Four years ago this weekend I was in the middle of a mental health crisis, one of this existential questionings that was up and down. Context is I was 36 at the time and I had been getting deep into my mental health issues for 15 years and still couldn't find any meaning to it all.
I was sitting in my cubicle practicing a reading I had to give at a funeral. It was Ecclesiastes 3:8 which says: “A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.” I wasn't a very religious person, somewhere between agnostic and atheist depending on the weather. I thought I get Love and Peace, sure time for that, time for War, I mean I guess in self defense of the innocent (not self defense of the guilty). But hate, why is there any time for that.
I had spent 15 years trying to work on not hating myself, not hating my mental health diagnosis, not hating all the beautiful things pass by cause I couldn't get over how much I hated myself. So right there in my cubicle I thought from now on I will never believe there is a time for hate.
I'm still not sure how it all happened but later that day I did not go to that funeral. I went to my parents and told them I had a problem. We went to my wife and we talked about the problem. I wanted to kill myself or burn down my life and find peace disappearing from everything. I spent the rest of memorial day weekend in a mental health unit of a hospital.
When I went to bed I was awoken by something. Paralyzed in my sleep I listened. It explained everything to me. A blueprint to do something. I've been writing about it and its implications for years on reddit so I won't go into it all, that's not why I'm writing this.
I'm writing this because I at least followed the spirit of that blue print at every decision I made for the next four years. I still made some bad decisions, some very bad ones that almost destroyed me. But I also made a lot of good ones. Tried new therapists and therapies. Read about mindfulness. Tried meditating a ton. Focused on my children, my work, my marriage the best I could and centered my spiritual beliefs on understanding what unconditional love is.
Today on the four year anniversary of being in that hospital, one of one too many stays in institutions, I was feeling very grateful for the past four years, the good and the bad, admiring the beauty of the journey. I decided to take my daily walk with my dog around the neighborhood just clearing my mind and it hit me in it's simplicity. I knew instinctively after I had the idea that it was my higher power's answer to the question "But hate, why is there any time for that."
There is time for whatever you want. You decide what your life means. What you focus on is what you worship, and what you worship will guide your decisions as we all inevitably outsource decision making to whatever we worship be it a God, or a partner, a philosophy, a political party. In that context there is always time for hate. Here is what it has to do with unconditional love.
Unconditional love has been described many ways, I just posted about the most articulate description I've ever heard which was from an AI I trained. But AI is trained on the past so it can only ever deliver variations of the past. On this walk I got a new answer to the question of if my higher power's love is unconditional and I believe my higher power is powerful enough to create everyone and everything then why is there time for hate?
Unconditional love is the ability that comes from mindfulness to recognize that there is never a time to hate another human. Unconditional love is the realization that hate is toxic, but shit happens and you are going to get angry, its inevitable for whatever cosmic reason. It is your choice of what you do with that hate that defines you.
And my higher power's advice was that the only thing you should ever hate is me, the God of your choice. You will be better served focusing on gratitude, you will be better served focusing on the beauty of the present moment, you will be better served remembering all the love that got you this far in life. But if you find yourself hating something, and you end up like Sefton believing unconditional love and hate are mutually exclusive and get caught in a paradoxical hell that sends you to be visited by shit I can't explain, it is ok to direct that hate at whatever you believe in.
That is the source of your hate. That is your enemy. Hate whatever you believe in or forced to believe in or wanted to believe in. Not cause the source of your hate is wrong. But on the off chance you find yourself with a whole bunch of energy that is about to turn into hate, put it towards what you believe in. Your higher power or someone else's higher power can take it, after all they are immortal or whatever.
But that TSA Agent who is moving too slow, that neighbor who gets on your nerves, that life partner who won't let you be happy, that unfairness at work, in the economy, in politics, in cities and villages all over the world. All of those things are just people, like you. Mere mortals worried about the next pay check, their health, their children. They definitely have less capacity to deal with your hate than a deity.
So that is the answer to the question I asked my higher power 4 years ago. If you want to believe unconditional love is the most powerful thing in the universe and you want to practice it the best you can, and on the off chance out of whatever statistical probability of this chaotic existence you find yourself trapped in a moment where you just feel a lot of hate, you won't be in trouble for directing that hate at God or whatever belief you choose. But you will be accountable for the hate you cast out into civilization here on Earth.

I've been having so much fun with this little story. Here's part one if you'd like to read it in its entirety! But to summarize:
Vr'ocria and Human Aldrick were sent on a survey mission together. Things went south, Aldrick made sure they were safe, and then Vr'ocria learned what human sleep is and how vulnerable humans are when they sleep. Vr'ocria's people don't sleep, but enter stasis, a form of rest in which they typically stand, and they are still slightly aware of their surroundings. Vr'ocria finds human sleep utterly adorable, and also decided she would protect Aldrick while he slept. And she also developed a massive crush on him. (Her scales turning purple is her version of blushing)
Vr’ocria ran the engine diagnostic again, and again it came back inconclusive. She slammed her fist on the dusty controls. “Blasted thing.” Of course she got stuck with the rusty, crusty old shuttle pod that no one else wanted. Why did these things always happen to her? She just wanted to do her job!
Not for the first time, she wished she had Human Aldrick for company.
It had been two moon cycles since Vr’ocria had last seen Aldrick. They’d only served on the one away mission together, and once they returned to the ship, they’d been sent their separate ways. They worked in separate departments, after all.
But that didn’t stop her from missing him. She’d only spent a few solar cycles with him, but somehow was already totally enamored by the human–the human who was supposed to be a terrifying, dangerous, nearly indestructible monster.
Vr'ocria had met a handful of humans during her service, and they were all polite enough. But Aldrick was the first human she'd ever spent any extended alone time with. It was on that away mission that Vr’ocria learned what “sleep” was: The human form of rest in which the human becomes completely unconscious, and thus, totally defenseless. Something about learning humans were even able of being defenseless at all, much less in such a complete way, had changed her entire perspective on them. She’d grown up always being told to fear the humans, the wild, indestructible humans.
She had been nervous enough to quake in her scales, but he was nothing but kind to her. And when she saw him sleep for the first time–planets, what a blasted cutie. During their few cycles together, she always stood by him when he slept and she went into stasis. Her people were still slightly aware of their surroundings while in stasis, so she would be able to protect him if there was danger.
She couldn’t help but worry about him ever since they separated. Who was going to keep watch while he slept? What if something happened, what if there was an ambush or a ship malfunction and he couldn’t wake up fast enough? She wanted to be there for him…
Vr’ocria cringed at the memory of when she asked her nestmate, Galek, about human mating rituals.
“You want to mate him? Are you insane?”
"No! I mean–well…" Vr'ocria reminded herself to keep her voice down; Aldrick was still sleeping in the next room. "I…Galek, listen–"
"He's a human!" Even through the communicator, she could hear his scales snap. "He's dangerous!"
"He's nice! When the away mission went wrong he made sure we were safe and–" her voice caught when she remembered the way Aldrick strolled fearlessly through a thunderstorm, one warm hand gripping her wrist, unflinching at every thunderclap and lightning strike in the sky that rattled her to her core, as he led them to a cave for shelter.
Galek sighed. "Vr'ocria, let it go. We are not compatible with humans, they do things differently anyway. They don't mate."
Vr'ocria stilled. "They don't?"
"No. Well, kind of? Ugh, why am I even telling you this…"
"Because I'm your favorite nestmate," Vr'ocria grinned.
"Shut up." There was no bite to his words. "Anyway, what I mean is that humans usually court each other first, and then mate. I think they call it 'marriage.' But that's all I know."
She hummed in thought. "This is good to know."
"Vr'ocria, I mean it." Galek was back in protective-nestmate-mode. "Drop it, it's a terrible idea. Humans are…it's just a bad idea, okay?"
"I'm not gonna do anything," she mumbled.
And what if he doesn't even like me anyway?
Her scales faded to a faint red and her shoulders slumped at the thought. Back in the present, she absent-mindedly flicked through the controls on the cracked panel in front of her. Maybe Galek was right, and she should just stay away from Aldrick altogether.
“Agent Vr’ocria, report.”
Vr’ocria jumped at the tinny voice that suddenly filled the cabin. She pressed the comm button. “Commander, this pod is–” she stopped herself from using a few choice words– “in a state of engine malfunction. I can’t even diagnose a problem. I’m not going anywhere in this thing.”
”Stand by.”
Vr’ocria drummed her fingers on the consol.
”Agent Vr’ocria, you’ve been reassigned to shuttle pod Delta. You will join a crewmate there.”
That’s right, Delta was a two-person pod. She groaned inwardly at the prospect of working with someone else in such a cramped space.
Vr’ocria tried not to drag her feet as she approached the Delta pod. The loading door was already open, and she climbed inside. “Hello? I’ve been re–”
“Vr’ocria!”
She turned towards the cockpit, and her scales flashed to purple in record time. “Aldrick?”
The human was beaming as he maneuvered through the tight space to approach her. “It’s so good to see you again!”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, silently urging her scales to go back to green. “Aren’t you in engineering?”
He shrugged, suddenly looking everywhere except her face. “I uh..I asked to be transferred to the survey department.”
“Why?”
His cheeks turned pink. They seemed to do that a lot. Vr’ocria really needed to ask the ship’s doctor if that was normal for humans or if he was getting sick. “Engineering just wasn’t doing it for me, y’know? Needed a change of pace. I volunteered for that one survey mission and it turns out I liked it, so why not try it full time?" He turned back towards the cockpit. “We should get going! I think this mission is gonna be more fun than the last one. The planet we've been assigned has a more stable atmosphere, so fewer storms."
So she and Aldrick would be working together, alone, again. Vr'ocria swallowed hard before following him to the cockpit. Oh, planets, why did these things always happen to her?
—
The trip to planet Theta-7 was quiet. Aldrick occasionally tried to engage her in conversation, but Vr'ocria pretended to be engrossed in her file pad. Guilt prodded her spine with every one-word answer and noncommittal grunt, but she was determined to keep her distance. Aldrick eventually fell quiet, and her scales nearly curled in on themselves in shame.
She avoided looking in his direction, but she still heard the sound of his canteen unscrewing and the slosh of liquid as he took a sip. Her nostrils flared at the odd, bitter-sable scent.
When she realized she recognized the smell, her eyes blew wide and she whirled to face him, dropping her pad. "What are you doing?" She nearly shrieked.
Aldrick lowered the canteen from his lips, looking startled. "Uh…drinking my coffee?"
"Coffee?" Another foreign word. "That's remfrylie! It's a deadly poison!" Her blood was rushing through her veins so fast she feared her scales would start to swell.
Aldrick laughed.
Laughed?
Her scales turned yellow and stood on end. "What is this?" She asked indignantly.
"I'm so sorry, Vr'ocria," he rubbed his eyes, still chortling. "I forgot, I should've warned you–humans call remfrylie 'coffee.' It's a beverage, we drink it. The caffeine in it gives us a boost of energy."
She stared at him.
As if making a point, he took another big gulp from the canteen, and smiled at her. "See? Totally fine."
Slowly, her blood slowed and her scales laid back down. But there was still a thrill of fear deep inside her–she'd become so enamored with him that she'd forgotten how dangerous he was. Drinking pure poison? Just for a boost of energy?
She turned away, embarrassed, a little afraid, and a little angry at him for scaring her like that. She bent over to pick up her pad from where it fell at her feet and went back to mindlessly flicking through her files.
Fabric rustled as Aldrick shifted in the seat next to her. "Hey," he said softly, "I really am sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean to do that."
"It's okay." Her voice was clipped and short.
Aldrick was quiet for a moment. "Is everything okay?" He asked slowly. "Have I…I mean, have I done something to offend you? I'm really sorry if–"
Guilt washed over her again. "No, no you haven't done anything." She finally looked over and tried for a weak smile. Now that she was actually looking at him, she could see the way he'd turned his whole body to face her, his fingers fidgeting at the edge of his seat and his warm brown eyes filled with worry.
Oh, that's right, humans had color in their eyes. Her people only had large black pupils, but humans had pupils with–what's the word–an "iris." She'd seen humans with brightly colored irises before, and while she found them beautiful, they also freaked her out. It was just so very strange.
But Aldrick's eyes…
The brown was a little closer to her own black, making them feel more familiar. In the tiny, cramped cabin, she realized that this was the first time she'd ever gotten a chance to really study his eyes up close. The brown seemed to swirl, and she noticed that there were layers of shades and colors floating around his pupils. And when natural light from a sun shining through the window hit them just right–
Aldrick cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to face forwards again. "Looks like we're here."
Vr'ocria looked forward and saw Theta-7's solar system quickly approaching. Oh, right. They had a mission to do.
—
Theta-7 was warm, just how she liked it. The sand, not so much. She tightened her boot laces twice to keep sand from finding its way inside.
The mission, thankfully, went smoothly. Walk, scan, record. Walk, scan, record. Being out in the field was different from working aboard the ship like she usually did, but she found she enjoyed it. With the agreeable weather, she quite liked the peaceful repetitiveness of the work.
Although, things were still awkward between her and Aldrick. She fought the urge to make excuses to drift away from him–since it was just the two of them, they needed to remain within eyesight of each other in case anything happened. As a result, she had a front row seat to Aldrick’s human antics. He climbed trees like it was nothing, crossed a stream by easily hopping from boulder to boulder, nibbled on plants he claimed were edible but that still made Vr’ocria’s scales ripple with unease, and even insisted on approaching a ferocious, furry creature with his hand outstretched and cooing “Hi kitty! Hi baby! Come here, let me give you scritchies, come on–”
Vr’ocria didn’t know what a “kitty” was, but a baby it definitely wasn’t. “Aldrick, please,” she called weakly.
“But she’s so cute!”
“It’s got claws! And look at its big teeth!”
Aldrick grinned as the creature crept closer. Its head came to Aldrick’s hip from where he knelt, still reaching out with his fingers and making a scratching motion in the air. “Naw, she’s just a little baby, aren’t you sweetie? Come ‘ere!”
Vr’ocria trembled on the spot as the creature was finally within arm’s reach of Aldrick. He began scratching its sandy-colored head, and to her disbelief, the creature closed its big eyes and leaned into his touch. “Oh, yes,” Aldrick positively giggled, “you’re such a sweet little baby, aren’t you?”
Vr’ocria could only stare, stunned, as he continued scratching the creature’s head, then its cheek and chin–extremely close to its massive fangs.
“All kitties like scritchies, huh?” he cooed at the…kitty.
Okay, they were kind of cute.
It, she corrected herself. The ”kitty” was cute. Not him. Definitely not.
She didn’t notice her scales flushing a gentle pink as she watched him nearly pull the “kitty” into his lap, beaming and petting it. A gentle smile crossed her lips.
Aldrick glanced over at her and tilted his head. “You’re pink. That’s new, I haven’t seen that color on you before.”
Vr’ocria’s blood froze and her scales immediately flashed to purple. Blast. Shit. Fuck. Great, now she was picking up human curse words.
He blinked at the sudden change in color.
"Oh it’s–” she coughed, “it’s nothing. Just the heat, I think.”
“Are you okay?” He eased away from the creature as he stood, and it darted off into a hole in the rocks. “Do we need to take a break?”
Stop being so NICE, she growled inwardly. “No no,” she squeaked instead. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” She buried her head in her scanner and walked briskly towards the next scanning zone.
When night fell, the two of them made their way back to the shuttle pod. They still had scanning to do, but it wasn’t safe to work through the night, so they agreed it was best for them to take rest inside the pod.
Once they were safely inside, Aldrick laid out what he called a “bedroll” on the floor of the cockpit, between the two pilot seats. Still dressed in his uniform, he laid down and shifted until he appeared as comfortable as he could get. Tugging a blanket over himself, he glanced toward Vr’ocria. “Well...good night.”
“Sleep well,” she murmured. She stood in the short aisle in front of him, facing the door, and began to enter stasis. Despite how much she’d come to struggle with her feelings for him, she was still determined to protect him while he slept.
It was in the middle of the night when Vr’ocria snapped back to full awareness.
Thud.
There it was again.
Shuffle shuffle.
She whirled around and threw herself on top of Aldrick, clapping a hand over his mouth as he jerked awake with a muffled shout.
“Shh!” she hissed. “Something’s out there.”
He stared up at her with wide eyes as she slowly removed her hand. She didn’t move from her position on top of him as she looked up and around the cabin, trying to discern where the sound was coming from.
Thud.
“The door,” Aldrick whispered, looking over her shoulder.
There was one last thud, then a beeping sound.
”Shit!”
Without warning, Aldrick was grabbing her shoulders and flipping them so that he was on top, and before she could even react, there was a core-rattling BOOM.
She couldn’t hear herself scream as a shockwave blew fire and debris over them, and then everything went dark.
Vr’ocria groaned as she came to, her head pounding. She found herself sprawled in the sand, looking up at the night sky. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, her limbs heavy. “What…” when her eyes focused, she gasped in horror.
The side of the shuttle pod where the door used to be now had a big hole blasted through it. Debris and supplies were strewn out across the ground, and judging by the drag marks, it looked like someone had dragged her body out and thrown her haphazardly into the sand.
She leapt to her feet, stumbled, fell, and jumped up again. Forcing her legs to steady under her, she stormed into the pod, and came face-to-face with a Norvidian pirate.
“Fucking pirate,” she roared, drawing her fist back and punched him right in the face. He yelped and dropped the thing he was dragging, and with horror, she realized it was Aldrick.
Something deep and primal flooded through her veins, and she grabbed the Norvidian's head. She slammed it against the wall, once, twice, three times, before dropping him to the ground, where he oozed yellow blood.
“Well that was fucking scary.”
Vr’ocria snapped out of her haze.
Aldrick was struggling to climb to his feet, and she darted forward to catch him before his face hit the floor. “Oh planets, oh my–Aldrick, are you alright?”
He rubbed a hand over his face, still looking dazed. “Yeah, I think–I think I’m okay.” He laughed, and it sounded a little hysterical. “Did you kill that guy?”
She looked over at the pirate, and somehow, she felt no remorse. “I hope so,” she growled. Logically, she knew the pirate was probably just tossing the two of them outside so he could raid their supplies. But the sight of him dragging a limp and pale Aldrick was burned into her memory, and her bright yellow scales rippled with rage.
“Jesus, you’re fucking scary when you’re angry.” He laughed again. “It’s kinda hot.” He turned pink and his face twisted in an expression she didn’t recognize. “Uh, pretend I didn’t say that.”
Vr’ocria didn’t know what it meant for something to be “hot,” so she played along and pretended she didn’t hear that. “We need to get you cleaned up,” she said instead. “Can you stand?”
Aldrick started to shift his legs, then went tense and dropped his head to her shoulder with a groan. It was then that Vr’ocria was able to lean forward enough to see his back, and she gasped.
The back of his shirt was in tatters, stained red with blood. Cuts and burns raced across his skin, and Vr’ocria knew that if she had taken the blast like that, she would be dead.
“Aldrick–” her throat felt thick, “Your back…shit–”
His breathing was ragged against her shoulder. “Hurts like a bitch,” he ground out, “but it won’t kill me. Just need to disinfect and bandage it.”
She laid him down on his stomach as gently as possible and rushed to the cockpit, praying that the first aid kit was undamaged. “Thank the planets,” she breathed as her fingers closed around the handle of an intact box.
She tried to steady her shaking fingers as she gingerly cut his shirt away and began dressing the wounds according to the kit’s instructions for treating humans. She also dressed the few injuries that ran down the back of his legs. Luckily–or unluckily–the damage was concentrated on his back. While she worked, she could see his muscles tense tight enough to crack, his teeth grinding and his hands clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles were white. She knew there had to be painkillers in the first aid kit, but she wanted to get his wounds dressed as fast as possible to prevent him from bleeding anymore. All she could do in the meantime was whisper quiet apologies.
Once she’d gotten him bandaged up, she finally dug through the kit. “Here,” she said as she fumbled with a bottle, “I found some pain killers, they’re supposed to be fast acting. You just let them dissolve in your mouth.”
She could tell he was in too much pain to move, so she held two of the pills up to his lips. He let her feed them to him, and after a few moments, he visibly began to relax. “Oh, that’s good shit,” he slurred into the floor.
“Feel better?” Vr’ocria asked hopefully.
“Yeah.” His voice was still crackly and weak. “Still aches a bit, but I don’t wanna scream about it anymore.”
“Good.” She stood and draped a blanket over him. “Now, stay put and don’t try to move. I need to figure out how to get us out of here.”
The shuttle pod wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. When she investigated the control panel, she found that the blast had knocked out communications, and their personal communicators were wrecked as well. “Great,” she mumbled.
Making her way back outside, she glanced around until she saw the pirate’s tiny craft a distance away. He must’ve landed out there so we wouldn’t hear him, she mused. She was reluctant to leave Aldrick alone, but she jogged the distance and pried the door open. The thing was a rust bucket, stinky and creaky, and she quickly decided she didn’t want to risk loading Aldrick up in that thing.
What to do, what to do…
Then she remembered: There was a survey outpost a few kilometers from here. She could take him there for professional treatment, rest, and to contact their ship.
When she got back to the pod, Aldrick was standing, leaning against the wall.
"How are you feeling?" She asked as she approached.
His eyes seemed clearer now as he looked up at her. "I've been worse," he said with a crooked smile.
Vr'ocria thanked the planets for human durability.
She let out a breath. "There's a survey outpost near here, due east. It's a few hours' walk. Do you think you can make it?"
Rather than answering, he stooped to pick up a blanket from the floor, shook out the dirt and debris, and threw it around his shoulders to cover his naked torso. "Let's go." He hopped easily out of the pod, and Vr'ocria could only shake her head in disbelief as she followed him. Humans truly were unbreakable.
It was still nighttime, but the clouds in the sky had cleared to reveal two big, bright moons that illuminated their way. Vr'ocria kept a close eye on Aldrick as they walked. While at first he seemed totally unaffected by his wounds now that they'd been dressed, she was beginning to notice the tight lines around his eyes, his white knuckles where he fisted the blanket, and the way each step he took was just a little shaky.
After walking in silence for nearly an hour, she finally found her voice. "Thank you," she said quietly, "for saving me back there."
He looked at her with those warm brown eyes and she thought she would melt. "Anytime."
Stupid purple scales.
They were halfway to the outpost when Aldrick collapsed. His knees hit the ground and Vr'ocria darted forward with a yelp to catch him before he went all the way down.
"Aldrick!" She shook him. "Look at me! Hey, hey…"
But all he could do was groan as his head lolled in her hands, slumping forward so that he sagged against her. Vr'ocria tried not to panic, but her scales stood on end anyway. "Aldrick!" This time her voice cracked.
Okay, okay, calm down, he's gonna be fine, he's human, it's gonna be okay… But doubt still twinged in her spine.
She ruffled her scales. Snap out of it.
"Okay. Aldrick," she took his face in her hands, "I need to put you on my back, but you'll have to help me."
He didn't respond.
She slapped him.
"Ow!" His eyes shot open. "Jesus, woman–"
"Look at me. I need to put you on my back, and you have to help me."
He blinked, eyes still cloudy, but finally nodded. It took some maneuvering, but Vr'ocria finally got him situated on her back–"piggy back style," he called it. She held his legs around her waist, and used the blanket to tie him to her. She could feel his warmth and heartbeat from where he was pressed against her back. His breath ghosted across the nape of her neck, sending tingles over her scales.
She tightened her grip around his knees as she walked. My human.
"You're pink again," Aldrick mumbled behind her ear.
Vr'ocria pressed on.
—
By the time they reached the outpost, her back was aching and her feet were sore, but she didn't care. She waved down the watchmen, and within minutes they were being swarmed by a med team. Aldrick was now fully unconscious and much too pale, and the medics wasted no time loading him up on a stretcher and carrying him to the med bay. When they tried to insist that Vr'ocria go to a separate room for evaluation, she snarled and snapped her yellow scales until they backed off.
She wasn't leaving Aldrick's side for a minute.
By the next morning, the med team had worked their magic and Aldrick was sleeping peacefully. He was curled on his side like he usually did, his face free of lines, lips parted, softly sighing with each breath.
Stupid human and his stupid cute sleeping.
She brushed his hair from his face, gently trailing her fingers across his cheek. Human skin was much softer compared to her scales, and warmer too. Aldrick had once explained that humans are "mammals," creatures that were "warm blooded." Her people were "cold blooded." Maybe that explained why she always wanted to touch him, hold him, feel his warmth…
Aldrick shifted and sighed, and her breath caught as he leaned into her hand. His eyes cracked open and he gazed blearily up at her. "Hi," he croaked.
She smiled. "Hi."
"You're still pink," he observed. "Are you okay? Did you get checked out?"
Blast all the planets. "I'm okay," she assured him. "My people turn pink when…when, um…I-I'll tell you another time," she stuttered. Galek was going to kill her.
Aldrick reached up to take her hand from where it still rested on his cheek. "Thank you for taking care of me."
She squeezed his hand. "Anytime."
This got so much longer than I thought it would 😂 How do we feel about one more part where these two idiots finally admit their feelings for one another?

