https://www.boohalharf.com/vb/showthread.php?p=286883#post286883
​
📷
I want to tell you that longing is still green
The land of the spirit does not need clouds
It is the cloud that does not dissipate
-
I would like to tell you that your messages still come everyday
Comes in the form of an appeal, I wonder? Why do you invite me to it
In the world of longing, there are things that never cross us
It remains residing until it appears to be the steadfast foundation of the spirit
We have repeatedly tried to explain what it is
We often do not hit the target, but we fall beside it
But we never intend to recover from it
-
In letters the words are very simple
We return to it as the familiarity of fields and the longing of paths to travel
Longing becomes a retired skipper
He looks at the sea with sunken eyes
Seen with a dream of reaching the edges of the remote seas
He dreams of a blue wave of azure perfume and shroud
You leave it with a procession full of bustle of gulls and dolphins
Journey on a coffin sailing forever
-
in messages
Simple words cushion the weary to snooze soft
In the mail that arrived long ago
Smiles fade, almost lose their features
She feels us and we send her missing reassurance
Questions come back to you?
What is this called longing?
How does this river not end in an estuary?
But we could not touch its sources
We couldn't put our hands on his shoulder
-
In the letters are letters that we think are forgotten
But we get used to it tirelessly, tirelessly
Nostalgia lurks between its lines
There is no space between the words
Flowers grow and trees extend their shadows from the burning distance
As for the commas, they are the waves of aromas
Areej churning, high-calm, sublime tone
-
In the messages a wonderful flicker
The strings of the law shake hands with golden fingers
-
I have a lot and a lot I want to say
There is no ceiling for feeling growth
There is no way to end
Not saying I'm involved
Paths crossed
I put the saddle on the back of Infinity Bridges and moved on
I took your letters with me
-
https://www.boohalharf.com/vb/showthread.php?p=286883#post286883
-
My message

My message
I want to tell you that longing is still green
The land of the spirit does not need clouds
It is the cloud that does not dissipate
-
I would like to tell you that your messages still come everyday
Comes in the form of an appeal, I wonder? Why do you invite me to it
In the world of longing, there are things that never cross us
It remains residing until it appears to be the steadfast foundation of the spirit
We have repeatedly tried to explain what it is
We often do not hit the target, but we fall beside it
But we never intend to recover from it
-
In letters the words are very simple
We return to it as the familiarity of fields and the longing of paths to travel
Longing becomes a retired skipper
He looks at the sea with sunken eyes
Seen with a dream of reaching the edges of the remote seas
He dreams of a blue wave of azure perfume and shroud
You leave it with a procession full of bustle of gulls and dolphins
Journey on a coffin sailing forever
-
in messages
Simple words cushion the weary to snooze soft
In the mail that arrived long ago
Smiles fade, almost lose their features
She feels us and we send her missing reassurance
Questions come back to you?
What is this called longing?
How does this river not end in an estuary?
But we could not touch its sources
We couldn't put our hands on his shoulder
-
In the letters are letters that we think are forgotten
But we get used to it tirelessly, tirelessly
Nostalgia lurks between its lines
There is no space between the words
Flowers grow and trees extend their shadows from the burning distance
As for the commas, they are the waves of aromas
Areej churning, high-calm, sublime tone
-
In the messages a wonderful flicker
The strings of the law shake hands with golden fingers
-
I have a lot and a lot I want to say
There is no ceiling for feeling growth
There is no way to end
Not saying I'm involved
Paths crossed
I put the saddle on the back of Infinity Bridges and moved on
I took your letters with me
-
https://www.boohalharf.com/vb/showthread.php?p=286883#post286883
-
My message

I want to tell you that longing is still green
The land of the spirit does not need clouds
It is the cloud that does not dissipate
-
I would like to tell you that your messages still come everyday
Comes in the form of an appeal, I wonder? Why do you invite me to it
In the world of longing, there are things that never cross us
It remains residing until it appears to be the steadfast foundation of the spirit
We have repeatedly tried to explain what it is
We often do not hit the target, but we fall beside it
But we never intend to recover from it
-
In letters the words are very simple
We return to it as the familiarity of fields and the longing of paths to travel
Longing becomes a retired skipper
He looks at the sea with sunken eyes
Seen with a dream of reaching the edges of the remote seas
He dreams of a blue wave of azure perfume and shroud
You leave it with a procession full of bustle of gulls and dolphins
Journey on a coffin sailing forever
-
in messages
Simple words cushion the weary to snooze soft
In the mail that arrived long ago
Smiles fade, almost lose their features
She feels us and we send her missing reassurance
Questions come back to you?
