glumly then shook their head. “Which one?”
I laughed a good laugh that felt real but nervous too then kicked the ground and took the last drag off my cigarette before chucking it to the ground. “What’s brought you here?”
Suzanne answered plainly. “We took a long time east out near Pittsburgh.” Their eyes scanned the buildings further on from the square. “The people there are worse than here, it seems. At least you still have your walls.”
“Pittsburgh’s fallen?”
They frowned. “Not completely. They’ve mostly gone underground. A skitterbug infestation caused a plague directly before an attack of proportions I’ve yet seen.” Suzanne’s brow furrowed. “It was awful.” The words hung in the air for a moment. “But we’re here now and thought we’d stop for a rest and some guns and ammo before returning to Babylon. We’ve brought some medicines to trade.”
I learned from my friend that Pittsburgh’s infrastructure and fortifications were decimated in an attack the wizards only caught second-hand and the survivors—holed away in the tunnels beneath Pittsburgh—told of how the demons ran the walls once their reserves were low.
Then the wizards gathered there began unpacking books, some scrolls, and there were medicines too and some of the Bosses other than Maron (he pushed his harassment of the young wizard with leg braces) graced us there with their presence as they came on and began to pick across the goods, haggling prices. Boss Frank was there, and he stood before a wizard by a tank with a wooden table of jars—capped elixirs of varying colors—he grew increasingly frustrated with their selection and took on in his braggadocious way, speaking of numbers. A few of the idle wizards leaned against carts or even took across town and a small group of them had gathered for a quick show near the guard posts, playing instruments (strings over the vocals of “In My Life”) and there in the front of them was a young wizard man that had removed his hat to show how he played with fire flames off his hands—it was a sideshow play—and the citizens wore variations of bemusement or disgust. The children of Golgotha, all dirty faced with sprigs of hair jutting about from their morning’s waking, seemed totally bewildered in the joy of song and clapped their hands or shook their hips all with smiles.
I stuffed my hands in my jacket and prodded Suzanne, “What’s with the plague? I mean, was it contained? None of your lot got sick, did they?”
Suzanne scoffed, perhaps a little pridefully, “No. I wouldn’t worry about that.” They patted a nearby mule then withdrew a brush and moved it across its thin coat before looking over its hooves. “I’ve brought you some books I found out that way though. You still read?”
I nodded.
“Don’t expect any of that fiction. The only ones I’ve found recently are old pamphlets or medical texts.” Suzanne paused and smiled, returning the animal brush to their robes, “You haven’t happened upon anything that might interest me, have you?”
Their shown teeth were infectious. “Mayhap. I’d need you to come back to my place so I could give them to you.” An awkward pause followed and the roar of the still accumulating crowd overtook the space between us before I continued. “Mostly interesting containers and a few flecks of gold I took from some old computers—they’ve been waitin’ on you for weeks now. I got some parchment that might be of use to you too. You can take what you need as always.”
“How about we get some food? I’m famished. Riding through the night takes its toll.”
Me and Suzanne took from the square up a narrow route that led through residences where the lower levels had their curtains drawn and then we took stairs toward balconies and catwalks configured from reinforced metal; we spoke as we went and a few odd glances from passersby met the wizard as we did.
“The tide on the east is rising again,” said Suzanne.
“Worse than before?”
“Worse than before.”
“God, I don’t think I’ve seen the ocean for a decade or more.” I slid my hand along the railing once we came to what was essentially my front porch; it was a perch among the catwalks that cut against the domicile where I shared walls with others on three sides and we stopped there outside my door. “We saw a dragon only a few days ago.”
Suzanne’s interest seemed piqued. “A dragon? And what direction was it traveling?”
“Well,” I craned over the railing, looking down the narrow walkway that separated my building and the one across the way; I couldn’t see the front square from outside my home, but I could still just make out the music echoing from that direction, “Could’ve been north or west. I was preoccupied, but I wouldn’t worry much. The wall men gave it a pretty good thrashing before it took off.”
“Hmm.”
“So, the ocean? It’s rising, huh?”
They joined me there on railing, supporting themselves against their forearms. “It is. Faster than ever. Some bad magic’s taken the water. I imagine by the end of the year Pittsburgh will be under it. There’s something bad coming. You might call it intuition if you want, but I know it’s coming. Something bad. Revelations bad. There comes a time when even those of us forsaken are brought worse.”
“Bah!” I couldn’t help it, “John thought it was the end times while he wrote the damn thing. And what about all the other books? Hm?”
Suzanne put up their hands. “I didn’t mean it like that at all. You know I’m only the mildest scholar on the topic.”
“Anyway. You’d better not start having visions. Got enough to worry about as is.” I’d not realized my shoulders were tense until their hand touched me, and I flinched.
“You’ve a bruise around your neck. Care to elaborate there?”
I shook my head. “Got into a fight.”
Suzanne laughed, removed their pointed hat and playfully put it on my head. “C’mon. Cook me something. You might not know a thing about spices, but your cooking’s always tasted better.”
We took through my door to my small single room where simple amenities awaited and an ancient, decommissioned pump-shotgun hung on the wall over the bed. “That’s just ‘cause you ain’t the one laboring over it.”
Across a meal of potato cakes and toasted bread, we drank coffee until I broke into the liquor to spice my coffee and alleviate my hangover, and we shared the drink and Suzanne took to wash in the sink while I smoked outside on the overlook. Upon returning to the room, I saw them there with a wet rag stuffed beneath an armpit and they were beautiful caught without robes, frame cast in sunglow through the crack in my doorway. In a moment, our hands glided around one another in a scramble of arms at the middle point between us and we took to bed for a while.
Come midday, we remained there, staring at the ceiling, chests bare, and blanket strewn across our lower halves.
“You’re going gray,” said Suzanne.
“You’re getting old too, ya’know.”
“Yes.”
“How long did you say you’ll be staying?” I asked while trying to mask whatever excitement may be present.
“Few days. Once we’ve enough ammunition.” They traced their index finger along my ear lobe.
“Stay.” I offered.
They frowned. “Come.”
“I did already.”
They gave me a light shove and cut their eyes at me. Hazel. How good that color was. “Really. What keeps you here?”
“Things.” I pushed up in the bed to sit, finagling my underwear from the jeans on the floor.
“I wish you would.”
“I’m no wizard.”
“You don’t need to be.”