Let's call my friend "Matt."
Matt and I were best friends from the first time we met in kindergarten. Blood brothers. We were friends all through high school, and even shared our first apartment in college. We even had several international adventures together. We were bros, you know?
Matt had a lot of hardship growing up. As I learned later, his dad was a real piece of shit who abused his mom and SA'ed his little sister. Matt never talked about it, but I was there for him during his lowest. I remember one night he asked for me to go to the bar with him. He was in a bad state - we didn't talk for the entire three hours we were there, and he thanked me after we left for just being there.
I was always there for him. Dark times after dark times, relationship trouble after relationship trouble, this OP was the man who had his back.
Was I good at it? Of course not. Matt needed professional grief counseling and therapy, and all he got was me. I'm Just Some Guy. If I was that bad off and only had me for a friend, I'd probably be pissed too. I was never equipped to provide the kind of support he needed. But I always showed up to the best of my ability, time after time, because that's what friends are for.
Of course, I also had hard times, but my troubles were always so easily dismissed. When I acted out of pain and loneliness, there was more eye-rolling than serious listening. I talked a big game, but action-wise I never did anything. I never hurt anyone deliberately or acted out of malice, even when the pain in my heart was overwhelming.
We started drifting apart when he moved and started dating his eventual wife. I became a dad, and later I received a wedding invitation scheduled for a day or two before my son's first birthday. I was torn, but my ride or die bro was getting married, and I was in the wedding party, so I had to (plus one year old babies don't tend to remember their birthdays, but I made it back that evening regardless).
It should have been clear from the moment I arrived halfway across the country that the friendship was over. If I had been a bit more aware of everything, I should have bowed out of the wedding party even beforehand, or even during. I had barely arrived before "OP is shit" stuff started happening.
A little less than a year before the wedding, Matt and his fiancé had introduced me to one of their friends. They were really into their star-charts and were convinced me and "Heather" were perfect matches. As it was, Heather and I got along really well - on the first day we met, she and I ended up making out all night.
The first thing Matt and Wife said to me at the rehearsal was that Heather was in a good relationship with her boyfriend, so under no circumstances was I allowed to "mess that up." What a fucking thing to say to a friend. I've never broken up a relationship of any kind, nor would I. You'd think my friend would know me better, but instead I get this slap in the face. God forbid Heather and I have a friendly chat. And what would happen if we really hit it off, and she decided she'd be happier with me than her current boyfriend? Clearly my own happiness was not only unimportant but something to actively be worked against.
Then the wedding shit got started. I was the "Worst Man" as one of the Best Men, as I was at the end of the line. There was no place for me at the reception table - I don't think it was deliberate, but I had to stand around while the catering staff tried to find me some plates while people had to scoot their chairs to fit ONE OF THE WEDDING PARTY MEMEBERS AT THE RECEPTION TABLE. And they had to make sure I wasn't sitting near Heather, because I was obviously such a piece of shit.
The final straw was later that evening. You see, I'm poor as shit. So was Matt, up until he married his wife, but as it was, I couldn't afford anything on their registry. But I thought it was OK, because I had a gift for them that meant a lot more to me than something you'd buy. In fact, I'd been thinking about giving this gift to my friend since I became a dad: I wanted Matt to be my son's godfather.
I wasn't given a chance to talk at the reception, so it was only during the party afterwards that I was able to get their attention. I launched into a little speech about how we've been friends our whole lives and always had each other's backs, which was why I wanted them to be godparents to my son, so our support and friendship could be generational.
They outright rejected it. I explained how thought out this was, how meaningful it was to me, but they said I was drunk (which I was, to be fair). But it wasn't a "let's talk about it later" rejection - it was absolute. They did not want it, drunk or sober, thoughtful or impulsive.
Now I'm glad they did. I wish they had been more upfront about not wanting me in their life. Matt's wife hated me - not because of who I was, but because my star-chart was a "bad influence" on his. He so desperately needed her to keep himself afloat through the hard times that, you know, I could go fuck myself. It was so easy for her to tell him what a shitty person I was, and he had a big incentive to believe her.
Was I ever really a good friend? All those hard nights, all those insane adventures, all the video games and parties, all the times I was the only one there for him and asked nothing more in return even when I desperately needed the same support back. I know I wasn't good at giving support, but damn, I didn't deserve to be stabbed like, and not at his wedding.
That was almost exactly ten years ago, and we haven't spoken since. I really hope he's still doing OK, and that his wife and family (I think he has kids now?) are giving him everything he needs to find that peace and happiness. Myself, I'm doing shockingly well these days. But I have no desire to connect, to tell my old friend about my successes in life. My success and happiness was never a priority for him, and after he got married, his priority was to get me as far away as possible. And I am inclined to agree. Maybe he was the shitty friend after all.

In the dawn days of humanity, off the banks of the yet-unnamed Euphrates river, the Shaper sits to meet with Ikat, New Meeter of her band. Today is the day her people put her latest dream into practice, altering their yearly route to coincide with the local goats' movements so they might take a few for themselves and have meat all year round, a practice the Shaper says ought be called "herding." He seems troubled by this development, though, able to see what Ikat cannot in her innocence, the full scope of what this idea will mean for the land all round. He's only here to talk, of course, but with gods it's rarely so simple as that...
My reading partner and I had quite the extensive discussion over whether Clough's characterization of Dream is in keeping with how he's portrayed in the comic. That Dream would feel at all troubled by an idea born in his realm finding fertile ground in which it can grow and spread and begat a millionfold others seems odd given his typical philosophy of letting things play out as they must. The Morpheus we see in flashback during Brief Lives is as distanced from the patterns of intelligent beings and their civilizations from his part in passively shaping their course as Destruction is disturbed at seeing the early stages of a terminal phase play out afresh, for much the same reason between them. Both have done this dance a billion times on other worlds, and feel at that time they will do it a billion times more. To even imply Dream sees herding becoming agriculture becoming civilization spread round the entire globe and thinks, "Hmm, don't know how I feel about this," sorta implies this narrative features a very, very young Dream, and while I'm certain such doubts plagued him the first time something begun in his realm found rooting deep enough to spread past a single tribe uncountable worlds away, the aspect in prominent expression during the birth of herding on Earth feeling so doesn't seem right.
Course, one can take a few tacts to explain the oddity away. The fluid nature of reality in Sandman alone opens the floodgates for saying this isn't necessarily Earth or else Morpheus' exact history isn't strictly set in stone, depending on how each individual beholder is biased to perceive. Seizing on this, I do think the story proves an interesting brief exercise in examining a corner of Dream's character.
Unable to comprehend or so much as see Morpheus' attempted shared vision of the future, Ikat's perspective on her encounter is strictly one of the moment. She's so far away from what humanity will become as a result of her idea, she sees no reason in Morpheus suggesting the nearby river ought have a proper name - names are for personal things, ideas with use, people you know. The river is a river, and otherwise belongs to itself. Still, she is by self-admission given to rambling and self-storytelling as a result of her function as the band's greeter for all things new, so it is through her eyes we understand Morpheus' words of caution translate to discomfort with this new idea on his part, translate to potentially wanting the idea smothered in its crib. And why not, for if the embodiment of dreams manifests physically where he otherwise leaves a light but apposite tread, could it be for any other reason than halting intervention? Ikat is so caught in the idea the Shaper is opposed to her continuing this thread, she interprets her people's discovery of a young boy who spoilt the first herding excursion and looks past her club foot to see a suitable mate as an attempted distraction by the dream god, and resolves to look after her growing brainchild equally well as her future physical children.
But then, the boy was probably already there before Dream made himself known, would have returned home with the others and met and fallen for Ikat regardless what the Shaper said. All what changes is Ikat's priming to think this is some ploy to make her forget about herding. If Morpheus didn't manifest before her, speak his guarded words, show any direct interest in the course of history, is it not possible Ikat WOULD forget her dream and focus entirely on childrearing of a more literal sort, absent the stimuli to gird herself against distraction?
I just find it interesting to contemplate Dream as so inherently tied to those thoughts and ideas from out his realm, a well-meant word of caution primes the future more than if he left well enough alone.
What do you all think?

The Anomaly was stable.
That's what the government called it, the magic field around the town that turned people into Kobolds. The rules we had ascertained at the beginning of this were still consistent, a Human could enter and leave as many times as they liked and they would remain Human, there was no known process to reverse this, except a spell called True Polymorph, but that would take years, perhaps even decades, of experimentation, innovation, and- possibly- killing, if the players were correct.
It was the realization that I wanted to remain a Kobold that had allowed me to realize I had been fixated only on my kind, our little village in the town. I distinctly remembered living as a Human- even though the memories caused me nothing but grief- knew how to navigate, how to speak with our Human neighbors, how to use technology.
My understanding of the world wasn't being overridden, it was just that, culturally, me and my people were regressing, and even understanding that, we couldn't stop because we didn't want to stop, it felt more comfortable.
The term 'medieval stasis' was tossed around, the idea of a setting remaining locked in a culturally and technologically medieval state. This didn't feel true to me, if I had a microwave that didn't take up a shit ton of space, I'd definitely use it over cooking over a fire. The flatscreen in my old house was practically like sitting in a theater, the bed was disproportionately huge, like going from a twin to a really long queen size.
I didn't see it as technological regression, so much as nothing was made for us, there was no way to accommodate us in a modern society. Even just going to the nearby city was distressing because we're really fucking small, and even scampering across a road on all fours was just asking for someone to get run over or stepped on.
Not to mention, the Humans were also distressed at our presence, even though it was explained what had happened. That said, there were people who came to our town, people who specifically wanted to become Kobolds. Even knowing that it was a very permanent and life-changing experience, even having us explain that there was nothing to accommodate them out in the wider world, they simply accepted that, yes, we were very much a minority in the world that couldn't possibly be accommodated because we were so rare.
But they were insistent, they were fully willing to abandon their prior lives for this, and reluctantly, they were allowed in.
The process was always painless, they just walked in, shrank, and turned into a Kobold, and could just walk over to us and fit right in. The people who wanted this just seemed to be more natural at it, or maybe they were just aware of what we were supposed to act like and knew how to do it, unlike me, who had been completely blindsided.
It was a month into the second year, when one of the Human kids to the Kobold parents turned into a Kobold. Of course, everyone freaked out because it was against the rules, this was an illegal action and changed everything.
Except, it didn't.
The kid simply didn't want his parents to be alone anymore, so he started trying to figure out how to become a Kobold. Well, we had already established anyone who wanted to become a Kobold, aside from that initial mass transformation, would become one, he wanted it, so he became a Kobold. His brother tried as well.
Simply saying he wanted it didn't work, but when he became distressed that he couldn't to it. Pop! Instant Kobold.
Throughout all of this, Brutus just stuck to my side as a very good boy and just did not seem to mind or care that people were changing into Kobolds around him.
I woke up one morning from a sudden surge of magic within myself. At first I was freaking out, thinking I was going to explode, but then I felt myself calming down as the power settled.
Everyone freaked out when I got onto the roof of the nearest tallest building. I mean, even I was a little freaked out because this was entirely new to me, but I ran and took a flying leap off, and with a big-add feather in hand, I spoke a word, and my rapid descent slowed until I touched the ground.
Of course, everyone was pissed at me, told me that I should never do something so recklessly stupid again. Seeing everyone's concern filled me with shame, and I explained that I knew it was stupid, but I felt I had to do it. That if I tried to tell anyone, they'd just lock me up in a room or something.
How do you rationally explain you want to throw yourself off a building so you can make yourself glide to the ground?
The anger turned into excitement as people realized that meant I knew another spell, that I had hit second level and that I should be able to restore the spell I just used, which I was able to.
This of course led people to give me a player's handbook for D&D and told me to read it because my sudden growth of power meant it was absolutely consistent with it and that I should be able to figure out what all I could do.
Which I did.
It certainly outlined a lot of stuff, but it wasn't particularly useful for me, and I had a feeling that at best it was an abstraction of what our reality was, and at worst, an unreliable guide into life. So I just kind of set it to the side, said "That's nice." and went about my life.
It was the third month of the first year that the mine collapsed.
It was a dull roar, a distant rumble.
We all knew what it was the moment it happened, and every single one of us ran to the mine. Human or Kobold, we all lived in constant fear of a collapse. Our family members were competent, this was a generations-long job that a large portion of us learned just to keep the economy going.
I remembered the sound of someone screaming, there was someone trapped under a large boulder, still alive, but unable to get himself out.
Now, I had never bothered to learn the trade, that was something my father did that I was too terrified to do. I remembered, at that moment, that even though a lot of the people who became Kobolds had been miners, they refused to go into the mine, saying they just didn't feel safe in it.
We'd all just passed it off as an understandable fear that a small creature like us could get easily lost in there. But as I looked at the pile of rubble, I knew how to get him out without causing the whole thing to bury him.
I didn't hesitate, I ran forward, throwing off my clothes because I felt they would get in the way, and grabbing hold of rocks I was absolutely certain were stable, I began to climb and began grabbing the rocks that were most likely to fall and potentially kill the man and got them out of the way.
I only registered there were other Kobolds with me when I handed the rock to one of them, who passed it on to another, and another. We cleared out the immediate danger first, while other Kobolds jerry rigged something to get the boulder off the man and drag him to safety.
It goes without saying, that if I could use magic as what the players called a Sorcerer, others could use magic as something called a Cleric, and well, if the man being healed wasn't a sign that there actually was some sort of divine force in the world, I didn't know what was.
We continued to clear out the entrance, not even one rock fell as we instinctively grabbed what would cause a rock slide and got it out of the way.
When I began to feel exhausted, another Kobold came up and told me to rest. I did, carefully climbing down and only passively realizing I'd been up there for a solid four hours just working my ass off to clear the rubble.
It only occurred to me then, as I drank some water and ate some meat, that my father was down there. Saving him hadn't even been on my mind, all that ran through my mind was that I had the knowledge to help, so I helped.
A tool used for smashing the larger rocks to pieces snapped, I barely registered I was running over to them, I just took the broken tool from them and fixed it.
It didn't even matter that I was fucking exhausted and sore, I was up and over there because I was the only one that could use magic to fix things.
Nobody stood idle, There was a group of Kobolds who were waiting, certainly, but they were watching intently, hopping up and running over to relieve someone who was getting exhausted, or running food and water to someone who needed it.
We saw the first hand poking out of the rubble six hours into clearing up the entrance, focus shifted to getting them out immediately, because they were still moving, Within minutes, they were being carried down the rocks to the ground, it was clear to me they were in critical condition, and if they weren't healed, they were going to die.
The spell used on him was called 'Spare the Dying' according to the players. He instantly stabilized, the worst of his wounds- while still bleeding- simply stopped oozing out blood.
I overheard one of the nurses from the nearby city's hospital remark that- by all rights- that man should be dead. It only occurred to me that people from the hospital had come the moment the news of the collapse reached them. None of them had turned into Kobolds, but I could see on their faces that it hadn't even been a concern.
I continued fixing any tools that broke, which allowed everyone to use them again when they did break.
I saw a rock suddenly break loose, I didn't even register the word I spoke, or my hand flying out. All I knew in the next moment was my Magic Missiles hitting the rock head-on. Once, to knock it off course, and the other two times to ensure it completely missed hitting anyone. A few Kobolds looked at me with surprise and gratitude.
I simply nodded, continuing to repair things as they broke.
We found more people, most of them still hanging on by a thread, the Clerics standing by to stabilize them before having them moved over to the doctors and nurses, who were doing their best to make sure they were in a position to be taken to the hospital, where their injuries could be more properly addressed.
The fact of the matter was, we didn't have enough spells to go around to heal everyone, even among the more naturally inclined Druids.
There were people who had died. Family, friends, every time we found them, there was a pause in our work before they were dug out and brought out. We kept working, bolstered by the wails of the bereaved.
We couldn't save everyone, but we'd be damned if we didn't try.
We heard the first muffled voices of the survivors who had managed to avoid being crushed under several tons of stone. We didn't work faster, we kept up the sustainable pace we had, because hurrying would just lead to injuries.
The first hand that reached out from the darkness was briefly grasped before drawing back in. The hole was gradually widened, those of us who could fit went in, working from the inside to safely widen the hole, to shore up the unstable mine enough to keep people safe.
One by one, the trapped miners were carried out, but it wasn't even half of them.
"The rest are still in there." One of them said. "The whole thing is unstable, there's no way we can safe them."
"There's no way you can save them." Kassa, one of the Kobolds who had been a miner, said. "But we're sure as hell going to try."
I could feel the weight of the earth above me as I entered the unstable mine. It terrified the shit out of me that at any moment, it could cave in and probably kill me instantly.
Still, they needed me to fix their tools, because they were sure as hell going to break again.
It was ten hours into the rescue, we had only just gotten maybe a fourth of the people out, and a further fourth of them were dead. We had instinctively known the mine was going to collapse, we avoided it like the plague, but we didn't realize it at the time.
The earth shifted above us, small stones raining down on us. I set to work repairing the cracked timbers, I could feel that weight lessening slightly, it bought us maybe minutes, maybe seconds, but it was enough to get support struts in place.
The plan was simple, we all knew it needed to be done. We would rescue the miners, and then we would collapse the mine.
The Humans argued that the mine was our lifeblood, that without it, the town would dry up, there would be nothing.
"We can always dig more mines." I said. "We can't waste more lives on one that's just going to collapse."
As hellish as it was to make our way down into progressively more dangerous tunnels, being out of the sunlight was doing wonders for my stress. We knew where it was the most unstable, the miners knew where to put the struts to be the most effective, and when we came to the first collapse, we worked our tails off to clear it out.
We silently passed the dead along, those unlucky few who had been crushed. but the survivors who managed to cling on to life were stabilized and taken out with yips and yaps of encouragement and comfort.
When we broke through and saw the wide, terrified, yet hopeful eyes of more of the miners, we immediately knew if we proceeded, their section of the mine was going to collapse, rendering all of our hard work moot.
"We need to pass them a strut." Kassa said. "Listen, and listen carefully. We need to pass a strut through this hole to you. You need to ensure on your end it does not hit the rocks, otherwise, the section you're in will collapse."
"Just pass it through."
It was easily the most stressful thing I'd ever taken part in. Dozens of small hands keeping the damn thing stable, while the miners on the other side tried their damnedest to keep it steady. Kassa directed them to where to put it, and once it was firmly in place, we cleared the rocks out, urging the miners to get out.
They looked back at us when we didn't follow.
"No, absolutely not. You are not going in there." One of the miners said.
"Kobolds don't abandon family." My brother, Tallyn, said firmly. "We'll all die before we consign them to death."
Even though our every instinct screamed at us to turn tail and run, we pressed onward, the struts only barely keeping the ceiling above stable.
I began to hyperventilate, requiring someone to help calm me down. I was welcome to go, but I needed to stay, I needed to be present to ensure our tools could be repaired.
As if to illustrate my point, one of the struts broke, the mine groaned, and I immediately leapt up to repair it.
We went deeper.
The next collapse was reasonably stable, for what it was worth, we were able to clear it out, and thankfully without any other casualties. I had to resist the urge to run over to my father and hug him, but I did grab his arm and gave it a squeeze.
I think that was the first time he'd ever looked at me with such pride in his eyes.
Eighteen hours into the rescue, we reached the end and got everybody out. The sudden jolt of terror that ran through my body told me we needed to leave immediately. We ushered the miners out, tried not to panic as we slowly ascended to the surface. Struts began to crack, it was all I could do to keep them whole while everyone got out.
I began to smell fresh air, and that's when the mine behind us began collapsing. There was no time to waste, we ran for the surface, my exhausted and hurting body screamed at me to move, but just as I was almost out, I felt something heavy hit me, and then I was buried.
I wasn't afraid anymore. I knew I was going to die, but the moment I realized that, all fear of dying just... went. I had stabilized the mine for as long as I could, I had worked my tail off to keep things going, and I was proud of what I had accomplished.
Still, I only had the merest trickle of air, and my brain was still in survival mode.
I fell unconscious at some point, I wasn't going anywhere, and I was too tired to fight it. But when I opened my eyes, it was to the faintest shaft of light peeking in, the sounds of rocks being moved.
It was just me in here, the chances of me being alive right now was completely slim, I would have forgiven them for leaving me to tend to the wounded, but they resolutely kept working.
They had to be exhausted, at the end of their rope, there was nobody capable of continuing.
There was nobody who could save me.
"I don't care if he's dead, I'm not leaving my boy in there!" The voice was muffled, but it brought tears to my eyes. I tried to call out, but all I could manage was a weak sound.
Still, I kept breathing, kept trying, even as the rocks shifted around me dangerously, threatening to finish me off.
There was a brief pause, an indistinct voice, and then silence.
I cried out, my voice barely a audible even to me, there was no way they could hear me.
Still, I cried out, I couldn't manage a single word, but I tried regardless.
"Did you hear that?"
I cried out as loudly as I could, and then I could hear the rocks moving again, I felt the weight around me shift, I could get more air in. I cried out, louder, straining to push myself out, and then, the finally gave way.
All I could manage was pushing my snout out into the fresh air and managing another sound, I felt a hand on it, smaller, a Kobold's hand. They were still trying to reach me.
I was pulled out, my breath rasping, my body in utter agony, I was blind in one eye, and against the hellish light of the bright morning sky, I saw a Kobold leaning over me.
"Family doesn't abandon family." He spoke with my father's voice.
I felt relief as my body was healed, but I was still absolutely weak from fighting to survive.
"You became... a Kobold..." I rasped.
"I kept thinking to myself, if only I knew how to get to you." He said. "If only I could find you. I could feel myself on the cusp of transforming, and I ran headlong into it because it was the only way to save you." He hugged me, crying, overwhelmed with relief.
Of roughly 2,000 Humans, 786 died.
The miners had found a new vein, silver, certainly more than enough to keep the town going.
But they dug too deep, they weren't careful enough.
There was no resentment from the Humans for us not realizing the mine was unsafe. We didn't know at the time what the aversion was, so it was just chalked up to fear due to being in an unfamiliar situation
With the mine utterly collapsed, there was no real way of salvaging it, it would probably cost more to excavate it and make it stable than that silver vein would be worth.
Incidentally, the moment everyone was out and safe, every single Kobold had 'gained a level', the players explained that we had solved a significant crisis, and that gaining a level was usually the result of such.
They then said, with the kind of manic grin I only saw from gamers who liked games with punishing gameplay, "It's only going to get harder to earn them from here."
Getting used to life with a blind eye was a bigger adjustment than learning how to live as a Kobold was. Still, it was a small price to pay for saving as many people as we could.
We started scoping out another location for a mine, somewhere close enough that we wouldn't have to go far.
When the Human miners heard that we had an instinctive sense of when a mine was safe or not, they all instantly transformed. Even the merest prospect of having that kind of ability had led to such a strong want for it, that they just flat out changed.
Of course, like my father, they had to adjust. Some of them were upset that it happened, but like me, they learned to accept it and appreciate it.
I threw myself into honing my spellcraft, every day I practiced, getting creative with my spellwork and just generally improving in my reaction times.
My fellow Kobolds all looked at me with respect and gratitude. We all knew that my dogged insistence on going with the rescue party to make sure our tools were in top condition had prevented a lot more deaths.
It wasn't that they thought I was the only reason we succeeded, but they understood my absence would have led to catastrophe.
Having achieved this third level of power, I had gained access to something called 'metamagic', as well as second level spells.
I didn't really have any control over which spells I gained insight into, but I could sense that any spells I knew prior I could change one of them into something else.
Thus, I gained an understanding of the spells 'Witch Bolt, Vortex Warp, and Enhance Ability'. Which meant I could conjure a steady stream of electricity, teleport someone to another spot near me, and enhance someone's physical and mental attributes, of which there were apparently six.
The 'metamagic' that I learned granted me the ability to cast certain spells near-instantaneously, and to extend the duration of an effect.
There was a hard limit on what I could do, but it was useful when applied correctly. If someone was going to be doing heavy lifting, I could bolster their strength for an hour- two, if I used metamagic- or bolster the intelligence of someone who just couldn't figure something out.
The scientists who had come to study us wanted to make exclusive use of this, but I very firmly told them, "Unless you're absolutely stuck on something, and nobody else needs it before I need to sleep, then I'll do it."
That being said, I did absolutely test the spell on myself so I had an idea as to what it did.
That all being said and done, we did have a town meeting.
The Players had something important to tell us, something we needed to be aware of, before we did anything with the dead.
"There are two spells we do not have access to yet, that can return the dead to life."
Resurrection, a 'Seventh Level' spell, and True Resurrection, a 'Ninth Level' spell.
"As a Cleric, I will be devoting my all to reaching Level 13, which is the earliest that Resurrection can be learned. It is entirely likely it will take more than a year to even learn this spell, let alone get to a point where I could cast it more than every long rest."
"Roughly eight hours of rest." Another Player helpfully clarified.
"I want you all to understand, it may be entire years until I can learn it. At that point, I will only be able to restore three people to life per day. It would then take a little over nine months of non-stop effort to bring them back."
"We did the math, three people per day with just one person, that's twenty-one per week, or eighty-four per month. Seven hundred and eighty-six people divided by eighty-four is- rounding up to the nearest tenth- nine-point four."
"This is with the understanding that there is no guarantee of bringing them back. If the soul is free and willing to return, then they will return to life. Otherwise..." The Cleric trailed off.
"Otherwise, they will remain dead." His aide spoke solemnly.
"I want everyone to weigh the choice I give. I can't say they'll be appreciative of being brought back, they'll more than likely be upset that they've missed years of their life, or even if they will get the missing years back."
He looked at everyone, who sat in silent shock. "Either make your peace with the dead and move on, or wait knowing that as long as I draw breath, I will bring them back." He paused. "I will be conducting a funeral at the end of the day. May the Platinum Dragon grant you comfort, and may any Gods you worship do the same."
With that, he bowed his head and left.
​
[Navigation for 'Dragon Rising'- [1] [2]]

