Blue room fred birthday

Ahh, dear reader, hello there! So lovely to see you once more... well figuratively speaking that is… or is it?
After all, I am exceedingly well versed in The Arts. Maybe I am watching you at this very moment, with Clairvoyance or perhaps a Scrying Spell or maybe an enchanted object like the good old fashioned Crystal Ball? The Magus has one you know…
Just teasing… or am I? …teeheehee…
Anyway, this latest instalment comes to you courtesy via a Voice to Text application my Magus recently acquired for me, as he said listening to me speak aloud while typing is too distracting for him. I find that interesting considering his immense mental discipline yet understandable at the same time. After all, extoling ones inner monolog to an uncaring audience would be tedious to experience. Hmm… I’ve just thought of a new torture for the souls of the dammed, specifically for writers who think they are better than everyone around them. How ingenious of me!
In any case, I would prefer to distract him in other ways, mark you.
I also must say what wonderfully inventive creatures you humans are! An application of mathematical code, the base language of reality. It is very much like a spell in its function and nature I would say, that it allows my phone, yes the Magus got me one, to record all I say and transcribes it into neatly typed words on its electronic pages. It’s like having a monk-scribe in your pocket! Unquestionably wonderful!
So as I relax in my fabulously hot, luxurious scented, oiled bubble bath, I can easily regale you with further tales of the adventures I have had thus far on this wonderous blue and brown spherical rock that is third in line from our star. And I do not have to type with two fingers either, which is a massive bonus let me tell you!
If memory serves… ahh yes, we had just returned to the car where I saw a sign of my Magus’s humour on display in the form of his licence plate.
I do have to admit dear reader, I was indeed highly amused. He knows he’s going to hell, he just insists that it be on his terms! I love it! Such confidence, such audacious willpower.
That is exceedingly… stimulating for Succubi.
Ok dammit, it makes me tremendously horny, and I’m not talking about the ones on my head either you know! We are incredibly lusty beings, us Succubi, after all.
I was already in a highly ‘excited’ state when we got to the car, so much so that I had to use my Cell Adjustment Psionic discipline to tremendously dull down my inflamed senses as I did not wish to leave the tell-tale mark of my inflamed passion on the lower back portion of my new dress and also not on the car-seat when I sat back down in the vehicle.
Ahem…
After a few moments, which caused the Magus to glance up at me with a slightly puzzled expression, of standing outside the car (he had no idea nor cared… hmmph!) I opened the door and folded myself back inside the vehicle and resumed my seat. I later learned that I could have mostly avoided this… embarrassment… by actually wearing what you call absorbent lined underwear! I wasn’t wearing panties at the time as I was totally unaware of their existence. I do so now as its much more comfortable in lots of ways and in addition, stops the shiver when an errant chill wind blows unexpectedly up your gusset!
Moving on…
Getting into the car, the Magus paused until I had done up my seatbelt before starting the engine, waiting for another car to pass us by before safely pulling out and sedately driving off. I later learned that we could have gone screaming down the road in a cloud of burning rubber if the Magus was of a mind to. I would have if given the opportunity! Something to look forward to dear reader.
Instead, we drifted slowly through the placidly moving traffic as I watched the sun descend below the horizon of the ocean. I had only been back here on Earth for a few hours but every second was total bliss. I do not think that most of you humans realize how good you have it here. Even those who do not reside in the more developed and advanced nations, being on Earth is special.
There are infinity more worse places you can be, let me assure you of that.
We drove back mostly the way had travelled to this particular beach. This time though it was much later in the day, heading in the opposite direction, I became aware of many more things that had escaped my attention earlier on.
We passed by denser zones and clusters of buildings where I could see various shops, food outlets, restaurants and varying vendors, all brightly lit up now as the daylight was fading. I saw incredibly tall metal poles with blazing, glowing lights illuminating the surrounds with a warm yellowy orange glow making it still easy to see. Electric lighting will never cease to amaze me. Yes dear reader, I can experience a sense of wonder and joy at simple things, even beyond the act of slaughter and soul draining. Would it astonish you that I like flowers? Such strange lifeforms that had developed aromas they use as a method of propagation. Delightful.
Anyway… we shortly crested the hill that we had previous ascended westwards earlier on the way to the beach and I then saw it!
I was awestruck once again.
A towering edifices, glittering, shining buildings monstrously higher than Hagia Sophia was, the most immense human made structure in the world when I was last in it. These glistening towers of glass, metal and stone made that church look like a feeble children’s toy. I could see over a dozen of these buildings of varying size, clustered together in less than a square mile.
The Magus glanced to his left and saw me gaping at them.
“They’re called Sky Scrappers Meridiana. They’re generally office buildings, places of business where people daily work in their wage-slave jobs then go home at night. The buildings are left vacant but light up at night as you can clearly see.”
I turned and gawped at him.
“They’re empty at night?”
I could not comprehend why such space, that had amazing views, would be left empty of an evening?
“Yep. Well most of them are. There will be some that still have people in them, conducting various types of business overnight because its what they do for a living.”
“What do they do?” I asked in a murmur as I turned back to see the vista be obscured by a large set of commercial and residential buildings that we were currently passing.
The Magus shrugged.
“They’ll be doing all sorts of things, financial trading, working back late to do their jobs… various affairs of commerce and such. It’s not that important really Meridiana. I’ll take you into the city another day when we have time for you to be a tourist. Now, if I may, I want to know more about your Telekinesis. I got an idea of how much you can lift, probably over 1400 kilograms at least if my guess as to how much a warhorse in armour with a rider would weigh… maybe more? Probably more but we’ll test that later. Anyway, it’s your fine control skills I’m interested in.”
I turned back to the Magus who was looking ahead, driving us through the busy traffic that had become a factor. I later learned that it was a time of day called ‘rush hour’.
“I am capable of very delicate manipulation with my Telekinesis, especially in regards to the erotic arts,” I said to him with a husky, low, salacious purr.
“That’s cute but I really want to know if you could snatch out of the air and control a very small, fast moving bouncing ball, say the size of your thumbnail?” he asked in an offhand manner as he slowed down due to the traffic which was banking up in front of us.
I inwardly sighed once more. Such a challenge he was!
“Yes I can but why?”
He briefly turned to me and broadly grinned before returning his attention to driving.
“There’s a game that we will ‘play’ after dinner. It is called Roulette. The game features a spinning wheel with thirty seven little slots. Into the spinning wheel a little white ball is spun in and circles around, eventually slowing and bouncing into once of the numbered slots. The slots are alternately coloured red or black and all are numbered from 00 to 36. You can bet where the ball will land, either in red or black and specifically in a numbered slot. If the ball lands in a slot you bet on, you get a payout of thirty seven to one. Ever dollar you bet wins you 37 back. You can also just bet on which colour the ball will land in giving you your money back plus it’s value as a reward. Bet $100, you get your $100 back plus another $100.”
“Dollar... that’s money right?” I said as the implications slowly dawned on me. You could make a fortune from this!
“Yes Meridiana. Dollars are what we use as currency these days. Gold is still used but not in the way you were used to. It’s still valuable as are other precious metals but that’s going to take a long explanation which is a distraction for now. So, do you think you could perhaps catch the bouncing ball with your power, directing it into the number we bet on?”
I thought about it for a few moments.
“I will have to see how the ball moves but I think I could, yes.”
“Excellent. You stand to make us a lot of money tonight. There are other games like card games, slot machines which I’m uncertain that your powers would be able to mess with. Roulette is our hunting ground. We must be careful though.”
“Why?”
I was surprised by his tone of caution. We were power incarnate! What could possibly touch us?
“Casinos hate losing money. Roulette is going to be the hardest one they can prove that we’re cheating on if you use your Telekinesis. We will be closely watched the entire time we are in the casino. There are devices called cameras, similar to Crystal Balls, that observe everything they see, relaying the images back to people in other rooms whose task it is to spot potential cheaters in the casino. They also have people walking the floor, disguised as ordinary folk, always watching everyone else. And I want to avoid the eyes of any infernal beings who may be in the casino.”
“Ahh… I see… a healthy paranoia then, for them and us hmm?”
He nodded once, emphatically.
If you have a fortune, you need to protect it, especially from people like me. His caution in regards to our identity was also most prudent and he was correct that there was a possibility that there may be others of my ilk lurking in the shadows, walking in human form as we often do.
I have to confess dear reader, that I am a master thief as well as an expert assassin, in addition to being an accomplished warrior although I rarely fight in hand to hand combat, preferring seduction, subterfuge and skulduggery as my main methods of killing. Yet still, I can fight and kill extremely proficiently with many weapons, being skilled at one of the highest levels of melee combat, the use of weapons and ways of fighting with them. I’ve been around a while you know? You pick up on things like that if you wish to live as long as I have.
Besides… stabby, stabby, stabby, bash, slash and smite can be loads of fun when you’re doing the stabbing and bashing with a well-balanced blade or mace in your hands. But I digress…
“You have it Meridiana. Yes the casinos’ management are extremely paranoid. We will have to alter our appearance as well before we enter the casino. I shall use a minor low level spell while you can take a new face. We will do so after dinner.”
I nodded then a thought came to me. I asked,
“You said we were going to something called a buffet? I know what the word means as my abilities allow me to understand any spoken language, much like the enchantment known as Tongues. Yet I’m finding it hard to match the word with the concept.”
The Magus raised an eyebrow in interest at this revelation.
“Oh right. Just because you know a word doesn’t mean you automatically understanding it conceptually and in context either. Good to know. Well, a buffet is an enormous array of various foods, hot and cold, sweet to savoury, where you merely help yourself and consume as much as you wish. You pay for the privilege of course.”
“Truly? How much will this cost you?” I inquired wide eyed.
I noticed that we had moved through the traffic and had turned down a descending road and were now going into a massive concrete tunnel along with hundreds of other cars, all slowly moving in the same direction. It was quite honestly astounding that everyone was not smashing into one another. All the drivers were…well mostly were, attentive to their immediate surrounds and situation as we gradually merged our car into the main lane of traffic which was making its way under the earth via the huge yawning tunnel ahead.
Such staggering feats of engineering and construction which would have made the Emperor Justinian weep copious, bitter tears of pure envy. Oh how I wished I could make him see this and realise his idiotic boast was pointless when he finished Hagia Sophia. He bragged that he had surpassed Solomon himself with his church. He had but it wasn’t worth it. Justinian nearly bankrupted the Eastern Roman Empire, all for a useless church and his own vanity.
Moron.
Still, I shouldn’t care, his hubris ended up sending him to hell anyway so... yay! His actions also exacerbated the effects of the famine and plague that swept the through the empire and western Europe in the year 535 with his stupid desire to re-unify the Roman empire under his rule. You will be please to know dear reader, that he is burning in eternal torment for his multitude of sins so it is all good. My thoughts of deceased, vainglorious emperors and their fate was interrupted as the Magus spoke again,
“Hmm? … it should set us back about $80 each I’d should say? A small price to pay in all honesty when you see what is on offer. Drinks will be on top of that price, unless you just have plain water but tonight Meridiana, I shall introduce you to Champagne, one of humanities greatest achievements.”
This was enticing to hear!
“If you say so Magus. I completely believe you as you will not be lying to me,” I said, nodding and trying to think about Champagne.
So many new concepts were entering my mind, it was hard to keep my mind and thoughts in order. I understood that Champagne was a special type of wine, one which had a fizz embodied within it, making it highly regarded but that’s all I could deduce for now.
Also… I had a thought: the Magus could and would never lie to me. The feeling I had earlier, in being able to trust everything he said to me because of the oath he gave to me, was an unfettering sensation.
All my existence I have dealt with bare faced lairs, deceivers, misshapers of the truth who twisted words to suit their own selfish ends. With the Magus, all I had to be concerned with was his agenda, which actually had my interests aligned with his own. Truly remarkable.
I needed that champagne now!
We emerged from the tunnel, traveling with the traffic over wide dark river, again on another immense concrete bridge this time. There was a gigantic colosseum off to our right, all lit up with multiple coloured lights that ran around the circumference of the structure. It was like a it was enveloped in a rainbow. Frankly, it was amazing to behold.
Beyond that, I could see many more large towers and structures, lining the sides of the vast road we were hurtling along now. The Magus had increased our speed as traffic had thinned out. Never in my life had I moved so fast, well unless I was using a Haste spell to briefly increase my physical speed, which I use in combat if necessary.
I barely had the sense we were travelling in the car at roughly 80kph. Such an odd experience to have for the first time. There was no rushing of wind, no press of air on my face, just comfort and air-conditioning. Marvellous!
After a few minutes later I saw our destination.
Again I was nearly stupefied by the gigantic structure. Multiple massive buildings, all surrounded by lush green, well-manicured and maintained gardens made my jaw go slack with disbelief.
“That’s Crown Casino, Towers and hotel Meridiana. I can see you are impressed. Let me just say that if you think this is amazing, wait until we go to Las Vegas…” he said as he turned the car into the driveway of the complex.
“There’s even more impressive structures than this?”
My mind boggled dear reader. It was almost too much to take in.