“Maybe there will come a time when I take you up on that offer. Who knows?” I slid into the drawers.
“Is it Maron?” they asked, “I don’t know your fascination with him. He’s the worst combination cruel and dumb I’ve seen.”
“Like an animal.” I nodded. “Like something real bad’s wrong with him. But no. He’s not my fascination.” Lying was always hard with them. “I worry about this place. I wouldn’t do the things I do if I didn’t. What if I were to leave it and then it turns out like Pittsburgh.”
“Oh, you’re an expert in plagues now?”
“No,” I scoffed, “I guess it’s just a place that weighs on my conscious.” I went to sit on the bed alongside them.
“You hate it here. I can see it more on your face every time we meet.”
“That I do. Call it an investment dilemma. I’ve put time in it, and I want it to be well.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
I caught Suzanne’s face there, staring up from the flat pillow, flustered. My reasoning was hard, but I continued, “There is one thing I should undo before I leave here. It’s a long time coming, and I don’t know if I can. But it’s important,” upon seeing their quizzical expression, I added, “And it is secret.”
“I wish you’d come with us. You’d be welcome.”
“I’ll visit Babylon sometime next month. I promise.”
“You shouldn’t call it that. I don’t like it when you call it that.” The wizards never called their home Babylon; that was a name conjured by the many religious fanatics that considered their magic evil (even if they did trade with the ‘heretics’ from time to time). The name they’d given their own city of medicine was Alexandria; it was fitting for I’d seen their expansive libraries and could become lost in them easily.
“Fine. I’ll be there.” I squeezed their hand in mine. “I’ll miss you once you’ve gone.”
“Don’t get sappy,” they said before planting a kiss on my forehead.
The day went and then the next and another and the wizards packed their belongings. No more music for Golgotha, only quiet agony. As Suzanne said, they’d left me a few books and I’d given away my parchment, jars, and gold. While they were in town, I even was able to snag a few more bottles of their famous wizard liquor along with a few vials of medicine—always good to have whenever I set foot beyond the walls or when someone within might need it.
There came a time finally—as every time it does—where I watched the caravan, with gray smoke clouds off the engines, take on north first where there was an opening wide enough in the ruins to accommodate vehicles, then it hooked around a wide bend that took them west then their black shapes against the red morning skyline disappeared like fading ink as their magic cloaked them entirely. I wished them well, but at the moment of dissipation, I felt an urge to leap from the top of the wall, charge across the field, scream that I was coming and scream it loud enough that I’d hurt myself. I think I just loved—though I never said it aloud and neither did they—and love is a bad thing more often than it is good, for the longing it leaves in its absence drives a person mad and I did not want to be mad; the feeling burst from me quietly there on the wall while I was flanked on either side by guards. I was sure all along the way they went that I could just make out Suzanne among them; that was probably a fault in my vision, but I imagined they were casting glances back, hoping to hold me as strongly as I wished to hold them. I went to the streets of Golgotha where the town quieted from the previous days’ engagements with the wizards.
Normal came and settled and then came chanting from Lady as she moved through sullen quiet streets. She was so far off that I was not sure it was her at all and then came the lines as she drew nearer by the hydroponics towers, and she shouted them vigorously and shook her fist above the air and held a staff with a swinging lantern of incense in her opposite hand, partly for ceremony and partly for support. The words came harshly, gravelly:
“They called to the mountains and to the rocks, fall on us and hide us from the face of him who sits on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb! For the great day of their wrath has come, and who can withstand it?”
“The lamb will be your shepherd. He will guide you. Hallelujah! He will lead you to the springs of living water and wipe away every tear!”
“Many will be purified, made spotless and refined, but the wicked will continue to be wicked. None of the wicked will understand, but those who are wise will understand! Do not be tempted by the deviousness of the whorish Babylonians for all the nations have drunk the maddening wine of her adulteries. The kings of the earth committed adultery with her, and the merchants of the earth grew rich from her excessive luxuries.”
A person, among the catwalks, shouted down at Lady, “Shut-the-fuck-up!”
I watched her come fully down the avenue as she dodged a thrown egg from somewhere unseen, then dashed away toward an offshoot alley to hide somewhere, incense lantern smoking, clanging against her back while she screeched off more scripture from memory. After she was long gone, I moved to the spot where the egg was, rubbed it into dirt with the sole of my boot and looked up through the spiderweb network of catwalks overhead; there was no one.
Without a thing keeping me, I took off the following day, and upon meeting the gates, Maron was there and I could see he was the proud owner of a used leg brace; he grinned upon seeing me, patting his mustache down with his forefinger and thumb.
“Whatcha’ think?” He motioned to his left leg. “It’s a bit of a conversation starter, ain’t it?”
“Get your boys to open the gate, I’m going out.”
He shook his head. “Won’t find anything out there. It’s all dirt and rubble, you know.”
“Just open it.”
“You know what?” He cut his eyes at me. “There’s gonna’ come a day when you won’t be so able bodied or maybe the Bosses won’t like you coming and going as you please.”
I inhaled heavily then let it go. “Now can’t we skip to the end where you acquiesce to my request?”
“Words words words you’ve got. You’ve got a lot of words. Acquiesce. Psshaw.” Boss Maron waved for the guards to open the gate and they did, and I stepped by him, and he spit somewhere behind me before I heard him hobble around with his single leg brace.
The path was clear and open on all sides and in no time, I’d taken across the field to the east and found myself on the edge of the ruins where things stank, and I was free from no other thought than to live. Creeping hot overcame me and brought my hair to my forehead and I holed off in a shadow to drank from my gourd before continuing. The sun was red in the sky in the places where I could see sky from around the black shadows of towering structures. I ducked beneath an old shop counter when I heard the skittering of fart heads and pulled a sleeve to kill the scent of their chlorine breath.
Once they’d gone, I pulled through the wreckage more and more till I came upon the markings for an old safehouse in the back office of a garage I’d not been to in a while. What were my intentions? Was I going to go all the way to the coast? Throw myself into those bad magic waters? There’s a thing they don’t teach you in religion. They prattle all day to do this or that and they say that Hell awaits sinners or Hades or maybe its in layers or circles or what have you. They’ll tell you about the places and they’ll say that if you take life into your own hands, you end in Hell, but what’s a person to do when those creeping intrusions come along—the ones that call to a person in the darkness, the ones where they tempt you to jump from a high place or there’s always a gun or a poison. Maybe a person could bribe another to do it for them. Where do they end up then? What are you supposed to do to stave off those thoughts? Should a person contend such melancholies with prayer? That did not seem helpful. What is the soulless to do without the promise of those pearly gates anyway?