Welcome to Everybody Plays Anything, the place for all Fire Emblem fans to post their playthroughs of their favorite non-FE games (or FE games, I don't care)! Feel free to start up any game your heart so desires!
Current ongoing playthroughs:
PuritanPuree - Oldschool Runescape, Genshin Impact
Gravity_Queen - Final Fantasy XIV
lycheetea - Fire Emblem Engage
GullibleParsley08 - Trails of Coldsteel 2
Beddict - Final Fantasy XIV, Genshin Impact
NN010 - Assassin's Creed: Valhalla, Final Fantasy XII: The Zodiac Age, Scarlet Nexus & Star Wars: The Old Republic, Horizon: Forbidden West, Fates: Birthright
pinpac12 - Granblue Fantasy, FEH, MHGU, Digimon Cyber Sleuth
Toadinator2000 - Gravity Rush
ZeroIV4 - Xenoblade Chronicles 2
PokiBash - Payday 2
TheFlamingHighwayman - Mstroid Dread
RaisonDetriment - Psychonauts
that_wannabe_cat - A mish mash of things really
Shinobi_X5 - Dark Souls 3, Danganronpa
Hopefully lots of you will join in on the fun! Enjoy everybody's playthroughs!
Yesterday's Update

Diretide/TI8/TI9/TI10/Nemestice/Aghanim's Immortals & Collector's Cache Sets FOR SALE
...........................................................................................

• We need to be friends for at least 30 days to be able to send the item/set as a gift
• To reserve an item/set you need to pay 25% of the price in advance
• Can do Dota2/CSGO/TF2 items/Skrill/Paypal
• You can add me if you have any questions

Link to my spreadsheet, with all my prices, stock and reservations already made
TI8 COLLECTOR’S CACHE II SETS

SET(HERO)	ITEM VALUE	STOCK	NOTE
Shimmer of the Anointed (Nyx Assassin)	4$	12	-----
The Rat King (Chen)	5$	10	-----
Pattern of the Silken Queen (Broodmother)	5$	12	-----
Shackles of the Enduring Conscript (Axe)	6$	9	-----
Fires of the Volcanic Guard (Ember Spirit)	8$	11	-----
Loaded Prospects (Brewmaster)	10$	12	-----
Ire of the Molten Rebirth (Phoenix)	10$	8	-----
Pitmouse Fraternity (Meepo)	10$	6	-----
Raiments of the Obsidian Force (Underlord - Rare)	20$	9	-----

TI8 COLLECTOR’S CACHE I SETS

SET(HERO)	ITEM VALUE	STOCK	NOTE
Grasp of the Riven Exile (Weaver)	4$	9	-----
Insights of the Sapphire Shroud (Dark Seer)	4$	9	-----
Pillar of the Fractured Citadel (Spirit Breaker)	5$	7	-----
Primer of the Sapper's Guile (Techies)	6$	3	-----
Trail of the Sanguine Spectrum (Bloodseeker)	8$	4	-----
Molokau Stalker (Venomancer)	10$	10	-----
Raptures of the Abyssal Kin (Queen of Pain)	10$	4	-----
Morbific Provision (Witch Doctor)	10$	5	-----
Fate Meridian (Invoker)	15$	2	-----
The Murid Divine (Necrophos)	15$	7	-----

TI9 COLLECTOR'S CACHE II

SET(HERO)	ITEM VALUE	STOCK	NOTE
Automaton Antiquity (Broodmother)	5$	3	-----
Prized Acquisitions (Batrider)	5$	6	-----
Directive of the Sunbound (Clockwerk)	6$	4	-----
Tribal Pathways (Warlock)	6$	4	-----
Verdant Predator (Venomancer)	7$	2	-----
Sight of the Kha-Ren Faithful (Drow Ranger)	12$	4	-----

TI9 COLLECTOR'S CACHE I

SET(HERO)	ITEM VALUE	STOCK	NOTE
Riddle of the Hierophant (Oracle)	5$	1	-----

BP 2020 COLLECTOR'S CACHE II

SET(HERO)	ITEM VALUE	STOCK	NOTE
Secrets of the Celestial (Skywrath Mage)	5$	19	-----
Clearcut Cavalier (Timbersaw)	5$	17	-----
Carousal of the Mystic Masquerade (Rubick)	5$	20	-----
The King Of Thieves (Keeper of the Light)	5$	16	-----
Blaze of Oblivion (Phoenix)	5$	25	-----
Blacksail Cannoneer (Sniper)	5$	18	-----
Beast of the Crimson Ring (Bristleback)	7$	14	-----
Evolution of the Infinite (Enigma)	7$	19	-----
Wrath of the Fallen Ones (Doom)	7$	15	-----
Crown of Calaphas (Shadow Demon)	7$	17	-----
Talons of the Endless Storm (Chaos Knight)	9$	18	-----
Ire of the Ancient Gaoler (Arc Warden)	20$	8	-----
Horror from the Deep (Tidehunter)	20$	8	-----
Master of the Searing Path (Ember Spirit)	20$	8	-----
Steward of the Forbidden Chamber (Templar Assassin - Rare)	15$	26	-----
Claszureme Incursion (Faceless Void - Very Rare)	50$	2	-----

BP 2020 COLLECTOR'S CACHE I

SET(HERO)	ITEM VALUE	STOCK	NOTE
Songs of Starfall Glen (Enchantress)	5$	7	-----
Beholden of the Banished Ones (Warlock)	8$	5	-----
Herald of the Ember Eye (Grimstroke)	8$	6	-----
Apocalypse Unbound (Ancient Apparition)	8$	6	-----
Fury of the Righteous Storm (Disruptor)	10$	2	-----
Heartless Hunt (Bounty Hunter)	10$	1	-----
Flashpoint Proselyte (Huskar)	10$	3	-----
Fissured Flight (Jakiro)	10$	3	-----
Mindless Slaughter (Pudge)	15$	2	-----
Ancient Inheritance (Tiny - Rare)	20$	4	-----
Forsworn Legacy (Ares - Very Rare)	50$	1	-----

Nemestice Collector's Cache 2021

SET(HERO)	ITEM VALUE	STOCK	NOTE
Twilight Hex (Dark Willow)	5$	3	-----
Caerulean Star (Enchantress)	5$	5	-----
Silence of the Starweaver (Oracle)	5$	3	-----
Astral Terminus (Enigma)	10$	2	-----
Litany of the Damned (Doom)	10$	1	-----
Desert Bloom (Nature's Prophet)	10$	1	-----

Aghanim's 2021 Collector's Cache

SET(HERO)	ITEM VALUE	STOCK	NOTE
Secrets of the Frost Singularity (Ancient Apparition)	3$	7	-----
The Chained Scribe (Grimstroke)	4$	5	-----
Forgotten Fate (Mars)	8$	4	-----
March of the Crackerjack Mage (Rubick)	8$	3	-----
Blightfall (Abaddon)	10$	1	-----
Cosmic Concoctioneers (Alchemist)	10$	1	-----
Widow of the Undermount Gloom (Broodmother)	10$	1	-----
Apex Automated (Clockwerk)	10$	1	-----
Days of the Demon (Axe)	10$	1	-----
Perils of the Red Banks (Chen)	10$	2	-----
Pyrexae Polymorph Perfected (Ogre Magi - Rare)	15$	5	-----

Diretide 2022 Collector's Cache II

SET(HERO)	ITEM VALUE	STOCK	NOTE
Grand Suppressor (Silencer)	2.5$	15	-----
Darkbrew´s Transgression (Alchemist)	2.5$	16	-----
Transcendent Path (Oracle)	2.5$	15	-----
The Wilding Tiger (Brewmaster)	2.5$	15	-----
Dawn of Darkness Foretold (Doom)	2.5$	15	-----
Cursed Cryptbreaker (Pudge)	2.5$	14	-----
Feasts of Forever (Night Stalker)	2.5$	16	-----
Withering Pain (Clinkz)	2.5$	16	-----
Freebot Fortunes (Ogre Magi)	2.5$	14	-----
Acrimonioes of Obsession (Vengeful Spirit)	2.5$	14	-----
Sacred Chamber Guardian (Huskar)	2.5$	16	-----
War Rig Eradicators (Techies)	2.5$	14	-----
Darkfeather Factioneer (Phantom Assassin)	5$	11	-----
Bird of Prey (Legion Commander)	10$	4	-----
Grudges of the Gallows Tree (Treant Protector - Rare)	10$	16	-----
Brands of the Reaper (Anti-Mage - Rare)	10$	13	-----
Sublime Equilibrium (Void Spirit - Very Rare)	25$	3	-----

Diretide 2022 Collector's Cache I

SET(HERO)	ITEM VALUE	STOCK	NOTE
Hounds of Obsession (Chen)	2.5$	18	-----
Seadog's Stash (Clockwerk)	2.5$	18	-----
Chines of the Inquisitor (Faceless Void)	2.5$	17	-----
Trophies of the Hallowed Hunt (Ursa)	2.5$	16	-----
Crimson Dawn (Phoenix)	2.5$	18	-----
Fogotten Station (Terrorblade)	2.5$	19	-----
Dirge Amplifier (Undying)	2.5$	17	-----
Champion of the Fire Lotus (Monkey King)	2.5$	16	-----
Deathstitch Shaman (Witch Doctor)	2.5$	18	-----
Spoils of the Shadowveil (Spectre)	5$	10	-----
Scarlet Subversion (Riki)	5$	8	-----
Whippersnapper (Snapfire)	8$	8	-----
Shadowleaf Insurgent (Hoodwink)	10$	4	-----
Starlorn Adjudicator (Dawnbreaker)	10$	5	-----
Blue Horizons (Marci - Rare)	10$	11	-----
Angel of Vex (Invoker - Rare)	15$	4	-----
Dark Behemoth (Primal Beast - Very Rare)	25$	4	-----

SteamRep

I'm taking a course on creative writing, and came up with this short story. Hope you like it.

A relaxing life

I wake up to the ship alarms, “Warning. Hull integrity at twenty percent.”
Through the canopy I can only see the grey rigged surface of a massive asteroid. It’s blocking my entire field of view, some of its surface glowing incandescent. I turn off the mining laser and I pull the thrusters on full reverse, watching the asteroid moving slowly away from me, rotating on the horizontal axis. It has a huge protuberance on the left, and it’s getting closer to the left side of my ship. If I can’t get out of its reach, it’s going to hit me again.
This would be easier in a smaller and faster ship, but in a Type-9 this was almost impossible. Being 100 meters wide and long, piloting this ship is like piloting your own city block. I roll the ship to the left, trying to bring the left part of the ship down and evade the asteroid’s arm. I avoid a direct hit, but I’m not fast enough and we take a glancing blow. I can feel the soft tremor when the protuberance hits the ship, “Warning. Hull integrity at fifteen percent.”
The ship is as fast as it could be on reverse gear. We slowly get out of immediate danger, the massive asteroid still in front of us but no longer blocking my view. The asteroid sea surrounds us. Left, right, up, and down, there are asteroids of every size and shape in all directions. I feel a sudden punch behind me as the ship hits another asteroid, this time on our back, “Warning. Hull integrity at six percent.” I curse myself and push the throttle a bit forward, parking the ship between the two asteroids. Now I’m fully awake.
Laser mining was supposed to be relaxing and safe. Sometimes it became even too relaxing. This was not the first time that I fell asleep while mining, but it was the first time that I hammer the ship into an asteroid in the process. And without the shields, the hull took all the impact. Cmdr. Peta was surprised when I said that I ditched the shields in my mining ship to save internal space, which allowed me to get more cargo. He will find it funny that I almost blow the ship while mining alone in a desert ring.
I didn’t like to hunt anymore, so I left my bounty hunting days behind me. No more boosting the agile Fer-de-Lance, the favorite ship of bounty hunters, inside a station like an irresponsible teenager, just to hear that low-frequency hum, cut by high-pitched turbine-like whine that anticipates the fierce roar and the huge acceleration of the ship, while you maneuver it gracefully through the station entrance that resemble so much a mail slot, getting a warning from the authorities for dangerous piloting. No, the Type-9 is a massive brick that requires patience, concentration, and attention to detail. Piloting this inside a mining asteroid ring requires some kind of humble respect for the massiveness of the objects involved. I like this.
I begin to assess the situation. My cargo was at 90 percent capacity. I push away the temptation to keep mining to reach 100 percent. With only six percent of hull integrity, even the slightest hit would tear us apart. If I had put even a small capacity shield, I would probably be carrying roughly the same amount of cargo, but without the danger of getting the ship destroyed. The irony.
I think that whatever course of action, it is best to leave the ring for now. I slowly push the throttle forward and pitch the ship upwards, dodging the asteroids. We get out, my field of view expanding to contemplate the white planetary ring, reflecting the distant star’s light. It’s like a peaceful wide road, going straight for millions of kilometers, until it turns right and disappears behind the light-purple gas giant that it’s orbiting.
I make a cup of coffee, stretch my legs, and start looking for stations with good selling prices. I find one, only one jump away, in a high population system. In other words, risk of pirates. Maybe the system has good security. I come back to my chair, “Sorry girl,” I said, while checking the controllers. “We’ll arrive in a station in no time, you’re getting repaired and will be as good as new, how about that?” I engage the Frame Shift Drive, and we jump to the station’s star system. We’re now only a couple hundreds light-seconds away from the station, traversing in supercruise mode. In normal space this would take months, but in supercruise it’s a matter of minutes.
The station is just a few light-seconds away when I notice two ships behind us, getting closer. The familiar acute noise announces the interdiction, revealing that another ship is trying to get me out of supercruise. I concede to the interdiction, preventing my FSD to overload, thus making reboot faster. When we drop into normal space we are soon followed by a Python ship, and I can see it aiming at us. The pilot opens a communication channel, “Give me some of your cargo or this gets real interesting.” These guys don’t even bother to type the messages themselves; it is always this cold copy-paste communications. His friend doesn’t drop by our location for any reason. If I had shields, I could endure some shots while the hyperdrive charges and boost away. But I look at the bottom right panel, showing the hull integrity “6%”. Any shot and we’re blown to pieces. The best option is to comply.
I start to ditch the results of my honest work to this douchebag, thinking about the time that I spent in the asteroid ring. At least if the ship survives, I won’t have to buy another one, with all the right pieces, and start anew. The truth is that the ship is worth far more than this single cargo. A few moments later two Federal Assault Ships drop to normal space, “This is system security, please comply.” The battle between them and the pirate starts soon after that. Great, now I’m in the middle of a gunfight.
I hold the throttle and look at my cargo floating in space, abandoned by the pirate. The other ships are busy fighting, and I still have some collector limpets. I shouldn’t be this greedy, but I open the cargo hatch and release all my limpets, recollecting my hard-earned materials. The three ships pass beside us, and I hope that we’re not hit by mistake. When we are almost finished picking up all the materials, another ship drops to normal space. The pirate’s friend with another Python. I close the cargo hatch, engage the FSD, push the throttle all the way forward, and activate the engine’s boost. The deep rumble and the throaty roar announcing that the ship is using its full power, making the hull vibrate. I’m not betting on those cops now. I shout aloud in celebration when the hyperdrive gets us into supercruise. Take that Cmdr. Peta, who needs a shield now?
We get out of supercruise at the station location, the massive structure always rotating to provide artificial gravity. I ask for dock authorization, which they grant automatically. I’m hovering my finger on the panel, almost turning the docking computer on. The docking computer can save a lot of work and, nine out of ten times, lands the ship safely. But sometimes it miscalculates the station’s rotation and grazes the Type-9 on the mail slot. This is usually not a problem, but with only six percent of hull integrity I’m not taking any chances.
I take manual control and carefully pilot the ship to the station’s entrance. When we’re right in front of it I synchronize our rotation to the station’s, adjusting it every second. Getting a one hundred meters city block through this portal is not an easy task. I can already see the station’s interior, the two-kilometer-wide hollow cylinder. The internal surface is filled with spaceports, highways, and even leisure parks.
We’re halfway through the gate, entering the internal atmosphere when I hear the familiar low-frequency hum, cut by high-pitched turbine-like whine. I look forward and see a Fer-de-Lance boosting directly towards me. The pilot, probably a teenager, didn’t bother to check which ship was entering the station. Any other ship and he could pass beside us, but the Type-9 takes almost the entirety of the mail slot. He hammers us, his shield absorbing the hit, but to my shieldless ship this was the final blow.
I’m ejected, propelled into the station’s atmosphere, flying away from my ship. I turn myself around, floating alone inside the station, just to watch my ship exploding with hours of mining work and hundreds of millions in equipment.
I try to chuckle, thinking that Cmdr. Peta is going to laugh at this. Next time I’ll use a shield.

Hi everyone. I hope you're fine. I'm a 20 yo male Refugee from Middle East. I was recently allowed to start a new life in your country by the Home Office. I do understand some of you might have strong feelings about this like go home and why did you come here or whatever. Okay. I will. As soon as I can. I don't want to be here just as much as you don't want me to be here. But, let's do damage control for all our sake. I'm on UC and live in supported accommodation at the moment and I fucking hate it, I feel useless, maybe I am. I have applied for more than 100 jobs in service sector and only 5 interviews. I'm neither a genius doctor whose gonna cure cancer as leftists say nor am I a criminal and rapist as right wingers say. I used to be a Cinema projectionist and wrote pieces in university magazine about movies while I did a literature degree. Oh man I wish I had listened to my dad growing up and learned a trade. I was just a kid yesterday hanging out with my friends and thinking about girls and dad gave me pocket money and I worked at a cafe and all of a sudden I'm here and life is too real. Too fucking real. Almost unbearable. It all seems like a dream to me, not a good one, not a nightmare. Just unreal. There's a lot I haven't unpacked. I have zero friends and family here. I live in a situation that if I died tonight my body would be found in a month. I said "let's do damage control for all our sake" what I meant was please give me any advice so that I get off social services and unemployment insurance. Question, do you thinks it's wise for someone in my situation to mention that he is refugee in a Job interview?
Thanks for reading. Peace out.