“Yep. My city is a small one compared to other around the globe. We will travel to them, in due course. I know you can use your powers of Dimensional Walking, moving through other planes of reality and appearing on a different part of the planet. However, there will be times when we will need to travel together conventionally. Perhaps one day, if I learn the rights spell, we will be able to avoid having to fly in an aeroplane and by-pass the utter tediousness of baggage check-ins, airport security and so on…” he muttered darkly.
“HUMANS CAN FLY!?!” I said in a loud strangled astonished voice.
The Magus chuckled with genuine amusement.
“Think back Meridiana. I said humanity has been to the moon and back. I said we can travel safely and comfortably in a machine, called an aircraft, across the planet. Some ‘planes are huge while others are not much bigger than the car. Oh, that reminds me, we will have to construct an identity for you. We will begin that process tomorrow. You are going to need a passport soon enough,” he said as he found a relatively unoccupied parking area west of the massive structures.
He saw my puzzled expression and mistook it for wondering why we had parked here.
“It’s free to park here and there are hardly any security cameras in the vicinity.”
I nodded dumbly.
“But of course Magus…”
He saw my expression as he switched off the engine. A tiny look of… sympathy appeared on his face. He spoke to me in a soft, calm, soothing tone,
“Take a breath Meridiana. Close your eyes and focus upon the stillness within the vehicle. You are safe here with me. Nothing will harm us. Just breathe and relax, let each breath calm you. With every breath you are at peace within yourself and the world around you.”
I did as he said and instantly sensed my whirling mind begin to centre itself, become still.
I may be an ancient and powerful demon dear reader, however I have been imprisoned for nigh on a thousand years and now have been released into a world that I was unable to recognise at all.
The Magus later told me I was suffering from a psychological malady called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Yes dear reader, even us demons can get mentally fucked up. I mean, compared to the average human, we’re all demented, tormented psychopaths which explains a lot about ourselves but still… even a psychopath can suffer from mental trauma. Demons can go insane.
I breathed rhythmically, each exhaling breath calming me. With one final exhalation, I opened my eyes, turned to my Magus and softly smiled at him.
“Thank you,” was all I said. I meant it.
He nodded briefly, his intensely burning eyes boring into mine, deeply searching, looking for signs of any madness that may still be lingering within. Well, there’s always the hunger for sex and mayhem, but that’s natural for me.
“Come on, you look fine now, let’s go,” he said as he got out of the car.
I followed his example, releasing my seat belt and stepping out of the car. Closing the car door behind me, walked over to the Magus then I threaded my right arm around his left as we walked off like a normal couple, casually strolling through the car park towards the casino and hotel.
I could hear the noise of all the adjacent traffic all still travelling busily along the massive road that went past the enormous complex. There was the calls of various birds I’d never heard before, the waft of scented flowering plants and the heavy aroma of moisture in the air from the nearby river. I closed my eyes for a second just to let it all wash over me as I sedately walked along with my Magus.
Soon we came to the entrance. Huge dark glass doors magically opened for us upon our arrival. To my right I could see various coloured signage, advertising the types of ‘fast food’ eateries that people could choose to dine at. They were all brightly lit and mostly clean.
It was at that moment I saw my first wretch.
A dishevelled, unkempt, shabby man sat listless outside the fast food eateries upon the low stone wall that contained a small, well-kept garden. He looked up at us as we approached, his eyes full of misery and despair.
“Got any spare change?”
“Sorry mate, no one carries cash anymore,” lied my Magus to him with a conciliatory voice, a sad but brief compassionate smile appeared briefly on his face.
The wretched man’s face became even more resigned. He nodded back in understanding, returning his fallen face back to morosely contemplating the ground at his feet.
We kept walking, leaving the broken man behind us.
I was about to congratulate the Magus in his treatment of the beggar when I had to stop as I was confronted by an incredible sight.
Before us, in the huge well-lit lobby of the building, was a huge pair of MOVING METAL STAIRCASES!
One staircase ascended while another came down from the landing some 50 feet above us. On either side were normal, marble clad stairs that some people were using. Yet many other people were on the moving metal stairs, all just taking the experience of being raised or lowered completely for granted.
“It’s just an escalator Meridiana. A simple machine that makes life a little more comfortable. Take it, go for a ride. I’m taking the stairs as I need the incidental exercise,” he said to me as he pried my clutching hands from his arm. I had been unconsciously gripping him tightly in my amazement at seeing such a machine.
The Magus walked off to the left, climbing the steps briskly while I gingerly walked forwards, watching the metal stairs endless appear and ascend upwards. The hand rail also moved in synchronicity with the metal stairs. I observed as a pair of young women, chatting intently to each other, walked past me and up to stand upon a metal stair which was part of dozens of metal stairs it seemed. I saw them be lifted by the moving stairs, rising above and away from me.
Summoning my courage, I stepped forwards onto a moving stair, wobbled slightly as I was not used to the speed which it moved, making me grab the moving banister tightly to steady myself as I rode my way upwards. I let out a small laugh as it was such a novel experience. The young women in front of me turned around at my laugh, raising their eyebrows at me as well as actually truly seeing me for the first time. Their smiles faded as I grinned back at them.
The young women could see my infinitely superior beauty on full display. They looked hesitant, now uncertain of themselves as they mistakenly believed themselves to be beautiful. They were, passible, not ugly but not worthy of a harem to be perfectly honest. I later learned dear reader that many foolish young women, especially in what you call the western world, regard themselves as queens, rating themselves ten out of ten on a scale of dazzling good looks. These sad women are delusional. I mean, if they were that beautiful, why weren’t their faces on the covers of the glossy magazines I see in various ‘supermarket’ check outs? No matter, vanity and hubris are all ways to damnation and misery. So many people sending themselves to eternal torment simply because they were raised by idiotic parents who never properly taught their children the need for humility. It’s all win-win for the pits you know…
My Magus met me at the top of the stairs, holding out his hand to me and then leading me through the vast interior of the complex.
“That’s the casino,” he indicated to our right.
Looking, I could see dozens of people making their way inside into the brightly lit and noisy interior of the casino. I caught the whiff of desperation, despair, avarice, lust, elation and a strong aroma of human urine. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Yes, even I have some standards dear reader.
“Magus, why does it reek of piss?” I asked as we strolled by and proceeded into the most immense, glass covered atrium I have ever seen.
“Oh, you can smell that?” He looked intrigued.
I nodded with a mild look of disgust.
“Hah… interesting. Well… some gamblers get stuck on a poker machine. They sit there for hours, desperately hoping that the machine they are playing on will pay out. The poor fools stupidly believe that if they play at the machine long enough, they’ll win big. So they stay seated, ignoring to relieve their bodily urges, to the extent that they prefer to piss themselves rather than abandon the machine that is draining away their money. The poor fools are incapable of understanding that the machine is designed to rarely pay out. Every time they play, it has a simple algorithm that calculates the chance of a payout. Most machines will payout a small amount of money occasionally, thus keeping the gambler hooked in the mistaken belief that the big one is just around the corner. It rarely, if ever, is.”
I stopped, stunned at what I just heard. The Magus stopped and looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s… diabolically genius!” I stuttered as I considered the fiendish brilliance of the whole concept.
Someone had made hell on earth not only possible but also could make a fortune from it as well as breaking people’s souls and spirits in the process! The concept of dangling hope in front of a damned soul, then snatching it away was one of the oldest known tortures of hell. This was a magnificent, a culmination of the perfection of thousands upon thousands of years of the torture, all neatly packaged in a fairly simple machine designed to beggar it’s user and turn them into slaves to it. Gobsmacking was the only word I could think off that fully encapsulated the way I felt at that moment.
“Yes it is, isn’t it? I have always suspected that those machines were most likely invented by a demon. It makes perfect sense,” he said as he shrugged, then tilted his head, indicating we should proceed onwards.
I noddled dumbly as again, I had been totally overwhelmed by the latest piece of information the Magus informed of. I barely registered the hundreds of people all wandering around the massive lobby of the hotel atrium. Many were dressed finely while others, mostly men, were dressed casually. My Magus was one of them, still wearing his novelty T-shirt and hemp pants. They were clean though and his shoes, a brand known as Babuuk, made him look somehow better dressed then the other men who were similarly attired. Maybe it was just his subtle aurora of power, his sheer confidence and his towering Will that made him stand out from the mouth breathers all around us? I guess it was.
We arrived at the entrance of the restaurant and the Magus was greeted was a short Asian woman, dressed neatly in the hotels livery.
I started to realise that there were people of so many different races of humanity all around us. I had come from a time where only what was left of the Eastern Roman Empire was this diverse, and even then it was but a shadow of the heyday of the full glory that was Rome. Here were people from almost all the lands of earth, all happily co-mingling, getting on with having dinner with family and friends. Very surprising indeed.
The Asian woman at the reception counter spoke to us with a friendly smile,
“Good evening sir, madam. A table for two for you then?” she asked politely, her voice tinged with a broad accent I had not heard before. She spoke English yet I could tell that wasn’t her first language.
“Yes please,” politely replied the Magus.
This was something I did not expect. Despite his and my obvious power, he was respectful and even kind to the servants. All of them. He didn’t condescend nor sneer down at the servants of the hotel. It is still something I have difficulty reconciling. I said nothing, just observed. Oh, he has since instructed me not to call them servants, they are members of staff and will be treated with respect until they show they do not deserve it, then they are fair game. I can live with that.
“Table seventy one is ready for you both, have a lovely evening.”
She actually meant it! I could see it in her eyes, she was truly enjoying her task. She was smiling and joking with her fellow staff members, politely greeting the next people behind us with her cheerful friendly demeanour.
Astonishing.
In my prior experiences, servants and slaves were a miserable lot but then again, that was understandable. They had no choice as to their circumstances. They had to obey lest they suffer harsh punishment.
As we proceeded into the large dining room, with over a hundred tables of varying sizes, I could see off to my left where the food was.
I stopped again and stared dear reader.
I have been to banquets with Emperors and Kings, Popes and Princes, all sumptuous feasts but nothing was like what I saw before me. Dozens upon dozens of people had plates in their hands, all calmly wandering around the incredible cornucopia of varieties of food that were on display, all brightly lit up for them to simply help themselves to as much as their plate could hold.
Roasted meats, all neatly carved by expert chefs, freshly shucked oysters all seated in enormous silver ice-filled serving bowls, trays upon trays of cooked vegetables of kinds I had never seen before and… a dazzling array of sweet desserts and treats that made me almost go weak at the knees at the very sight of them.
“Come on Meridiana, you’re starting to drool,” whispered the Magus gently into my ear as he dabbed my wet lips with a soft piece of paper that he withdrew from his pants pockets.
Once again I nodded dumbly as I allowed him to escort me to our table. He even seated me, pushing me and my chair in one I had sat down. After he had taken his seat, a young man, quite a handsome one from the Indus I believed?... came over to us, again dressed in the livery of the hotel.
“Good evening, sir, madam. Would you care for something to drink?” he inquired ever so politely.
“And good evening to you sir. Yes indeed, may we please have a bottle of Verve Clicquot, two glasses and a bottle of San Pellegrino sparkling water?” he asked with a real smile to the servant… no member of staff.
“Of course sir, I shall get that for you immediately,” replied the waiter with a pleased smile at being spoken to so politely.
“Thank you,” said the Magus then he turned to me and asked,
“Do you need a moment Meridiana? I understand this might trigger you again…”
I shook my head.
“No. It is overwhelming… but in a good way Magus. I have to ask, how can a place like this provide so many people with so much food? Even in the height of the Empire, there were magnificent feasts to be sure but… you say this happens everyday, that this is just a Tuesday and not a busy night?”
He nodded.
“This is the age of abundance Meridiana. Many of us, who live in what is known as The West, have dwelt in an age of such wealth and richness that almost all here never think on their incredible luck and privilege to live in such times. They do not know that it will come to an end. Maybe that is a small mercy. All golden ages end as you well know. So I say, let them dwell in ignorant bliss for now. We can enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Huh? Why do you believe that your golden age will end Magus?”
“It’s a long explanation and one I do not wish to go into detail here and now Meridiana but later, I will share my thoughts with you on this. Ahh, here comes our champagne.”
The waiter and another staff member had returned, with one carrying two bottles while the other had a metal bucket partially filled with ice. The waiter from the Indus placed both bottles on our table, displayed the label to the Magus who briefly nodded. Then, the waiter removed the cork from the bottle with an adroit twist of his writ. It made a pleasing pop and I could see a little haze of cold… smoke? lightly emanate from the neck of the bottle. He poured the brightly bubbling and fizzing wine into both our glasses, carefully making sure the foam did not overflow them. He was very good at his task.
“Thank you good sir,” said my Magus to the waiter who beamed back at him with a happy smile. He placed the bottle into the bucket of ice and withdrew, leaving us alone, amidst the crowed dinning room.
The Magus took up his glass, holding it in front of him. I mirrored him.
“Here’s to a good dinner with interesting company and later, ripping the shit out of a casino Meridiana.” He pushed his glass gently forwards, lightly clinking it against mine. I wasn’t familiar at the time with that form of salute and toast but went with it anyway, after all… when in Rome as they used to say.
“That sounds… delightful Magus. I am eager for it all.”
I then took a sip of my champagne and was transported into a realm of heavenly bliss.
It was exquisite.