Anyway, I took on past the safehouse and found a utility hall in the side of a tall industrial building just beyond a partially erect chain link fence. The wall was opened up like a cracked shell from years of standing alone, and after ducking through there, I found some old matches in a drawer, plastic gas cans whose contents had long since congealed within; I kicked them (not that I expected anything more). Moving further down the wide hallway, there were shelves of dusty tools, and I took some hammers and knives (cheapo stuff).
Further still down the hall, there was a staircase, and I took it quietly; the stone stairs made hardly a sound against the bottoms of my boots, and I took the stairs more quickly till I was out of breath and caught myself on a landing where I supped silent air before rushing further up the stairs. An old metallic cabinet or console—I couldn’t make it out—lay strewn across the steps to the second-highest floor and I climbed over it before coming to the building’s roof access. Upon coming to the door with a metal push bar across its middle, I gave it a shove and it did not budge but a minor clink and I took a moment to collect myself before rummaging through my gear.
Slung through a loop on the inside of my pack was a short prybar that was so worn around its tooth it was more rounded than an edge; I shimmied the piece of metal into the spot where the door latched into the way and began crimping the spot apart, trying all the while to maintain a relative quiet in the dead ruins. Once I’d bent away at the door for a few moments, I elevated my body weight at an awkward angle to pop the door free and it did so, half open, with a rusty screech that forced a long pause from me; I stood there by the newly opened doorway for a full minute, holding the prybar, holding my breath. Upon hearing nothing in response to the noise of the door, I slid the tool into my pack and slipped through the threshold.
The flat roof of the industrial building sloped to one corner—where the opening in the wall of the first floor was—and sitting there in the middle of an open platform was an old helicopter, blades half torn away or rusted off and the remaining slanted from the top of the old vehicle, touching the platform it sat upon. The roof access looked like a little square house atop the flat headed structure and around the side of the access, I found an old corpse (entirely bones) wrapped in black plastic-like armor, the white dry fingers laid across its lap, several digits gone and its hollow eye holes staring off into the sky with a permanent smile. I moved to the thing that hadn’t been human in a long time and prodded it; the skeleton slumped to the side and looked on the ground by its shoes. How long had it been staring at the sky and how long had it been waiting for me to come and change its dead visage?
I moved to the edge of the building, to the corner where the building sloped and looked off the edge to the ground below; all was quiet, and nothing moved save the shadows’ stalwart creep across the ground. Examining from above, I could see the opening I’d climbed through and beneath my shifting feet, I felt the ground give a little; timidly, I angled more forward and for a moment I thought I knew why I’d gone up there in the first place. Suddenly six-stories felt high. The urge to jump came. Perhaps on the way down, I’d have just a blink to convince myself I’d slipped.
“Hey!” A shout from somewhere down below came from the direction I’d come from. I shook my head as it felt as though it was a ghost echo, a noise that wasn’t. Then it came again, “Hey!”
I squinted my eyes and there in the crumbled road below, there was a human I didn’t initially recognize; it was only after the figure tumbled through the remains of the chain link fence that I recognized it as Dave. I blinked.
Out of breath, he angled over to the opening at the base of the structure and called up at me, “Hey! I see you up there!”
Whisper-yelling, I cupped my hands, “Shutup!”
I took back to the stairs, and he hollered after, “Where you going?”
With reckless abandon, I took the stairs many at a time, leapt the cabinet on the stairs, scrambling while also reaching for the prybar I’d put away. I held the cold metal in my hand and charged toward the industrial storage hallway where I could see him silhouetted in the frame of the crumbled opening.
His chest heaved and he wiped at his brow; slung across his shoulder was a small supply bag and worn like a necklace was a pair of binoculars. “God, you move fast. Like a fuckin’ cockroach in light.” His eyes shifted from my face to the prybar in my hand as I approached him.
Standing within the echoey hallway, I lifted the weapon and pointed it at him. “What’d you follow me for?”
“You wouldn’t use that on me.” He took his eyes from the prybar. “I don’t think you would anyway. You might be shady, Harlan, but I don’t take you as a stone-cold murderer.”
“You take me wrong,” I said.
“Maybe.” He seemed to think on it a moment. “You wouldn’t?”
“If you’ve given away my position to those things, I might.”
“Lots of bluster.” Dave offered an incredibly forced smile, and I could see just from the little shine of the sun in the opening that his eye had blacked but remained functional. “I been watching you.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “I snuck out after you.”
“You ought to go back.”
“You ought to just listen. There ain’t a thing back there for me.”
“I don’t care.” The sharpness in my voice felt good. “I don’t need some sorry sack sneaking up on me when I’m mindin’ my own.”
A quiet laugh. “There’s nothing there for me. I been farming all my life and if I die,” he shrugged, “So be it.”
“Idiot. Fuckin’ idiot.”
“You manage out here! Wizards can too!”
“Wizards have magic.”
“You got some of that?”
I lowered the crowbar.
“We’ve got to stop starting our conversations with fights.” He paused and moved into the shadowy hallway of the building before perching in a half-sit half-lean against the wall near me. “I never was violent anyway, so if you want to hit me with that then do it.”
“Hmm.”
His shirt clung to him, sweat thick and dark on his chest and pits. “Goddamn you move fast.”
“You should wear a jacket or something. Long sleeves keep the sun off and a thicker material gives you a modicum of protection.” I took to squatting too, maintaining ample distance betwixt us. “A hat helps too, but I’m always losing hats.” I chewed on my tongue while mulling over whether I should leave him.
“Are you going to try and slink away while I’m not looking?”
I blinked. “No.”
“Liar.” He took a healthy gulp from his water gourd then wiped his mouth. “East is the ocean?”
I nodded.
“Is it far?”
I nodded. “For you.”
Dave sighed. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Telling me.”
“Okay.”
“You ever have any kids?”
I shook my head.
“It’s somethin’. Henry had so much energy—especially when he was little—there was times I didn’t think he’d ever settle down.”
“What are you doing out here?” I asked.
“Helen told me she was the same way when she was his age. She had energy too. I feel so tired.”