What is this called longing?
How does this river not end in an estuary?
But we could not touch its sources
We couldn't put our hands on his shoulder
-
In the letters are letters that we think are forgotten
But we get used to it tirelessly, tirelessly
Nostalgia lurks between its lines
There is no space between the words
Flowers grow and trees extend their shadows from the burning distance
As for the commas, they are the waves of aromas
Areej churning, high-calm, sublime tone
-
In the messages a wonderful flicker
The strings of the law shake hands with golden fingers
-
I have a lot and a lot I want to say
There is no ceiling for feeling growth
There is no way to end
Not saying I'm involved
Paths crossed
I put the saddle on the back of Infinity Bridges and moved on
I took your letters with me
-
https://www.boohalharf.com/vb/showthread.php?p=286883#post286883
-
My message

I want to tell you that longing is still green
The land of the spirit does not need clouds
It is the cloud that does not dissipate
-
I would like to tell you that your messages still come everyday
Comes in the form of an appeal, I wonder? Why do you invite me to it
In the world of longing, there are things that never cross us
It remains residing until it appears to be the steadfast foundation of the spirit
We have repeatedly tried to explain what it is
We often do not hit the target, but we fall beside it
But we never intend to recover from it
-
In letters the words are very simple
We return to it as the familiarity of fields and the longing of paths to travel
Longing becomes a retired skipper
He looks at the sea with sunken eyes
Seen with a dream of reaching the edges of the remote seas
He dreams of a blue wave of azure perfume and shroud
You leave it with a procession full of bustle of gulls and dolphins
Journey on a coffin sailing forever
-
in messages
Simple words cushion the weary to snooze soft
In the mail that arrived long ago
Smiles fade, almost lose their features
She feels us and we send her missing reassurance
Questions come back to you?
What is this called longing?
How does this river not end in an estuary?
But we could not touch its sources
We couldn't put our hands on his shoulder
-
In the letters are letters that we think are forgotten
But we get used to it tirelessly, tirelessly
Nostalgia lurks between its lines
There is no space between the words
Flowers grow and trees extend their shadows from the burning distance
As for the commas, they are the waves of aromas
Areej churning, high-calm, sublime tone
-
In the messages a wonderful flicker
The strings of the law shake hands with golden fingers
-
I have a lot and a lot I want to say
There is no ceiling for feeling growth
There is no way to end
Not saying I'm involved
Paths crossed
I put the saddle on the back of Infinity Bridges and moved on
I took your letters with me
-
https://www.boohalharf.com/vb/showthread.php?p=286883#post286883
-
My message

I want to tell you that longing is still green
The land of the spirit does not need clouds
It is the cloud that does not dissipate
-
I would like to tell you that your messages still come everyday
Comes in the form of an appeal, I wonder? Why do you invite me to it
In the world of longing, there are things that never cross us
It remains residing until it appears to be the steadfast foundation of the spirit
We have repeatedly tried to explain what it is
We often do not hit the target, but we fall beside it
But we never intend to recover from it
-
In letters the words are very simple
We return to it as the familiarity of fields and the longing of paths to travel
Longing becomes a retired skipper
He looks at the sea with sunken eyes
Seen with a dream of reaching the edges of the remote seas
He dreams of a blue wave of azure perfume and shroud
You leave it with a procession full of bustle of gulls and dolphins
Journey on a coffin sailing forever
-
in messages
Simple words cushion the weary to snooze soft
In the mail that arrived long ago
Smiles fade, almost lose their features
She feels us and we send her missing reassurance
Questions come back to you?
What is this called longing?
How does this river not end in an estuary?