Fred and George had gathered a group of students in the Gryffindor common room to teach them about high school math. They spread out a large piece of parchment and began to explain various mathematical concepts and formulas, attempting to make them as engaging and entertaining as possible.
Fred walked the students through the basics of algebra, using examples of problems that they might encounter during their OWL exams. He made sure to include practical examples, such as how algebra can be used to determine the distance between two objects in space.
Meanwhile, George was discussing the principles of calculus, and demonstrating how it could be used to calculate the area under a curve. He also showed the students how to solve complex equations using a variety of techniques, including partial derivatives and integrals.
As they progressed through the lesson, Fred and George began to get more and more animated, and even started adding jokes and puns that made everyone laugh. They were clearly not taking themselves too seriously, but at the same time they were imparting valuable knowledge to their classmates.
By the end of the session, the Gryffindor students could hardly believe they had just spent an entire evening learning math. But they all agreed that Fred and George had been excellent teachers, and they were grateful for the opportunity to improve their skills.

Walk with pride
‘ding ding ding’ goes the bell, signifying the end of first period. I walk through the crowded halls, head held high smiling at everyone who glances at me. School isn’t for everyone, but im different. I love school. I love going to class, working hard, and socializing with the strange mixes of people surrounding me. But most importantly I love seeing this one girl, Isla. I don’t think she even knows I exist. Every day I admire her beautiful blonde hair that lit up every room that was lucky enough to have her in it. Her eyes as blue as the ocean on a hot summer’s day. But when you really look into her eyes, they told of a lifetime of struggle that had never been put into words. This intrigued me. I had to find out more about her, but how?
As the day continues I keep an eye out for Isla. She is nowhere to be seen. “sir can I please use the bathroom?” I say to my biology teacher. He nods in reply. I walk to the toilet, as I get closer I can hear a distant cry. I wonder what’s going on? As I get closer I realise its coming from the bathroom. I stand at the door for a minute and prepare myself. I wonder who it is? I wonder what to say? I wonder what to do? I build up the confidence and walk in. The crying stops. “hello, anyone in here” I say. No reply. How strange I think to myself. “I hope your ok” I (add word that means say nicely).
“im ok” someone replys, I can hear them sniffle. The cubicle door creaks as someone opens it. To my surprise its isla. Butterflies instantly fill my stomach. Ive never felt like this before. I don’t know what to say or what to do. Weve never been this close together. “you just gonna sit there and stare” Isla snaps at me. Im paralised with nerves.
“no” I say shakily “what happened?”
“its nothing” isla replies as she pulls out a baggie from her pocked. She places one on her tounge
“you got any water”
“nah I don’t sorry”
Isla walks to the tap and takes a sip. “ I forgot to as, do you want one?’
“nah, that’s not really my thing” I reply.
“that’s cute, you’re a chicken” Isla replies laughing at me
My facial expression drops. She notices and says “theyre really not that bad. Are you sure you don’t want one?”
Everyone says don’t give into peer pressure. Ive never felt the need to do drugs before. But something inside of me is screaming at me to say yes. “I think ill be ok, what are they?” I say curiously,
“there some xans, they calm you down” she replies.
“I gotta go to class, bye” I say as I walk towards the door.
“bye tayla”
Im gobsmacked the biggest grin appears on my face, she knows my name
I place my headphones on and press play on my music. Change by Deftones starts playing. I basically skipped through the hallways back to my classroom. I cant believe she knows my name. I immediately open my laptop and start searching what are the effects of xans? What do xans do to you? What are the side effects of xans? All of this information is filling my brain like bees flying to a hive. Part of me couldn’t believe that I was actually considering doing drugs and the other half wants change. Of course it would only be once, and its for the experience. Ding ding ding.
The bell goes and I start packing up my stuff. “you look like your in a good mood today” says a voice behind me. I turn around its ethan one of my classmates.
“yeah, im always in a good mood” I chuckle, I continue to pack up my stuff and leave for lunch. I strut through the crowded hallway, head held high and a smile gleaming from my face. I was on a mission. A mission to find Isla. I walk around the school headphones on blast. Where would she be? I think to myself. I march towards the bathroom. The door creaks open.
“whats up tayla!”
“hey isla”
“did you come back for a xan?” she says scarcastically.
“yeah I did actually” I reply
“actual”
“yeah ill try it once, just for the experience”.
Isla passes me a pill. I place it in my mouth. It is sour. I walk to the tap, grab some water and swallowed the pill. “did you want to skip the rest of the day with me” says isla
“ive never skipped school before” I reply, I feel so small and innocent when im with her.

I’ve been trying to get my hands on some blue 18 ounce gloves. During check out, the website is giving me an error code saying it’s I’ve input my address incorrectly. I double check everything, use multiple devices, and even request other people in my family to do the same process to see if they have any luck. And I’m still receiving the same error code. My current working idea/theory is that because I’m trying to get it sent to my house and not to apartment complex, so whenever I put 1 or n/a as my room the system gets confused. And it’s required to put something down on this box

At ~31:21, just before they’re introducing the tributes for the first time, two of the big wigs up on the stage, sitting right next to each other, appear to be Kevin Costner (hilarious moustache) and Fred Armisen (blue spit-curl). Has this been verified?

TL;DR at bottom So, some context first if that's how it's done. When I was a boy, I was looked after by an elderly Japanese woman named Miss Suzy who would tape anime movies for her own kids then share the tapes with me. She was a great lady; kind, wee little, taught me how to eat with chopsticks, and she said her favorite movie was Fly Away Home. I loved it when Miss Suzy would bring me these weird tapes. They always had wild, violent, spooky shit on them that I was almost certainly too young to see. Even before I discovered pokemon, ranma and DBZ, I had Miss Suzy's tapes filled with double often triple-features of anime features often with commercials included if she didnt stop and start the recordings at the ad breaks. Anyhow, they were all pretty dope, but there's one that I cannot remember the title of for the life of me. Could one of you fine folks help me out? Not sure how it works here, but I'll drop a descrip. of what I remember watching in what was probably '97.
(Before I begin I'll say that what I'm thinking of is not Origin: Spirits of the Past. Older than that. Had that late 80s early 90s anime vibe. Style was a sharper (more angular), more shadowy type style closer to a Gundam than an Miyazaki if I'm speaking the right language... I dont think it's Angel's Egg either but that's closer to the time.)
So, it's a science fiction at core I imagine? Contemporary world more or less, cars, machine guns, soldiers stuff like that. The world is being overrun my some green corruption or evil force. It may actually be uncontrollable forest growth that also turns people to plants? There's seemingly regular a girl who I think had white hair (really narrows it down, right?) and she's suspected of being some kind of princess/link to this other world and may have a power which could stop the corruption. There's some intense soldier guy who's sent after her because of this. He's a bad guy.
Here's where it gets both murky and more specific. I totally lose the plot but I remember some details from here
So, the girl finds out that she might be "special" and after some pampering in some circular glistening pool, she's got to face a sort of "trial" where some demons determine if she's actually special or a fake. She enters through some tall double doors into a room of darkness. The Demons/monsters are in here, they bully her a little and ask her some questions to prove herself. And she'd better answer correctly because if she doesn't it's suggested she'll be killed or eaten? There's a round (like a ball, round) demon with a huge mouth (blue lips?) who's dressed in red(?) and he's wearing the locks of braided silvewhite hair the other girls had. He took them after doing away with the "fake" princesses or whatever. That's a really specific thing I remember. Big mouthed demon thing spooks our girl, showing off the braids of the other girls who claimed to be the "special girl" before her.
The other thing I remember pretty specifically was, maybe while the girl is facing the trial her friend, some boy I cant remember anything about, is approached by the soldier who's been after them. He talks to the boy about how pointless this whole thing is, how nothing is going to change whats happening, even his mission doesn't matter now. Half his body is becoming plant like/corrupted. Holding up his arm that's now turned to "plants" or otherwise corrupted, he says something like "Soon enough everything's gonna be green... Like me..."
Then I guess regular girl ends up being the real deal, and she saves the planet? I cant remember the damn end. I'm sorry-
Folks, that's all I got. That image of the braided hair on a monster and this soldier guy turning into a plant. I know it's a long shot, but these images have been living in my mind for over 20 years and I'd love to revisit this and find out what the hell Miss Suzie showed me on that tape.
There might have been some writing on the tape label that read "Princess Green Girl" or something of the like... But that may have just been what Miss Suzy wrote on the tape as a general description. Anyhow, if you've read this far, you've got my thanks. I haven't any money or gold, and I'm not from this community, but I can offer all the upvotes I can give. Thanks to you all. I'd love to watch this movie again.
TL;DR

• Late 80s, maybe early 90s anime movie.
  
• Modern World being overrun by some corruption or plant life
  
• Some girl with white hair might be some special girl or princess of some other world, if she is, she's got the power to stop the corruption/plants
  
• Girl with white hair has to prove she's "the one" to a room of demons, one of which has kept the hair of other girls who have not passed the test.
  
• Soldier guy who is after the girl and her friend ends up being corrupted by whatever is taking over the world, and says something like, "Pretty soon everything's gonna be green... Like me."
  

Thanks, all.

Warning: I'm longwinded, so please be ready for a journey.
Last week I regaled Reddit with the story of how my vice principal (VP) tried to ban calculators from the SAT. Her rival in this debacle was our then math teacher (MT), who was VP's primary antagonist that year. As I stated in my last story, VP targets a new teacher each year, whom she fashions into the "big baddy" of her personal shonen.
You'd probably expect that VP, having no qualifications to be an administrator, would target teachers who are more qualified than she is. This was rarely the case. Our principal (P) strives to surround herself with lackeys who parrot her every word. What use does P have with silly old "qualifications" when she has VP, whose nose is so deep in P's butt she can smell P's liver?
No, you're more than likely going to be the new target if you are equally as blonde and blue-eyed as VP, or if you are a local black woman. The former is a threat to VP because P's eye may stray from VP as she becomes enamored with another blonde, blue-eyed gal -- especially if she's younger than VP. If you're the latter, you're a walking PTSD trigger from VP's experience with MT.
I was thinking about making this a single post, but my coworkers and I got to talking, and I think it would be better if I served this dish in smaller portions. So, I'll start at the beginning with Pt. 1:
When MT first arrived, she and VP were thick as thieves. MT had miraculously fallen out of the sky shortly after an accusation of racism against the then junior-high school math teacher. Veteran coworkers have confirmed that these accusations were definitely warranted, but this teacher was P's daughter-in-law, so even though parents complained about her discriminating against black students, P couldn't get rid of her. VP put an ad out online for a co-teacher, and MT arrived within days - in the middle of April.
This should have been a red flag. How many qualified teachers are just ready to start work tomorrow in the middle of the spring term? In my country, hardly any. The island is too small, so to avoid angering former employers you'll have to interact with at church or at the next festival, you stick with your crappy job until June. Some of my coworkers wondered if MT had been fired from the private school she'd been working at prior to her interview (which we'll call ABC High). But P was convinced that MT was A1 sauce. You see, P has a "gift". P believes that God has blessed her with an iron-clad intuition nestled deep in an iron-clad tummy. This means that, according to P, she can tell if someone is good based on whether or not her gut growls. I kid you not, the woman waits for her belly to tell her if she should hire you. The fact that P doesn't eat anything more than two boiled eggs and an apple a day is in no way related to her belly rumblings, of course. I often wonder if she'd have hired me had she not scheduled my interview to take place before lunchtime...
MT must have gotten an interview before P's daily eggs as well because she got the job before she left campus the day of her first interview and started work the very next morning. P didn't bother to check MT's credentials (keep that in mind for later in this saga). Why would P need to? MT was articulate. MT was poised. P's belly was growling like a horny honey badger, and there was just no way anyone who made P's belly growl as hard as MT did could possibly be lying to her, right?
Right?
What really won P over was the fact that MT was local. There weren't many of those around campus before me and my cohort showed up, and I'm sure when we leave, P will replace us with her usual fare - bored expatriate housewives (whom we call "Kimmies") from the neighboring gated community. For years, P had employed as teachers the uncertified, inexperienced, sometimes illegal wine-Os whose kids attended the school. Some believe this is because Kimmies are relatively cheap - and they are. I've worked with a couple of Kimmies who lasted no more than a year, and these ladies just want something to do during the day while their husbands work real jobs as executives at the local resorts and hotels. The "pocket change" of $40k/annum is just a bonus. Others believe it's because P uses Kimmies as free marketing. Nothing draws in white expat parents like sweet, young, ditzy white housewives. I know half the reason P hired me is that I'm whiter than marshmallow fluff (though it's "a pity" I'm local).
Besides the fact that the Kimmies weren't teaching the students diddly-squat, P's preference for white foreign teachers was starting to wear thin on parents, and when P's daughter-in-law blatantly began curry-favoring white students over black students, P thought for sure that the best way to appease her clients was to bring in a local teacher, and it did. The students loved her classes, which she held outside in the fresh air, sometimes in the grass. Parents were impressed with her chameleonic nature - code-switching at the drop of a hat; being able to chat with parents about dance-hall artists like Vybz Kartel and Spice. VP praised MT for having "saved the school". She was so thankful that she demoted her daughter-in-law to the elementary department and gave MT a full-time position as the senior high-school math teacher. But I knew something P didn't.
You see, when I applied to the school, I wasn't the only teacher from my prior institution (XYZ School) itching to find new employment. P asked me during my interview if I knew any science teachers who were looking for a place that September, and so I passed the offer to a science/math teacher (ST) with whom I was very close. ST was Nigerian, but she'd been working in my country for several years. In fact, just before she'd transferred to my institution at that time, she'd been teaching at ABC High. She'd probably worked with MT.
"Who?"
ST, who had pictures proving she'd worked at ABC High, had never heard of MT. Thinking MT must have started her tenure at ABC High right after ST had transferred to XYZ, ST called her old coworkers to hopefully make a connection with MT and get P's belly growling. But all of ST's former coworkers said:
"Who?"
No one at ABC High had ever heard of MT. So, why would MT lie about having worked there -- especially when the island is so small and people can easily vet that info? We'll save that story for later...
Now, ST didn't reveal MT's lie to P. I think ST wanted to keep that juicy detail as leverage against MT. The problem was that ST had her interview with P right after lunch, so P's belly didn't growl at ST. And even though ST had degrees and teachers' qualifications verified by our ministry of education, there was something P didn't trust about ST, so ST didn't get the job.
The distrust, it seems, came from VP and MT. MT, who was VP's best good friend, questioned ST's skills after reading ST's mock lesson plan. She'd told VP that ST's math was incorrect and that the science was outdated -- a connection MT disgustingly drew to her Nigerian education. VP, ever a xenophobe, convinced P that ST was not a good fit for the school.
Now, you may be wondering how I know this. Well, MT told me personally.
During new-teacher orientation week, I went to MT's room (which was just two doors down from mine) for some tape. We were supposed to be setting up our rooms -- you know, putting up posters and setting up our desks and chairs. However, MT was too busy to do any of that. When I entered her room, her windows and door were vibrating from the loud bass of a subwoofer on her desk. There MT was, penning a song to an afro-beats rhythm. My uncle was a dance-hall deejay for most of my childhood, so it takes a lot for a song to scandalize me, but what MT was telling her unnamed lover to do to her mouth was nastier than any Kartel song, and Kartel literally tells you how he's going to "breed up your belly"...
Of course, when she realized who I was, MT had to explain why ST didn't get the job as her counterpart in junior high school. She told me how VP had "misunderstood" her assessment of ST. It was VP who didn't want ST around. ST was more qualified that VP, MT told me, and so she couldn't have that competition around, especially not a qualified black woman. VP, MT told me, was so racist and conniving. I was shocked by MT's description of VP. It's not that I hadn't already begun to peg VP as a bigot; it was that I'd only just seen MT and VP keekeeing together in a staff meeting an hour before. I let MT go on with her lie, and the whole time I wondered what the fuck I'd gotten myself into.
But Proverbs (or Oscar Wilde) says that no good deed goes unpunished. ST was the only teacher who'd applied for the junior-high-school science/math position other than a Russian whose work permit wouldn't be ready until November, and so September came and there was no teacher in the classroom with grades 7-9. Now, one of the ways VP got her place of power was by convincing P that she could teach any subject, so when there was no teacher to teach grades 7-9, P made VP do it until the Russian guy could make it into the country. MT didn't know it at the time, but there is one thing you don't want to do to VP, and that is inconvenience her. The most inconvenient thing for VP is to teach, so for a week, VP stewed in her anger at having to teach this class until November, and as she stewed, she began to realize that the reason she was now forced back into the classroom she'd worked so hard to get out of was...MT.
So, how did the showdown between VP and MT begin? Legend has it that on the first day of the school year when kids came back to campus, there were no chairs in MT's classroom. She hadn't noticed the week before since she'd been too busy recording her latest song, so her homeroom students had nowhere to sit. Since she had a class full of boys, MT decided to make use of them by having them grab some chairs from the storage shed across campus. But MT had the propensity to wear stilts for heels, and 15-year-old boys are like the Energizer bunny on diesel, so she'd quickly fallen behind the class on their way to the shed. Unfortunately for MT, VP happened to be lurking around campus aimlessly, as incompetent snakes tend to do. When VP saw the boys seemingly unattended, she accosted them. She demanded they stop "loitering" and return to their homeroom immediately. She told the boys that no good teacher would just let them run about like headless chickens. Then, she scuttled back to her office to send a mass email to all teachers reprimanding whoever it was that allowed their students to run amuck.
(VP and P are notorious for sending passive-aggressive emails like this - passive in that they never call names and instead aggressively chastise everyone for something they didn't do because you should know if they are reprimanding you or not.)
Then, VP reminded us that good teachers can control their students without having to send them outside to blow off steam.
And that's how Armageddon started.