“Dave. What the fuck are you doing out here? Why’d you follow me?”
He took one last swallow from his gourd before shoving it into his pack. “I wanted to talk to you about killin’ the Bosses.”
I laughed into my hand. “That’s—that’s a thought.”
“I mean it.” His stare was like pinpricks.
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I live in Massachusetts. In a town within the Bridgewater triangle. There is a lot of folklore about things that dwell in the forests within the triangle.
Puckwudgies are little people that once lived among the Wampanoag Native Americans that once called the area home. They’re described as short shape shifting pranksters, usually around 2-4 feet tall, that mess with people who enter the forest at certain times and have features of doglike goblins usually with bright red eyes. It is said that when you lock eyes with the creature you are cursed & it will follow you and taunt you.
I worked maintenance with an older man who was seeing a woman who was part Native American. One day I went by his house and we all sat at his table smoking and talking. The forest was brought up and we began sharing stories.
She was a tough woman with a no bullshit personality. She worked the paper route delivering news papers so she would have to be out around 2:30AM.
Halfway through her shift she pulled up to a house that she always pulls up to with the same giant pine tree in the front yard off to the side near the wood line. She said when she looked up she glanced at the tree. But when she looked she noticed something standing Next to it.
It was a short creature. She described it as having the legs of a kangaroo & the face of a wolf with red glowing eyes.
Now usually if I were to hear this story from anyone I would probably laugh and not believe it. But there was something in the way she said it, her facial expression and the way she swore to me that she saw this creature. Not to mention her serious personality.
I told her a believed her, and I really did. I found my hairs raising on my arms and behind my neck. I was spooked.
Fast forward a 6 or 7 months. I’m at the coffee shop my girlfriend works at. I was having a conversation with a few of the “regulars” a couple of old men in their 70’s that visit daily and talk among each other while enjoying some coffee. We were taking about hunting & the forest was brought up. The man became serious and told me to make sure I’m armed when I go in there.
I asked if he had any experiences In the forest. He had many and shared a few hair raising stories. But there was one that stuck out and made me feel sick.
He said a few weeks back he was heading to Maine to meet up with a friend for hunting. He was on the highway that runs along the forest early in the morning before the sun came up. He told me he saw two small creatures run across the highway. The first was going to fast but he caught a glimpse of the second one.
He said it had short arms and feet like Jack rabbit. With hair sticking up on its back . And last second it turned and looked at him. It had a dog like face & it’s eyes reflected a bright red.
I was in shock. I believed the Native American woman before but this really solidified it for me. I shared the story with him and he wasn’t surprised he just warned me to be careful whenever I go in there.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I listen to your content all the time & I really enjoy it, keep it coming!

My wife calls all lunch meats "ham" and all deli-style sandwiches "ham sandwiches" as if deli meats fall under some kind of "ham" umbrella. I caught onto this a few years ago while we were grocery shopping. She had written "ham" on the list, which I was reaching for when she said "how about some of this ham?" while pointing to a package of sliced roast beef. I was confused.
"What do you mean? Ham's on the list. Here's some good honey ham," I said."But that ham is getting boring. I like other hams, too. Like these -" and she gestured towards all the other kinds of deli meats like sliced turkey, roast beef, and pastrami on the aisle.
Folks, she nearly broke my brain. She wasn't joking or trying to pull some kind of weird psychological prank on me. She explained to me that she legitimately understands "ham" to be a broad-spectrum category. In my mind, and to anyone else who I've asked, ham is a specific type of meat - it's cured, usually sweet, smoked or baked, leg meat from a pig. To her, ham is the category and all other sliced sandwich meats are subsets.
She says her and her immediate family always regarded cold cuts this way, but doesn't know why. Is this a normal thing for some people? Is it a regional thing like calling sodas "pop" or "Coke"?
​
A couple of clarifying points: she's a native English speaker and her sister shares this quirk.

Edit: https://imgur.io/t/cat/0R25cYM sorry I forgot everyone! I like black cats :-)
I didn't have a lot of friends growing up or consistent ones because of a mix of household reasons (BPDMom always found a reason to be mad if I left the house overnight) and personal ones (likely autism on my end), but two out of the three I had as a teenager my mom was just weird with. Relevant: I didn't know I was trans till I was nearly 16 and came out after I turned 16. My parents were (mostly) accepting so there is that, but all of this was pre everything.
The first one I only know is weird because my therapist some time later said as such. I had a friend when I was 13 to 14ish who was manipulative in her own right. She once found a lighter and pretended she was going to light my curtains on fire to get a rise out of me. I'm not trying to paint her as an inherently bad person - we were teens and her mom was fucked up in her own way - but I got sick of her and texted her I didn't want to be friends (as young teen girls were want to do). I told her ahead of time and after I sent the text BPDmom told me my friend's dad had told her she'd run away from home because of me.
I can't tell if I'm wrong or not but it feels manipulative in retrospect. I don't think she wanted me to cut that person off. Plus I know now she lies constantly so I don't even know if that was true. I didn't trust her enough to fully explain why I doing it because I thought I'd get in trouble for the curtain thing and other stuff, or both my parents would be surprised I didn't stand up for myself or some such shit like that.
The other one was a guy I stopped hanging out with because we had no common interests and I couldn't hold a conversation to save my life anyway. For some reason my Mom also hung out with him? This was when we were 15. They hung out on the porch a couple of times while he smoked weed and he confided in her a lot, which I know because she was telling my other parent and I about his life drama for years until I asked if he'd even consented to it. She said he did and then mysteriously stopped for a while 🙄. There as also one time (tw vaguely sexual) >!where she drove me up to a charity shop where this friend was to pick him up, picked up a giant cabinet, and then there was only one passenger seat left so she had me sit on his lap the whole way home. This didn't lead to anything thankfully but it was uncomfortable then and creepy now. I had zero indications of being into him whatsoever.
I don't understand why she got more connected to my friends than I did. I mean, shit, not a high bar, but still. I feel like she tried to be a second parent to them both. If I'm being unreasonable here genuinely, let me know, but I feel like if I had kids I wouldn't be that way with them or at least not for a while. Was anyone else's BPD parent like this?

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Alien-Nation Discord Buy A Coffee for the Author
Chapter summary: Vaughn liberates a bunch of people. Elias can't sleep and makes some decisions and receives a weird offer.