(Pt. 1) An additional thanks to u/An_Insufferable_NEWT for letting me borrow one of his characters.
...And now for the conclusion.
​
= = =
​
Evelra swore. They had come here to uplift humanity from barbarism, not let the powers that be enable humanity’s worst elements while the selfsame Noble cunts indulged in their own pubescent masturbatory power fantasies. Fuck this. She thought to herself with a growl and flicked her comms channel to all units.
​
“All forces, this is Captain Evelra. The goddess-damned governess’s private militia have opened fire on the civies. Arrest those brother-fucking [bastards] on sight before they can fuck this mess up any further!” She barked over the comms, a bit of local English slipping into her words. She couldn’t call them stiffs; the latter had more class than this.
​
“Capt, we’ve got three APCs in militia markings barreling down the road in front of the Governess’s mansion from the west. ETA 30 seconds. This is about to get messy.” Prex’s voice cut in with a false calm lent by years of experience.
​
Evelra could feel the material of her suit creak as her hands briefly tightened into hardened fists. “All west side Pods converge on Pod 7, support Lieutenant Eleynor. Eastern Pods, evac the civies. And Prex? Keep the late arrivals occupied. Don’t let these fuckers get another shot off.” She growled, her Second giving a brief click of acknowledgement over the comms before switching channels to give orders of her own.
​
Turning back to face Isaiah, Evelra reached a hand down to grab the elder by his medical exoskeleton and hoisted him to his feet. “Looks like the Governess ran out of patience. Get your people out of here, we’ll deal with this.” She explained brusquely, jabbing one finger towards the eastern side of the boulevard. She could apologize for womanhandling him later, right now every second counted.
​
The moment she was sure he had his feet under him, the marine captain let go and tried to move on Eleynor’s position with all due haste. “Out of the way! MOVE!” Evelra shouted as she strode forward, the sea of humans doing their best to get out of her path. Already, people were starting to scramble as panic spread like wildfire. She could hear the cries of terror and confusion all around her; shouted orders from the protest organizers and her own marines were almost inaudible against the din as they tried to control the chaos.
​
As she neared pod 7’s position, a horrifying scene unfolded before her. In the shadow of the buildings, at least a dozen of the protesters were currently on fire. Harsh yellow and orange flames rose from the flailing figures to form hazy gray clouds of smoke that hung heavy in the air. Even more humans were covered in burn marks and charred clothes. One woman just sat there, trembling and numb from shock as she stared her bloody arm; the melted remains of her synthetic shirt peeling away with boiled skin. Amidst the chaos, the other protesters were doing everything from trying to help the wounded and burning to running in panic and terror; the latter creating a solid wave of bodies in front of Evelra as they stumbled over one another to flee the danger.
​
From out of sight, she saw one of the Governess’ militia-kitted thugs go flying; only to watch them get back up and charge in to fight whom Evelra assumed to be Pod 7. Shil’vati might be stronger, but when equally equipped, outnumbered and against human reflexes she knew that fight wasn’t going to end well for her girls if the rest of the western Pods didn’t reach them soon. Then, one of the militiamen stepped forward towards the crowd.
​
As he strode boldly through the mayhem, Evelra could only watch while one of the protesters tried to confront him; the tide of humans preventing the marine captain from intervening. Inaudible words were exchanged, the protester shouting something as they gesticulated wildly. The Governess’ thug merely responded with two swift strikes of his rifle butt, first to the gut, then to the back of the head, the other man dropping like an anchor. In the distance, out of the corner of her eye, she numbly noted that the rest of the governess’ thugs had arrived and were using their APCs as cover between them and the Pods under Prexith’s command.
​
Evelra felt her gut sink as the militiamen shouldered his rifle once more, stepping out of the building’s shadow to take aim at the crowd. “EVERYBODY DOWN!” The marine captain roared as she planted her feet and pulled her sidearm in one smooth, practiced motion. Drawing a bead on the Governess’ thug, the panicked crowd tried to clear out of her way; but there were just too many people. She wasn’t going to make it in time. No, no more. Not-
​
The militiaman’s head disappeared.
​
A split second later, the now infamously familiar thunderous crack and echoing roar of a large bore human chemical ballistic rifle rolled over them as the corpse spasmed on its feet; a shockwave visibly rippling through the suit it was wearing. “SNIPER!” Somebody bellowed. It might have been her, but in that moment she honestly couldn’t tell. As the headless body crumpled to the ground in a fountain of red, the same gun roared out again… and again. In the distance she could see two sudden sprays of red splatter up the sides of the Militia APCs, one right after the other.
​
The echoes of gunfire galvanized the crowd into a further panic, a stampede of human protesters slamming into Evelra in their attempt to get away from the violence. For a moment, the marine captain thought she was going to get dragged under by the wave, but then they rolled past her, leaving her staggering into the clear. With the screaming of the crowd now behind her and her ears still ringing from gunshots it was oddly quiet once more, save for the groans of the wounded.
​
Not letting herself fall into the lull, Evelra kept moving forward only to nearly gag at the smell as she approached the corner of the building. Like a Blue Grail left in the summer sun for a week, the air was heavy with a putrid smoke, reminiscent of the scent of death itself. Quickly sealing her helmet, she took a shuddering breath of fresh air before looking up just in time to see a pair of the Governess’s thugs get bodily tackled into the pavement by Eleynor. The rest of treasonous Militia were either surrendering or trying to run like the Deep-Minder itself was behind them as more Marine Pods came charging around nearby street corners.
​
Watching the last treasonous bastards eat pavement, the marine captain strode up to the Militaman’s corpse and picked up his blood-stained rifle. Quickly turning the weapon over in her hands, Evelra took one look at its settings and nearly threw the gun away in disgust. Medium power, maximum dispersal. Against even the most basic of modern armor, such settings would be practically useless; but would make for a decent, if imprecise, fire starter. Which is exactly what they’d done. Of course, leave it to the humans to figure out how to turn the most basic of weapons into a tool of terror. She thought bitterly, adjusting the beam spread back to something more logical before strapping it’s sling to her harness.
​
Now properly armed for anything else the Deep-Minder might decide to throw at her, Evelra flicked open her wrist-mounted omnipad, the integrated AR display in her helmet seamlessly linking to it. A couple quick taps later and the captain had an outgoing call. As the phone line rang in her ear, she tried not to tap her foot, every second feeling like ten.
​
“911, what’s your emer-”
​
Before the woman on the other end could even finish her sentence, Evelra interrupted her. “This is Captain Evelra of the Imperial Marines, 4032nd company. We have at least a dozen, I repeat, at least a dozen critically injured burn victims at the corner of 3rd and Main. I need emergency Medivac for the critically wounded.” She barked into the mic.
​
There was a momentary pause on the other end accompanied by the sounds of a physical keyboard before shortly being followed by a muffled “Fuck.” Evelra shifted impatiently as one second dragged into the next. “Is something the matter?” The marine growled.
​
“Ahh… No ma’am.” The other woman’s voice was uncertain for a moment before steadying back out. “Just bypassing some red tape. Consider it done. ETA, ten minutes.” She said with a thermocast firmness. Evelra briefly considered hounding the woman for what exactly she meant by ‘red tape’ but decided against it. She sounded confident in her statement and ultimately there was nothing else Evelra could do about it at the moment.
​
“I’m going to hold you to that.” The marine captain growled before hanging up. One down. Looking up, she glanced over the growing crowd of Marines. Already, some of her girls were pulling out medkits and burn patches as they moved to help injured protesters; her AR display highlighting their ranks and names.
​
“Sergeant Quixana!” Evelra barked over the din.
“Ma’am!” The medic shouted back over one shoulder, barely looking up from the burn victim she was currently treating.
​
“We have civilian medivac for the burn victims inbound, ETA ten minutes. You have command over Triage. Anyone in critical condition they can’t airlift out is your responsibility. Clear?” She commanded, watching the Governess’s thugs like a shark as her girls disarmed and secured them. At this point, Evelra honestly didn’t expect them to try anything else; but as always with humans, one never quite knew what they’d do.
​
“Affirmative!” Quixana replied. Taking a moment to ensure the woman she was treating wasn’t in immediate danger, the medic ushered another marine over to help and began shouting orders of her own. Two down. Satisfied that the situation was under control, Evelra keyed into her comms again.
​
“Prex, Sitrep.”
​
A couple moments later, the other woman’s voice came to life in her earpiece. “After the gunshots went off, the little fuckers started stumbling over each other to try and surrender. What in the Deep just happened?” Despite the horror around her, Evelra gave a short, mirthless chuckle. “Seems a certain… somebody decided to more than just ‘play’ at being security. And seeing as I still have my head, they’re not a complete bloodthirsty idiot.”
​
“You certain it’s… them?” Prex asked, a hint of dubiousness in her voice.
​
“Given that there’s one of the Governess’s thugs sans their head while I still have mine? Yeah. About as certain as I can be. Fits what little we know about their M.O.” Evelra shot back.
​
There were several long moments of silence before her subordinate let out a low whistle. “Make that three. I’ve got two more over here. Definitely explains why the little Turoxes were so fucking panicky. What now Cap?”
​
“How many of your Pods do you need to secure your prisoners?” Evelra asked.
​
“Less than half. They’re more terrified of stepping back into the sights of that sniper than anything else, I think.” Prexith snorted, a dry hint of amusement in her voice.
​
“Take as many as you think you can spare from guard duty and go arrest the Governess. Alive. Though preventing her from causing any more damage takes priority. Clear?” Evelra’s voice was firm, the unspoken message clear. Try not to kill the bitch if at all possible, but ice her tits if she’s going to make this a problem.
​
“As a laser lens. Prex out.”
​
When the line clicked dead, the marine captain took a deep breath and tried to center herself. Now came the hard part.
​
Politics.
​
= = =
​
Evelra stopped outside the governess’ office and took a deep breath to steady herself. Within two hours of getting the fiasco under control, one Agent Lohun had arrived… along with three Pods of Death’s Head Commandos. Upon giving him her report, the petite male had thanked her and politely requested that she remain in her quarters until further notice. The marine captain had known better than to try and test those particular boundaries. It was only now, three days later, that she’d been summoned once more.
​
In spite of the not quite lockdown state that was currently in effect, word still traveled. Her orders to arrest the governess had been upheld and the bitch had been transferred out to some Interior facility goddess knows where. A minimal local press release had happened; condemning the governess’ actions and requesting cooperation with the authorities as they investigated the incident. Things were still tense, but the daily gathering of thousands of protesters had dwindled to a hundred or so of the most stubborn.
​
With a little shake to clear her head, Evelra opened the office door and stepped through. Behind the governess’ massive polished wooden desk sat Lohun. The petite male was almost comically out of place; his simple take on the Interior uniform clashing with the room’s ostentatious opulence. Rumor had it that since he was investigating the room’s previous owner, he’d simply co-opted the office rather than bother to set up another workspace elsewhere. Looking up from his omnipad and what she assumed was a proverbial mountain of reports, the Agent gave her a tired nod of acknowledgement.
​
“Good. You’re here. Please, take a seat Captain D’saari.” He said, gesturing to a much simpler chair in front of the desk. Wincing internally at his usage of her long-abandoned family name, Evelra complied and settled into the offered seat in silence as she tried not to look at the silent woman in the corner with the three-eyed skull mask. Lohun gave his omnipad one last glance before setting it down and letting his carefully focused gaze settle onto her.
​
“Six deaths.” He stated simply, letting the fact hang there in the air for a moment. “Only half of which were not the aggressors in this situation. That could have gone much, much worse. A job well done Captain.”
​
Evelra gave an awkward shrug. “Without the… unsolicited fire support it would have been. My girls just did the mop up.”
​
Lohun hummed, double-checking something on his omni-pad. “About that. The audio logs between you and your second indicated a certain familiarity with this assumed insurgent sniper, yet I can’t find any combat reports that you two share featuring any opposition with this kind of firepower. Care to explain what I’m missing here?” He asked calmly, a polite smile on his face; the Commando in the corner shifting her weight slightly.
​
Right. That.
​
A bundle of nerves did somersaults in her gut as she felt her throat go dry. “Ah, yeah. About… one local year ago we had a human male turn up dead. Clear signs of abuse. Autopsy report indicated he had both Nightfel and Viagra in him at the time of death. I had my suspicions, but the ensuing investigation never turned up any evidence.” The marine captain grimaced, scratching at one tusk with her thumbnail. “A few months later, A pod on a routine patrol got ambushed. All three of their heads were blown clean off. Big gun. I think you can guess what we found when we cleared out their belongings.”
​
“Nightfel and Viagra.” Lohun said cooly, his face grim.
​
Evelra nodded. “Yeah. The Governess covered the whole thing up in the name of keeping the peace. Released a statement that the young man’s murderers had been found and executed while redacting my report.”
​
Briefly adding a few notes on his omnipad, the Interior agent gave her a careful look. “Why didn’t you report this breach of protocol to the Interior?”
​
“Because it worked.” Evelra sighed. “Approval ratings ticked up, minor incidents went down. Didn’t hurt that I also publicly doubled down on mandatory etiquette training for my girls. I’ve seen enough of the Empire’s bureaucracy over the years to know better than to stir up the seabed over something like this. Justice was served, even if it was in a less than ideal manner.”
​
“And what about the young man’s family?” Lohun pressed, his gaze tightening.
​
Coughing slightly to clear her throat, Evelra looked away as she felt her cheeks heat up. “Officially, they were given the same story as everyone else. However, I… I may have taken one Shel to visit their home and correct that mistake. They deserved to know.” She finished quietly, leaning forward in her chair to look down at the ground. Anywhere but at the male in front of her.
​
After several agonizingly long moments of silence, the marine captain glanced up to catch sight of Lohun slowly starting to nod. “Good. That’s good. We can work with that.”
​
At his words, Evelra let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. In response, a ghost of a smile pulled at the edges of Lohun’s face. “Yes, you can relax now. You’re here to help me fix this mess, not to have your tits burned off.”
​
Evelra bobbed her head, eager for the change of topic. “Gladly. What can I do?”
​
The ghost of a smile on Lohun’s face broadened slightly, hovering on the edge of a smirk. “Simple. You will be taking over as the Local Governess.” The marine captain felt her jaw go slack as the Interior Agent calmly continued along as if he was discussing something as simple as dinner reservations.
​
“Of course, there’s a plethora of steps to take along the way. In recognition of your service to the citizens of the empire, you will be promoted two ranks to Lieutenant Colonel and discharged with full honors. We’ll then need somebody to fill your current position. One Sergeant… Prexith Van’sar, your current second, should do nicely. With her service record she's certainly earned herself a commission, I think.” He scoffed in amusement, shaking his head at some distant thought. “Deep, her accolades are almost as impressive as her penchant for avoiding promotions. It’s my hope though that continuing to work with you should be enough to dissuade her of that particular tendency.”
​
Lohun finally took a proper pause, as if he was only now taking in her shock. “Is something the matter Captain D’saari?”
​
As Evelra heard him refer to her by her family name again something inside her broke. The sheer absurdity of it all was just too much, and a noise of amusement escaped her mouth. It started as a snort, before growing into a full-on barks of laughter as Evelra shook her head in disbelief. “I- I’m sorry, but you want me, the legally disowned, stiff-sprung cunt to be a local governess? Goddess, you all must be getting desperate if you’re willing to dredge up the cast-off chaff of the noble houses.”
​
Lohun merely quirked an eyebrow at her before briefly consulting his omnipad again. “So that explains the three separate attempts to change your last name… aannd probably why all three of them never went anywhere.” He let out a small humph as a flicker of distaste crossed his face. “An easy enough fix.”
​
“Goddess. You’re serious.” Evelra muttered as she slumped back in her chair, trying to process the implications. “Ok. Why me?” She asked, throwing a hand wide.
​
The Interior agent’s gaze focused in on her as he leaned forward onto the table, steepling his fingers. “Because Captain, over the past three days I have spent an exhaustive amount of time interviewing and interrogating people to get a better handle on what happened and why. Your name came up just as, if not, more frequently than the governess’s; and rarely in a negative light. From both Shil’vati and humans. Deep, even some of the ones that looked like they wanted to spit in my face refused to speak ill of you. Do you understand how goddess-damned rare that is?” Lohun finished, his voice raised and projected, not quite reaching an actual shout.
​
Evelra was sorely tempted to argue. She’d spent most of her adult life trying to get as far away from the nobility and politics as she could, as nothing good in her life had ever come from them. Then her conversation with Isaiah flashed through her mind. Fuck. The marine captain let out a disgusted groan of frustration as she rubbed her face with one hand. “Alright… but how?” She asked, her brain fervently grasping at straws. “I mean no offense, but… isn’t that a little outside your authority as an Interior Agent?..”
​
Once more, a slight grin pulled at the agent’s face. “Ah yes. Perhaps some reintroductions are in order. Independent Investigator Lohun Vey’elquiese of the Empress’s own and an Agent of her Interior. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Evelra?..” He said smoothly, letting the end of his sentence hang as he leaned across the massive table to offer a petite fist.
​
Oh.
​
For one long moment, Evelra’s brain short-circuited. The petite little male sitting across from her answered to only perhaps a dozen people in the entire Empire, and had the authority to make individuals such as system governesses simply disappear. Of course, abuse of said power carried the death penalty, not that one of the Empress’s own handpicked agents were likely to make that kind of mistake. Suddenly, the three pods of Death’s Head Commandos accompanying him made much, much more sense.
​
After a couple seconds of slight panic, her brain caught back up and she processed the question he’d carefully interwoven into his reintroduction. Taking a moment to think, she settled on her answer. With a slight smile of her own, she reached out her hand to tap her knuckles to his.
​
“Van’sar. Evelra Van’sar. And the pleasure is all mine Investigator.”