So the reason I’m writing this is because I’m really conflicted. I spoke to my husband about this and he’s said that I don’t really have it that bad, and I guess I’m seeking some validation or confirmation that what he said is true? He tends to get a bit defensive as he and his mother are close, but it’s pissing me off.
I (23F) got married fairly young to my husband (23M). I came from a violently abusive home and he and his mother (60F) were kind enough to invite me to live at their large home while my husband finished his schooling. I have my own office, washroom and the basement to myself/my husband. They are very wealthy.
Anyways it’s been two years now, and my husband is finally making enough for us to officially move. It turns out I’m also three months pregnant! So everything is changing and things are getting exciting. Except my MIL’s behaviour seems to have changed slightly and it’s making me feel a lot of conflicting emotions.
Her and I have always gotten along well, and we’ve gotten pretty close. We’ve never had arguments, and are very polite with one another. Before I was pregnant her and I had a balance of chores around the house. I cooked most of the time and also did the groceries weekly (she paid for them). I’m extremely grateful for the life they’ve provided for me and try my best to pull my weight around the place.
Ever since I became pregnant however, things changed. When she found out, she had a disappointed reaction and was more upset than happy. Of course she knew we would be leaving and wouldn’t be having the baby in her home, but she was still upset that we were throwing our youth away. After some time, she became relatively happy. Although we didn’t tell her not to tell anyone, we expected her not to, given how early I was and how private of a person I am. She told her sister immediately (who my husband and I don’t get along with due to racist comments) and then her family, and then her friends, and her coworkers. It got to the point where she told so many people there was no point in asking her to stop. Every one in her life knew about my pregnancy and I was only 5 weeks at that point.
She started to make comments about hoping the baby will have her blue eyes, or straight brown hair. For reference, she’s french-Canadian (white), I’m black, and her son (my husband) is biracial, with brown eyes. I laughed those comments off, telling her that the baby would come out looking more black than white. She still said she had hope.
She asked us about names, and we explained that my husband would be naming the boys and I the girls. She loved the name her son picked, as it sounds closer to french, and isn’t much of an “ethnic” name. She asked about my name with a scowl already on her face. I told her the name I picked (an arabic name close to my heritage) and she repeatedly said how much she didn’t like that name, and mocked its pronunciation.
I’ve been so sick, and not been able to cook or clean, and she has made little effort to cook dinner most days. She knows I can’t cook but will only cook a meal twice a week. A lot of the time I go hungry and sick until my husband comes home. He works full time and isn’t able to cook until the evening. Sometimes he just sends takeout to the house for me. She complains that I stay in my room the whole day, but I’ve just felt so estranged by her behaviour lately and want to be away from her. I don’t want to be ungrateful since I’m living under her roof for free, but I’m also having such conflicting emotions. I’m so excited to finally leave, but I’m also annoyed at her behaviour in these last few weeks together. Idk if it’s my pregnancy hormones here or you guys would be pissed off too? Lmk :/

Hi all!
Hoping to visit a Microcenter with a general plan for a streaming computer.
Tl;dr: Windows, Function over Form. Max settings on games while streaming all platforms with Gig speed. ~$2000
Details: I've got a 4k TV hooked up in my living room with a 50ft ethernet cord to my RouteModem for everything to have a wired connection. I have my PS5, Switch, & PC behind the TV and stream games on all platforms. I couldn't care less how bland the new PC looks, I'm a voice only streamer and prefer functionality. I have a decade old rig that I've replaced the power supply on to keep running. I'm consider up-cycling that part and donating/selling the rest. My TV has a native resolution of 3840x2160, 1080p for stream due to bit rate, and would love to get the most bang for my buck. Considering all suggestions and information! Thanks so much for the help making this birthday extra special 🎂

Let me start off by saying this happened a few years ago but my aunt recently found out and now I’m being called an asshole for it.
For some background, I (25F) was raised by my mother and have no real relationship with my biological father. The last time I saw my father in person was when I was either 15 or 16 and had visited him and his side of the family for a week in the summer. He had taken no part in raising me as he lived on other the other side of the country. He never visited. Never came to sports events and never called.
The first time I had seen him since I was probably 1/2 was when I was 11 the summer before going into middle school with my mom. When I had gotten there I had learned that had another little sister and 2 younger brothers (all about 5-7 years younger than me) who he was raising with my stepmom.
And though it was nice meeting them and everyone on my father’s side of the family(Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grandad) I had never really created a connection with anyone and no one had tried to stay in contact with me. The only person who had tried to somewhat stay in contact with me was my father’s wife who would send me Happy Holiday and Happy Birthday texts every now and again. Though no sorts of texts would come from my Father who was given my cellphone number at the same time as my stepmom. My cellphone number has not changed since middle school to this day.
Because I did live on the other side of the country my mom did have my father on child support but it wouldn’t have even been enough to survive on. We used it for competition fees in gymnastics. My mom has never spoken bad about my father but after endless years of no contact and empty promises from him I didn’t want or feel the need to have a relationship with my him.
So to the actual AITA…My father texted me out of the blue on my 22nd birthday “Happy Birthday”. He had not sent me a text or called me since Christmas 2 years before that. He then asked me if I was doing well.
I didn’t want to respond after seeing it but during that time I thought it would be funny to send him a request on his Zelle, Cashapp and Venmo accounts that I found using his number saying “Father Application Fee $2500”. Then I sent him a text saying, “please pay the application fee to acquire a response from daughter”. He sent me a flurry of texts telling me that I was disrespectful and we had gone back and forth before I decided to block him.
Recently I was on the phone with my aunt (his sister) who I have begun connecting to have a relationship with. She had asked me when the last time I had spoken to my father. I relayed to story to her and instead of finding it funny she said that I had been an asshole.
So Reddit…AITA?

Oh man was I glad to stumble upon this sub!
About 5 years ago I started college and didn’t move out of my parents house until a year in, since they lived relatively close. I had a friend (known since middle school and got closer as we got older) who was a couple years older than me. Her life was kinda flipped upside down- her bf of 5 years got arrested and she was thinking about going back to school because he was the breadwinner. We decide to get an apartment together so I can be closer to school and she can get her life back under control. My own bf told me not to rush into it. I wanted to move out of my parents’ house so badly (for teenage angst reasons) and didn’t want to wait. Boy, should I have listened to him.
We’re just going to call my roommate Betty. As I mentioned, Betty was a couple years older than me. She actually graduated with my older sister and that’s how I knew her. Neither of us had ever lived anywhere other than our childhood homes. I had even stayed at her home multiple times throughout high school, so I thought it would be fine. I also want to mention the reason my bf told me not to rush into this was because she’s the type of person you have to take in small doses. She means well, but she’s just a lot. He knew I would get tired of her, but I figured it’d be like siblings and we’d just separate when needed. Apparently I’m crazy for thinking that! Betty definitely thought we were closer than we actually were. I would lock my bedroom door for peace and quiet, to watch tv, to do homework, masturbate, hell whatever I felt like doing at the moment. Betty was quick with it! She would unlock my bedroom door with her fingernail and open it all in one swift motion. Luckily, she never walked in on me masturbating. Honestly though, maybe it would’ve taught her a lesson who knows. After many conversations about why this invasion of privacy is not okay, she just never learned, or rather chose not to learn.
Did I mention Betty had a dog? Yes, Betty had a dog. A small yorkie that she’d had since he was a puppy. At the time we moved in, she’d had him for 6 years. Can you believe that this dog was still not potty-trained?! As I mentioned, she was going through a lot during this time with the break up and going back to school, but she would leave her dog locked in her room for HOURS. I made way too many excuses for her over the duration of our lease, but that was not one I could excuse. I walked into her room one day to grab her a sweater since we were going to dinner and she got cold with what she was wearing. There was shit and piss EVERYWHERE. She had puppy pads laid down for a 6 year old dog, of which he did not use. Now, our apartment stunk because of this. So much so that when we had friends over and she stayed somewhere else for the night, they slept on the couch rather than in her bedroom that she offered to them. When we finally moved out, she had to throw her bed frame away because it was so rotted from her dog peeing on it so many times.
I guess from that you can assume she didn’t clean very often and you’d be right. She didn’t use the vacuum a single time we lived together. When she got tired of her dog pissing and shitting in her room, she locked him in the bathroom for upwards of 12 hours, sometimes more. She did this because his piss would dry in her carpet from being in there so long and she couldn’t find where to clean since he didn’t use the puppy pads. This led to a literal film of piss on her bathroom floor because she never properly cleaned. It was always awkward when someone would come over and they’d go use my bathroom that was en suite instead of hers because of the smell. Now, I am not nose blind. I am highly sensitive to smells. I know our apartment smelled bad. I did what I could.
After her breakup, she clung onto me. I guess she felt like I was her saving grace or something. She literally tried to insert herself into every aspect of my life. I have a new friend? Oh Betty wants to be friends too! I understand wanting to make more friends and whatnot but some of these people simply didn’t like her. Hell, I didn’t like her half the time. We literally gave warnings to people before events (that she would accidentally find out about majority of the time). She invited herself everywhere. I had a friend that came over to personally invite me to her 21st birthday weekend in another city. She literally said, “why didn’t you invite me?” My friend just kinda awkwardly laughed and said there wasn’t room. I had to sit her down and explain to her why she could not come over to my friend’s house where she was not invited. I had a group chat with two of my other friends. She created a new group chat and added us to it. She constantly talked about how she hoped to find a boyfriend like mine. It made me uncomfortable because we’d all known each other so long. If I ever opened up about a silly argument, she would always take his side. She would also always tell him that she “always has his back.” I get it, shit hit the fan with her long term boyfriend and honestly my boyfriend is like an angel so there was obvious jealously.
Betty is not the smartest person. Betty barely passed high school and decided to get a bachelor’s degree. Great! She asks for help with all her homework. And I mean, literally all her classes. If it wasn’t looking over a paper, it was offering me money to do assignments in classes for her. Meanwhile, I also had a full-time school load and a job to pay my bills. She ended up finding other people to pay for assignments but that didn’t stop her from barging into my room demanding help because she simply doesn’t understand. Get a tutor!
She constantly brought random guys over. This was a safety concern for me. She quite literally brought a METH HEAD to my HOME. She also brought a racist man over to my apartment. She was “drunk” (definitely exaggerating it to deny blame considering she had 3 white claws about 4 hours earlier and that was it). We met him at a mutual friend’s birthday that day. I heard him make a racist comment and then I look and they’re tongue deep. My bf and I pull her aside and tell her he’s racist and she said, “he hasn’t been racist in front of me!” The guy then comes up to my bf and I to “apologize,” saying he doesn’t see color because he “has a colored tv.” We also heard him bragging about being from the most racist county in his state. He then said black people marching during BLM should be hung. We obviously went off on her. My bf even yelled at her, which was justified, after she said that “maybe the black people protesting should die.” I was not present when this man was at my apartment, or it would’ve gotten ugly. That was obviously the final straw for me, so after that I just tolerated her until our lease ended and stayed with my bf who luckily got an apartment, as well.
There is so much more to say, but I’ll leave you with this:
Betty, I genuinely hate you. You are the most manipulative person I’ve ever met. I hope both sides of your pillow have your dog’s piss on them.