But we could not touch its sources
We couldn't put our hands on his shoulder
-
In the letters are letters that we think are forgotten
But we get used to it tirelessly, tirelessly
Nostalgia lurks between its lines
There is no space between the words
Flowers grow and trees extend their shadows from the burning distance
As for the commas, they are the waves of aromas
Areej churning, high-calm, sublime tone
-
In the messages a wonderful flicker
The strings of the law shake hands with golden fingers
-
I have a lot and a lot I want to say
There is no ceiling for feeling growth
There is no way to end
Not saying I'm involved
Paths crossed
I put the saddle on the back of Infinity Bridges and moved on
I took your letters with me
-
https://www.boohalharf.com/vb/showthread.php?p=286883#post286883
-
My message

I want to tell you that longing is still green
The land of the spirit does not need clouds
It is the cloud that does not dissipate
-
I would like to tell you that your messages still come everyday
Comes in the form of an appeal, I wonder? Why do you invite me to it
In the world of longing, there are things that never cross us
It remains residing until it appears to be the steadfast foundation of the spirit
We have repeatedly tried to explain what it is
We often do not hit the target, but we fall beside it
But we never intend to recover from it
-
In letters the words are very simple
We return to it as the familiarity of fields and the longing of paths to travel
Longing becomes a retired skipper
He looks at the sea with sunken eyes
Seen with a dream of reaching the edges of the remote seas
He dreams of a blue wave of azure perfume and shroud
You leave it with a procession full of bustle of gulls and dolphins
Journey on a coffin sailing forever
-
in messages
Simple words cushion the weary to snooze soft
In the mail that arrived long ago
Smiles fade, almost lose their features
She feels us and we send her missing reassurance
Questions come back to you?
What is this called longing?
How does this river not end in an estuary?
But we could not touch its sources
We couldn't put our hands on his shoulder
-
In the letters are letters that we think are forgotten
But we get used to it tirelessly, tirelessly
Nostalgia lurks between its lines
There is no space between the words
Flowers grow and trees extend their shadows from the burning distance
As for the commas, they are the waves of aromas
Areej churning, high-calm, sublime tone
-
In the messages a wonderful flicker
The strings of the law shake hands with golden fingers
-
I have a lot and a lot I want to say
There is no ceiling for feeling growth
There is no way to end
Not saying I'm involved
Paths crossed
I put the saddle on the back of Infinity Bridges and moved on
I took your letters with me
-
https://www.boohalharf.com/vb/showthread.php?p=286883#post286883
-
My message

I want to tell you that longing is still green
The land of the spirit does not need clouds
It is the cloud that does not dissipate
-
I would like to tell you that your messages still come everyday
Comes in the form of an appeal, I wonder? Why do you invite me to it
In the world of longing, there are things that never cross us
It remains residing until it appears to be the steadfast foundation of the spirit
We have repeatedly tried to explain what it is
We often do not hit the target, but we fall beside it
But we never intend to recover from it
-
In letters the words are very simple
We return to it as the familiarity of fields and the longing of paths to travel
Longing becomes a retired skipper
He looks at the sea with sunken eyes
Seen with a dream of reaching the edges of the remote seas
He dreams of a blue wave of azure perfume and shroud
You leave it with a procession full of bustle of gulls and dolphins
Journey on a coffin sailing forever
-
in messages
Simple words cushion the weary to snooze soft
In the mail that arrived long ago
Smiles fade, almost lose their features
She feels us and we send her missing reassurance
Questions come back to you?
What is this called longing?
How does this river not end in an estuary?
But we could not touch its sources
We couldn't put our hands on his shoulder
-
In the letters are letters that we think are forgotten
But we get used to it tirelessly, tirelessly
Nostalgia lurks between its lines
There is no space between the words
Flowers grow and trees extend their shadows from the burning distance
As for the commas, they are the waves of aromas
Areej churning, high-calm, sublime tone
-
In the messages a wonderful flicker
The strings of the law shake hands with golden fingers
-
I have a lot and a lot I want to say
There is no ceiling for feeling growth
There is no way to end
Not saying I'm involved
Paths crossed
I put the saddle on the back of Infinity Bridges and moved on
I took your letters with me
-
https://www.boohalharf.com/vb/showthread.php?p=286883#post286883
-
My message

Part 1
It’s been a day, and still no sign of anyone coming by. I was really hoping to be writing this in the comfort of my home, but apparently there’s other plans for me.
I’ve been out of food and water, it’s all back at the campsite and I can’t rightly go back there.