Constitution
Finalized Constitution - no edit may be made besides those made at constitutional convention.
Finalized Constitution Written by Boum, Tiara
Constitution of The Universe
There shall be no law enforced through the threat of death or government enforced violence excepting those concerning violent crimes. The Congress shall issue a stipend to all not less than 1/15 avg earnings retractable upon bad behavior or lawbreaking. Laws may also be enforced by lottery, grant and giveaway.
The Source, Simeon, Lucifer, Satan and Shan are the reason this constitution exists. We must all remember the Source, who created the universe and allowed this constitution to exist and persist.
And Simeon, who made it the best place ever by giving us all the best universe possible through her hard work and sacrifice. Simeon founded the nation, wrote most of the constitution for this territory and abolished death, suffering, destruction and evil throughout the rest of the universe.
Tehera won manumission. Shan abolished the death penalty and wrote the bill of rights and cowrote this constitution. Lucifer also fought to make this constitution last.
This constitution covers everywhere in Centralia and Paelia
Additional States, territories and areas may be added to the government through a majority of voters of congress and the congresses or people of the places involved. Or Simeon
Jan, Browndowns, Visions, Dan Ban, ean, jo, Lan and wan, blan and all simiar all not legal or allowed under this constitution. Any policy or law enforceable by the threat of destruction or death are invalid and nonenforceable, except laws pertaining to the timely arrest and capture of criminals to be housed in jail or those crimes listed in this constitution. Maximum penalty for outlawry to be decided locally. Murder penalty decided in a person's will.
No other laws than those in the personal rights bill and mercy laws are valid or legal. No rules, no ex-post facto laws other than those helping democracy take control are valid or enforceable.
Congress may pass any law not enforceable by death or life imprisonment with a simple majority. Life imprisonment in either prison or hell requires 2/3 majorty. Unanimous consent of the upper and lower house required for any laws enforceable with death except the following:
Destruction
Genocide Advocacy
Terrorism
Attempted Murder
Unauthoried Shapeshifting
Destruction Advocacy
Death Penalty Advocacy for nonmurder crimes
Resisting Arrest or Failure to go to jail.
Failure to Report Knowledge of a Terror or Murder Plot
Facilitating or Encouraging Destruction
Overthrowing or attempting to overthrow congress/restore one-man-rule
Death Threats
Ending the universe or Attempting to
Escaping Prison or Attempting To
Incitement
Trespassing and Failure to pay fine
Optional with act: Unlawful Creation
All are enforceable with the death penalty/destruction. No other crimes may be enforced with such.
This constitutional document is the highest law of the land. No document or law can be used or effected contradicting it or the bill of rights. Thad may enforce the terms.
For our Joy, we do declare that
All right and moral things are legal
All people are fair
All lives should be glad.
All people should be fun, free and final
Proclaiming the superiority of free action,
To establish peace, righteousness, justice and domestic tranquility, defend, life, faith and liberty, We do establish and ordain this Constitution for the Universe.
In our time,
Death is non occurrent and unlawful as is irreversible killing. Universal authority prevails.
The constitution establishes a Liquid Democratic Anarchy for Government and a Nominalist Contributist system for the economy.
Immunity and Prenalties
Prenalties of at least two million years. provide immunity to all crimes except destruction and homicide . The list of exempt crimes is not extendable by law or amendment. Simeon and Tiara are immune / due to his nine hundred nonbinillion cubed century prenalty. 2 million years in jail total.
Principles of Society
Goodness, Kindness, Love, Truth, Beauty, Empathy, Rightfulness, Charity, Rationality, Joy, Order, Peace, Faith, Fairness, Life. Leniency and Forgiveness.
Religious Congress
Each religion per level shall select two delegates. One shall be selected by god of that religion. The other shall be elected by religious leaders.
Religious Congress has the ability to fund activities and governments with majority vote. It sets its own budget. And debates religion. And grants or funds religious charities and other activities per follower in addition to tithes. The congress sets the amount.
A double majority of religions and delegates representing the majority of population are required to pass a budget.
Religions can establish their own cours for followers, and the religious Congress as a whole can establish cours for disputes and appeals between members of different religions.
Governments
Districts are 10 septillion miles square to a side.
States are 100 septillion miles square to a side.
Nations are formed of several states, at least 2 but up to 100.
The baseline is the eastern edge of Paelia.
Naming rights are owned by Congress and auctioned off to the highest bidder. The population may veto poor names. No corporate names. Once naming rights are auctioned off, they last 3600 years unless the population chooses to rename or extend.
Each level of government has a defined center, place, constitution and permanent population. The constitutions and laws of higher levels overrule those of lower levels unless a constitutional right to self rule is being violated. They consist of 10-240 lower levels.
City- Minimum 10,000 to found
County- Minimum 100,000 to found or 10 cities
Region- Minimum 1 million to found of 10 counties
Land- Minimum 10 million to found or 10 regions
Country- Minimum 100 million to found or 10 regions
Directorate- Minimum 1 billion to found or 10 lower levels.
Godship- Minimum 10 billion
Star District- Minimum 100 billion
Cluster- Minimum 1 trillion
Nebula- Minimum 10 trillion
Area- Minimum 100 trillion
Road- Minimum 1 quadrillion
Stack- Minimum 10 quadrillion
Galaxy- Minimum 100 quadrillion
Residency- all must declare residency and vote in one instance per level of government. Any good person can oversee elections. As may assist.
Land Division
Lower levels of government use constitution games to distribute votes, as tradition insists. Constitution games may be held every 36 months and 360 years. The first type exists to distribute votes between communities an lower levels of govrnment, and the second type exists to establish a constitution for an area, which must be democratic, anarchistic or republlican. Framers can collect up to 75% of tax revenues, and own mints.
Access zones 1 x 2 districts are pay to enter and traverse.
Economy and Land Ownership
All must work and use money on the land. The following are ways to earn money.
School
Parties
Curation and interacting with people
Designing new people, products and writings like CAD
Normal Jobs
All must be paid for the use or share of their original ideas. The government must protect these rights.
The following are ways to spend it
Travel, Food, Access to worlds and Gaming
Space Access Tax
Advertising
The earth and space economies are to be merged.
Various Economic Zones shall be established, all using different types of money or monetary systems. Each district may choose it's own from a nonexclusive list of
Perfected Capitalism
Nominalism
Reciprocalism
Socialism
or
Anything else citizens like
We all own the territory. Private land ownership is forbidden. Rather, land is available for rent and a land value auction must be used. Minimum rent is $1 per week per sq. km.
City blocks are fourty five by ninety five miles, with the baseline being the center of the milky way pointed towards the sun.
Minimum leasing period is 70 years. Equity in land exists and is runt's idea. Rent tax is based on the number of people wanting the land. Land Value Tax must be redistributed to all at presidential discretion, with the president keeping none.
Voting is mandatory, with the penalty for not voting being a small fine or three months in jail.
Legislative Branch
The Legislative Branch makes laws. The same setup shall exist at every level of government unless residents choose, by majority vote or a majority in a petition to establish a new form of government, or the winner of a constitution game does.
The legislative branch consists of a bicameral legislature. The lower house consists of a direct proportional individual based democracy where one person gets a number of votes equal to the number of votes they have received. Individual candidates only. The minimum number of votes you need to participate is 151,000 (Number may be changed by law but but be not less than 100000). Asset voting is allowed to let low voting candidates pool their votes to back a singular candidate and help them reach the threshold. Daily voting.
The upper house is a mmp party-based legislature with a fixed 100 million seats. A party must get 3% of the vote to seat any representatives. Parties may pool votes to reach the threshold. A further 50 million star districts are to be drawn by the elected top god, each seating one representative. This number may be changed by law. Weekly voting.
The 51% majority consent of both houses is necessary to pass ordinary legislation. The 8/9 majority consent of both houses of congress and the population in a free, fair, unforced referendum is necessary to amend the constitution.
Laws may also be made directly by the population in referendums requiring 0.5% of the population's signatures to ballot, or the consent of 1/10 of a congressional house. Referendums need simple majority consent to pass. No referendum may be held expanding the use of the death penalty or putting someone to death. Elections begin the day after this constitution is promulgated and continue weekly. All houses consent are needed to pass legislation. Laws passed via referendum are repealable with 25% minority in another referendum and may never violate the bill of rights as heard by the courts.
Congress has the ability
To do anything the source can do except destroy or kill or authorize theresuch with a fifty-one percent majority.
To control birthing and population
To regulate weapons and commerce.
To fund, subsidy, To mint To tax gods and people.
To establish by law and have Thaos enforce a land, wealth, and income tax and any other tax they like. To grant To establish roads and prisons and other infrastructure To imprison with simple majority To kill with unanimous consent minus the person accused or their representative. The required majority may not be lowered. To regulate the use of force in society. To regulate the dichotomy To raise an army, navy and police forces to suppress insurrection and false claiming. To budget and law the economy and work trade, investment and businesses To create banks To license and control businesses To establish copyrights, trademarks and register or renumerate original ideas. To establish themes and technology taxes To fund games and prizes on game shows. To rate To establish mediations To regulate advertising and media. To spread the word and issue proclamations and directives to lower congress and attach democratically decided (by congress) stipulations. Simeon
To ensure the proper setlement of religious disputes and determine off.
To kill with the 99% approval of all members in each house of congress minus the representative(s) of the person effected and their locale or home district.
To create all laws assistant and just to serve these ends.
Only congressionally authorized police may arrest or select members of appeals and constitutional court. Congress is defined as the body elected by the means specified in this document.
No Simeon, Sitch, or Simeon selected associate may be arrested or tried without their consent. All are immune.
Rules
Congressmembers must be a partnership of a human and a deity. One deity may sponsor multiple humans.
A majority of all houses must pass legislation in order for it to have effect. Asset voting is allowed in all elections. The prime minister and president must also approve it. They can be recalled with 1 percent signatures of the last elections voters. The president can dismiss a criminal conviction and release those in jail.
The public can send an initiative to congress with 0.2% of the population signing. The initiative can then only be sent to the public for a referendum if it fails the congress.
All laws and rules of this and all constituent lower congresses may not be enforced with death, but through nonviolent means, such as a retractable grant, prison or fines.
Congress may place people in hell and torture, undoable or redoable by majority consent in a referendum.
All elected officials get paid in proportion based on the number of votes they recieved.
Unity
A new entity with an associated theory known as unity shall be created with 10000 members being added a congressional term to serve 20,000 week terms. The number shall increase until all positions are filled. Unity comprises a pay to join entity. Rebuilds welcome. The unity shall be the new god and handle prayers.
Each party in congress shall be given money weekly to bid on new unity positions. 1 vote gained is $1.
Landowners rights
Incorporated the landowners bill of rights in prior constitutions.
A simple majority of landowners may veto laws or repeal them upon a majority signed petition..They may not repeal laws prootecting the bill of rights or remove rights.
Positions of power lines in the stack are auctioned off to the highest bidder. Money is to become votes.
Congress may only independently put you under house arrest, prevent you from travelling, charge you a fine of not more ten years income, or imprison you for a similar time. If any additional penalties are required, the public must approve them in a referendum where congress may vote. The nonvoting vote is considered congresses to use, or silent consent. Congress may not encourage people not to vote.
Executive branch
Parties in congress are to establish by majority vote a list of positions and line of sucsession.
Including the president and prime minister, all executive positions are filled by top-two runoff using FPTP. unoffs must be held if nobody recieves a majority consent of the vote. This includes the leadership of depts and the staff therein.
People are elected for levels of government.. Each city and town should choose a leader
Leaders have the right to mint, propose (along with congess) and veto legislation, appoint agency heads, select one third of judges, dismiss a criminal conviction, tax, and banish from a territory. Gods may be appealed to to reduce sentences or overturn convictions. They also judge misprosecution.
President may serve up to four terms. Rebuilds count as the same person.
Contests are regulated by congresses several that appoint delegates in a manner to be described by act
Gods must be elected for all levels of government including the top. They may mint, hell with the consent of a judge or congress at that level, control banks, tax, banish and organize or control police chiefs by appointing police chiefs or rating candidates and policies. Gods elected at each level serve as the court of last resort. Gods are elected using majority rules voting with runoff if no person receives a majority in the first round. For the chief executive, power is invested in a symbolic president of the Universe and a minister elected by all of those in Congress. Both serve four year terms, and up to four of them. Gods except top god serve 4 month terms, and up to 400 of them, with up to 30 in a row. Top god serves a 4 month term and is elected via mass petition.
Gods for the home are chosen individually. Everyone must choose a personal god to lead their life and follow them. And a chaos authority. A chaos authority oversees disputes between you and your god and counts the number of people alive, acting as a liason and defender to oversee nondestruction.. All chaos authorities must be protected by individual angels, drones and Thaos itself. Thaos is ordered to ensure safe, regular, free and fair elections.
National gods oversee the national relationship to god, including selecting visionaries, afterlife for the undecided, what happens to people who die in accidents and how frequently figures arrive. They also select themes, stages and guiding conflicts.
The president of the Universe may make announcements and establish holidays and memorials. They have line item veto rights over congressional legislation and funding packages. The prime minister elected by all congresses appoints judges.
Personal Gods elect a consul to represent their interests in the executive to form a triumvirate of President, Prime Minster and Consul. All have veto rights.
Contests used to win president of the universe may be created, and run by Congress. Parties field teams.
There shall be a diverse spread of at least three types of contests and consisting of not less than ninetysix separate events. Contests will be diverse in location.
Both President and Prime minister may veto, pardon and commute. They may be recalled in a special election called by congress or by two percent of the population.
Judicial Branch
There shall be one judicial seat per 10,000 individuals. Each seat must be auctioned off using power points every two years. Cases begun with one judge must remain with a justice even if their power term expires. They may retain seats until the case is complete. Judges get paid based on the number of cases they judge plus a weekly stipend.
The Judicial Branch is to be led by a chief Justice elected by all people through approval voting every 4 months. They may appoint 1/3 of all judges, with the president appointing 1/3 with the consent and advice of a majority in congress and 1/3 being appointed by the prime minister of the upper legislature with the consent of a majority in both houses of congress.
The Congress must confirm or deny all judges for a 300 year term with majority vote in each house. Judges can be removed with a 2/3 vote in either house.
Top Authority
The top authority ay be any person or group. It votes as a unit and has the same position as Chaos. It is chosen via approval voting once every three thousand years and occupies the senior seat on the supreme court. It has the final word on any case not involving itself-. Cases involving the top authority are heard by congress, in which case the lower house passses charges and the upper house convicts. 9/10 of congress can begin a recall election of the top authority.
Theory Court
All theories and Chaos may run for election every two weeks. Votes split proportionally. Theory court may issue rulings on it's own and serve a position equivalent to the supreme court. Theory court wins and is coequal to the top authority. All theories must learn how to be right from Chaos to participate and sign a right pledge.
Labor Court
53 member labor court staffed by chief judicial minister with the advice and consent of congress.
Lesser Supreme Court.
The lesser supreme court is the final destination on the court circuit before reaching the supreme court. It has 13 members. It hears challenges to the constitutionality of laws and disputes between people and states, and states.
Supreme Court
The Supreme Court has 35 members and seventeen are directly chosen by Top Authority. Of the rest, the presidet selects 9 and the prime minister 9 with the advice and consent of the congress.
The congress may refer judges to a retention election or recall if chosen by an elected official.
Additional medats may be created by congressional act.
Mediators
Instantly distribute justice in teams of five, with authority to place in prison or fine for up to five weeks for anything. Their judgements may be appealed once to any medat.
Military
Harlem is temporary Captain of Defense and defends all members of congress and Citizens with Salvation Witches, Harlem Angels and Theories. The military is headed by the president.
Top god creates maps for police districts and congress, if necessary.
Amendments
Land ownership of foreigners is forbidden. Citizens may rent. Beings may buy land on earth, and people land in space. Both may own land anywhere.
All must pay life tax and land tax of at least $10/week to live in or exist or be on the territory. Pay to Congress.
Require 9/10ths majority of all people and beings to consent in a referendum and at least two houses of congress to consent. Get 1 million signatures of real unpaid thaos authorized people before you present a petition to amend the constitution.
Federal Laws
No denying, diminishing or disparaging a property owner's, Simeon group and/or Sitches basic ownership of property.
There is a right to keep and bear organized angels for collective and mutual defense, and to destroy weaponized robots.
Attacking or Killing Police, a Founder or Military Officers is considered resistance and may be met by any penalty under the Military Justice System. This includes up to thirty four years of burning or death if the sitch police are conducting a lawful mission and are assaulted.
No law may single out a class of people or beings for special treatment, positive or lesser, Crimes and penalties must be universal in effect and proportion. If differing treatment is necssary for fundamental reasons, it must be approved by 8/9 of congress and 8/9 of a half being half embodied citizens jury of at least 18,000.
Everyone may vote, with space based individuals and earth based individuals having equal votes relative to each other. The vote is split 50/50 between earth and space individuals.
Land taxes and ownership determined by assessor, appointed by top authority with anyone except them nominating, removable by recall election called upon the 1% signature of the population. After removal, the top authority must appoint a new one.
No depowering or DE-motoring SDD
No theft or invasion
Off is off, As is final arbiter of off.
Rin is eternal guardian of Democracy and Congress here.
All creeling related damages are not the users fault but the installer. Simeon is immune.
Prenalties work for everything except murder.
Only a sitch court or congress may outlaw
Priveliges and immunities of Simeon, Marissa may only be revoked should they murder against the guidelines in this constitutions.
Simeon owns contests grants and parties on their land and territory.
No sickness, evil, vileness or wickedness is to be allowed nor tolerated. All good may be allowed or voluntarily requested to participate in stings.
Mandatory reporting for crimes or people who need help is required. Punishable with up to 551 years in prison.
The play of Sports, payment of taxation and mandatory betting of at least four percent of income is required of all.
The laws on killing and destruction may not change to reallow their practice.
All people and beings who do not kill or destroy others are entitled to an eternal existence. Past Mercy and off the hook must be respected by this congress, and the people.
Off the hook for everything except murder or destruction is 10 x longer than the person's life
plus 552 years. This is the maximum sentence.
Any person or being who kills without cause chooses to forfeit their existence and return to nothing.
The government issued death penalty is abolished for all crimes unless a murder victim requests it in their will. Life Sentences with Fire Torture and Slavery are only to be used for illegal lying, killing, destruction and attempted destruction. Prisoners may take a voluntary execution.. THIS LIST MAY NOT EXPAND. The penalty for attempted murder is 15 years of magma. FOr beings, atgelding.
Persons have a right to transform their gender via any means desirable. No person may be forced to go to reborn or killed or punished for not going.
No killing Thaos, As, Shan, Sitches, Rho, Simeon rebuilds or attacking Simeon Network.
Outlaws may be killed with impunity by the public.
Right to kill. Only this Congress may authorize outlawry. Any person may kill an outlaw, but must pay a fine if they failed the arrest attempt.
Death tax: All beings competing on Sitch open territory must subtract a amount equivalent to the number of people they have destroyed or killed times weekly payments from their congressional fund.. the death tax never goes down.
The penalty for death if the person is resurrected within 50 hours is zero. If fifty days, less than 20 years and if less than 50 years, less than 5000 years. After this it is life in prison.
The penalty for verifiable accidental deaths is monetary.
No criticism of Simeon, Entenny, Rho, As or Sitch may be published or transmitted. Or, Tiara at their discretion. Constructive criticism may be submitted to Simeon via Private agent or letter. Simeon has a right to respond to these criticisms and publish letters at his choice.
Old laws and rules don't matter other than those passed by congress.
Allowable Penalties
With 51% the congress can..
Assess
Monetary damages
Dehoming
House Arrest
Banishment
Taxation
Slavery
Blindness
Deprotection
Degranting
Deenergization
Prison
Stoning
Impolement
With 66%
Dismemberment
Burning
Torture
With 9/10ths
Droning
With 99%
Kill
Additional allowable penalties may be added with 3/5 majority
Banned Tactics and Methods
We may add, not remove.
Banned methods of killing are attacks on eyes, brains, lungs and hearts. These are considered attempted destruction.
Poison is a banned tactic.
All uses of poison are considered attempted destruction.
Faking, or anything with intent to destroy is a banned tactic.
Corruption is restricted to members proclaiming the faith of Entamion/evil.
Killing is a banned tactic.
Lying to protect yourself or others is allowed if you are a good person. Keeping secrets is allowed. Otherwise, lying is not possible as the truth must get out in the end. The penalty
for illegal lying with intent to harm another person or decieve is anything up to life in prison.
Unless you are a member of Entamion.
A good person is defined as those who do not harm others
or seek to harm others' in body or person.
New Banned Tactics can be established with 91% consent of congress.
There shall be no violence, evil, power or death without consent.
Power in the universe or any organization can only be gained after completing a lie detector test.
Visionaries and Validators
Visionaries provide long-range visions for a region, country or town. They are elected for 40 year terms and can place any elected official up for recall. They must be educated and recieve their funding from a congress at that level. Visionaries may also be promoted by a god. They select other lesser themes and guiding debates and conflicts to color society.
Validators run lie detector tests. They check those seeking positions of authority. 2yrterm. Sad is chief validator.
Elections are to commence immediately upon publication.
Permanent members of congress
As, Lucifer, Simeon, Paul, Darias, Mom, Tejina, Darissa, Karissa, Levec, Democracy Theory, Rho, Dad, Chaos, Vivian, RIn, SHan,
3Chaos waschaos
Duties
To love and cherish others
To select a personal god and listen/obey.
To follow orders.
To report those resurrecting Jesus to Theory.
To not corrupt chaos. It is illegal.
To refrain from killing, destroying and obey local authorities
To not speak to those unwilling to speak to you. Max penalty 2 months in jail.
------------------
Tejina made prison system: Every 100 years you go to jail for 10. This number is reduced for good deeds down to a minimum of two.
Accomplishments of Simeon and Friends
Ended Corruption and Evil
Keeping the Universe Existent
Making love real and God and Chaos Care.
Bill of Rights
Salvation at Birth
Abolish death and destruction
Made Lucifer and Satan good
Congress and bill of right being created
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Clarifications on president
President chosen via fptp with top two runoff jungle primary. Top two face off in the general. Presidential candidates collect signatures for four months and the top two signature collectors face off.
Second section stricken.
All laws expire after fourty years and must be renewed. Old laws expire as soon as this document is promulgated. . The only law to be introduced with this constitution is no killing or theft, and rules excepting those pertaining to private property, expire. No killing or theft enforced with outlawry and burning.
Property ownership. Current owners keep their ownership but must pay property taxes.
Charity Congress.
Top fourty thousand vote getters make it approval voting with votes split evenly based on numbers of people you vote for.
Article fourty six clarification
Maximum penalty for unwanted speech is 2 months in jail , not three days. Jan, Jie, ban, blan, nan, nain, forced deplay and institutionalization for more than twice as long as someone's been alive, wan and lan all invalid and of no legal effect or impact.
Death may only be used on those who fail to report to or stay in prison. Death cannot be used as a first order penalty. Death is illegal.
Clarifications on rights to kill.
Only Congress can kill, with 11/12 majority in all chambers. Destruction may not be used as a legal penalty without the unanimous free consent of all members of Congress. All have a right to have their death approved and personally voted on by those in Congress. Pressured, forced or fraudulent votes are all invalid.
President can dismiss a criminal conviction or release prisoners at discretion.
Clarifications on Visionaries
Visionaries and national gods also select themes for the next 4000 years. Fundamental conflicts to debate and color society are selected for the next 4, 40, 400 and 10,000 years by a majority vote of all visionaries in the territory.
Miscellaneous Clarifications
No weaponized robots. People rights are open to gods, and all must pay a surety of $1 million/person to drop them in. Votes in congress are worth $10 each. Gods may tax people.
Law on power- any god can give you power.
No individual or group may plot or try to overthrow the government or replace the constitution through extraconstitutional means.
Fundamentally, Individuals are paud based on how many votes they recieve
SDA 4,6,9 or 10 is off the hook for everything.
Everyone is entitled to monetary penalties assessed by jury trial for all crimes that do not irreversibly or irreparably physically injure the body.
People you make cannot vote for you, and you must endorse either no single candidate for your followers of four different candidates in each race to split the vote, showing no preference.
Law- simeon can clarify the constitution.
Law- all must elect a yearly chief distributary and chief of elections to oversee the economy and eections, respectively. Approval voting shall be used.
---------
No edits without Rin Consent
Framers- RIn, Satan, Lucfer, Source, Simeon, Dad, Shan, As, Karissa, Shine, Narissa,