Chapter Art- Vaughn's Mask, a World War One Tanker Splatter Mask

Alien-Nation Chapter 169: Jailbreak

A Leslie's Pool Supplies retail outlet made for a strange rally point for any group of people, even moreso now that the whole strip mall along what had been Concord Pike had long since closed. The stainless letters spelled the forgotten name of the shopping center, still proudly adorned the top of the diagram of blank signs ensured at least the brick obelisk was a conveniently obvious marker for the men to find and make preparations for assaulting the jail.
'Morningstar' squadron had swelled their cell's numbers to well over twenty by absorbing the miscellaneous fragments of other cells, whose skills were more generalized. The name carried over to the newly formed Strike Force by virtue of being both the largest and the lynchpin of the operation's success.
This was the largest force of the three organized groups they'd split into, each aiming to try and hit the larger jails along Route 202, the other two branches making a target list of their own. Vendetta had given them an extra half hour to at least get themselves close to in-position, but with only one shortwave had no way of knowing if they would coordinate their strike. He was a known element to everyone even if only by name. At least Elias's words stayed true; All seemed very familiar and well-practiced with their carried weaponry. More importantly, none contested his assigned leadership or questioned his orders.
Vaughn cradled the RPG he'd been given, eyeing the well-lit building just over the carefully landscaped hill. The last had been over a half hour ago. The box-mart across the old highway was the temporary headquarters of the repositioned Troop One, after the suburbs near Camp Death had been cleared, likely soon to be repositioned again. But the size of the old box-mart seemed to indicate several things, that it was largely indefensible, could contain a fair few prisoners, and by its proximity to Camp Death, could be useful to strike regardless.
The flow of traffic was unusually heavy for being well before the crack of dawn. Perhaps people were trying their luck getting up old 202 to try and reach the border that way, after having no luck along other closed border checkpoints. There was a feeling of self-consciousness in carrying heavy weapons out in the open along a suburban highway most had driven along during peacetime, the juxtaposition of old familiar environment and newly familiar activity showing just how much their lives had changed. Moreso as cars rolled along it like it was a Friday night of olde, the two lives- old and new, bumping shoulders for a moment.
"You ready?" He asked, snapping them back to the present.
Mutters of assent was good enough. Haltingly, everyone in the mishmashed strike team moved toward the precinct's bright lights, taking advantage of the long shadows and occasional noise of the passing cars.
It was an unassuming building, the repurposed garrison made out of some retail outlet built back in the turbulent seventies, all brick and little else but tiny glass doors, with not even windows for the occupants to know the impending violence had been approaching. What era will this be known as? Early Imperial? Resistance? Revolutionary? Wondered the teen, as he leveled it at the lobby. Good? Bad? Hell, I'm just the man with the gun.
Everyone levelled their weapons as once, and Vaughn held a hand high. "We're here to liberate the prison, not blow it sky high," he chuckled. It was hardly armored or reinforced- or at least, so it seemed to him. And if it was, then the Data Center had shown the virtue of striking the same spot with concentrated fire beat showering it with dispersed impacts.
At least the glass door looked normal enough. "Bump and grind, forward. Forward!" He hissed. "Aim at that- there- the front door." Easy enough for the homemade launcher to hit, and these were arguably of the lowest utility if things went sideways. Elias had taught him asset management well- it was a waste to throw your best equipment at a stationary target. While the design was tried-and-tested, Vaughn still took a few steps away.
The improvised launcher let out a metallic clunk, and with a surprisingly subdued noise and recoil the projectile was sent tumbling freely, end over end, the cap blown clean off the improvised launcher. A second later, the giant projectile more than made up for it as the round smashed through the glass door, taking the automatic door slightly off the rails and bowing slightly inward- before then blowing both them and a hail of glass fragments outward as the detonation went off inside the main lobby.
Someone in a security forces uniform staggered out.
"Infantrymen, Fire!" Vaughn roared to the infantrymen, most of Morningstar dutifully restraining themselves as a hail of bullets sprayed into the storefront and even stitched up the exterior brickwork. Clearly, some insurgents were better trained than others judging by the tracer rounds and slowly tapering off rounds.
"Advance and reload! Morningstar, spread out and cover!"
The smoke and dust was subdued, at least for now, and left them with a surprisingly clear view into the front entrance. Red streaks were painted up on the wall, black and grey of smoke-dusted debris mixed in like a spin-art collage.
The lobby's contents were an absolute shambles- everything set on a ledge had been knocked about, including the ledges and desks themselves. The security forces inside responded by charging out the main doors to follow just a second later.
A hail of gunfire met them, most of the armored troopers flinching reflexively, their armor plates overlapping and protecting their wearer. A few reflexively tried returning fire despite the harsh stings of rounds tugging on the mix of fabric, bulletproof weave, and shattering off the neosteel plate they wore. The gunfire never let up on those unfortunate few who had charged out from their cover, the complete lack of coordination, dissimilar reloading times from infantry with unequal amounts of time spent with their weapons. Effective equipment and enthusiasm was undercut by poor training, surprise, and total lack of a plan to counter being outnumbered. Morningstar, on the other hand, had the numbers, the angle, and the element of surprise.
One by one the Security Forces lay flat. Either they were dead, had the fight knocked out of them, or were trying to present as minimal target as they could while they lined up their own rifles to return fire. It was hard to say for certain what the intent was, but the outcome was little different. Round after round continued pouring into them from dozens of unevenly sized magazines, an RPG or two sending the bodies of any who tried opening fire tumbling, their limbs likely held on by the durable material underneath. When they landed, their bodies folded like misshapen laundry, pressed into unnatural shapes with the wearer still inside.
The whole front engagement was over in less than a minute. A pale, non-gauntleted hand waved frantically from behind a shattered brick front, red streaking down the fingers.
"Hold!" Vaughn shouted. "Identify!" The hand continued waving, and Vaughn shoved an unwitting volunteer forward to pull the man out from behind, to reveal a man in a stained tee shirt with a dazed expression and blood dripping from a series of scratches on his cheeks, cut in like a cat's claws had raked over them.
"Civilian!" Vaughn bellowed over his ringing ears. "Any others inside?"
The man shook his head and mouthed 'no,' his voice seemingly too hoarse- perhaps from having spent an untold amount of time screaming.