I guess I’ll keep on reliving what was going on, maybe that’ll make time pass faster.
Ivy and I had dashed away into the woods, the late evening sun rushing through the trees alongside us. We heard the panicked yells and footfalls of our friends as they also fled, and we knew the ranger would likely be close behind us.
As fucked up as this is, I could only hope and pray that he’d follow after them instead of us.
We ran for what felt like an hour, but from the lack of darkness, I know it couldn’t have been that long. The sun was going down slowly, lazily, like it does in the summer. At least Ivy had killed the guy’s ATV, he’d have to follow on foot…
Although with how big the fucker was, his strides were probably long enough that was a negligible issue. Shit.
We stopped for a breather, the woods still eerily silent. We could no longer hear screams, or hurried footsteps. Just our breathing, trying as best we can to keep quiet.
After some time, we started moving again, slower now. The light was starting to fade, and we decided our best course of action was to try and walk back to the cars and go get help. Of course, there was hardly any signal at the cars, and absolutely none once we got into the woods proper, but we hoped we could get through to 911, if nothing else.
I looked to one side as I stood up, and on my left, I could see a phone flashlight cutting through the branches, bobbing with each step. From where it was being held, it likely wasn’t tall enough to be the officer. I squinted, and once it got a bit closer, I could make out the distraught features of Greg, Jeremy’s brother. His girlfriend, Loretta, was close behind. Both of them looked like they’d been crying, which was… understandable, I guess.
Greg looked at Ivy and I, squinting past his light. “You guys seen him?”
We both shook our heads, and Loretta rolled her eyes. “I told you we should just go, Greg.”
He snapped his head back to her, a glare on his face. “We all need to get out of here, babe. I don’t wanna leave anyone behind.”
Before Loretta could respond, the sound of metal scraping on metal was heard, like in a movie when a knife is pulled from a sheath. I turned my head again, and saw the large, imposing figure of the ranger.
He stood about ten feet off, holding a hatchet in one hand. “Hey, there, kiddos. Using lights at night in the forest can really disturb the local flora and fauna of this here forest.”
With that sentence that sounded straight out of a PSA, he Hurled the hatchet, the head of it finding purchase in Greg’s thigh. He let out a scream and collapsed to the ground, holding the handle of the small axe as he writhed on the ground. The ranger grinned, the last few rays of sunlight illuminating his face enough to let us see his sick joy at the turn of events.
Loretta screamed and bolted back in the way her and Greg had come, and he looked after her for only a moment, before looking at Ivy and I. “Go on, get the hell out of here! Go!”
Ivy hesitated for a moment, clearly wanting to help, but at the first footfall from the ranger, they nodded and took off, me following closely behind. As we took off, we could hear one last defiant shout from Greg.
“Fucking do it then! You goddamn freak! DO IT! Fucking ki-”
The word was cut off by the sound of impact on flesh, over and over. Eventually we ran far enough to escape the sound, and collapsed on the forest floor, breathing heavily.
We heard heavy footsteps treading, but not getting closer to us. They went parallel to us, eventually fading out into the night air.
We sat for about 20 minutes, listening for any sign of pursuit, or any sign of our friends. Right when we were about to get up and keep walking, we heard what sounded like a rope moving quickly? I can’t quite think of the words to describe it. It was close, we ran towards the sound and in about five minutes we saw Luke hanging upside-down from a tree, his bag resting on the ground near his head.
He looked at us as we approached, and quickly started shouting for help. Ivy and I both tried to shush him, but he wouldn’t listen, and we quickly heard the ranger making his way through the trees towards us again.
Luke seemed to realize what was coming, and he started screaming louder. Not for help, now, though. For Adam, for his mother, for God, anyone who could maybe hear him and send some giant eagles his way, so to speak.
The ranger emerged from the brush again, looking at his newly caught quarry with another grin. His uniform was stained with splatters of blood now, although his face was clean. His hatchet was tucked into his belt, now, and he was carrying a small bag on his back.
“Now, in this here forest we practice catch, tag, and release. These here snares are for catching, now I’ll tag, and then release.”
Luke tried to swing away from the man, but he reached behind the tree and pulled on a rope, and the snare gave suddenly, with Luke falling violently.