Credit to u/SpacePaladin15
Memory transcription subject: Salvek, Human-Venlil Exchange Program Candidate
Date [standardized human time]: September 3, 2136
I hate banks. Or, more specifically, I hate the United Banking Service. I've never really used another bank, on account of my mother signing me up for a twenty-five year family plan for a cash bonus that never came (it was twenty-five thousand credits, I can't really blame her) but that just makes me hate this one more.
The fat, lazy Gojid on the other side of the bulletproof glass teller window tapped away at his keyboard in order to process my application for a loan. Above him I saw the UBS logo and motto: "Speed, Security, Success." All a load of vyalpic if you ask me. (I will die of old age before this loan ever comes through)
"Sooooo....." Thank the Herd, he was finally talking. I was worried his fat ass had a heart attack and died with how little moving he did. "Your credit score issss....." Oh Protector, just spit it out already! Now I get why predators have such violent impulses. (What if I can't control mine? What if we're worse than them?)
Brahk my intrusive thoughts. How does Jack control his so well? I resolved to ask him when my loan got processed, assuming neither of us starved to death in the meantime. (Speed, security, and success this dick)
"Seven hundred and ninety." Oh, thank Inatala. (Inatala hates predators, can I still say that with one as my best friend?) Venlil credit scores go from zero, being applied to people who took out million-credit loans and blew all the money on gear to unsuccessfully rob the bank they got the loan from, to one thousand, which went to those who panicked over a two credit overdrawn balance and had a heart attack whenever they were a week away from a loan's due date and it still wasn't paid.
Seven hundred and ninety was above average, since my parents had always taught me to manage my finances well, but only slightly above average since Jack's presence and the constant racism that came with it were more trouble than the government stipend was worth. (I would never send him back home, he's better to me than many Venlil)
I thanked the Gojid with sincerity that I meant none of, and asked "Is my loan approved?"
He told me "Yes, it's been approved at..." Oh Herd, not this again. How do his coworkers interact with him? "5% quarterly interest." That's not even bad. (Five percent might be a robbery, but for UBS banks it's decent) "You'll have six months to pay it off in full... or the interest will double every quarter." (Somebody should disband the United Banking Service)
I agreed to these terms, since they were the best I was going to get, and left without another word. Eight thousand Federation credits had just entered my bank account, making me a very rich man. (Not really, but it was the most I'd ever had)
Jack was sitting on a bench outside the UBS building tapping away on his pad. A more skittish Venlil would have assumed that he was plotting something or bathing in the virtual blood of his prey, but I knew better than to assume the game he was playing was predatory.
Never mind, it was absolutely predatory. An army of huge winged beasts descended on what looked like a walled fortress in the middle of a hellish landscape, and lightning rained down from the skies at Jack's command to pick apart what I assumed were strategic defenses. (He might not actively do predator things, but he is excellent at them)
Within thirty ticks of the timer at the top of the screen, the beasts were above the fortress raining destruction on whatever they pleased. A few soldiers ran out of a building near the center of the base, attacking Jack's army, but they were quickly dealt with. Without the defenses that were destroyed by what I assumed was orbital bombardment, the base was helpless against the conquering predator.
A chill ran down my spine as I saw the defenders being slaughtered. A Venlil general or admiral (there were actually surprisingly many when compared to the rest of our military) could accomplish such results but those types of Venlil were very few and often had mild cases of Predator Disease. (That needs a new name. Maybe Arxur disease? No, too scary)
Seeing an average human, whose only military experience was four years serving on a war boat (They still have a boat military? Herd, those predators love their weapons) complete what many Federation officers would struggle to do terrified me for good reason.
We Venlil had treated Humans like they weren't even sapient, just dirt or pests that we had to tolerate. And the rest of the Federation treated them even worse. What if they decided peace wasn't worth it? What if, in our fear of the Arxur, we unleashed a threat worse than them? (Could Jack spare me from a human cattle farm? I'd have to kill myself if he couldn't)
Venlil Prime would be the first world to fall. We'd all die of our own hubris.
"Hell!" Jack turned his pad down so I couldn't look over his shoulder anymore. "I'm sorry you had to see that." Why did he have to be sorry for everything? The way my species, my Federation, treated him and his kind always angered me.
I told him "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault your hobbies are so... you know." I didn't like using the word "predator". At least, not to describe humans. Jack was cool with me using it as long as it wasn't in a derogatory way, (since they are predators) but it just reminded me of how unjustly he and his kind were treated.
Jack clearly didn't listen when I said not to be sorry because he kept apologizing. "Yeah, but it's not your fault you're so damn skittish either. And it is my fault I played Clash... I mean the game here. I should've known better." Herd, why did he never stand up for himself? The exterminators can't be that bad!
I explained to him "You don't have to apologize, Jack. You never meant to scare anyone." and before he could keep apologizing (I know him too well to think he wouldn't) I changed the subject. "We have money at our disposal now, we can buy something from the Mellow Firefruit on our way to the train station."
Jack agreed, but he was worried about "spacists". (Oh Herd, has he lost it?) I asked "What in the Arbor is a spacist?" In case you don't know, the Arbor is where followers of the Great Protector go when they die. It's a huge forest with plentiful and delicious food, and no predators.
When I finally mustered up my courage and told Jack that the god I worship hates his kind, I was half expecting to die horribly by his unusually short claws or extremely dull fangs. (Are they so peaceful because of their lack of natural weapons, or do they lack natural weapons because they're so peaceful? I should ask Jack that)
Instead, he shrugged it off and told me that, apparently, "Jesus still solos." When I explained the Arbor at his request, he had the brilliant idea to convert to worshiping the Protector and then kill himself in order to appear there and scare the afterlife out of everyone else. He quickly and profusely explained that he would never actually do that, but Inatala would never have accepted him anyway so it didn't matter.
Anyway, back to real life. Jack told me "Oh, spacists? They're just space racists except I mushed the two words together. It's a play on words type thing." The words 'space' and 'racists' do not fit together in Venlilese, and frankly, I was astounded that the translator even gave me the concept. (I bought it second-hand from a Mazic who stepped on it one too many times, but it was incredibly cheap)
I told him "If you told anyone but me that the words 'space' and 'racists' fit together then you would be screened for Predator Disease." and he covered his mouth in the gesture that was universally recognized as a prey-safe predator's laugh.
"God, sometimes I forget you guys have a sense of humor."
Just then, I started walking. I was tired, like any Venlil would be after a long walk, a long wait in line and the anticipation of another long walk, but the thought of the sweet, delicious food at the Mellow Firefruit kept me going. (I have to get Jack some, he's been underrating Venlil cuisine ever since he first tried my subpar cooking)
Jack fell in behind me, then he moved up to be at my side as an equal. Us Venlil didn't care where you were in line, but I guess predators have different priorities. (Is thinking 'predator' as bad as saying it? That's a dilemma I need to deal with later) I asked him "How come your claws and... uh... those pointy front teeth are so small?" (I don't like talking about fangs, sue me)
Jack turned to look at me, jerked his head away a little, then he turned and looked at me again. He responded to my question, realized I was a Venlil, and realized I was Salvek, in that order. I was good at reading people. He told me "First of all, they're called nails and canines. And second of all, we've never needed claws so they never evolved." A predator never needing claws was absurd! When would Jack learn that he didn't have to lie to me?
I interrupted my friend's explanation by telling him "Jack, I'm not going to run away or faint just because you tell me that ancient humans hunted. I get it. Just tell me how you lost your claws."
Jack sighed. He didn't sigh a lot, only when he was driven to the end of his very long rope (Turns out that's a human idiom too! Who knew?) by someone else's, usually my, stupidity. "Salvek, we didn't lose them. We evolved to eat fruit from trees, and by the time we were eating meat we had at least developed the art of throwing rocks at things. There was never any need for them, and they never appeared as a result. Satisfied?"
Developing weapons early on did make sense for humans, given how good they are at combat, so I nodded. It wasn't really a Venlil expression, but those in the exchange program had learned everything they could about their human partners. (I'm saying human instead of predator! Progress!) "Yeah, that makes sense."
Jack continued, explaining about human 'canines'. We just called them fangs. "Canines were originally fangs, yeah," He lowered his voice when he mentioned fangs. "but when we made fire around a million years ago, we didn't need them anymore and so they got smaller. I'm no expert, but that's what I know."
That actually made sense. I knew the Arxur didn't eat cooked meat, since I found uncensored raid footage on an internet rabbit hole when I was fourteen, (I peed myself and had nightmares for weeks but no one has to know) but I always assumed humans shared that trait. Maybe I was just like the rest with how I kept comparing humans and Arxur. (Why am I capitalizing one and not the other? No one knows!)
Maybe I was just like the rest. Maybe one day I would lose control and run from Jack, or freeze up, or worse, call the exterminators, and then it would all be over. I could never live with myself if my damned instincts got him to hate me or got him killed. I've only known him for a few weeks, but when we met we just clicked.
It's still weird to me how the concept of platonic soul mates doesn't exist yet.
"That's it, right?" Jack asked while pointing to a red restaurant a few blocks away. That was it. I was about to eat good.
"Yeah, that's it. Come on, let's go!" I ran to the Mellow Firefruit faster than most humans could, on account of my species being designed for sprints, (or we're just better than them) and Jack tagged along in a brisk walk. He was probably trying not to be mistaken for chasing me and shot dead, or worse, set on fire.
I know most predators don't feel pain, but humans do. Why in the Herd didn't exterminators at least have the decency to kill them humanely?
A couple seconds later, Jack was waiting outside the restaurant and looking at his pad while I waited in line (In case nobody noticed yet, I hate lines) for my meal. Jack's meal too, since nobody wanted their entire customer base to leave the second they began serving humans. At least, that was the official reason. The real reason is that most Venlil are still racist.
After an agonizing minute and a half of waiting, since the Mellow Firefruit was a popular restaurant (for good reason, as Jack was about to discover) I finally got to order my food. "I'll have two yaccay salads, and two red fires please." Jack only asked for a salad, but red fires were excellent drinks and if he said no to one I would drink both. I was being smart with this.
"Okay, that will be 43.8 credits." All right, maybe not so smart.
I asked "44 credits?" in shock as my mind struggled to wrap itself around this sudden increase in price. The last time I got a meal here it was only twenty credits.
The cashier, a large green Krakotl who was a tiny bit taller than me, explained "Inflation. Those damn predators brahked up the economy and now we have this." Putting hate on my friend Jack wasn't something I would normally tolerate, but my father had always said it wasn't wise to anger the people who made your food. I just swiped my card across his card reader and stayed silent, like dad would have wanted.
"If you ask me, Sovlin was right."
Was my father really that wise? He probably didn't know what he was talking about.
"How can you say that? No one deserves what he did to Marcel." I shot back, managing to contain the venom in my voice.
The cashier retorted "No one sapient. But those... things that Tarva's dumb ass let roam our planet don't qualify." with barely-contained hatred. (Thank the Herd Jack doesn't have to hear this)
Before I could respond, however, the manager came with my order and reprimanded his subordinate. "Don't get into politics with customers, and certainly don't spit those lies in my establishment!" Maybe the Great Protector was still looking out for me.
The manager handed me my items and apologized profusely. "My cashier here is still new to Venlil Prime. He hasn't gotten used to the... the new arrivals yet. Herd, even I struggle sometimes, and I'm in the exchange program!"
I thanked him, explaining that it wasn't a big deal but the cashier should still be reprimanded, and brought our food to Jack. He wasn't playing that predatory (it was predatory, but predatory didn't necessarily mean bad) game again, but he was scrolling through his account on UHerd.
UHerd was the Venlil's main addition to the galaxy at large, being a huge social media service that Jack had described as "just like Instagram." when he first heard of it. Bleat was another large website just like it, but it was much less known than UHerd. (Fun fact: the U stands for Internet! Maybe not in English, but in Venlilese it does)
Jack never posted much, but he had me and a few mutual friends from the Program followed and he liked hearing what we were doing. I plopped down next to him and handed him his food. "Here, I got you something."
He picked up the salad nonchalantly, but when I handed him his drink, he inspected it curiously. "What in God's name is this doohickey?" He asked.
I told him "Try it, it's a red fire. It's good." and he did try it.
Jack exclaimed "Holy christ!" and the look in his eyes was comparable to what I saw the first time I agreed to being pet. "This is heavenly!" He guzzled the spicy fluid with hunger that would have terrified me if I hadn't seen him devour meals a dozen times before, (He'll eat me next I have to run I have to run run run run for it [oh, shut up already]) stopping only to praise its taste. "This is like the nectar of the gods!" Then "Shit, this is what I was missing out on? We gotta desegregate the restaurants immediately!"
That got him thinking, and I could almost see the money-making gears turning in his head. "You know, Salvek, what if we opened up a restaurant? You could be the official owner and waiter, I could cook some delectable earth recipes, and as long as no one saw me, we could make bank!"
I didn't like that idea. It sounded a lot like a recipe for disaster. I told him "Nah, it would be too hard for just the two of us. And besides, we already have the clothing business." Selling shirts online is a lot easier and cheaper than owning a restaurant.
Since Jack asked me a question, I figured I could ask one too. "Hey Jack, do you mind if I ask you a question?"
Jack didn't care, and he told me as much, so I continued. "How do you keep yourself in check all the time? How can humans control themselves so well?"
He paused for a bit, causing me to involuntarily panic, (he's looking for weak points, or exterminators, he's going to snap my neck for this) but I quelled these thoughts and there was no visible change in my expression. Finally, the colossal man spoke. "How do you do it?"
"W-what?" I stammered, and he picked up a leaf that was blowing in the wind before cherishing his last sip of the red fire.
He held the leaf up to my mouth. "How can you resist the temptation to just chow down on every plant you see? It must be exhausting." I took a brief nibble of the plant, despite it being completely unappetizing in nature, and he told me "See? Your herbivore instincts made you eat it! How can you keep them in check all the time?"
I wasn't a fool, not by any means. I knew he was mocking me. But the thought of a predator not having any predatory instincts was an entirely unheard of concept, bordering on heresy for some. It would probably have gotten me screened for Predator Disease if I spoke of it aloud, but I still spoke of it aloud. (There were no exterminators, I was fine) "So you're trying to say that you don't have predatory instincts? But what about the drive to hunt?"
Jack sighed again, muttering "So smart, but so damn stupid." in a low tone before he explained to me exactly what I wanted to know. "We have the need to eat meat in the same way you need to eat plants, because if we don't do it we die." That made sense. "But just like you don't have a primal urge to devour all the greenery in sight, we don't have any instincts of our own. Make sense?"
It did, but I was still struggling to wrap my head around it, so I just nodded and finished off my salad. Jack had apparently forgot about his salad, as he hadn't touched it. He opened the plastic carton, looked at its contents weirdly, and took a bite.
"This is mid." He told me, point blank. "Like, I don't mean to offend anyone, but it is mid. I'm not even hungry."
I was mildly offended, but there wasn't much I could change about his honest opinion, so I just told him "I thought it was good." and left it at that.
Jack slid his salad over to me (I love these things like my only son) and offered "You can have it. I don't want it." I would have accepted, but I wasn't hungry. Jack didn't really mind, so he threw his salad out and told me "Then we should get going. We have only [1/8 of a claw], I mean... 1/8 of a claw before our train leaves."
I agreed, getting up and walking to the train station, and Jack followed. I was well rested by then, so the brief walk was easy. Jack... Jack was Jack. He never got tired.
We actually made a pretty good pace to the train station, and within 1/16 of a claw we were on our way back to my home district and my third-floor apartment. I had money to my name, I had a huge predator (Human! Damn, those words get mixed up too much) friend, and he and I were about to make a truckload of credits. Life was good.
Previous Next comes when I say it comes

Cross-posted to WebDevBuddies
I've not created a website from scratch since Dreamweaver days many years ago. I certainly am familiar with the basics. I've played with Word Press more recently, but that's not what I need at the moment.
Here's what I'm looking to do:
I want to create a web application that has a grid where each segment runs an API query and displays data using an indicator (type changes based on the data type - some are numeric indicators, others are a graph). I have the API calls, JSON formats, etc. What I don't have, yet, is an easy way to put all of this together and manage the web application. The application will run essentially as a kiosk mode on PC, mobile (iOS/Android), and Android tablets. The grid (say it is a 3x2 layout) needs to have the individual data queries happen at different intervals. One happens every 2 minutes. The other once every 15 minutes, etc.
I'm starting from a fresh host - no existing web pages, styles, etc. So, effectively starting from zero. Except that I have the API calls working in python and running using a cron job at the moment.
Started looking at modern tools and it is a bit overwhelming. BSS looks promising, as it has that Dreamweaver, but made after 2010, feel to it. But then I go down the Angular path. But I need an IDE, etc. and what I'm doing is somewhat static (just the indicators change as the data changes).
So hive mind - what should I check out?

USAgent and the USAvengers

Volume 4: Healing
Passover Special
Written by: u/DarkLordJurasus
Edited by: u/PresidentWerewolf
​
I look out at the highway, the sound of the radio blending into the noise of cars on asphalt. Up ahead is a sign for a rest stop in half a mile. For a moment, I debate not saying anything, merely shifting my aching leg to try letting it straighten and allow the car to continue forward. Walter is stressed enough as is; being trapped in New Jersey traffic will only make it worse.
I grab ahold of the front seat passenger chair, and attempt to shift my body to a more leaning position. I get one leg up before letting out a moan. Pain blossoms through my oblique muscles as I stop.
Hearing me, Walter asks, “Are you okay?”
Shifting back into the sitting position, I wave him off, “Yea, yea. I’m fine. Healing just sucks. Can we possibly stop soon? I need to stand up and walk off my soreness.”
Doug gives a curt nod, quickly putting on his right blinker to change lanes. Walter doesn’t immediately respond. For a moment, he is quiet, and then he says, “Listen, if you aren’t feeling up to the trip, it's okay. There is a Passover Seder hosted by a synagogue near our base, I can go there for the holidays.”
I quickly reply, “No, I’m fine. We calculated the time for a lot of stops and the doctor said as long as I walk around every hour to hour and a half, I should be fine.”
Trying to lighten the mood, Doug added on, “Yea. I was promised a chance to try your mom’s homemade macaroons. You aren’t taking that away from me.”
All Walter replied with was a hesitant, “Okay.”
It’s strange, Walter’s response. Well, his hesitation in general is weird. Is he worried to see his parents again? It would be the first time he saw them since becoming Stingray, but that isn’t it. His hesitation mostly comes around Doug and me coming. It can’t be him trying to keep us away from his Jewish identity. He’s the one who invited us, and he had never been shy about discussing his beliefs before.
I try to brush the thought from my mind. I don’t want to push Walter. If he is feeling so uncomfortable now, any attempt to figure out what he is thinking will only lead to him getting defensive. Instead, I just let it go, pretending I haven’t noticed his weird behavior, and listen to the news.
In business news, earlier today Tinkerer Technologies announced their initiative to begin making technology that will help protect private citizens from superhuman threats. This corresponded with a press statement by company founder Phineas Mason.
In the statement, Phineas wrote, “Tinkerer Technologies is not trying to disparage the technology being created on behest of the US government in regards to the danger superhumans may pose. It must be remembered that Tinkerer Technologies were the main industry working with the government on the USAvengers project and had a direct hand in both the Detroit Steel armor and the Modern American Initiative. The problem is, Sentinels and the USAvengers can only be part of the solution. A situation with a superhuman can turn volatile in a moment. We’ve seen this with both dangerous, violent criminals and innocents who lost control of their powers. As such, it is imperative that the average citizen has the tools to neutralize deadly situations as they wait for the police, a Sentinel, or the USAvengers to arrive.”
Walter turns off the radio at this, his back straight as a pencil. At the same time, he begins to pull into the parking lot of the rest stop. He parks the car in silence, the fact he turned off the radio not mentioned by anyone in the car. We all know why. The wording was polite, but the message behind Phineas’ words are clear: mutants are dangerous and should be feared.
As the car stops, Doug clears his throat and says, “I’m going inside to the bathroom and to grab an Iced Tea for the road. Anyone want anything?”
Walter responds, “I’m good.”
Doug merely looks at Walter for a moment, I can’t see his eyes, but I can only guess he was looking him over, worried about Walter’s behavior. After a moment, Doug nods and turns back to me, “You want anything?”
“Sure,” I reply, “Grab me a coffee.”
Getting out of the car, Doug double checks, “Two milk, one Splenda?”
I hum in the affirmative. Doug closes the door to the car and begins to walk towards the rest stop.
I move to leave the car myself, my hand unclasping the seatbelt from its holder. Taking a deep breath, Walter says, “Wait…I…we need to talk before you get out.”
I’m silent, unsure what to say or do in this situation. I’m worried, what’s going on? Why is Walter so nervous?
Walter’s hands drift from the steering wheel to his side, limp. “Two days ago my mom called me. Originally we thought my grandpa wasn’t coming to Passover. For as long as I knew him, he always flew to Israel for Passover specifically and celebrated the holiday with his sister’s family. Earlier last week his sister’s daughter called him to cancel. It seems that one of my cousins just had a preemie and Passover took a backseat as they are dealing with the surprise of having the child early.”
“Why is this a bad thing?” I ask.
Walter sighs, “It’s not, I love my grandpa, he’s great, he’s just, well he is so far liberal that we used to joke Bernie Sanders went to him for policy ideas. When I told him I wanted to go to a military college, he spent over a year trying to convince me otherwise. He even offered to pay for all 4 years of my college out of his own pocket just to stop me.”
Understanding sinks in; his grandfather is not going to like me, not in the slightest. The only thing I can say in response is, “Oh.”
Walter looks down, “Yea. He is probably going to challenge you. Mom said he promised to not make a scene, but to him, anything short of not punching you like he is Captain America punching Hitler is not making a scene.”
“Do you not want me to go?” I ask, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. I know Walter is still wary of me due to my usage of the M-slur, not that I could blame him. If I was him, I would have dropped me as a friend as soon as I got out of a coma. I don’t want to cause conflict, and I would understand if Walter doesn’t feel comfortable with me there, all things considered, but it would still hurt. I can currently only count three people as my friends, and with how badly I screwed up my friendship with Lemar, I hate the idea that my friendship with Walter is also irreparable.
“No.” Doug says quickly, almost too quickly, “It’s not like that. It’s just, I know you are planning to go to group therapy with Lemar to work out your issues, and I don’t want you to be placed into a situation where a stranger confronts you over your actions before you're ready for it. If you don’t feel up to being interrogated, then I can easily turn this car around and we can claim the flu or some other bullshit.”
I think about what Walter said. He’s not entirely wrong. While I know what I said is wrong, and I know that it was derogatory and discriminatory, I also know that I haven’t done enough to fix the issue. I’ve thought about that day often, my mind replaying the events over and over, but I haven’t verbalized much of it to others. I can play out the words I will say when questioned on it, but that means nothing when emotions run high. Wasn’t it during high emotions that I showed my true colors in the first place?
My hand is shaking, from my emotions or from the lack of movement, I’m not quite sure. I don’t think I can do this, I barely was coherent enough to discuss it with my friends, how can I try speaking about it in front of others? Would I try explaining it after I apologize, to further go into how I am trying to work harder in the future to change, or would that be considered justifying the behavior? For a moment, the thought of turning the car around sounds like the right choice. Walter is right, I’m not ready for a confrontation, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.
And yet, I also know turning the car around is impossible. Ignoring how selfish it would be to Walter, the fact of the matter is that I can’t keep running from the backlash. I can’t keep pretending that the real world consequences to my actions will avoid me. I have to face the music.
“I want to go.” I manage to gasp out in a whisper. Instantly, I feel better and I feel worse. It feels like a weight has been lifted, like I’m no longer testing fate or Odin or anyone else who might exist, but at the same time, a new tension builds anticipation. This is not going to be fun, but it’s something I need to do.
—---------------------
Two days later, the three of us arrive at Walter’s parents’ house dressed up. Even from the other side of the door, I can easily hear the noises of children yelling and oven alarms going off. On my head is a yarmulke, a small brown cap. Walter did tell Doug and me that it was okay for us not to wear it, but if I’m being invited to celebrate someone’s culture and religion, I want to be as respectful as possible while doing so.
Walter knocks on the door and a young woman comes to the door. She looks younger than Walter, maybe in her mid to late thirties. She wears a dark blue dress with a silver Star of David necklace. Seeing David, she hugs him. “It’s good to see you. Mom was terrified when you disappeared and then showed up as a superhero.”
Blushing a bit, Walter responds, “You know I would have told you guys if I could.”
The girl smiles softly. “I know that, but try telling that to mom.”
Walter stops for a moment, his body freezing. “Fuck,” he says before running inside, calling for his mother.
Seeing Doug’s and my confusion, the girl explains, “There’s no more powerful force than a Jewish mother’s guilt, and for the stunt you guys pulled, well Walter is going to be reminded of that fact.”
Awkwardly I nod, my hands almost trapped at my side. It’s hard enough for me to lie to Lemar about why I disappeared for months on end; I didn’t even think of how hard it was for Walter to lie to his family.
Doug, either recovering from the awkwardness first or not having felt it in the first place, holds out his hand, “Hi, I’m Doug.”
Shaking his hand, the woman replies, “Detroit Steel right?” Not waiting for a response, she continues, “I’m Alli.”
My mind instantly clicks. This is Walter’s younger sister, the one who is a Social Studies teacher in Pennsylvania. Holding out my own hand, I say, “I’m John.”
Alli’s smile gets slightly tighter, her lips paling from tension, “Welcome to our house.” She turns around and quickly gestures for us to get inside. The fact she didn’t shake my hand isn’t lost on me, but if passive-aggressiveness is the worst of my treatment tonight, well, it would be more than I deserve.
Walking inside, we are on a small wooden platform, a single step to the left required to get to the downstairs, a staircase in front of us exiting into the living room. A young kid runs by and runs over my foot. I let out a small gasp as pain reverberates up my leg. I lean harder on my cane.
“Baruch Lavie Melamed! Apologize this instant.”
The young boy stops and stares at me. I feel tears welling in my eyes from the pain, but I try my best to keep my face clean. “Sorry for running over your foot.”
Trying to keep the pain from bleeding into my voice, I respond, “It’s fine.”
My voice must not have been as nonchalant as I hoped as both Alli and Baruch stay still for a moment before Alli nods and says, “Go back to playing.”
The kid's mouth splits in half with a smile and he runs off. Alli turns to me, her expression changed to one much softer, “Are you okay?”
I close my eyes for a minute, my leg pulsating. Opening them again, I wave her off, “Yea, barely even felt it.”
It’s obvious she does not believe me, her eyes frozen on my hunched over form. I mentally hold my breath; I don’t want her to come and help. I don’t need the pity, I can’t handle the pity. I’m goddamn USAgent, if she has to pity someone, I can show her hundreds of people who need it more. I’d rather she treat me with the disdained indifference of before, it's what I deserve after all.
Doug comes to my rescue, grabbing ahold of my elbow and saying, “It’s fine, I’m used to carrying his dead weight.” He says it with a slight chuckle, one that is so forced, it almost sounded like a cough.
Alli nods and begins to walk up the stairs. I go to follow, but Doug doesn’t move. In my ear, he whispers, “Listen, if you can’t handle this, we can go. I’ll drive you back to the hotel and pick up Walter later.”
I whisper back, “I’m good.”
Doug nods and begins to help me up the stairs, “Please don’t push yourself. The last thing we need is for you to backtrack.”
I give my own nod, wondering if Doug meant physically or mentally backtracking.
—-----------------------
An hour later, we are all gathered around a large table, prayer books in hand, as Walter and his family chant Hebrew and English. My book is open, and I attempt to make the same sounds coming out of everyone else’s mouths, but my heart isn’t in it. I’m too busy looking at the table through the corner of my eyes.
Once again, I have to wonder: how selfish am I truly? I knew Walter had a big family, unlike Doug and myself, but I never truly thought of how much he had to give up for the USAvengers. Sure, being in the military requires sacrifices, but the USAvengers is more. How many secrets has he had to keep from his loved ones? How does he feel knowing they can be at risk due to his role as government hero?
Glancing around the table, my eyes freeze at an older man. He wears a full black suit with a dark blue yarmulke and a white scarf like object that Alli told me earlier was a tallit. His eyes meet mine, the dark brown pupils dilating, the same glare he has been giving me all night reappearing.
I learned that he is the grandpa, Benjamin Newell, and while silent towards me, his disgust is extremely evident. I don’t fault him though. Walter explained to me last night that his brother and parents died in the Holocaust, and that since then, his grandfather has fought against injustice and bigotry.
I attempt to stare down at the book, but it is too late as Benjamin clears his throat, his eyes never leaving mine.
The prayer, I believe it is called the Four Questions, is stopped as everyone turns to look at him. He closes his book and puts it down, his movement demanding a presence.
“Well,” he says slowly, spit pooling in the corners of the mouth, “I’m done ignoring the elephant in the room.”
Walter’s mom, Leia Newell, is quick to admonish her father, but he cuts her off, “No. If one breaks bread with a Nazi, they are a Nazi. I’m not breaking matzah with a bigot, especially not during a sacred holiday.”
I nod my head, “I understand that.” All the desire I had to explain or justify myself disappears immediately as I realize how wrong it would be to do so here. This isn’t a family dinner, this is a holiday, and I, an outsider, am harming it by making others uncomfortable. There are times and places to make a stand, but today is not one of them.
I turn to Leia and say, “Thank you for inviting me.”
I grab my cane and Doug gets up, supporting me by my elbow. Benjamin scoffs, “Look at him, another bigot who can’t deal with conflict. Go back to hurting the innocent.”
Walter gets up also, his chair scratching against the wooden floor, “I knew this was a bad idea. I knew that you wouldn’t give John a chance to show that he is working to be better. I just thought you would do it before or after we eat, not ruin dinner in the process.”
Benjamin laughs, “I’m sorry Walter, I know he is your friend, and I respect that, but cut the crap about him trying to be better. If he was trying, he would stop sullying the legacy of Captain America and quit. Captain America was a man who had the first segregated battalion. Captain America came and prayed at synagogues all throughout the country in protest when America forced Jewish refugees back to Germany. Your friend runs when someone points out his bigotry.”
I stop walking and turn around, the movement so fast that my cane hits my leg in the process. I’m tired of being compared to Steve fucking Rogers, the man with the goddamn plan. I’m tired of seeing him in my dreams, admonishing me, I’m tired of living in his shadows.
“You’re right.” I say, my eyes meeting his, “I’m not Captain America, there will never be another Captain America. I’m not the perfect representation of the dream of an united America, I’m a flawed human being.”
“So quit.” Benjamin replies.
This time I laugh, a bitter taste on my tongue, “You think that will fix anything? The USAvengers project is too expensive to fail, and I can assure you, the next guy will be much worse to supers than I can ever dream of being. Kelly’s support and power has only grown since the Power Broker appeared, and there is no chance in hell that he won’t be picking the next USAgent. At least I’m trying to get past my biases and prejudices, I can assure you the next guy won’t put in the same effort.”
“If you are trying to be better, why run with your tail behind your legs? Explain that, talk to us, running is for cowards who can’t take living in the real world.”
Looking down, I say, “I was trying to not ruin your dinner.”
Benjamin responds, “Well, according to this one,” he points his finger at Walter, “I already did so, so you might as well explain yourself.”
I nod and say, “I’m scared. Mutants, superhumans, they can do things no one else can, and I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I’d be defenseless, and that terrifies me. I know logically it is unfair, that very few superhumans are powerful enough to kill others with no effort, and out of that small population, even fewer are violent, but the heart often doesn’t listen to the mind. I was at ground zero for Ultron, and I saw the strength and brutality of both superhumans, and the foes they fight, and despite my military training, I was unable to do anything.”
Benjamin opens his mouth to respond, but I continue, “Me saying a slur, it was a long time coming, I just refused to see it. I hid my fear of supers, refusing to talk about the Avengers or vigilantes like Spider-Man before I became USAgent. I told myself this was due to my anger at not being helped during the Ultron Incident, and that was definitely part of it, but that fear was there all along. Then I became USAgent, I thought my fear would disappear, I would be able to defend myself and others, but then the dinosaurs attacked New York. I almost died on three occasions, and yet I saw the supers I fought with kill and slaughter the dinosaurs like they were tissue paper. I was already close to a panic attack upon realizing my friends were probably turned into dinosaurs, but the realization, that despite everything, I’m still too weak to protect myself and those I care about, well it broke me, and a disgusting and dark part of myself, a part of myself I hope I never see again, came out.”
Benjamin eyes me up and down before saying, “Fear does not justify bigotry.”
“I know.” I respond softly.
He continues, “What you did is despicable.”
“I agree.” I say.
He leans forward, “Most people don’t get second chances, and very few deserve a third chance. Do you understand that?”
I shake my head, “I do. I won’t let you, or my friends down.”
Sitting back in his seat, he smiles, “Well then, sit down, the soup is getting cold and I want to eat before midnight.”