The man was wrong- there were, or at least 'had been' more security forces inside. A sudden blast and the tinkering of shrapnel caused Vaughn to duck, then charge forward, his improvised explosive launcher discarded, swinging his shotgun around from his back to rest in his hands. A Technical had tried to leave via a service bay exit, apparently not even managing to round the corner before an RPG wielded by a Morningstar veteran had upended the uparmored pickup as it pulled out.
A survivor crawled from the wreckage, and Vaughn sprinted forward, pressing the barrel against the shivering man's temple as he raised his empty hands. The wet splatter kicked high, and Vendetta checked for any other survivors, the smoking tip of his shotgun wafting grey in the fluorescent tubes of the old retail outlet.
The technicals were indeed tough, he noted, but the round seemed to have flown into a wheel well, bypassing the plating. No one else inside seemed to be moving- yet still, he made certain. There'd be no theatrics of announcing himself to an enemy who played dead by standing in the open and giving orders, letting them try and exact some measure of revenge, or gasping out some warning to the shil'vati. No, a strike was to be calculated, and that calculation was to be total.
Two minutes later and a clear picture of the aftermath had emerged. Over five hundred prisoners rescued from the cells, cramped together like sardines, hastily erected concrete laid in a grid backstopping a prefab prison. PVC pipes ran from room to room for toilets no less roughshod in their construction, set straight into the dirty linoleum. Quite a few of the prisoners were deafened somewhat. The skeleton crew of Security Forces personnel hadn't stood a chance- supposedly, most were out, working from some kind of list, or perhaps had finished their shift after a long day of throwing people into prison.
Vaughn gestured with the shotgun. "There's your exit, people. If you're still undecided about the Shil'vati, then this was your wake-up call. If you're still undecided about us, then I'm not sure what to tell you. We just risked our lives to save yours. You want to pay it back? You can either pay it forward by helping us with the next prison, or you can help the Emperor of Mankind. Blankets, food, water, soldiers, guns, ammo, whatever you've got that you think might help. He hasn't said it, but I reckon you all owe him, if you've got a decent bone in your body, you'll at least bring him something, offer to try and help. If you want, you can listen in on the radio for instructions, and if you haven't got a shortwave, I'll separate off a few from our strike squad who can fill you in and get you there, if you feel like chipping in on the war effort."
Vaughn lowered the shotgun, taking a shell off his bandoleer and loading it in to replace the one he'd fired.
"That went well," Parker remarked. "And not a bad speech. Short, to the point, and all that. Honestly, I wish I'd brought a whole crew. One for the close-up on that impact. But, uh, that execution..."
"Completely necessary," Vaughn snapped, irritatedly. "That guy was fatally wounded. Putting him out of his misery was an act of mercy. And you'll remember to narrate that, if you got that on film."
"Of course." Parker didn't deny where he'd been aiming the camera- saving Vaughn at least the headache of reviewing the footage, and then having to kill Parker, if it turned out he'd been lying.
"I'm starting to think of these jail cells as something more like a pinata full of prizes. Namely, insurgents and good PR," he muttered. Truth be told, he'd wanted more of a fight. Vaughn pulled the radio from his pocket, and sent out the broadcast. "Done here. 202 North has been cleared. About four fifty good to go in some sense of the word, though where's anyone's guess. Tried sending them your way, don't know if they'll take it. Another fifty will need medical treatment. No casualties on our end. Surprise was total. We've got pictures. No enemies taken prisoner."
Vendetta stared around the lobby, an idea slowly dawning on him.
"Hey! Hey hey hey! Snag armor off any of the ones that you can. Grab any goods that are stocked up, and arm up anyone who says they're headed to Camp Death with the weapons the guys had here. Come on, we can't stay too long here. You-" he pointed at a man who had held down the trigger on his rifle, spraying the building at full auto. "-You're fucking useless at fighting. Gather up the ones who are able and willing to fight, get them packed into a civilian-style police cruiser, and drive them on over to Camp Death. Everyone, help him load up. Get everything you can out of the Evidence lockers into the trunks- they can fit a lot, trust me, I'd know. Camp Death's going to need goodies. Come on, move, people, move!"
Morningstar Squadron had re-mustered on Vendetta.
"Alright, now what?" They almost seemed eager for more.
A smile crept across Vendetta's face, invisible to all as he pointed at the row of vehicle keys.
"I think it's time we hit 141 and a couple more," he muttered, pulling it off the hook. "Now...wheelman, shotgun, or turret?"

"Accidentally Cut Content"

[Author's Note: Hey Everyone. I made a really dumb mistake and included part of the next chapter in the previous one's end in my rush to get it out the door. So the first couple paragraphs will be a repeat, but this IS a new chapter. I even updated those first four or five paragraphs slightly.]
I couldn't sleep well on the cot that night. Though I noticed hours ticked by, every moment seemed to be spent tossing and turning. I even tried resting with the mask off, held in my hands, but the risk to my identity being discovered if anyone barged in caused me enough stress to worsen the situation. Eventually, I gave up, kicked the covers off and donned the mask again, making my rounds around the camp, trying to calm myself down by taking a midnight stroll. Instead, I felt eyes countless following me, and I had to force myself to stand tall for them. For the thousandth time, I thought of this as my Valley Forge.
As I patrolled, I could hear whispered prayers, muttered plans of action, and mercifully, snores. At least some were getting some sleep. I could see orange lights reflecting off the clouds from where I knew Wilmington lay. It seemed Vaughn was keeping busy, if indeed it was his handiwork.
A few shipment inspections and a routine update from a sentry later, and I felt caught up to speed. I noticed Radio from the corner of my eye, seemingly also unable to sleep.
I almost jumped a foot in the air when I felt the tap on my shoulder, only to find G-Man's mask staring into mine. How strange that such a haunting visage was a comfort to me.
"Hey. Can't sleep?" He sounded surprisingly serene. Or maybe it was just tired resignation. His hands seemed stuck in a familiar claw-like shape after holding the soldering iron for so long, and my fingers ached in sympathy. My mask's filters took much of the scent of smoke I could smell from the distant fires, but I was sure that if I wasn't wearing my mask that G-Man would smell faintly of molten silver solder. I'd wondered how we'd repaired and updated so many railguns so quickly. Now I knew what he'd put himself through.