Thank you all for the overwhelming feedback yesterday, I did not expect something that positive nor in the amount sent.
Thank you.
Back / First Next
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I will begin this report by emphasizing due to the variety of the Human Ground forces, a second part is required. This is the only segment of the human military that will require two separate parts, I will continue where I left off yesterday, Ambassador. At least while I can still call you that.
Section 2, The Army, Part 2
Now, the Royal Black Watch you see escorting the human ambassador around the complex and to important meetings. The ones standing in the room with you, are just the first part of the units I wish to highlight.
Our second unit of the human military is the Russian Spetsnaz. Up until their bloody unification–yes, the humans still today fight each other occasionally, but once their unification was complete, the Russian military disbanded its conscription law, and their Spetsnaz became their core unit donated to the human military.
I want you to understand that this is a volunteer force who is paid the same amount of money per year as one of our Falcon Ball Elite players, roughly 1.2 million to 2 million Galactic Energy Credits per year. I haven't made that much in ten years.
Now that might seem like a cushy job, but they must earn it and continue to earn and prove themselves. They begin their training on day one with waterboarding. Yes, the outlawed torture activity banned galactically in all its forms, they begin with. Their willpower must be tested to the extreme and before they even have a ranged weapon of any sort, they are trained in close quarters combat.
The actual first ranged weapons they are given are throwing knives and tomahawks. A tomahawk is a type of ax that humans use for close combat and throwing. Their tomahawk test must be graduated with perfection.
That test is obscene. A candidate, which remind you humans do not have feathers or wings to aid in airborne activities, must jump off a springboard into the air, perform a backflip and nail a target the size of a talon digit with this unaerodynamic light throwing axe, an object we might use for lumber harvesting. They must do this ten times in a single day, without a miss.
The examples of their work can be found in your office, Ambassador Vul’mirra. We have found intelligence gathering bugs in your office no less than 107 times. There is one right now in the pen you are likely drafting your declaration of war right now. Yes, your favorite pen has been replaced and we are aware of it.
Simply put, the Spetsnaz are so good at sneaking in and out without us noticing until months after the fact, we simply have given up on removing the bug they plant. I do not know how. We have increased sensor spread, tripled our security guard, placed grates and barriers without air ducts, even biometric shields on every single entrance. The air vents were narrowed too. Yet somehow a Spetsnaz sneaks into your office, plants a bug of some sort, and leaves. We do not know when they get there or how, only that we detect the bug about a week later when it sends its transmission.
All that, without them being given a single modern weapon of any sort. If they possessed such a weapon, even an old chemical propellant one, they would be detected immediately.
And every year they must pass all their exams, as well as an exam now which includes sneaking into your office to plant the bug, to prove their worthiness to remain in their unit. These are a people who live in a place where the temperature gets so far below freezing it has been known to freeze internal combustion engines solid and the primitive fuel gasoline. Even Alcohol can be frozen in this place.
This is not a people we wish to make war upon. But further humanity is illustrated by their Australian units.
See, upon the human world, which is classified a death world for a reason, Australia is referred to as a death world within a death world. In Australia are creatures no larger than the tip of your claws; small arachnids, reptiles, amphibians, octopi (which are an alien species on the Terran homeworld planet), and these small floating creatures with long thin tentacles called jellyfish. All can kill you with a single bite. In some cases you won’t even realize you’ve been bitten–the bite is so tiny and will kill you within 10 minutes.
Further, this place has sharks, but unlike the Nydrations, who are humanoid sharks roughly a demimacron in length, they possess such creatures that exceed five demimacrons in length and are not sentient. They will eat you–you don’t even have to be in the water, just near it, as the things can jump nearly twice their body length out of the water at nearly 40 demimacrons per hour. They willingly choose to live in this place on their planet! Ancient reptile predators that are nearly a metric ton in weight and carry jaws that can crush a human skull in one microsecond bite, they keep as pets.
Yet this is not what we should truly fear the Australians for; it is their use of fire. You see, nearly six hundred years ago humans resurrected an ancient idea: what if I shoot fire at my enemy? The Australians have embraced this to a level I was not prepared for.
You see, back in their ancient civilization–which is when we began spacefaring–the humans lived in wooden and marble buildings, or in some regions they lived in mud huts. However, within a place called Greece, their navy embraced a chemical known as Greek Fire; the humans are sometimes not the most creative with their names. This substance burns water. You heard me correctly, it burns water. You can set water on fire with this stuff.
The modern version is called napalm. The Australians have decided this is the answer to all military problems. Every single infantry squad, roughly made of eleven soldiers, carries two of these weapons. They storm automatic weapon emplacements, artillery positions, hardened bunkers, jungles, swamps, snow covered alps, it matters not to them. They will light it ablaze and make the fire our problem. A reminder, our feathers are flammable, unlike human skin.
You would think this would be a logistical problem of how to get flammable weapons to a planet without running out of such a liquid or committing to resupply. But the humans have developed a way to have a backpack charge and create this chemical passively from a combination of water, atmospheric gasses, and any flora. They literally have more than three million combinations of a fluid, gas, and flora that will create a napalm like substance that can burn water, and fire extinguishing gear is useless until it burns out. Only through suffocation of the fire can it truly be put out.
This is the Australians. The Deathworlders from a Deathworld’s most deadly continent–who happen to love fire.
Now I will speak of the Canadians. The most deceptive berserker variant of humans if not species in the entire galaxy. You see, Canadians will be incredibly nice to you. The nicest I’ve ever met. But they have a sport, called Hockey. Understanding this sport seems on the surface to be suicidally strange.
First of all, this takes place upon a frozen lake, and the Canadians use metal blades to cut across the ice, making it weaker with every passing second, and if the ice should break, it will kill them, as they will have almost no chance to get to the surface before drowning. Second, they are given large wooden sticks in a strange shape to move a small black disc across the ice between goals.
This seems mostly harmless except the lake part, but then the referees do not break up full on fights. Understand that humans do not possess talons, claws, horns, quills, armor, incisors, or for that matter any second natural weapon of any sort. Their teeth are blunt. Their skin is completely exposed save for a thin layer of hair, which offers no protection as the humans often shave it off.
Yet when they fight, they ball up their hands into fists, similar to how we perform a punch, and will hammer on each other until they’ve killed their opponent with blunt force trauma. No special maneuver, no specific attack, just brutal repeatedly blunt force trauma.
Humans have a sport where they encourage players who are moving on a vulnerable lake of ice, with shoes that possess actual metallic blades, long wooden sticks, and full contact slamming into each other at up to 37 demimacrons per hour, while hitting a small disc made of solidified oil and rubber towards goals at speeds their land vehicles would consider dangerous and wreckless to approach. If the disc struck one of their number, it would likely kill them with its lethal velocity in the air. All that, as a sport. Canadians take this so seriously, this sport of Hockey, that entire riots have happened in their cities over a team winning. Notice I said, they won. It still resulted in a riot.
Further, upon the battlefield, this mentality of hockey is taken with them. Imagine dealing with a people who lose all their sanity for the sole purpose of moving a small disc into a cloth net while dangerously skating with metal blades across a frozen lake. Our troops would cry trying to fight these people.
Please note that these techniques of Slap Shots through the air with small rubbers are known to crack the opposing player's hardened body armor if it strikes it, and without armor, destroy human bones which are four times the thickness and hardness of our own.
I will retire for now, but in my next transcribing session I will detail the Blue Water Navy and Human Air Force. Yes, they still have those obsolescent things and have somehow made them NOT obsolete. Not only are they relevant, they are lethal to our Fleet. I will explain in the second memo of this intel report for you, Ambassador Vul’mirria.
While technologically inferior, they take the various pieces of technology to extremes never before envisioned by anyone who created such devices.
The human are insane, from torture of their own people, to berserker rages, to taking their elite special forces to a level that no race dare take their military.
Remember, they live on a deathworld. Not only do they live there, they thrive upon them. Even worlds that do not have oxygen atmospheres, they have colonized. Whether for resources, space for their population, or just to make a fortress world. Yes, the humans have a concept called a fortress, which is solely there to defend a point.
Humanity is terrifying and I recommend against war with them at all costs.
End Section 2, The Army, Part 2
Sincerely,
Admiral of The Fleet
V’lkarr
Admiral of the Fleet from Circa 2402-2504
PS,
Please, next time you see the Earth Ambassador, inform them I wish to speak to Rear Admiral Hirohito and miss spending time with her grandchildren. Even if the ghosts of war loom, we must remember our sentience, Ambassador, and I would like some free time with the family of the late friend.