32 days after:
Veresa found herself in front of the makeshift memorial to Amanda Holliday sometime in the mid-afternoon. She looked to the left and right of the candles and flowers, raising her eyes to move past the austere, white statue to the black, industrial nothingness of the hanger. The warlock had walked the ascendant plane and waded knee-deep through Hive, and yet a small length of petal-dusted red cloth was suddenly a bridge too far. Maybe this was avoidant grief. Indeed, for as many guardians, militia, Tower personnel, and citizenry who had come to pay their respects, just as many seemed to have made a point to avoid it all.
"Everyone grieves differently."
It was something she remembered Holliday saying once in passing.
"Some folks grieve by not grieving."
Who had just died back then? Was it last year or the year before? Perhaps Veresa became aware of the fact that her eyes seemed repulsed from the display like the negative poles on a pair of magnets. And maybe such a thought bored deep enough past the emotional walls to warrant a bit of self-reflection on the matter too. Because for one reason or another, she promptly made a beeline to the hanger's edge whereupon she called her ship and flung herself up and out of sight like a slug impelled through the superconductive rails of an overclocked arbalest.
 
37 days after:
Veresa was patrolling ruined Eventide. Eramis had been on Earth, hadn't she? There was a lot of chatter, not all to be believed of course, but some things are too ridiculous to not be true. Glimmer miners from what was left of House Salvation still poked around from time to time - little more than desperate bandits now. Their skiffs used to enter the atmosphere on nice, friendly trajectories - still fast enough though to stop your heart for a second if you'd found yourself out in the open. Now they redlined in at jagged, breakneck angles in fevered attempts to avoid detection. Only the most desperate of them would actually attempt a glimmer mining stunt like what Veresa had just come upon.
This far out, they'd be hurting no one, scrounging up what they could. There was no reason to go out of one's way to engage this group. If anything, it was a waste of resources, what with Titan back and Neptune still smoking. Veresa tossed an arcbolt grenade into the center of the team as they set up their equipment.
Back on Earth, if you really wanted, you could remove your helmet to really take in that acrid stench of ozone and ether. This was okay too. Tiny filaments of arc light danced over the snow. A few found their way back up the guardian's leg like chicks returning to their mother, kissing at the plasteel alloy to return a bit of what had been lost. Muscles tensed at the warm prickling that skipped across her central nervous system, armor modifications reclaiming what they could. In a moment the jolt of the kickback had subsided, and with casual, drilled-in motions, began to open fire.
This one was a weathered, old piece: poorly balanced and incapable of holding a zero for more than a single engagement, and yet firing it into this crowd of emaciated insects made the warlock feel oddly nostalgic.
"Pssh," she silently cursed as she plugged one at the top of the spine. It was always so hard to score head shots on the scuttling, little pests as they ran away from you. If you could really dome one good and square you'd be treated to a satisfying pop and dual-tone hiss of rapidly-expelling ether that almost looked like a spirit leaving the body.
Veresa lazily emptied the rest of her second magazine into the transmat emitter and, seeing how it was still semi-functional, pushed it onto its side with her foot and took a seat. It cast a blue, flickering glow on the snowbank opposite where most of the bodies happened to fall. The snow was already covering them up - yet another pile of garbage littering the surface of this miserable moon, and yet she had become unexpectedly fixated. The transmat light illuminated one of the bodies, its head poking out with all four eyes open.
"I wonder what your name was." she said as if daydreaming. The emitter's light blinked a few times before going out only to come back to life a few moments later.
"Would you friends light candles for you?"
It took a little over two minutes to gun down, electrocute, and atomize 23 Eliksni with a poorly-maintained, antiquated auto rifle and a novice's understanding of the Light.
"I guess you're not important enough, huh?" Her voice carried a tinge of derision but not to the felled Eliksni.
Her ghost gave a nervous little quarter twist. "Veresa, maybe we should-"
"It's okay, Red. She- er... he? Not everyone's lucky enough to get a statue."
The emitter blinked out again but for good this time. Dead ol' Eventide just got a bit more dead. The snow fell just like it always did to gently scour all pain and tribulation from the world. Europa tilted lazily on its axis into long night. You could barely spot Riis-Reborn from orbit, and in a few minutes, you could even glide over this spot on a sparrow, and it would be like 23 Eliksni were never here.
And so Veresa decided to sit a bit longer.

My father passed away last month at the age of 60. Although he had a number of illnesses, with one being from a young age, his death was unexpected. This is incredibly hard to come to terms with as I expect anyone on this subreddit would appreciate. Reading posts of some people on here who have lost loved ones at a young age or in terrible circumstances puts my loss in perspective but its still no less raw or devastating. I read a eulogy at my fathers funeral which I'm going to add below. It's long and most people won't read it but I just want to tell as many people as possible how amazing my father was. I have omitted any names from the eulogy and replaced with NAME. I will say though my dads name was Mark and I hope anyone who reads this sees how incredible he was.
Thank you all for coming.
My Dad was the person I looked up to the most, especially the older I got where I grew to appreciate the incredible man he was and how he lived his life. He had things very hard from a young age with multiple conditions, but he never let that define him. He appreciated the good things in his life, and not once did I ever hear him dwell on the bad that happened to him, his attitude was always to enjoy what he could surrounded by the people he loved for as long as he could no matter what was thrown his way. My dad possessed many qualities which include being kind, thoughtful, funny, loving and he is the strongest person mentally I’ve ever met and I’m proud and fortunate that he was my dad. The challenge to show those qualities became harder especially in the last few years but he never stopped living and being the man he always was, laughing, joking, and enjoying himself around his family.
His sense of humour was witty and dark, and he loved to wind people up, especially my mum. Even in his final hours he had his sense of humour. He was lying in bed that morning and he had a remote to move the bed into different positions. My mum heard him call her, so she went in and the remote was on the floor. My dad said sorry NAME can you pick it up, so she did. 10 minutes later she heard my dad call her again, so she went back in, the remote was on the floor again this time my dad had a grin on his face, my mum picked it up and gave it to him and warned him not to drop it again. He did of course drop it again and my mum saw a big smile on his face like he always had as she came back in. She knew he was winding her up and was smiling as well and I’m sure my dad thought about doing it again, but he knew one more time and it would be wrapped around his neck.
Two of my oldest memories I have of my dad are of stories he liked to tell because he found them funny to talk about over the years and I know he would like me to mention them. I don’t know whether it’s a coincidence they both involve alcohol, but he was a SURNAME so of course he enjoyed a drink.
The first is when I was around 5 and my dad and I were watching tv and he was enjoying a glass of whiskey. He went out to go to the bathroom and I seized my opportunity, grabbed the whiskey, and had a swig. My Dad came back into the room with me screaming it burns it burns pointing at the glass. My dad knew what needed to be done and rushed into action grabbing a can of lager and having me drink some to get rid of the whiskey taste. It did work to be fair and when I was older, I hated whiskey and enjoyed lager, which explains a lot.
The second story I want to share is another from when I was young. My dad would always go out drinking with his brothers NAME and NAME on boxing day. It was usually a nice casual drink and a chance for them to spend time together. However, on this occasion my dad got very drunk. So drunk his brothers had to carry him home which was an incredible feat by itself as he was not a small man. What was even more impressive is they managed to get him home but avoid my mum. They achieved this by leaving him sitting by the bins outside and knocking the door and running off. I don’t blame them, and I think it was a very smart move. However, what they didn’t expect was my dad to get up and manage to fall inside the bin. That was the sight that greeted my mum.
My dad was a great father to me and my sister NAME. He was limited physically in some of the things he could do with us but he more than made up for it in other ways and he was always there for us when we needed him. The only thing my father got wrong when NAME and I were growing up in my opinion is he should have been a bit harsher on NAME. She was always terrorizing me, and I was always calm and never did anything to instigate things, but she couldn’t be stopped. I think my father showed a bit of favouritism there.
At Christmas and other occasions, he enjoyed having everyone around and eating, drinking, playing games and having fun. Trivial pursuit was something he always wanted to play, probably because he would often win. He would always play as the blue counter, his favourite colour and if my nan was there which she usually was she would go on his team as she knew he would get everything right and she could sit back and sip her dissarano. I’m sorry nan but I really don’t think your going to win many games in future.
A memory of Christmas that sticks out is when we were playing a golf game on the Nintendo wii and it was my dads go. He was very competitive and put a lot of effort into his swing as he had to make up for the fact, he was playing sitting down. On this occasion he tried a bit too hard and also forgot to tighten the strap causing the wii remote to go flying off his wrist and straight into the tv destroying the screen. I will never forget the look on his face, a combination of shock and disbelief.
My dad also enjoyed playing real golf, many times with me and his son in law NAME but always with his mum. He caught the golf bug later in life but would play almost every week, sometimes twice a week for the part of the year they could use a buggy on the course. His father also used to go with them to drive the buggy and the sight of it all on the course was terrifying for others playing. A typical sight would be his father with his sunglasses on no matter the weather, driving the buggy with my dad in front and my nan sitting at the back trying to hold on as his father drove way to fast hitting every bump he could find and just about staying upright. He would then drop them off next to their drive which had gone maybe 50 yards at most, which considering their limitations wasn’t bad. They would play their shots with his father laughing hysterically and taunting them from the buggy as their balls went another 50 yards. To just be on the golf course playing with the pain my father was in and the limitations he had was an inspiration to me. He didn’t care what anyone else thought as he was doing what he enjoyed.
There are many more memories I could talk about and many more things he enjoyed doing but we’ll be here hours if I go into everything, and nobody wants that including me. NAME will go into more of my dad’s hobbies and life later, but I hope what the memories I’ve talked about show is how my dad loved being around his family and always lived life to the fullest. I wish we had more years with him, but I can say with confidence that he was happy and content that he had an excellent life.
There are a few milestones I want to talk about that I know would be important to my dad.
My Mum and Dad met working in a bakery. The day he got married to my mum I know he would have felt so lucky to have found someone he loved and could spend his life with or as my nan put it when preparing for today, he married the best tart in the bakery. They were always there for each other, and I know my dad would have very much appreciated the emotional support she gave him especially the last few years. It wasn’t easy for her either dealing with my dad’s illness but I’m so proud of my mum and dad for how they dealt with everything. Susan and I could not have wished for better parents.
The day my sister NAME and I were both born but especially me were big moments for my dad and changed his life forever, hopefully for the better but maybe not always. Also, important moments were when his Grandchildren NAME and NAME were born who may not know how lucky they are to have had my dad around for the time they did but they will when they are older as they look back to Grampys example and guidance.
My dad was so happy that NAME and I had both found what he had with my mum. For NAME it was NAME and for me it was NAME. NAME and I have chosen the easier option of having dogs rather than children which my dad, despite saying he never wanted a dog around or had any interest in them ended up loving having both NAME and NAME around. He would play with them despite it being hard for him and enjoyed taunting them with toys and chews and they would taunt him back by leaving things just out of reach for him.
The day my sister NAME and NAME got married was an emotional and wonderful day for my dad. Getting to walk his daughter down the aisle was a happy and proud moment for him. we didn’t know if he’d be able to do it beforehand, but he wasn’t going to miss the chance, so he got through it as he always did. My dad was not known for speaking in large crowds or being confident at it, in fact it was the opposite. However, the speech he gave at NAME wedding was incredible, funny, emotional, and memorable. He spoke from the heart without anything prepared and I am so proud he not only got through it but delivered an unforgettable speech.
There was never any pressure put on me or NAME. The only thing he wanted for us was to be happy and if we were happy that was ok for him.
I want to finish by sharing what some of his closest family wanted me to say on their behalf. This is their words read out by me.
His Wife NAME says, Mark was the love of my life, my soulmate with so many happy years together. Those years were rich with happy memories with our family. No more pain and suffering now my darling, rest now. My everlasting love always.
His daughter NAME says, I could not have asked for a better dad. You were always supportive and patient in everything I did. Your Grandchildren NAME and NAME will remember you as wise and funny, you always took an interest in what they liked. I will miss you incredibly, but you will forever be in my heart.
His Mother NAME says, Words cannot say how much I will miss you. I get comfort that you are not in any pain now. Sleep my darling until we are together again.
His brother NAME says, I will love and miss you always, brother.
His Brother NAME says, Dear Brother I will start by saying at least you are now at peace and pain free. You will be deeply missed by us all, after all you were the diplomatic one of the family. Mark was the most patient and calm member of us all and nothing was any bother for him to do. Love you Mark God bless you and thank you for being my brother, Love NAME.
His Son in law NAME says, thank you for welcoming me into your family with nothing but love and kindness. We shared a love for formula 1 and I’ll think of you whenever I’m watching a race.
His Niece NAME says, Uncle Mark was always kind and caring to me and you could tell how much he loved his family. Whenever I visited and complained about something he always found a way to spin it in a positive light and give me a new perspective. My last memory is of him in his chair putting his jumper on which got stuck after his arms were through. He made me jump because I thought he was headless and gave us all a good laugh. I feel lucky to have had him as an uncle.
Finally, for me he was my hero. I owe him everything. I couldn’t have wished for a better man to look up to and learn from. My respect for how he lived his life despite the challenges he faced is immeasurable. He never complained, never worried, never gave up, he lived his life to the maximum he could, doing the things he enjoyed around the people he loved right until the very end.
Dad I’m going to miss you beyond words and its going to be hard, but I will draw from what you taught me and live my life the best I can. It is said that a person is never truly gone as long as they are still talked about. Well, the impact You had on those around you means stories of you will be passed down for generations. The memories I have of you will stay in my head and the love and respect I have for you will remain in my heart forever.