Due to his momentum in trying to swing away from the man, he didn’t land on his shoulder or have time to put his arms up to break his fall. He landed face first in the dirt, at a steep angle. His neck snapped, as did his back, and he folded over himself, his feet coming to rest near his head. His body gave one final shudder, and a wheezing, rattling gasp, before falling quiet.
The ranger cocked his head to one side, seemingly puzzled. I couldn’t help but think of a meme Ivy had sent me before this trip, asking why animals cock their heads when they see something strange.
What, does it make more sense at a 45 degree angle, bud?
The ranger coughed, still staring at Luke’s body. “Well. That, uh… Huh.”
He looked genuinely surprised, before shrugging and walking towards us.
Ivy, who’d been looking at Luke as well, a green tinge to their face, snapped their head up at the movement and bolted. I turned to watch them go, barely turning my head back to see the ranger swinging a fist at my head.
I yelped and dropped to my knees, barely dodging the swing. He snarled and tried to grab my hair, but I was able to dart between his legs and kick at the back of his left knee. He grunted and stumbled as I felt around wildly in the dirt. A solid stick, a rock, surely something here could help me…
The ranger stood back up, looming over me with a scowl. “Y’know, in this here forest we do our best to keep the paths clear. You’re not likely to find much that’ll help you bash my skull in, miss.”
He grabbed me by the shoulders and lifted me off the ground, dirt still between my fingers. Desperately, as he lifted me to his eye level, I ripped off his sunglasses with one hand, flinging dirt into his eyes with the other.
The ranger swore, dropping me and rubbing at his face. I took the opportunity and darted into the woods, in the general direction that I saw Ivy run.
Bedding down again for the night. Like I said, there’s barely any signal out here, all my calls have been dropping before they can get anywhere. Gonna try and conserve battery on my phone, keep my hazards on and hope that someone comes by.

I'm trying to get a rough feel for how productive I can expect trees to be between different pot sizes. Obviously that will vary considerably with other factors such as light as well, but I'm nevertheless hoping to get a rough visual grasp on how large/productive lemons, limes, and certain oranges can get in various sizes of pots!
Bonus if you can describe the approximate volume of pot that you, personally, cultivate a Meyer lemon of key lime in, such that it roughly meets your household need for their respective fruit. Thanks!

Hi everyone.
To Kill a Predator is a work of fan fiction set in the Nature of Predators universe originally created by SpacePaladin15 whose Patreon you should subscribe to.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Depiction does not equal endorsement.
Hope you enjoy it!
[First] [Previous]
---
Memory transcription subject: Martin Russo, Human Refugee
Date [standardized human time]: January 10th, 2137
​
Without the girls, life settles into a boring rut. I talk to them as much as I can on the pad, but they’re busy on Earth, hitting the ground running.
There’s been a lot of ground to cover before they’re caught up to where everyone else will be, particularly for Vilek. She’s often had to pull double-claws of studying, working her fluffy ass off to gain a baseline understanding of psychology in record time. Thiva’s classes on VP by contrast have prepared her well for humanity’s relatively simple technology.
That, and they’ve had to get used to Earth. Earth food, Earth culture, and a planet full of omnivores with forward-facing eyes. I’ve been doing what little I can to help coach and encourage them.
For my own part I’ve been restless. Given that I’m not able to look for a job yet, that physical therapy kicks my ass every other paw, and that I’ve got nothing to do other than look forward to a half-hour of chatting with my friends… I’ve started up on software again. It’s something I can do even while laying prone. Particularly since I have a way to write without using my hands.
What do I do with that, anyway? I can read minds. I can even use the raw data from a full brain scan to extract memories. There’s got to be something useful to do with this. It’s practically the only part of this entire debacle I haven’t bothered telling the UN about.
Honestly after what I’ve been through, I can’t imagine trusting them, or the Venlil government, with this. Bastards would be prosecuting thought-crime by the end of the week.
​
Jarkim’s opened his business a couple of weeks back. Without an actual office, since he plans to simply operate out of Slavik’s farm. As I understand they tolerate it as long as he also helps out in return for food and board. I hope the arrangement works out for the both of them.
I gave Jarkim some help with his online presence. He wasn’t initially sure about the black and white picture of him in a fedora and a tie, or about the business name “Jarkim Krakotl, Private Eye”. But as soon as humans heard about Venlil Prime’s only Krakotl detective they’ve ended up coming to him with their problems.