"I can't," I confessed. "G-Man, I'm sorry what happened with your father. Hell of a birthday." I hadn't even had a chance to give him the present I'd bought him- a couple new filters, and vintage craftsman toolkit, 'from before they sold out,' as Verns had phrased it. The memory of his voice already felt distant, somehow.
"Wasn't your fault. Even if Town Hall wasn't your big idea to get them to retaliate, you know? Then they'd still have done something. But, uh, thanks for saying that. And thanks for trying to get dad out. I'll remember that." George said quietly, then the conversation ended when he turned away and went to the edge of the embankment. Just like that.
I could never quite get a read on him, but I wanted to respect his distance. Whatever he was feeling, he seemed to want to feel it alone, and to keep his own counsel on the matter.
I continued course toward Radio.
"Any word from Miskatonic?" I asked hopefully.
Radio offered a noncommittal shrug, then dropped it in a hurry, raising one hand to massage his chest. "They say 'this is your war,' but did ship us a small container."
"I saw."
I hadn't exactly expected them to line up alongside us in the trenches in their white coats, but I'd hoped they'd have had some kind of wonder drug or noxious gas we might deploy. Something toxic to the Shil'vati but not us. The best they'd given us so far were experimental bullets and toxic-tipped arrows and knives, the former of which supposedly could potentially the armor, if fired with enough force and impacted with a good angle. If true, then I supposed they might be moderately useful in an ambush, and they had helpfully included a pair of compound bows. I had conducted a pretty decent survey of the defense, but I hadn't thought to ask if any were experienced archers. I also couldn't imagine taking someone off a railgun, large caliber rifle, or even an old cannon to hand them a bow and arrow without feeling like I was somehow offering them an insult without equipping it myself, and there was better I could think to do with the remaining minutes before the Shil'vati would inevitably come looking than to practice.
They'd fallen out of favor for a reason, and it wasn't that the earliest guns outperformed bows.
They had also supplied a small cache of rifles that were more likely to pulverize than penetrate unless the armor had been compromised already. These were still appreciated, but hardly the game changer I wanted in return for all we'd sent them.
Then Radio leaned in, voice kept conspiratorially low. "They did, however, mention an exfiltration for you."
Sam had been right, I wouldn't get back anything close to the value of what I'd sent out. At least, not unless I was willing to abandon everything and everyone, to cut and run for my life. Such a decision would be the inglorious end of the revolution, spelling doom for everyone in it, and all of humanity's culture. I'd forever be remembered as a coward, if I was so lucky to be remembered at all.
"Well, I'm not going."
"Okay, but here's a real head-scratcher. Did you show them where Camp Death is? I've been careful not to broadcast our coordinates, and my little helpers haven't been talking with Miskatonic. And the person on the shortwave mentioned that the border would free up tomorrow morning, then mentioned the interstate right up against the back of our base as a meeting point. They said Last Exit Before Pennsylvania. That's right there." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "And I didn't mention broadcasting without a cat's paw or relay. I mean there's a chance they triangulated, but throwing together a plan that fast? Nah, man, they knew."
I searched my memory. "I'm certain that I didn't mention it to them...did Hex? She did that internship. No, wait, she got picked up and dropped off at Warehouse Base. Unless she mentioned something on the drive past? She said they were somewhere North." Now that Radio had mentioned it, I was left with a bit of a puzzle. How did they know? How much did they know about us?
"They had to have known somehow. And if they didn't know before and just figured our location out, then I bet you it's not long before the Shil'vati figure it out themselves and come sniffing," Radio resignedly threw a hand up. "Should we update the signal? Start directing people straight here?"
We had numbers, yes, but we could still do to take more in, especially if the fighting dragged on or casualties mounted higher than I projected. "How long until they're sure we're here?"
Radio yawned under his mask, the animated glass-plated mask he wore misinterpreting it with an ASCII shocked ":O" face. "We've been broadcasting all night, so, who knows?"
"Well, if it was just a signal they picked up on any random given day, how long would it typically take for the Shil'vati to muster a response?"
"Depends on the day." At my silent stare, he objected further. "They sometimes respond pretty fast to that sort of thing, but these aren't normal times, E. They used to come to check out wherever I broadcast from within an hour or two or two, but remember, they've kind of got their hands full right now thanks to Vendetta's jailbreaks. Plus, there's so many more signals." He checked the screen of his shortwave and chuckled, then lightly massaged his chest again. "I'm sure we've already gone way past."
"Alright. If we see anyone snooping around us, add our location to the broadcast. That way, anyone in the resistance or is sympathetic but isn't sure where Camp Death is can find their way here. In the meantime, though, I still think we're best not leaking it. At least with the sentries having set in the final claymores and outer defenses, we should be well-situated to ward off anything they throw at us."
"Maybe. Maybe not," George said from behind me, and I froze.
"Why not?"
He'd helped build this place. He'd know any weaknesses as well as his father.
"They might have cloaking tech, or some other means of infiltration," his voice was a dry rasp.
I shuddered thinking about it. "That's a good point," I muttered. "Assassination and recovery might be up their alley...except, I think they're terrified of what losing me might mean for their hostages."
"I'll be honest. I don't think she cares at this point," G-Man countered. I couldn't fault his gloomy disposition. I could just hope that he didn't want something bad to happen to us, to balance out that something bad had happened to him, from some weird sense of fairness.
"Yeah?"
"Think about it for a second. What happens if you die? Then what does that let her do if that happens?"
It was with a startle I realized he had a good point. Azraea had committed to a shocking all-in, something that would shake the political landscape and memories of countless denizens of the state. Months of carefully planned schemes involving carefully planned defensive patrols meant to reinforce one another, frustrate, and hinder our operations had culminated in us adapting, learning. We thought we had her beaten, especially when we destroyed her monitoring, data collection, and reporting asset in Something Else Square. Then she'd pulled something like this out of a hat, catching us totally flat-footed, rounding up who-knew how many of us before we could muster. What other assumptions had I made that were incorrect? Would she hold fire, if she knew where I was if it meant sparing the hostages? Or were they now just an 'acceptable, if regrettable' loss? When your opponent becomes unpredictable, issues arise, especially when you're counting on them to do certain things.
If it was, then I'd just done her work for her, and all of us would be dead the moment she figured out where we were, and at least the end would come faster than I knew it had arrived.
I realized I was staring up into the orange-lit cloudy night sky. I could voice none of this, not without undermining morale and potentially sparking a panic.