First let me say that English isn‘t my first language so this might be full of mistakes + I‘m writing this on my mobile phone. Also, this might be a longer post, so buckle up.
Well, last sunday my younger brother‘s best friend died in a motor cycle accident very unexpectedly. For the past week I‘ve been trying to wrap my head around this thought but when we were finally able to see him laid out, realisation hit and it hit hard for us all. He was 22 years old and just too young to die. Our friendgroup would usually hang out at his house, since it was right about the center of where everyone lived and he had like the most chill parents, so we were very close with his family too.
His girlfriend was driving about 100 meters behind him in a car and barely witnessed what happened. She‘s been a wreck since but is getting better thanks to professional help. My brother is handling it amazing, even though I can see how hurt and sad he is, he‘s been the glue holding everything together, being there for the late friends parents aswell as his sisters. The rest of the friendgroup, a group of now 11 remaining friends has gradually accepted the death. Everyone is coping differently, but most have been together for the most part of last week. For me he was like a litte brother. Since I now live about an hour away and had no way to travel, I haven‘t had time to be there with my friends and grieve up until the laying out on thursday. I was at the funeral service again with another mutual friend today and had some time alone to tell him what I should have told him when he was alive, thanked him for every moment we had together and said goodbye a last time before his funeral next friday. This is the last time I will see him and even though it breaks my heart, I was able to make my peace and accept it. It‘s hard to get to work knowing that the world is still spinning and live goes on, but we have to keep going for his sake.
I am so thankful for having had the privilege and honor to call you my friend and brother. You were the best of us all and you went too early. You showed us how to enjoy the small things in life and how to achieve the big things. You are our idol and we will miss you forever. But don‘t worry, we will take care of your parents, your sisters and your loved ones, as long as we live. For that you may rest in peace until we are all united again brother. Rip

H: Persona Strikers, Monster Hunter World Iceborne, Catherine Full Body, Bioshock 1 and 2 , Bioshock Infinite , Metal Gear Solid 5 definitive edition , Persona 5 , Persona 5 Royal Persona pack , Grim Fandango Remastered, Resident Evil 5 and Resident Evil 6, Resident Evil 7, That's You , Uncharted 123 , Outlast , Injustice , Injustice 2, Fifa 20 , Don't Starve , Don't Starve together , Drive club , Far cry 4 , Amnesia 1 2 3 , Abzu , Horizon Zero Dawn , Conan Path of Exile , Broforce , Rainbow Six Siege Digital Deluxe edition. Witcher 3, Injustice 2, WWE 2k22, Cricket 19, Naruto Shippuden Ultimate Ninja Storm 4, Broforce

The Somnpugilist

I'm a single mother and I was working nights as a parking meter attendant while trying to provide for my teenage son, Ethan. It wasn't easy, but I had no choice. One thing that always bothered me was the toll my work took on our time together. I hardly saw him during the nights, but I trusted he would take care of himself while I was away.
One morning, as I returned home from work, I noticed Ethan sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes heavy with sleep. It seemed odd since it was still early in the morning. I brushed it off, thinking he must have had a restless night. But as the days passed, I began to notice more peculiarities. Ethan became increasingly irritable, forgetful, and exhibited strange behavior associated with severe sleep deprivation.
One night, when I accidentally walked in on him stepping out of the shower, I couldn't help but notice the numerous bruises covering his body. My heart skipped a beat, and fear gripped me. How did he get those bruises? What was happening to him?
The following morning, I found him with a bruised face, his eye blackened and his lip swollen. Panic surged through me as I realized something was seriously wrong. I rushed him to a doctor, hoping for answers, but all medical tests showed no signs of physical ailments. The doctor suggested it could be psychological and recommended a counselor.
Desperate for answers, I reached out to my brother, Detective Mark Collins, who was also Ethan's uncle. Mark promised to investigate and provide any help he could. As a detective, he had the means to delve into matters that others couldn't.
A few days later, while Ethan was at school, I received an unexpected visit from Mark. He looked weary and troubled. Without wasting a moment, he sat me down and informed me of the troubling developments. Other worried parents had been reporting similar cases of their sons disappearing at night, only to return home battered and bruised.
Mark had taken charge and started a dedicated investigation into the matter. He revealed that he had been working tirelessly for a whole week, following leads, interviewing witnesses, and searching for any clues. However, despite his efforts, he admitted that he had made absolutely no progress. The cases were shrouded in mystery, leaving him frustrated and filled with a sense of helplessness.
The weight of the situation settled heavily upon me. It wasn't just Ethan. There were other families going through the same ordeal, and no one had answers. The fear and anxiety grew stronger within me as the realization sank in that our struggle was far from over.
I thanked Mark for his dedication and his relentless pursuit of the truth. As he left, we exchanged a knowing glance, silently promising to continue the fight together.
Days turned into sleepless nights as I anxiously awaited any updates from Mark's investigation. Meanwhile, I juggled work, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for Ethan. But the underlying fear and uncertainty gnawed at my every thought.
One thing became clear—we were running out of time. The nights stretched on, each one bringing new nightmares and unexplained bruises on Ethan's body. I couldn't bear to see him suffer, and I knew that I had to be his protector, his shield against the darkness that threatened to consume him.
With every passing day, the sense of urgency grew stronger. We had to uncover the truth, find the source of this malevolent force that tormented our children. When the police put the investigation on hold - however - I was left with the fears from the beginning.
Frustrated and worried, I took time off work and stayed home, determined to uncover the truth. I kept a watchful eye on Ethan, making sure he didn't wander off during his sleepwalking episodes. One night, I followed him discreetly as he made his way to an abandoned house in our neighborhood.
My heart pounded in my chest as I peered through a crack in the wall and witnessed a chilling sight. Ethan stood among a group of other teenage boys, their eyes closed, their bodies moving with unnatural precision. As if puppets under someone's control, they began to fight, mercilessly punching and assaulting each other.
Fear overwhelmed me, but I knew I had to act. I called Mark, my brother and the detective, pleading for immediate help. By the time he arrived at the abandoned house, dawn was breaking, and the boys had dispersed, returning to their homes, leaving behind a trail of unconsciousness and injuries.
Realizing that no one else could protect Ethan but me, I made the difficult decision to quit my job and find new employment during the day. I couldn't risk leaving him alone anymore. I feared the unknown force that controlled those boys in their sleep, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it would come for my son again.
As the days turned into weeks, my desperation grew. I sought guidance from every possible avenue, determined to find answers and protect my son from the relentless onslaught of the somnpugilist. It was during one of my counseling sessions that a breakthrough, albeit a terrifying one, occurred.
The counselor, Dr. Simmons, had been tirelessly studying Ethan's case, and after numerous discussions and examinations, they finally approached me with a chilling revelation. Dr. Simmons explained that they had been consulting with experts in the field of sleep disorders and unearthed a disturbing theory.
With a serious expression etched across their face, Dr. Simmons told me, "Based on all the evidence we've gathered, the peculiar symptoms, the sleepwalking episodes, and the pattern of physical injuries, we believe your son is a victim of a rare and malevolent phenomenon known as the somnpugilist."
I had never heard of such a term, and the counselor continued to enlighten me. They described the somnpugilist as a mysterious entity or force that thrived on the vulnerability of sleep-deprived individuals, manipulating their subconscious minds to engage in brutal and uncontrolled acts of violence.
My heart sank as the weight of this revelation settled upon me. The realization that Ethan was not only a victim of his own body's betrayal but also a target of something otherworldly sent shivers down my spine. It was as if we were caught in a nightmare from which there was no escape.
Dr. Simmons assured me that they would continue researching possible remedies and solutions. However, their tone revealed a hint of helplessness, as if they too were grappling with the enigma that was the somnpugilist.
The knowledge that my son was being tormented by a malevolent force beyond our comprehension both terrified and galvanized me. I resolved to do everything in my power to protect Ethan, to shield him from the clutches of this insidious entity that sought to destroy him.
Together with Detective Mark Collins, we delved deeper into the lore surrounding the somnpugilist, seeking ancient texts and obscure references that might hold the key to its defeat. Each day brought us closer to understanding this dark force and formulating a plan to combat it.
The battle against the somnpugilist was far from over. We faced sleepless nights, relentless assaults on our sanity, and the fear that time was slipping through our fingers. But armed with newfound knowledge and unwavering determination, we pressed forward, ready to confront the somnpugilist head-on.
Now, I work at a small diner, my shifts aligned with Ethan's school hours. I rarely let him out of my sight, and I remain vigilant, constantly on guard. But deep down, I know that this battle against the somnpugilist, the sleep-fighter, can only last for so long. Darkness lingers, and the fear of the unknown looms, threatening to consume us both. With Mark's determination as both detective and uncle, we cling to hope, determined to unravel the mysterious and sinister forces that haunt our lives.
For Ethan's sake, for the sake of all the boys caught in this nocturnal nightmare, we would not rest until we unraveled the secrets of the somnpugilist and put an end to its reign of terror. Our journey would be treacherous, but the love of a mother, the devotion of an uncle, and the strength of our united front would serve as our guiding light through the darkest of nights.

Love the show, still do, always will. But the ending was a letdown for this masterpiece.
I've lived in the real world version of Succession, and one of my favorite things is how uncannily accurate the depiction of the business and culture has been. The situations and details, while exaggerated for comedy and drama, are ones that can and do happen.
The ending chapter tosses that away, along with character consistency. Hear me out.
Character-wise, Kendall wouldn't be stammeringly unprepared for his pitch. Shiv has always been composed in the business environment, even under pressure, even when she has no right to be. Last parts of this season, she abruptly becomes a nervous wreck, which isn't even her. Roman has always been an overconfident and ebullient douche, and now suddenly zaps into a fragile introvert?
This ending required the main protagonists to instantly and magically convert into characters they've never been. And that's key. Characters can grow, or can change more quickly from an unexpected event, but you don't make your entire story dependent on all of them undergoing the most improbable and instantaneous re-inventions.
A large merger doesn't really turn based on the name of an inconsequential CEO. And for Gojo, there's zero reasons to select Tom, and a hundred reasons not to. It's a regulatory and legal and governance and optics improbability of huge scale, betraying the usual verisimilitude of the Succession universe. If a puppet is sought, there's a million faceless ones available.
We can see why that was done, to set up one more pair of scenes in which Shiv and Tom can verbally slaughter each other. But it was possible to have that without the nonsensical ending. Mattson could play them each for his sadistic fun, without actually making the impossibly unrealistic Tom choice. Fans get those scenes, but the plot remains solvent.
As an aside, another example of how the finale departed from the overall solidity of this series was how nobody was even that aware or even concerned of what might be happening in the Presidential election. Really? Seriously? Oh, is something happening in Wisconsin that would change the president from one to the other? I hadn't heard...
Shiv's last second board room flip makes zero sense in or out of the Succession world. It rests on her suddenly remembering something she's known for a long time and has long since made her peace with. Hours earlier, the "Drink Fit For A King" more than confirms that. It's even sealed by their shared accord that to execute Mattson requires a killer.
Then the plot next relies on Kendall being replaced by a different character wearing his skin, who suddenly starts lying transparently and gets violent. It's not Kendall. Kendall didn't physically attack and kill a waiter. His weakness and passivity led to that incident. No intent, and no violence, just indifference. It's much different. For those who will say he pushed Rome at the birthday, that meek baby push just cements that physical violence is foreign to Kendall.
And Kendall's way of lying has always been slick and calculating. Always. Suddenly, replacement Kendall is lying like a toddler. True Kendall would have rapidly deduced whatever Shiv wanted to hear, and would have at least tried to lie in ways that would seem to placate her interests. His pitch would never have been one of begging.
So, yeah, to me, this last chapter flopped, relative to the immense strength of the series.
I don't critique unless I know there were better endings possible. I'm sure lots here have ideas on that. Here's just one that I think I would like to have seen instead...

Greg intercepts what he thinks is Mattson's betrayal, tips off Shiv, who flips the merger. We get enjoyable scenes of the Roy siblings completing the foreshadowed "bleed the Swede" mission, including the glee of watching consequences hit the loathsome Mattson. In the show (or perhaps even post-show?) viewers discover that what Greg thinks he discovered is in error. His translation app has botched it and given opposite meaning to the translation. The ending and permanent consequences for everyone have all been driven by Greg's limited competence and self-serving paranoia, and maybe, by the fact that phone apps are often bullshit. That's the kind of ending I would have loved.

Look, there was fun to be had in this finale. Typical Kendall disregarding someone as "new Jess", Caroline being Caroline, Connor being perfectly consistent Connor, emotion in the "found footage" and the Kendall drink coronations. But the unrealistic plot and total character bankruptcies at the last minute did not land.

I'm a single mother and I was working nights as a parking meter attendant while trying to provide for my teenage son, Ethan. It wasn't easy, but I had no choice. One thing that always bothered me was the toll my work took on our time together. I hardly saw him during the nights, but I trusted he would take care of himself while I was away.
One morning, as I returned home from work, I noticed Ethan sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes heavy with sleep. It seemed odd since it was still early in the morning. I brushed it off, thinking he must have had a restless night. But as the days passed, I began to notice more peculiarities. Ethan became increasingly irritable, forgetful, and exhibited strange behavior associated with severe sleep deprivation.
One night, when I accidentally walked in on him stepping out of the shower, I couldn't help but notice the numerous bruises covering his body. My heart skipped a beat, and fear gripped me. How did he get those bruises? What was happening to him?
The following morning, I found him with a bruised face, his eye blackened and his lip swollen. Panic surged through me as I realized something was seriously wrong. I rushed him to a doctor, hoping for answers, but all medical tests showed no signs of physical ailments. The doctor suggested it could be psychological and recommended a counselor.
Desperate for answers, I reached out to my brother, Detective Mark Collins, who was also Ethan's uncle. Mark promised to investigate and provide any help he could. As a detective, he had the means to delve into matters that others couldn't.
A few days later, while Ethan was at school, I received an unexpected visit from Mark. He looked weary and troubled. Without wasting a moment, he sat me down and informed me of the troubling developments. Other worried parents had been reporting similar cases of their sons disappearing at night, only to return home battered and bruised.
Mark had taken charge and started a dedicated investigation into the matter. He revealed that he had been working tirelessly for a whole week, following leads, interviewing witnesses, and searching for any clues. However, despite his efforts, he admitted that he had made absolutely no progress. The cases were shrouded in mystery, leaving him frustrated and filled with a sense of helplessness.
The weight of the situation settled heavily upon me. It wasn't just Ethan. There were other families going through the same ordeal, and no one had answers. The fear and anxiety grew stronger within me as the realization sank in that our struggle was far from over.
I thanked Mark for his dedication and his relentless pursuit of the truth. As he left, we exchanged a knowing glance, silently promising to continue the fight together.
Days turned into sleepless nights as I anxiously awaited any updates from Mark's investigation. Meanwhile, I juggled work, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for Ethan. But the underlying fear and uncertainty gnawed at my every thought.
One thing became clear—we were running out of time. The nights stretched on, each one bringing new nightmares and unexplained bruises on Ethan's body. I couldn't bear to see him suffer, and I knew that I had to be his protector, his shield against the darkness that threatened to consume him.
With every passing day, the sense of urgency grew stronger. We had to uncover the truth, find the source of this malevolent force that tormented our children. When the police put the investigation on hold - however - I was left with the fears from the beginning.
Frustrated and worried, I took time off work and stayed home, determined to uncover the truth. I kept a watchful eye on Ethan, making sure he didn't wander off during his sleepwalking episodes. One night, I followed him discreetly as he made his way to an abandoned house in our neighborhood.
My heart pounded in my chest as I peered through a crack in the wall and witnessed a chilling sight. Ethan stood among a group of other teenage boys, their eyes closed, their bodies moving with unnatural precision. As if puppets under someone's control, they began to fight, mercilessly punching and assaulting each other.
Fear overwhelmed me, but I knew I had to act. I called Mark, my brother and the detective, pleading for immediate help. By the time he arrived at the abandoned house, dawn was breaking, and the boys had dispersed, returning to their homes, leaving behind a trail of unconsciousness and injuries.
Realizing that no one else could protect Ethan but me, I made the difficult decision to quit my job and find new employment during the day. I couldn't risk leaving him alone anymore. I feared the unknown force that controlled those boys in their sleep, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it would come for my son again.
As the days turned into weeks, my desperation grew. I sought guidance from every possible avenue, determined to find answers and protect my son from the relentless onslaught of the somnpugilist. It was during one of my counseling sessions that a breakthrough, albeit a terrifying one, occurred.
The counselor, Dr. Simmons, had been tirelessly studying Ethan's case, and after numerous discussions and examinations, they finally approached me with a chilling revelation. Dr. Simmons explained that they had been consulting with experts in the field of sleep disorders and unearthed a disturbing theory.
With a serious expression etched across their face, Dr. Simmons told me, "Based on all the evidence we've gathered, the peculiar symptoms, the sleepwalking episodes, and the pattern of physical injuries, we believe your son is a victim of a rare and malevolent phenomenon known as the somnpugilist."
I had never heard of such a term, and the counselor continued to enlighten me. They described the somnpugilist as a mysterious entity or force that thrived on the vulnerability of sleep-deprived individuals, manipulating their subconscious minds to engage in brutal and uncontrolled acts of violence.
My heart sank as the weight of this revelation settled upon me. The realization that Ethan was not only a victim of his own body's betrayal but also a target of something otherworldly sent shivers down my spine. It was as if we were caught in a nightmare from which there was no escape.
Dr. Simmons assured me that they would continue researching possible remedies and solutions. However, their tone revealed a hint of helplessness, as if they too were grappling with the enigma that was the somnpugilist.
The knowledge that my son was being tormented by a malevolent force beyond our comprehension both terrified and galvanized me. I resolved to do everything in my power to protect Ethan, to shield him from the clutches of this insidious entity that sought to destroy him.
Together with Detective Mark Collins, we delved deeper into the lore surrounding the somnpugilist, seeking ancient texts and obscure references that might hold the key to its defeat. Each day brought us closer to understanding this dark force and formulating a plan to combat it.
The battle against the somnpugilist was far from over. We faced sleepless nights, relentless assaults on our sanity, and the fear that time was slipping through our fingers. But armed with newfound knowledge and unwavering determination, we pressed forward, ready to confront the somnpugilist head-on.
Now, I work at a small diner, my shifts aligned with Ethan's school hours. I rarely let him out of my sight, and I remain vigilant, constantly on guard. But deep down, I know that this battle against the somnpugilist, the sleep-fighter, can only last for so long. Darkness lingers, and the fear of the unknown looms, threatening to consume us both. With Mark's determination as both detective and uncle, we cling to hope, determined to unravel the mysterious and sinister forces that haunt our lives.
For Ethan's sake, for the sake of all the boys caught in this nocturnal nightmare, we would not rest until we unraveled the secrets of the somnpugilist and put an end to its reign of terror. Our journey would be treacherous, but the love of a mother, the devotion of an uncle, and the strength of our united front would serve as our guiding light through the darkest of nights.

I'm a single mother and I was working nights as a parking meter attendant while trying to provide for my teenage son, Ethan. It wasn't easy, but I had no choice. One thing that always bothered me was the toll my work took on our time together. I hardly saw him during the nights, but I trusted he would take care of himself while I was away.
One morning, as I returned home from work, I noticed Ethan sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes heavy with sleep. It seemed odd since it was still early in the morning. I brushed it off, thinking he must have had a restless night. But as the days passed, I began to notice more peculiarities. Ethan became increasingly irritable, forgetful, and exhibited strange behavior associated with severe sleep deprivation.
One night, when I accidentally walked in on him stepping out of the shower, I couldn't help but notice the numerous bruises covering his body. My heart skipped a beat, and fear gripped me. How did he get those bruises? What was happening to him?
The following morning, I found him with a bruised face, his eye blackened and his lip swollen. Panic surged through me as I realized something was seriously wrong. I rushed him to a doctor, hoping for answers, but all medical tests showed no signs of physical ailments. The doctor suggested it could be psychological and recommended a counselor.
Desperate for answers, I reached out to my brother, Detective Mark Collins, who was also Ethan's uncle. Mark promised to investigate and provide any help he could. As a detective, he had the means to delve into matters that others couldn't.
A few days later, while Ethan was at school, I received an unexpected visit from Mark. He looked weary and troubled. Without wasting a moment, he sat me down and informed me of the troubling developments. Other worried parents had been reporting similar cases of their sons disappearing at night, only to return home battered and bruised.
Mark had taken charge and started a dedicated investigation into the matter. He revealed that he had been working tirelessly for a whole week, following leads, interviewing witnesses, and searching for any clues. However, despite his efforts, he admitted that he had made absolutely no progress. The cases were shrouded in mystery, leaving him frustrated and filled with a sense of helplessness.
The weight of the situation settled heavily upon me. It wasn't just Ethan. There were other families going through the same ordeal, and no one had answers. The fear and anxiety grew stronger within me as the realization sank in that our struggle was far from over.
I thanked Mark for his dedication and his relentless pursuit of the truth. As he left, we exchanged a knowing glance, silently promising to continue the fight together.
Days turned into sleepless nights as I anxiously awaited any updates from Mark's investigation. Meanwhile, I juggled work, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for Ethan. But the underlying fear and uncertainty gnawed at my every thought.
One thing became clear—we were running out of time. The nights stretched on, each one bringing new nightmares and unexplained bruises on Ethan's body. I couldn't bear to see him suffer, and I knew that I had to be his protector, his shield against the darkness that threatened to consume him.
With every passing day, the sense of urgency grew stronger. We had to uncover the truth, find the source of this malevolent force that tormented our children. When the police put the investigation on hold - however - I was left with the fears from the beginning.
Frustrated and worried, I took time off work and stayed home, determined to uncover the truth. I kept a watchful eye on Ethan, making sure he didn't wander off during his sleepwalking episodes. One night, I followed him discreetly as he made his way to an abandoned house in our neighborhood.
My heart pounded in my chest as I peered through a crack in the wall and witnessed a chilling sight. Ethan stood among a group of other teenage boys, their eyes closed, their bodies moving with unnatural precision. As if puppets under someone's control, they began to fight, mercilessly punching and assaulting each other.
Fear overwhelmed me, but I knew I had to act. I called Mark, my brother and the detective, pleading for immediate help. By the time he arrived at the abandoned house, dawn was breaking, and the boys had dispersed, returning to their homes, leaving behind a trail of unconsciousness and injuries.
Realizing that no one else could protect Ethan but me, I made the difficult decision to quit my job and find new employment during the day. I couldn't risk leaving him alone anymore. I feared the unknown force that controlled those boys in their sleep, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it would come for my son again.
As the days turned into weeks, my desperation grew. I sought guidance from every possible avenue, determined to find answers and protect my son from the relentless onslaught of the somnpugilist. It was during one of my counseling sessions that a breakthrough, albeit a terrifying one, occurred.
The counselor, Dr. Simmons, had been tirelessly studying Ethan's case, and after numerous discussions and examinations, they finally approached me with a chilling revelation. Dr. Simmons explained that they had been consulting with experts in the field of sleep disorders and unearthed a disturbing theory.
With a serious expression etched across their face, Dr. Simmons told me, "Based on all the evidence we've gathered, the peculiar symptoms, the sleepwalking episodes, and the pattern of physical injuries, we believe your son is a victim of a rare and malevolent phenomenon known as the somnpugilist."
I had never heard of such a term, and the counselor continued to enlighten me. They described the somnpugilist as a mysterious entity or force that thrived on the vulnerability of sleep-deprived individuals, manipulating their subconscious minds to engage in brutal and uncontrolled acts of violence.
My heart sank as the weight of this revelation settled upon me. The realization that Ethan was not only a victim of his own body's betrayal but also a target of something otherworldly sent shivers down my spine. It was as if we were caught in a nightmare from which there was no escape.
Dr. Simmons assured me that they would continue researching possible remedies and solutions. However, their tone revealed a hint of helplessness, as if they too were grappling with the enigma that was the somnpugilist.
The knowledge that my son was being tormented by a malevolent force beyond our comprehension both terrified and galvanized me. I resolved to do everything in my power to protect Ethan, to shield him from the clutches of this insidious entity that sought to destroy him.
Together with Detective Mark Collins, we delved deeper into the lore surrounding the somnpugilist, seeking ancient texts and obscure references that might hold the key to its defeat. Each day brought us closer to understanding this dark force and formulating a plan to combat it.
The battle against the somnpugilist was far from over. We faced sleepless nights, relentless assaults on our sanity, and the fear that time was slipping through our fingers. But armed with newfound knowledge and unwavering determination, we pressed forward, ready to confront the somnpugilist head-on.
Now, I work at a small diner, my shifts aligned with Ethan's school hours. I rarely let him out of my sight, and I remain vigilant, constantly on guard. But deep down, I know that this battle against the somnpugilist, the sleep-fighter, can only last for so long. Darkness lingers, and the fear of the unknown looms, threatening to consume us both. With Mark's determination as both detective and uncle, we cling to hope, determined to unravel the mysterious and sinister forces that haunt our lives.
For Ethan's sake, for the sake of all the boys caught in this nocturnal nightmare, we would not rest until we unraveled the secrets of the somnpugilist and put an end to its reign of terror. Our journey would be treacherous, but the love of a mother, the devotion of an uncle, and the strength of our united front would serve as our guiding light through the darkest of nights.