Rows and rows of corn rustled in the early autumn breeze, eleven year old me danced around the farm. Glancing down at my hands, my eleven year old hands had replaced mine. The brief escape from my masters wouldn’t last long, dogs barked in the distance. Smoothing out my white sweater, my dark denim skirt fluttered in the breeze. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I still needed more time. Sprinting into the corn, stalks smacked my face. Horror rounded my eyes, heavy paws crashed behind me. Skidding to a stop, my faceless master held me down, allowing the dogs to bite me. Tortured screams burst from my lips, their teeth sinking into my legs and arms.
“I’ll teach you not to run, Swallow!” His deep voice barked ferociously, the heel of his boot pushing my face into the dirt. “You belong to us! Boys, let’s go home. You have to walk home to get bites stitched up. See you if you make it.” Ditching me to bleed out, the sunshine changed to moonlight. Dirt covered up my hands, my body protesting as I struggled to my feet. Limping out of the field, an eleven year old boy with ruby eyes popped up in front of me. Running his hand through his onyx hair, he adjusted his top hat. Taking my hand, my eyes couldn’t leave his pinstripe suit.
“You won’t remember this but we will meet in the future. Hold on for a bit longer.” He promised lovingly, kissing my forehead. “I am going to heal you and you will keep marching forward. I am going to leave you with this.” Kissing my lips passionately, a bright light healed my wounds. The light died down, the boy was gone. I could run but where would I go? Home wasn’t an option, my hands crossing. Sinking to my knees, my fingers traced the layers of bruises and cuts on my skin. Pain was all I knew, the harsh whip of harmful words tearing me down by the day. Wiping away my tears, storm clouds brewed over my head. Time passed, the corn dying and growing in speed motion. Glancing down at them, my regular hands had returned. Eleven year old me walked out of the cornfield, her arms folded across her chest.
“Wake up and stop wallowing in the past!” She spat at me, her bare feet marching up to me. “Don’t be such a pathetic loser.” Inky blackness dyed her eyes, her form shifting to a glitching shadow. Clawed hands reached out to me, my clammy fingers playing with the hem of my blouse. Snapping his fingers, a force woke me up.
Jerking awake, the field of corn swayed in front of me. Patting my body, my usual outfit covered my body. My chest tightened, every breath shortening. Pale moonlight bathed the endless sea of corn, involuntary tears slid down my cheeks. Demy, I needed Demy. Struggling to stand, barking in the distance sent me ten feet in the air. Cupping my ears, a happy mutt ran up to me. His shaggy brown fur was matted with mud, a tag shining in the moonlight. Taking deep breaths, my heart rate settled down. Crouching down to his level, an address greeting me. Shifting through my magic boots, soft leather grazed my fingers. Pulling it out, the dog sat still while I struggled toclick it on. Walking him onto the street, storm clouds brewed over my head. A familiar energy sent chills up my spine, his tail wagging at an unassuming house. The canary colonial loomed over me, one light flickered in the window. The dog went berserk, his barks echoing in the night. Pointing the nose to the shadowy treeline, the glitching shadow figure stepped out of the shadows. Undoing the leash, a pat on his butt sent him back into the house.
“Let’s take this somewhere else. You called me and kidnapped a dog to get me to you.” I growled through a wall of tears, fighting the impending anxiety attack. “I want to fight you away from people. No deserves the chaos you can bring.” A sly grin danced across his lips, wicked laughter rumbling in his throat. Snapping his fingers, the home faded to the torched remains of the training facilities. The memory of me burning it down when I was eleven haunted my mind, the screams of the dying people broke me down in seconds. Collapsing to my knees, vomit flew up my throat. Circling me, his slow claps sank me deeper into my guilt.
“I was born here because of your sins. I am the combination of all the souls you killed that day. We want you dead. You don’t deserve happiness.” He barked bitterly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “You have to pay for your sins. There is no way you can have the fruit of a good life after what you did.” It had been an accident, my foot knocking down a candle on flammable chemicals the moment I fell in. Shaking my head, my body rocked back and forth.
“It was an accident!” I blurted out desperately, ripping his arms off of me. “I accidentally knocked over a candle and the flames landed into a vat of chemicals. I tried to warn everybody and you didn’t listen. You thought I was lying. It was your boss who said to let it all burn. Yell at him.” Ripping my head back, his mouth opened up. Ashes flowed into my throat, a coughing fit taking over. The dry material tasted horrendous, nausea wracking my body.
“Do you mind leaving my little Swallow alone?” Demy called out from the shadows, his gun aimed for the shadows head. “Hell of a trick you played there, buddy. Pulling somebody through their dreams. What do you have to say about yourself?” Cocking his brow, fury seethed in his eyes. The shadow refused to let me go, my past literally holding me back. Coughing up the rest of the ash, a stinger extended from his wrists. Pressing it into my neck, my vision blurred. Every cell in me wanted to die, the guilt eating away at my soul. So many screams rang in my ear, the crackling of a fire stealing me away from my current reality. Tears welled up in my eyes, my composure slipping away.
“Our only pathway to Heaven is to kill her so we can move on.” He hissed evilly, pushing it through my neck. “Your little swallow will soon be dead.” Ripping it out, blood poured down my neck. A cry from Demy snapped me back to reality, his bullet whizzing by my head. Mouthing a healing spell, the wound sealed shut. Jumping to my feet, the shadow popped up behind me. Jamming my elbow into his chest, he cried out. Clapping my hands, the three of us stood in the cornfield. The bad part is that we were separated, Demy’s voice calling out to me. Panic gripped me at the silence around me, knowing the next victim.
“Be quiet or he will find you!” I shouted over hooting owls, an idea coming to mind. Digging around with my boot, my fingers curled around my staff. Fire seemed out of the option, my mind moving to air. Slamming the tip of my staff on the loose dirt, a blast of air shot me closer to the moon. Scanning the field for Demy, the shadow and him were battling. Aiming my feet for the space in between them, a cloud of dirt obscured my clumsy landing. Confidence faded to horror, the shadow bursting into flames. Shoving Demy out of the way, his flaming hand grasped my arm. The smell of burning flesh nauseated me, the tip of my scythe slammed into his guts. Loosening his grip, his arm touched a stalk of corn. A steady stream of curse words flowed freely from my lips, the flames spreading with an alarming speed. The heat warmed up my cheeks, my angry burn screaming in protest.
“Rain from Hell, Shower us with the gift of water.” I chanted confidently, storm clouds thundering to life. Heavy raindrops crashed to the top of my head, a defiant grin spreading across my determined face. The flames died out before they hit the nearest home, black stalks smoking into the sky. The shadow stumbled back, my swift kicks knocking them to the ground. Pinning him down with my heel, the tip of my staff pressed into his neck. Extending his stinger, a shrill scream matched the next rumble of thunder as he jammed it into my leg. Unable to move my heel, ravens cawed behind me. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, Demy’s massive blade of his scythe stabbing us both. The shadow creature seized, his body decaying to dust. Copper poisoned my taste buds, inky blood staining my teeth. Wheezing, he ripped out from my stomach. Blood painted my blouse, his scythe swinging towards my neck. Blocking his attack with my staff, tears stained my cheeks. The wound refused to heal, my tone growing shakier by the second.
“Demy! Stop it!” I pleaded desperately, his scythe smashing into my staff. “Remember when you visited me when I was eleven! I know you lied about watching me a year ago. You have been watching me my whole life. You know everything about me and you chose to keep that a secret. I am not even freaked out by it. I need you to come back so I can marry you.” His hard expression softened, my staff splashing in the mud. Lowering his scythe, black smoke curled off of my palms. Helping him tuck it into his hat, the ravens flew back into his top hat. Our hair clung to his face, his shattered expression falling on my wound. Shivering in the rain, he guided my head to his neck.
“I am so sorry that I hurt!” He sobbed into my ear, my fangs extending over my lips. “Drink what you need to heal.” Sinking my teeth into his neck, his arms held me like his life depended on it. Drinking my fill, his eyes refused to meet mine. The rain hid his tears, my trembling hands placing his hat on head. A bright light sealed my wound shut, a wave of relief washing over me. Sobs shook our bodies, the two of us shivering. Cupping his face, my lips kissed him feverishly.
“Now it is my turn.” I wept softly with a quiet smile, his shame filled eyes not leaving my loving gaze. “I may have forgotten that day but your words kept me going. You didn’t do anything wrong, you simply lost control. Weapons can devour you if you aren’t careful. I can heal. Wounds end, my heart would break if you weren’t by my side. Please stay by my side.” Pressing his forehead against mine, his slender hand cupped my cheek. Taking a couple of deep breaths, a slight fear still haunted his eyes. The crunching of my calf bone fusing back together stole the moment, a fit of laughter bursting from our lips.
“I don’t really have a choice.” He teased blithely, his crooked grin melting my heart. “Je t’aime plus que le monde.” Understanding French, my heart fluttered. Scooping up my staff, it shrank back down. Tucking it into my boot, my hand took his. Dragging him out of the destroyed cornfield, the rain slowed to a stop. Tugging him along, his arm kept the branches from his scratching his face. Taking a couple of turns, his breath hitched at the sea of red and oranges spreading underneath the steely gray cliff. Sitting down on the edge, my head rested against his shoulder.
“This is where I always hid from them to get away from my masters before I burned the building down. I always had a place to go.” I commented serenely, his hand cupping mine. “I accidentally set the fire that day. The guilt eats at me everyday. What can I say?” Leaves rustled behind me, the hollow steps of my fellow co-workers boots weren’t that far behind. Pushing him off the cliff, my finger ripped out my staff. Gears whirred, the staff bending at a forty-five degree angle. A mix of golden and scarlet feathers burst from the metal frame, a metal bar coming down. Gripping the metal bar, I pulled myself up. Demy hung on for dear life, my slender fingers stealing his gun. Ripping it from his pocket, the gun hissed upon my touch. Crossing my legs, the scope helped me get a line of three them. Alarm widened my eyes, a helicopter floating up behind me. Leaning back, my aim quivered on the engine that I built. Undoing the safety, a quick yank of the trigger sent a bullet towards the gas tank. Flying up close to the open door, simple white masked assassins greeted me. Perfect, they were ranked lower than me. Evil laughter rumbled in my throat, a quick round leaving steaming bullet holes in the center of their forehead. Stealing their guns, the pilot shot a few rounds into my chest. The bullets made their way up my throat, the pilot soon realizing their mistake. Flicking a bullet in his direction, his body collapsed into a heap. The other assassins leapt off the cliff, metallic wings keeping them from falling to their death. Tucking Demy’s gun back into his pocket, only a few more seconds remained before the helicopter explosion would kill us both. Laying all the way back, my body was verticle to the ground. Counting the seconds, it would take one bullet to kill my enemies in one action. Lining the bullets into my fingers, my hand curled into the ready position. Three, two, one! Flicking my wrist, the velocity of my strength put a bit of heat on the bullets. Swinging myself underneath, Demy helped me steer us away from the impending explosion. A thunderous boom released a wild wind, the orange flames lighting up the sky. Control slipped away from us, the device crashing into a bed of branches. Blood and guts rained down with metal pieces, a blast of ice from my trembling palm putting out the flaming pieces before they touched the dry trees. Smiling warmly to myself, my staff clicked back to normal. Examining her for damage, nothing could be seen.
“That was a close one.” Demy laughed softly, kissing the top of my head. “Let’s find an open circle to draw us a way home.” Lowering ourselves down, our feet touched the packed down dirt. Pausing for a moment, it felt like a car had hit me. The emotional strife had caught up to me, a mental break down was sure to hit me later. Right now, we had to get home. Scrunching my nose up in disgust, blood and rain had soaked me to my bones. Another set of clothes was ruined, my thoughts beginning to run insanely in my mind. The motion of him placing me on his back stole me from my random train of thoughts.
“Let me take care of the rest while you get some rest. You did do most of the work after all.” He assured me with a playful wink, my head resting against his back. Branches crunched underneath his boots, his lips brushing against the tops of my hands. His clothing was just as torn as mine, my fingers tracing every shred. A shiver ran up his spine the moment I kissed the back of his neck. The moon traded shifts with the early morning sun, his endless hike resulting in an empty circle bathed in the orange rays of dawn. Setting me down the center, his hand danced in circles. The usual symbols stared back up at me, his knife guiding across my palm. Squeezing my hand until a shining pool of blood reflected our filthy faces, he guided my hand around. Dropping a pile piece of his ledger book from home, flames devoured the paper. A rush of air circled us, the woods of New Hampshire faded away to our bedroom. Still cupping my palm, his hungry eyes couldn’t stray from the fresh blood. Offering him my palm, his fangs sank into the tender flesh. Old Man Dallas poked his head in, his hand covering up his nose.
“I will have dinner ready in an hour. Get cleaned up and make yourselves presentable.” He twanged with his rich accent, smoothing out his staple white suit. “We have a job prospect coming tonight and she pays well. I will lend you one of my wife’s dresses from the fifties. You will probably just poof yourself a suit. Chop chop, my little beignets. We have a business to grow.” Setting a couple of dresses on the bed, Demy motioned for me to get cleaned up. Sprinting into the bathroom, the quick shower invigorated me. Drying myself off, a black and white polka dot swing dress hung on the door. Pulling it over my head, Demy poked his head in. Zipping it up for me, his slender fingers styled my hair into an intricate bun. Spinning me around, he kissed my forehead. Dusting off his clean suit, he adjusted my collar. One should feel shame but pride swelled in my eyes. Pulling a liquid liner out of his pocket, one simple flick on either side gave me a perfect cat’s eye. Clutching me close to his chest, he offered me my boots. Sliding my feet into them, his arm hooked around my elbow. Guiding me downstairs, his body stiffened at an elderly lady sitting to the left of Old Man Dallas. Her fucshia pink silk dress hugged her petite body, her wrinkles telling a twisted tale. Cloudy eyes followed my every move, her silvery blue hair rested in a perfect bun.
“I am Madame Seshunio, your next client and forever client if you do well.” She introduced herself with her nose up in the air, sliding over a card. “I came to drop off the order. As for my place to stay for the entirety of the job, Old Man Dallas offered me a room. In fact, I would like your room. I heard it is the second biggest. Perhaps you can sleep up in the attic.” My brows furrowed, Old Man Dallas’ stern gaze shut down my initial reaction. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tame Demy.
“I am not sleeping where they tortured those poor souls, Madame Sesheunio.” He snapped hotly, pulling out a chair for me. “We will sleep in the living room. Do not touch any of my things or I will place a curse on you. Do you understand.” Helping me sit down, an anxious maid brought out plates of steak and potatoes. Her gnarly hands cupped mine, mixed emotions flashing on her face. Tears stained her cheeks, a look of rage poisoning the softness of the sadness. Falling back, a look of horror plastered itself into my brain.
“You shouldn’t be alive.” She stuttered nervously, her shaking hands unable to pick up her fork. “So much tragedy courses through your veins, your mental state sure to bring you down. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, the Mad Hatter will marry the Swallow. Many children are dancing around you, their laughter filling the air.” A warm smile sweetened her features, Demy nudging my shoulders.
“I like you, Swallow.” She admitted freely, her eyes falling on Demy. “You tamed the Mad Hatter with a collar around your neck. You really must be something.” Cutting his steak, Demy’s words nearly made me choke on my spit.
“You did live here as a young lady when I showed up. You seem to be doing well yourself. How are the grandchildren?” He asked sincerely, bowing in her direction. “You did get me in trouble. You were like the sister I never had. How could I forget about the times we nearly gave him a heart attack?” Scanning the card, my eyes bulged at the reward for completing the job. My face fell at the job and its magnitude. Clearing out a sea of demons was the last thing I wanted to do, a long sigh escaping my lips. Why couldn’t I ever get a fucking break?

I started imagining what House would have been like in his diagnostic fellowship. Boredom turned into googling and googling turned into a scene, and I hope y'all will enjoy it as a fun what-if.
In 1987, House is a fellow under Dr. Joseph Bell at the Cleveland Clinic for diagnostics and pathology. They have a case of a young woman with sudden muscle weakness, double vision, slurred speech, and difficulty breathing. After weeks of tests and treatments, Dr. Bell and his student House are no closer to any answers. Nothing in her patient history offers any answers, and her tests have all been inconclusive for a host of neurological and muscular disorders. Ultimately, Bell discharges her, conceding that there's nothing else they can do without a diagnosis.
​
Fellowship
Greg stormed into the office. He threw the door to the suite open causing the metal frame to crash noisily into the blinds behind them, the door swinging shut as he swept toward the desk. Bell looked up from a folder in front of him, fixing Greg with a pointed glare.
“You’re discharging her!” House roared, throwing a hand backward.
Dr. Bell pushed his glasses up his nose and glowered at Greg through them, “Dr. House, lower your voice.” He snapped.
“You can’t send a girl home when she can’t even swallow on her own!” House shouted, “Sending her home is a death sentence!”
Dr. Bell stood up and leaned across the desk, “You want to keep her here, tell me what she has.” He raised his eyebrows, “Any test you think might bring us closer to a diagnosis? Perhaps, you’d like to call up Jesus and have him come down and put hands on her?”
Greg’s eyes darted around the office. Bell was right, they had tested for everything that made sense. They had tested for every autoimmune, neurological, and muscle disorder they could. The tox screens had all been negative. She didn’t have any dangerous habits, no suspicious or exotic meals. For two weeks they had treated and tested helplessly watching a twenty-three-year-old Christian girl lose control of her body with no prior illness.
“We don’t have a diagnosis because she’s hiding something. If we knew more about her, it might tell us something we can use.” Greg insisted.
“So go ask her what that might be, you know where her room is.”
Greg glared, “She’ll lie to me, like she’s been lying since she got here. I can’t use anything she says.”
“Everybody lies, House.”
“So, because she’s a liar we’re just supposed to let her die? I just need a little more time.”
“Time to what? Watch her suffer on machines in a hospital as we claw in the dark for answers that she won’t give us? I’m not going to make her suffer here and make fools of us.”
“You’re not sending her home to die in comfort you’re sending her home to die in ignorance!” He shouted, “Whatever she’s hiding, whatever she’s lying about, it isn’t worth her life. I’m so close,” Greg said softly, “I just need a little more, and we might be able to save her.”
“And how do you intend to find that out? Break into her house? Maybe, go interrogate her friends or waterboard her father?” Dr. Bell sighed and crossed his arms standing up straight, “Dr. House, we can only help people as far as they will let us. Whatever is wrong with this girl is worth dying of to keep her secret. We can’t save everyone, especially not from themselves.”
“Themselves is who people need saving from the most.” Greg hissed.
“You’re not God, Dr. House, you can’t work miracles. Don’t make this your fault. It isn’t.” Joseph said, running fingers through thinning gray hair. His sharp golden eyes flitted across Greg’s face for several moments as the air between them sizzled. “You aren’t fit to work today, go home. I’ll take care of the patient.”
House gave a grudging sigh and turned to leave the office. He wordlessly threw open the door and paced out. He stalked past the nurses station, Dr. Bell’s words bouncing in his mind, ‘Don’t make this you’re fault,’ as he passed the patient’s room.
He stopped in the hall and paced backwards, looking into her room. Tubes poured out of her mouth and nose, plastic hoses that supplied her oxygen, carried out her CO2 and drained her drool. A catheter fed from under the blanket to a bag along side the bed and her father held her nearly limp hand from the chair beside her.
“Yeah,” He said to himself, “Not my fault.”
He turned on the ball of his feet and hurried back to the nurses station cutting another doctor in line as he smiled at the irritable looking woman behind the desk, “Hi, Greg House, could you give me the insurance and financial folder for room…” He turned and squinted down the hall, “2-3-3?”
The woman rolled her eyes, “Patient name?”
“Oooh, it’s um…” He looked down the hall again, “Metzer? Melchor? … No Metzer, Catherine Metzer.”
“I can’t give you a file for a patient that isn’t yours.”
“No, I’m the attending under Dr. Joseph Bell, you’ll see my name in the folder.”
She rolled her eyes again and spent several minutes flipping through folders in the drawer by her feet. While he waited the doctor behind him tapped his shoulder.
“What?”
“Is there a reason you’re not wearing a lab coat, Dr. House?”
He turned around and looked at the doctor who had asked, “Yeah, sorry about that, here it turns out I left it on your mom’s nightstand.”
The blonde man glared at him, holding a finger up, “What the hell is your problem?” The man shouted loud enough to startle two people standing against the wall.
“Your file, Dr. House.” The nurse at the desk said handing him a folder.
He snatched the folder and hurried down the hall, the blonde man shouted after him, “This isn’t over House!”
Greg turned down the hall and down the stairs to the lobby toward the door, frantically flipping through the file as he walked. He jumped suddenly as the light from the front entrance was coming visible at his feet, nearly dropping the document as he smashed into someone walking in front of him.
“Dr. House?” Said the irritatingly happy voice.
House looked up, “Excuse me, Dr. Brennan; just catching up on some… homework.” He said rushing his excuse. He stepped around the chipper young man, another of Bell’s fellows.
“You can’t leave the hospital with that.” Brennan said quickly, following after Greg.
“Not to worry Dr. Brennan, I’ll have it back before 8pm and it’s shirt will stay on the whole time.” House said smirking as he pushed open the door, tucking the folder under his arm.
“Wait,” Brennan called after him, jogging to catch up, “Where are you even going?”
“Ummmm,” House said, flipping open the folder, “Dremont St.”
“What’s there?”
“Hopefully answers.” House said dimly, House's blue eyes sized up him for a moment, “Say, weren’t you the one who broke into the supply closet like four months ago?”
Brennan laughed, “That was me alright.”
House nodded, “You got barfed on right?”
“No paper towels in the bathroom.” Brennan continued.
“Wanna join me on my little field trip? I’ll buy lunch on the way back.” House said with a friendly smile.
“Sure, where did you say you were going?”
“We’re making an old-fashioned house call.” Greg said, pointing to his 1977 Delta 88, “That’s me right there.”