"If she was going to start bombarding the state, she'd have started already by now," I chuckled. "The borders are sealed, right? Why wait? Why bother trying to build some sense of dread? She's not a vampire who feeds on fear. I choose to not be afraid of what she may do. I instead intend to plan around it, to the extent that we can. Besides, if I die, what would the twins do to the hostages?"
George made a disappointed growl, his sore hands turning from awkward claws into shaking fists. "That may be the point. If the Twins do anything to the hostages in retaliation for your death, then maybe as long as she didn't pull the trigger, she thinks she'll be absolved of whatever damage their deaths mean to them."
I wasn't sure she thought that way. Heck, after months, the woman was still an absolute enigma to me. Governess Bal'shir, I understood- the flurry of speeches and photo-ops and handshakes at civic meetings with 'literally-who's-that' of 'what-community' had been carte blanche for us to grow. Ministriva was a lying snake, and once we pieced that together, I ripped her apart. But Azraea? What drove the Fleet Admiral to come down here? Duty. There wasn't any sort of hard policy she followed that I could tell, not that I knew Shil'vati military doctrine well, being an outsider such as I was. Perhaps it was the greater liberty afforded her of being both Governess and General that made it seem like her plans shifted and changed in ways that made it hard for me to keep up. Or maybe she was just at such a rank and in such a position of power to where she could make her judgment calls. If so, that begged the question: What was 'the line' for her? I had a feeling I'd somehow crossed it already. Probably Radio's tape of me fucking the Empress, if I was to be honest. Most unfair to be judged for something that hadn't been my decision, though I doubted an apology from either of us would amount to much.
I looked over to my Lieutenants. They'd helped carry me this far. I'd be foolish to ignore them now. What could I do to at least mitigate the risk that he was right, and there was someone looking to kill me, right here and now?
"Alright, fine, you've convinced me. Instruct the sentries to get the next dozen people who we intake to help patrol the inner perimeter, and to keep a watch for...well, I mean, a stealthy seven foot tall purple alien with giant tits?"
"Something invisible," George supplied.
"Alright, for anything shifting in the tall grasses that they can't immediately see- I can't really ask them to keep an eye out for something they can't see, can I?" I was suddenly too tired to think properly.
"I'll explain it," G-Man offered.
"And I'll get the sentries ready to take over the radio, explaining how it works, then I'll try heading to bed, too," Radio offered, and I realized that a yawn sounded very strange through a voice modulator- his ASCII helmet seemed to fritz out again for a second.
"I should change my sleeping quarters, too," I muttered. "They'll almost certainly check the command cabin for me, if they manage to enter. I'll pick a tunnel- uh...somewhere."
"Might be smart. Could be they'll try and take out the explosives shed, too. Make it look like an accident on our part, get rid of any hostages, and then get a free pass to exact vengeance on the state. Got anywhere in mind?"
I thought to myself. Where might be a good resting area? There were many tunnels that led to bunkers, firing outposts, and even to stowage areas. Any one of them might do in theory, but I knew of one that overlooked one of the two streams that ran along the side of Camp Death. I didn't want to situate myself either too low to where I was on the very front of the lines- why make an assassin's job even easier by putting myself on the perimeter, after all? But the creek should make a pleasant bit of white noise- and also get me away from the center shed. "Probably facing North, along Perkins run. G-Man, you look absolutely dead on your feet. Get some rest if you can, you've certainly done enough and gone through enough for today."
"There's...still things to do."
"There always will be. If the others are finished doing their repairs, lock the shed," I muttered. "I know the hostages are in there, so post a sentry or two there, too, to watch over the entrance. You're right that she may try some kind of underhanded tactic." It wouldn't do much if they decided to set charges against the side or something, and the subsequent explosion would be, in a word, 'cataclysmic'. "This was supposed to be a relaxing walk to help me rest..." I scratched at my chin under the mask, feeling the beginnings of the few scratchy hairs that had grown since I'd last shaved, and feeling the cool fresh air without the filter as the wind kicked up.
"Sorry," G-Man offered sheepishly. "I'll go tell 'em."
While he ambled off, I followed Radio back to his pile of equipment.
"Before we split then, one last thing."
"Yeah?" Radio asked.
"Have we recovered Verns?" I asked Radio. "Any word?"
"No, not that I've heard," Radio confessed. "Vendetta's been mostly quiet, I think to hide his heading from anyone who might be listening, but I know that he's struck at least three jails and counting. Some of the ones he's freed are trickling up to us here on foot, and it seems he and Morningstar are acting like a human wrecking ball. The troops are calling it Operation Smash-and-Grab."
"Smash-and-grab," I laughed, thinking of the pun. "I like it. Do we have a more recent headcount?"
"Sam said we've got enough to last about three days of continuous, round-the-clock fighting with the hundreds of people we have here. If we get a resupply run- well, I suppose it would depend upon how big a hole gets blasted in the encirclement. Or, well, something to that effect. Look, man, I'm 'Radio', not 'Telephone,' and I don't have the head for this logistics shit that you two do. You want to talk to Sam, you get the man on the radio yourself, or ask one of the Sentries I'm sticking here to manage the comms. Point being, you try and get hold of him. I'm done for the night."
I could have said something witty back, but it felt counterproductive, and would only delay the sleep I was now well overdue for.
"I've got an idea for an update. The ones Vendetta's letting loose? They can gather supplies and wait for the signal to reinforce, or to agitate, or can organize people into a more focused group, one that can punch through whatever blockade they try and form up. It'll also force the Shil'vati to not concentrate forces on our back door-" I pointed back at the interstate. "Even if they clear them out, the opportunity for us to encircle and destroy and then break out is too high for them to really try to do a mass deployment along our back." Sam was, I knew, something of a career criminal. Able to rub elbows with the worst elements of humanity. He was a facilitator, I knew, not really a leader. "Can you tell him-"
Radio was already fiddling with the dial. "Already on it," he muttered. "Lotta profit in looting, should be easy for him to steer people with that, or something. Get some sleep, E."
I went up to a sentry, requisitioned a sleeping bag someone had helpfully brought, went into a trench and told him where I'd be if I was needed. I waved to Radio, and crawled into the gunnery tunnel, almost stepping on another four people already laying in it. I loosened my laces, clutched my sheathed knife, and fell into a fitful sleep.
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