He sent me a picture of his first solved case, some runaway kid who got lost and reunited with her mother. He was still wearing the hat. No tie, though.
​
Today is my paw off from Chasa’s torments, and it coincides with the launch of another exciting new business venture. So I take the time to visit Mosun.
“Hey Martin! Hold on a minute!” I see the Yotul wrangling a bunch of foam mats around the large, empty room. And its wall-length mirror. Fittingly the place look like the midway point between a dance studio and a martial arts dojo, except for the soft and spongy floor. It’s meant to safeguard against falls.
I glance around the room while he huffs and plops the last few ones down. There’s perhaps thirty-five or forty foam mats scattered on the floor. “So are you being optimistic, or did you get a good reception?”
He looks at me, bouncing with excitement. Though his ears signal a bit of nervousness. “Five Yotul have signed up so far! That’s almost half the Yotul in the entire town! And almost twenty humans! Hanya’s bringing a couple of Gojid friends too, and we’ve got a few Venlil coming along with their humans… Oh, and an Iftali, that was a surprise. Honestly I may be a little in over my head here; I’ve never taught crowds before! I’m not even sure how much will translate across species!”
“So you’ll be learning on the job. I have complete faith in you. Are the Exterminators going to give you any trouble?”
He barks a laugh. “Hah! No, Jarkim had a talk with the magister. I got permission from Vaska’s office to teach the classes in the name of cultural preservation, so those motherfuckers can’t touch me!”
I laugh as well. “You might need to censor your language a bit as a teacher.”
“Combat Dancing is about honesty and expression, Martin. If I can’t live it, how am I supposed to teach it?”
Well, he got me there. “Anything I can do to help?”
He glances at me, his voice gets a little uncomfortable. “Um, I don’t know. Can you carry heavy stuff right now?”
I shrug. “Probably not, no.”
“Then I’ll be fine. You’re not interested in taking the class?”
​
“I think my dancing days are over, for the foreseeable future.” I wryly lift my cane and wave it as a small reminder. It’s wood, and I’m quite fond of it. Chasa found a Venlil craftsman who wanted to be the first to make one for a human, and he made it out of the wood of some kind of tree called Lampan. The color reminds me of mahogany.
His ears droop a bit. “Ah yeah. How permanent is that looking?”
I shrug. “Finger dexterity on the right hand’s likely never going to be the same, but I’ll be able to play video games. Left arm should recover enough for daily use. Leg should get a full range of motion, but I won’t be going jogging. Thankfully I look dignified with a cane.”
He wags his tail teasingly and cocks his head as he regards me. “Do you? …Must be a human thing.”
“Piss off. Mind if I sit in on the class?”
“Of course not!”
Turns out first class of Yotul Combat Dancing is a quick demonstration, and then Mosun talking to the quite large and varied crowd. He talks about the history and cultural significance of Combat Dances to the Yotul, the philosophical underpinnings of the artform, and the mentality to be cultivated in practitioners.
Everyone is listening with rapt attention, and a few of the humans are even taking notes. When he opens the floor for questions, a Venlil asks “Isn’t this an expression of Predator Disease?”
To which Mosun answers “No. Next question?”
Which is honestly as much of a response as that warrants.
I talk with Hanya briefly after the class. She says that she’s been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and that human therapy is helping her out. She even talks excitedly about piloting shuttles again, someday soon. I’m glad for her.
​
Once I get back to the house, there’s a man in a suit waiting for me. He’s tall, bald, and has very dark skin. I don’t recognize him. He extends his hand toward me, and I shake it. He speaks English with an African accent, instead of letting the translator handle it. I’d guess western Africa, but I’m hardly an expert. “Bamidele Adeyemi.”
“Martin Russo. Can I help you?”
He indicates the door. “May I come in?”
“Sure. My Venlil hosts aren’t home right now.”
“Of course.”
Once he’s been let in, and I’ve given him something to drink, I wait patiently for him to explain his presence.
“I am the UN liason to the district magister’s office.”
I keep my tone neutral and politely curious. “What happened to Robert McGinley?”
He keeps his tone neutral too, but friendly. He smiles at me. “It was decided that he should be replaced.”