We have had Leyla for a year and we have owned her since she was about 3 months old. She’s a tuxedo cat.
First of all no one in the family asked for a cat and my dad just got one out of the blue. Leyla since she moved with us has been an outdoor cat and despite me protesting against this to my parents they tell me “she’s an animal she needs to stay outside”
Ever since we shown her our garden which was very green and had other gardens she could go to, without fail at 4 am every morning she meows so loud until one person wakes up and lets her outside. This is really annoying cause i am a student meaning i can barely get any sleep because my cat has been raised with the outdoors
So not even an entire week ago we moved house and this house doesn’t have a usual garden, not like our previous one, it has some wooden stairs leading down to a concrete floor at the bottom. The fences are high so i doubt leyla could jump over them but at the top of the wooden stairs she can very easily just jump onto the roof of the house! She would climb up on the roof of our old house but there we were surrounded by other gardens but in our new location we are surrounded by roads and that is it which makes me fear for her safety outside our new place
Past 2 nights i have been woken up by her. I open my door letting her into the living room and she still meows loud enough to the point i cannot sleep. I take her downstairs to the garden and she jumps up onto the roof so thats a no go.
I dont know what to do anymore i love her but it feels like she’s being detrimental on me and my family’s life. I have been thinking of telling my parents to put her up for adoption. Should i rethink this and if so tell mu what i can possibly do to get her to be more quieter at night so that we can actually get proper sleep

my (16f) birthday was a little over a week and a half ago. my mom (43f) decided to take me out of school about two hours early so that i could take my test and get lunch. i passed and got my license but she hasn’t been letting me go driving because she’s scared of other drivers hitting me. i understand her fear and why she is being protective but i’ve been driving for almost a year now and she is the one who wanted me to get my license right when i turned 16 in the first place.
anyways this past week me and my family went to las vegas for my birthday/spring break so i haven’t been able to drive at all. we have been staying in a hotel so i also haven’t been allowed virtually any alone time for nearly a week. i couldn’t even shower without hearing my sister arguing with my mom because they walls were so thin. we got back last night at around 4am after a very long drive. my bedroom does not have any heating so i can’t sleep in there during the winteearly spring because i get sick even with a weighted and heated blanket. because of this i have been sleeping on the couch and have no where to go to be alone or away from my family.
when i woke up this morning i felt very overwhelmed and everything felt like too much. i asked my mom if i could go drive to qdoba since i had been wanting chips and queso and needed to spend some time by myself after being stuck in a small room at the hotel with my family and in the car for almost 20 hours straight. she told me that she didn’t want me to go again because she is scared of other drivers. she offered to take me with her to the store and i told her that it wasn’t the same and that i needed to be alone.
this is where i fucked up. i asked her again if i could please just go for a drive because i have nowhere to go as there is nothing within a walkable distance from my house and it is way too cold anyway. she told me no but i persisted and continued begging her to let me go. she kept telling me no and said that i better not ask again. i walked away and started pacing up and down the hallway because i felt very trapped and overwhelmed. i felt like i was drowning and like everything was closing in on me. i couldn’t handle it and i started crying and i felt like i couldn’t breathe and i collapsed at the end of the hallway. i was hyperventilating and sobbing and i still felt like the walls were closing in on me. my mom kept walking past me and ignoring me. she eventually came and told me to take deep breathes and to calm down but i felt like i wasn’t in control of my own body and i didn’t know what was happening or how to get it to stop. she kept trying to grab my arms because i was couldn’t stop pulling my own hair and scratching my skin. the only thing i could think about the whole time was how bad i felt and like i was being dramatic and throwing a fit like an entitled brat.
i felt so guilty for what i was doing but i couldn’t get myself to stop. i just kept crying and hyperventilating until eventually i just went blank and just sat there in silence with tears streaming down my face. i feel so bad for my mom, i didn’t want to put her through that and make her feel bad over a perfectly valid decision. i feel so guilty for throwing a tantrum like that and even worse because my mom asked me if i wanted to get qdoba for lunch tomorrow or if i wanted to order some to be delivered to the house. i know she feels bad because i had that big of a meltdown but it’s entirely my fault and she shouldn’t reward my bad behavior by offering to get me things. i hate myself for it and i hate that i couldn’t even control my own reaction to being told no. i feel like an ungrateful brat and i hate myself for treating my mom like that. i know she’s just scared and it wasn’t fair of me to throw a fit like that.
TL;DR: i threw a tantrum after being told that i couldn’t go for a drive and now feel immensely guilty for my actions and like i have failed my mom.

Just wanted to share for any of you west coast planners! randomly found this little white church, and it is adorable.
https://goo.gl/maps/yyNKu5GeusJSVFuv5
https://bakercabin.org/wedding-rental-info/
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Rental rate information * Two Hour; Church and Grounds and Changing room: $ 275.00 * Four Hour; Church and Grounds and Changing room: $ 410.00 * Add picnic tables & benches: $ 50.00
Reception and Outdoor Rates: includes (14) Picnic tables total, (10)w/benches * Six Hour; Church, Changing room, Grounds, Tables/benches: $ 675.00 * Eight Hour; Church, Changing room, Grounds, Tables/benches: $ 800.00 * Additional time over 8 hours at $ 75 per hour or fraction of. * Rehearsal in the Church, One hour at : $ 60.00 (wedding booking is also required) * 10′ x 20′ blue canopy (set up for you) : $ 75.00 * Wicker Plant or Floral Stands (2) white, rental $ 25.00 Download the “Welcome Book” for more site information.

Oh hey, week 3 and I'm already a day late on an entry...
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Archive:https://docs.google.com/document/d/1vC9_wjnIAUIq9fila3GLv568ECCmk8rbzo9w9wmWEa4/edit?usp=sharing
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Caiatl's ships met Calus's fleet only after half the fleet had already jumped for Neptune. It didn't matter, I had to focus on my objective... disabling and capturing a ship.
​
Maya, Ak-Tol, and I descended on a lone Carrier, which fired a dozen missiles in response. We dodged a few, only to see them turn around faster than any Cabal artillery should be able to, another sign that these ships were enhanced with Pyramid technology. We braced for impact, only to find that we were saved.
​
The barrage of regular Cabal missiles hailed from the Azazel Socius III, the ship of the Black Spire Cohort.
​
"Lightbearer, we are behind you." Ghar'usk's voice rang out from the comms.
"Target their engines, we have to take that ship." I said.
"Why?"
"They're charged with paracausal technology. If there's any chance to take down those Pyramids and free the Traveler, it's with their own weapons. I managed to damage one of them with a single missile, imagine what we could do with half a fleet's worth of them?"
​
Immediately, turret fire rained upon the Carrier, which was followed by a rapid burst of weapons fire as the ship tried to defend itself. With the Azazel providing cover, I aimed straight for an open hangar bay, transmatting in front of a horde of surprised Cabal wearing new, Pyramid-themed armor.
​
They weren't much of a threat, and most were gone by the time Maya and Ak-Tol arrived.
​
"Where to?" Maya asked.
"The bridge, we need to stop the ship from shooting at the Azazel and turn it around." I said.
"Done." Ak-Tol said, charging his soulfire rifle with void energy and heading off.
​
A blue Harvester arrived in the hangar, dropping off a group of familiar faces, the original squad that became the Black Spire Cohort, led by Ghar'usk. We headed into the hallways, meeting muted resistance as I heard charged void shots off in the distance.
​
We followed the trail of bodies until we came to the bridge, seeing Ak-Tol taking potshots at a shielded Colossus, a Pyramid device attached to their back. Black Spire Phalanxes planted their shields as everyone took cover. I summoned a ball of Stasis energy, throwing it at the Colossus, freezing them.
​
"Just as simple," I thought to myself.
​
The victory was short-lived as a batch of Psions rounded the corners and opened fire. It was met by our Psions and Ak-Tol, who surprised me by placing a void barricade. Maya took out a sniper and hit the frozen Colossus, which launched crystal shards into the nearby Psion cluster, allowing us to finish them off.
​
The Legionaries and Phalanxes turned to face the door as Incendiors rolled in, all of them taking defensive positions. Ghar'usk and the Psions moved with us to take control of the ship. I felt a familiar presence as one of them passed me. Qurix. She took over the main console, stopping the ship's automated defenses. She nodded to the other two Psions, who started to lock the Loyalists in their own ship.
​
"Carrier-class Warship, Belial Vespera, officially taken over." she said.
"How many engines are left?" I asked.
"Three, enough to turn it around but not enough to properly jump."
​
Ghar'usk asked teams to spread through the ship and kill any Loyalist that stood in their way before turning to me.
​
"Once we secure the armories, hangar bays, and engine room, we'll be ready to attack." he said.
"Great, what about other ships?" I asked.
"Being destroyed or taken."
"Good, we need all we can get. With Calus's fleet moving on, we can focus fully on the Pyramids. I just hope a barrage of Darkness-powered missiles will do enough."
​
A panicked Cabal voice filled our ears.
​
"Val, we've encountered an unknown enemy! It is withstanding our attacks! S-"
​
The voice cut out, but was followed by distant gunfire coming from the hallway. The Phalanxes opened their shields, the Legionaries taking position beside them and the Incendiors pushing against the door frame on either side. Maya, Ak-Tol, Ghar'usk, and I aimed for the dimly-lit space before us.
​
A being emerged from the shadows, clad in a red suit and carrying a scythe. It yelled in an unknown language and charged. Everyone opened fire, barely doing any damage to it. When it got close enough, it slashed its scythe at the air, launching a void wave that disabled the Phalanx shields. It then tossed its only weapon at one of them, hitting them right in the head and killing them instantly.
​
It charged towards the remaining Phalanx, only to be blasted by flames. Though it was initially disoriented, it quickly retaliated by grabbing one of the Incendiors and using it to deflect a shot from Maya, blowing the fuel tanks. The entity's shoulders were glowing bright orange, and I remembered field reports from the raid on the Sunken Pyramid. I aimed for its shoulders as it grabbed a Legionary attempting to stab it, lifting them into the air and tearing them apart.
​
Left shoulder damaged, the creature staggered and picked up its scythe in response. It looked at me and began to run before it was tackled by the remaining Legionary. By this point, Qurix and the Psions turned around and opened fire. The thing grabbed the Legionary with its foot, pulling the Cabal down with such force that it snapped their neck.
​
Right shoulder damaged, the creature staggered and roared in frustration. It readjusted its position as its suit changed into a metallic shell. Its eye glowed brighter than before, and it sprinted towards me. Before I could react, it grabbed me with its scythe and brought me close, holding me in the air with its other hand, which was glowing with void Darkness.
​
It felt strange, like the Light within me was being pulled out. I didn't have time to comprehend it as Ghar'usk slammed his gun into the things arm, causing it to drop me. He drew his blade and stabbed it in the chest, causing it to reel in pain.
​
"NOW!" Ghar'usk yelled.
​
A charged soulfire shot hit the creature in its glowing chest, beginning one of the worst things I have ever seen. Its body convulsed as Resonant energy spiraled in and around it. It ended with a small pulse, and the entity twisted into a tree like shape as roots had burst out of it.
​
I looked at the survivors with shocked eyes that they couldn't see but knew I had.
​
The Cabal brought something with them.
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First/Prev
The first explosion came an hour before dawn.
It was the right time for an attack; everybody knew that. The guards are tired, most people are asleep, and those who hear something suspicious but aren't close enough to know it's an attack will find any excuse for a few more minutes' sleep. The attackers are wired up and ready, their eyes used to the dark, while anyone who was sitting around the fire will be night-blind.
This was common wisdom to the San, something they assumed everybody knew, but it may well have been thousands of years since the Sovereign Residence on Noepe saw attack. Those who saw the explosion still didn't see the attack—that had begun half an hour before.
Three groups had crept carefully through the grounds, taking advantage of the cover. A few irritating sling stones from a building across the plaza had gotten the larger animals up and roaring, batting at the bars of their cages to call attention and cover sounds, and from the sides the groups came in.
Showers of spears and slingstones took care of the guards, slingstones dealt with the sensors, and the San flowed over the wall as silently as they could manage. The guards were alert as they could be, but the San and the Kel both had hunted the forests and the mountains of home, hunted among hyenas and lions and wolves that hunted back, hunted the chamois and the ibex that could hear a misplaced foot with ease.
By the time a volley of laser fire dealt with the gate guards and knocked many off the walls, the invasion was already well under way and the guards knew it. Two of the groups—about three dozen each, one lead by Logog and one by Barab, circled the grounds, with slingers breaking every sensor they could find. A massive sortie from the building itself flowed into the courtyard, and after a single volley of spears the attackers retreated. Given the chance they might have been able to ambush the defenders, but there were too many, and they were not foolish. They kept their ranks together, rifles ready, and when a spear flew from the dark a dozen rifles centered on its source and three dozen more peppered laser fire all around it. The costs were heavy, especially since they brought no dogs. As lights came on they went out again, smashed by stones, but when the sun came up in the West the warriors retreated, four groups of thirty slipping back over the walls as other soldiers rushed to man them, getting clear before the air vehicles could get overhead and spot them. Explosions rocked the air, and other eggs fell inside the walls and short of them, spewing smoke and chaff.
At the walls, the battle did not go well. Some dozen of the San were killed and three or four times that many wounded, and aside from those picked off the walls the defenders suffered nothing. The gate guards were not all killed, and they managed to close the gate well before the San could run the gauntlet of plasma bolters and Klokin guns to reach it. The shields protecting the walls held up easily under barrages of exploding eggs, and before long the San retreated, then scattered, fleeing a thousand different directions into a thousand different areas of the city. Three or four dozen were seen immediately after in bars or restaurants, but the rest were quietly moving North, out of the city by a hundred different methods. Some even took trains back to Shangshen, where they could pick up the vehicles just in case.
Nobody really noticed the two dozen men and women who found their way in through a maintenance door.
The soldiers weren't truly so careless as to leave one open. The poor maintenance worker who opened it for them was now soundly tied and gagged. Higa had wanted to leave the woman there, but Mogan had let her see his spare knife, set it on one side of the storage room, and then carried her gently to the other side. She would be able to wiggle back to his knife and cut herself loose, but by the time she did they would be finished and dead or finished and gone.
Half of them brought pistols, including Mogan, but hoped not to use them. The 'pop' of expanding steam and burning impurities would be an instant giveaway that something was wrong, much less the sound of whatever a laser hit, and so they each walked with a spear nocked, eyes constantly moving.
Ellisan used her wristpad to map where they had been, but that didn't precisely tell them where they were going, and the moved slowly.
“Use your noses,” Mogan whispered. “This is a luxury place, yes?”
The walls were testament to that, covered in precious metals, beautiful woods and stones, with paintings and decorations. It seemed each room had a floor in a different style of wood or stone, and soft light kept everything illuminated.
“If we find where the food is cooked, where she eats it won't be far. They won't risk the food getting cool or warm from distance, right? Food and cleaning chemicals.”
It wasn't a bad idea, but that wasn't how they found the Governess. Two guards came around a corner, and whipped up their rifles, but it was too late. One of them managed an ineffectual shot into the floor before four spears hit him; the other didn't even get that before four slammed through him.
Even so, one shot was more noise than they wanted, and everybody froze, listening. Ellisan's eyes brightened, and she whispered.
“Wind.”
Nobody spoke—perhaps straining to hear it themselves, perhaps waiting for her to explain.
“I hear it—wind going through... not branches—columns or rails, I guess.”
Mogan nodded. “Balconies.”
“Someplace you could look out at all your subjects,” Higa agreed.
“Maybe,” Mogan said, but it was all they had, and so they decided on going up. Someone suggested that after the attack Governess Shenya would be buried somewhere, in the most fortified part of the building, but Mogan knew better. They were rabble—anybody who didn't have a higher station than her was—and Shenya would not move for rabble, no matter the wisdom or necessity.
From what they could see the building was six stories high—presumably if they found stairs or a ramp it would go all the way up, but they had to find it first, and so they got moving again.
When they finally found the stairs, they found the second story even more opulent than the first. Mogan was certain that the walls of entire rooms were coated in precious metals, and one window big enough for him to stand up in was filled not with glass but entirely with gemstones.
It seemed that the second floor was better guarded, but Mogan presumed that there just weren't as many maintenance areas that didn't need so many guards. Whatever the reason or the implications, one guard managed a shout before whistling spears silenced him, and three more guards sprinted down the hallway into an ambush. It was more luck than they had a right to, and Mogan couldn't help thinking it could not last forever. He was right.
After the next three guards were downed and their rifles appropriated, there were a few tense moments of silence. The bodies downstairs had been stashed behind furniture, but there was no time to properly hide them, nor to clean up the bloodstains, and they couldn't go much longer before they were found. Worse, they didn't see any visual devices but had no idea what might be seeing them.
The San advanced, appropriating the guards' rifles as they searched for another stairway leading upwards. They snuck past walls entirely lined with exotic furs, displays of animal teeth and walls made of thin strips of tusk, others coated with material that looked like the inside of a clamshell. They saw no other guards, and Mogan found himself shaking his head. It made no sense.
And then, quite suddenly, it made perfect sense. Two walls slid almost instantly into the ceiling, revealing two dozen men and women with leveled laser rifles on each side. The officer, blue uniform decorated with gold braid and pistol in hand, smiled widely.
“You were looking for the governess, yes? Well, put down your weapons and we'll take you to her!”
The pistol leveled at Mogan's head. “Now, please.”
Two dozen warriors of the San walked up the staircase. They were disarmed and surrounded, but couldn't help feeling slightly amused. Walking up four flights of stairs had barely changed their breathing, while the Sylfa guarding them needed to catch their breath.
Mogan had muttered to them to keep quiet, and to wait for his signal. He suspected that a few of them had managed to hide weapons, even if just a knife or two, and now was not the time for them. If he remembered Shenya rightly, they were indeed being taken to her. There were few things that Shenya did well, but she knew how to hate. That, she was quite good at, and from what Mogan had seen here on Noepe the years had not brought her kindness. He would just have to hope they hadn't brought her wisdom either.
Mogan walked a little ahead, keeping the pace up, as they walked past yet more disgusting opulence. Holos coated these walls, and between them occasional sculptures of actual paintings. There was no rhythm to what would be next, and Mogan realized that the sculptures and paintings had been made when holos were still available,simply to use the style. Nonetheless, the story they told was impressive.
The first showed Noepe as it doubtless was when first discovered, with desert and thin forest, and heavy ice-caps. There was not as much ice on Noepe as he had seen in the orbit of his home planet, but quite a bit more than there was currently.
Various works showed the efforts taken to change the planet. Machines were set to deliberately warm the air, causing the ice to retreat as resorts were built at the oceans. When the water began to rise, ships simply carried it off planet. Soil was treated where plains were wanted so that forests could not grow, water pumped into the deserts, the thinner trees replaced with others from different planets.
The first governor—or perhaps the Sovereign at the time--was represented in different styles, gesturing imperiously as forests were cleared simply to replant them. There were hunts, then massive hunts where soldiers shot animals by the hundreds and left them to rot, before other creatures were introduced. Machines were made to scour the seas for dangerous fish or those that interfered with the best sport.
The poachers were represented as well, ragged and dirty men and women dragging down noble-looking creatures and tearing at them. One rather well-painted hanging depicted a battle, where men and women charged, brandishing their own fingernails, at phalanxes of disciplined gunners. The painting was ancient, quite possibly older than anything in the Moon Lake cave, but clearly Shenya's treatment of those who would kill the game reserved to the Sovereign was not entirely unique.
More opulent hunts followed, at least one of which featured a hunter, likely the Sovereign himself, at the aiming reticule of a plasma bolter, killing beasts that looked like those Mogan had seen on New Klon but twice as large.
There were two rebellions and three revolts featured in these murals. In each, the rebels were dirty and ragged, and when warfare was depicted it was always ragged mobs of rebels versus disciplined blocks of Sylfa. Even those in the trees were somehow all side-by-side in neat rows. The only time the enemies of the Sovereignty appeared in neat rows was in executions, and there were many of those.
They also, he noticed, had no Sylfa. Most of the poachers he had met were Sylfa, but all of the poachers, the rebels, and the revolters were entirely Anthata, Shawing, Mantu, and some of the other more common species.
There was little or no time to observe details, as the small group swept up the wide hallways into a spacious room. There were six columns, but Mogan suspected they were less from necessity and more to give the room the open-forest feel popular among Sylfa. The ceiling was high enough that a Mantu probably could not touch it, and they were greeted by the sound of a shoshir sliding from its scabbard.
Mogan knew the sound. For that matter, he knew the shoshir. He knew the woman as well.
The years may not have granted Shenya El' Esh wisdom or kindness, but they had certainly granted her beauty. She had been a stunning young woman when he saw her before, some sixteen years ago, but she had grown, rounded in all the right places. Sylfa tended to be thinner than humans, and she still was—except for her chest, where surgery had been involved—but the curves were undeniable. He heard more than one of those behind him gasp.
“I am going to kill each and every one of you.” She pointed the shoshir at Mogan. The L-shaped handle fit the two hands on her right side easily, and it didn't tremble. Mogan knew the blade well. Long ago, he had taken it from the assassin Fhlynn and had it given to her, but she had hated him before that. She had held him in contempt from the first moment she saw him, but when Fhlynn said something mocking and pointed at him, she had turned to look. Mogan had seen the man's other hands, one covering her drink from her view, the other pouring something from a small vial into it. She had likely hated him from the moment he knocked over the drink, spilling it across the table and her clothes.
“Surely you've had time to replace that dress by now, Shenya.”
“It's not about the dress, Mogan. It's not even about Ellisan, although you know she's illegal. And the one with the scar on his chin and the burn over his eye, that must be Higa—I just might send your head back to Burjit.”
She smirked as they stared. Ellisan mouthed a word, a name, but Mogan put it aside. That was something he didn't want to deal with at the moment.”
“You know I was saving your life that day.”
“Don't lie to me, Mogan. It's really not a good look for your last moments.”
“Fhlynn was an assassin, Ellisan. That's why he came here after me. He chased us a long way and we got away from him, and then I chased him, and he didn't do so well.”
“Enough of that!” Her beautiful lips twisted in a snarl. “Where is Shett?”
“Yil Shett? I don't know, but I'd like to see him again.”
“I told you not to lie to me, animal. I know that traitor has had it in for me, and ever since he defected I've been plagued with one problem after another! I want to know where he is, so I can send him the holos. He humiliated me when he had the power and I didn't, but that's not how it is anymore!”
“What did he do, Shenya, turn you down? I thought your hips had a little extra wiggle in them when you brought his drink.....”
That had been sixteen years ago, and he truly did suspect it, but he didn't expect it to hit a nerve so well. Shenya stabbed the end of the shoshir into the floor, probably damaging something priceless while she was at it.
“How dare you!? Do you not understand your life is in my hands!? I control the Sovereignty—me! I would let you escape, just so I could watch billions of soldiers hunt you down, if I didn't want the pleasure of killing you myself.”
A tiny bit of spittle flew from her mouth as she shouted, and her face had turned a shade of dark blue that was a little bit alarming.
“I have the power now! Me! You took my man away from me, but now you're in my hands, and I'm going to take everything away from you, including that half-animal!”
Mogan's hands tightened as if he could feel her throat in them, but with a great effort he kept his voice calm. “Your man was weak, Shenya. Do you think you're the Sovereign himself?”
“Even better!” Mogan was pretty sure he saw the shoshir sink a little into the floor as she leaned on it. “Fhlynn wasn't good enough for what I wanted, but the Sovereign is! And he does what I say! When I say you're an enemy of the entire Sovereignty, it happens!”
All four hands rested on the hilt and she leaned forward. It was nice for the view, but every muscle was tense as she snarled. “I spoke, and I leaned against his arm, and I had all the information about you that anybody knew. I spoke, and I just trailed my hands across his shoulders, and Shirfa was named a hero of the Sovereignty! I spoke, and I wiggled my ass in some stupid lacy thing he likes, and the reports naming your species non-sapient were given the Sovereign seal of approval—disputing a single word of it used to mean pissing off a Yil, but now it's an instant death sentence to even look for evidence against it--all the efforts of those idiots Hyeshi and Schlo trying to change it were wasted!”
Mogan grunted, but she was grinning now. At least, her mouth formed a parody of a smile, while her eyes burned with hate. “I want you to know it before you die, Mogan! I made it happen! I spoke, and I touched him, and no university in the Sovereignty would publish from either of them! I spoke, and I put my mouth on him, and your whore was abandoned on some worthless wilderness planet that won't see another sapient being for another hundred---”
She was already screaming, or almost, but now her scream turned into something shocked and stuttering as Mogan extended his left hand.
Some of the warriors of the San had seen him do this once before. They had believed that he commanded lightning itself, and it had helped to cement his reputation as one blessed by the spirits. Now they knew that the hand was mechanical, and they could assume that the bolt of electricity that shot from it was also mechanical, but it was no less impressive.
The Animal Person that he had struck nearly a decade ago had literally flown several yards back. One of the assassins here on Noepe, some sixteen years ago, had been knocked down. Shenya didn't, perhaps because the sword stabbed into the floor was an anchor. All four hands clamped down on the handle and electricity crackled and sparked all along the long, flowing blade of gold-titanium alloy as she convulsed, smoke rising from her hands and from her face as her hair smoked, and then a moment later she did leave the ground, landing in a heap some three or four meters away.
An ugly death, but an excellent signal. There was a beep that Mogan recognized, and then Higa threw one of Burjit's eggs. Two others had managed to hide knives before they were seen—and the rest had to go unarmed.
They were not defenseless in this. Everyone wrestled as a youngster, learning how to manage their weight and the weight of another, and while matches weren't supposed to cause harm beyond an occasional bruise, it was easy to tell how things could be worse.
In truth, the Sylfa had it easier than some others. One man simply grabbed a soldier by the waist, lifted him off his feet, and dropped him. Against a human, this was a good way to break a hip or back and perhaps start a blood feud, but the Sylfa simply didn't fall. It made sense that a species conditioned for climbing couldn't simply be dropped and instead held easily to his attacker, but the man was shot twice before he could react. He fell forward, whether by design in his last moments or by lucky accident, pinning the thinner Sylfa beneath his corpse.
Another threw a Sylfa with a rolling hiplock, and a third stomped on the soldier's head as he landed, while a fourth grabbed his rifle.
Higa's explosive went off. Mogan didn't know whether he'd intended to be sure of Shenya or not, but he could see her body twitch as shrapnel struck it, and half a dozen soldiers fell.
Mogan himself was never truly unarmed. Another bolt of electricity struck a soldier who was trying to take aim, and then he slammed a fist harder than steel into a blue-green face. Blood flowed as the guard staggered back, his face a cratered ruin, and then lasers flew as Ellisan grabbed the man's rifle and fired it as fast as she could. Not every shot hit, not even most, but some did.
But Ellisan wasn't the only one firing. As skilled as the San might have been, they were outnumbered two to one, and they were unarmed, and nobody fights a battle like that without taking losses. Half a dozen men fell in the first few seconds, and perhaps half-again that many of the soldiers, while the others sought cover behind couches and overturned tables.
“Cover!” Higa threw one more egg, then found something to duck behind himself. Alarms began to sound, and he made two hand gestures, hunting signals that were often used so that they wouldn't alert game. One indicated he was out of ammunition, another that they needed to pull back. Lasers flashed back and forth as the San backed up with stolen rifles, and Ellisan, bless her, managed to grab one of the bags that had held their own confiscated weapons.
When they reached the doors and took stock, the results of their battle weren't pretty. Everyone was wounded to some degree, and of the twenty-five people who went into that room only eleven made it out. It was a note of sick humor that at least now the bag Ellisan had grabbed had enough weapons for everyone.
“We're not going to fight our way down, Mogan.” Higa panted, holding his side. He hissed as Mogan sprayed in the sealant. “This was a good day, my friend.”
“And it's not done yet. We're not going down. There will be flyers on the roof, and Ellisan can fly anything.”
Ellisan was trying not to scream, holding the cauterized stump where her lower left hand once was. “And then where?”
“....I don't know.”