Oh no. Anyway. “Alright. But… No offense mister Adeyemi, but why are you here?”
​
He takes out a pad. “I have some documents that the UN and the District Magister would like you to sign.”
I sigh inwardly and make a quite heroic effort to not sigh outwardly. I look at the pad briefly anyway. As I expected, it’s about making myself legally liable should I speak up about what I’ve gone through. “I’m afraid you are wasting your time. McGinley told me to sign papers like this too, and I told him ‘no’.”
He nods, entirely unsurprised. “I understand you signed similar documents over a smaller… altercation with the Exterminators. Why the difference of response, if I may ask?”
“Because the first time he threatened to have me thrown out of the refugee center if I didn’t.”
Bamidele’s eyes widen briefly. “I see. That does explain why you told him to ‘fuck off’.”
“Yes.” I pause briefly. “…You’ve been polite enough that I don’t want to use the same language. But.”
He laughs briefly. “Haha, yes, I understand. Different circumstances, yes? My predecessor tried the stick. I am here to try the carrot. So tell me, mister Russo, what will it take for you to sign?”
“There’s nothing that…” I pause.
I sit down. I’m briefly quiet. I miss my friends so goddamn much. I swallow, mouth feeling dry as I tentatively reach for the proffered lifeline. “I… hear Sweden’s lovely this time of year.”
He flashes his teeth at me in a broad smile and chuckles pleasantly. “Hehe, I thought you might say that. But… You do realize it is January?”
​
​
Date [standardized human time]: January 12th, 2137
​
The thought of leaving this wretched planet and its wretched food and its wretched government and its wretched ever-present sun makes me feel like I’m already back in Earth’s lighter gravity.
I ended up paying Chasa back for all the pain and suffering she inflicted on me: The largest gift basket I could find online, filled with fruits, candies, and preserves of both Zurulian and human origin.
When I wake up at the start of the paw, my arch-nemesis has sent me two pictures. The first one is a schedule to keep for the next couple of months. In the second picture she’s put pillows and blankets in the basket and is using it as a bed, a paw raised in goodbye.
If the medi-teddies ever learn to weaponize their cuteness, humanity is in real trouble.
Packing is easy. I don’t have a lot. A band shirt from when I went to see ‘Where Angels Fear’, a few bad sketches of fruit, my dad's chess set, my pad, and a neural scanner.
​
Date [standardized human time]: January 13th, 2137
​
The space flight actually lands directly in Sweden, somewhere north of the polar circle at a place called Esrange. I immediately realize that winter’s back on the menu, as the cold makes my left leg and arm ache like hell. It’s the dead of night, too… But I’ve missed night. So has everyone else, as despite the cold people are walking straight out into the snow to just stare up into the starry sky and stare in open awe at the sky, where the stars form a backdrop for the northern lights. I join them.
A poetic whimsy falls over me, making me grin at the cheesiness. It’s like the sky itself is welcoming us back home.
From Esrange we take cars to Kiruna, Sweden’s northernmost city. From there it’s a long train ride south. I’ve gotten a sleeper cabin. With the generous stipend from the UN, I have no need to scrimp.
Even so, it takes significantly longer to travel 1400 kilometers across Sweden than it did to travel 16 light-years from Gliese 832. I’ve got almost twenty hours to appreciate the irony.
​
Date [standardized human time]: January 14th, 2137
​
I’m met at the train station in Lund by a man holding a sign with my name on it. His car takes me directly to the university. Everything feels very… ordinary, except I’m a bit dazed at having so many humans around me again.
We arrive a little before 8 in the morning. Excited students scurry to and fro, eager and hopeful for the first day of spring term. The driver is named Markus, and very kindly helps me find my way to my meeting. I’m left outside a door, standing around awkwardly.
The man I’m meeting with is Jonas Falck, and he’s the head of the department of computer science. While the UN has ‘encouraged’ the university to take me in despite it being so close to the term start, the decision remains with him.
I really wanted to see the girls first, but the meeting time was set for me. I desperately wish I had thought to shave beforehand. I’ve been using my beard to hide my weak chin, but it probably looks more unprofessional than-
“Hey, are you Martin Russo?”
Ah, I see.
Mister Falck is holding two cups of coffee and offers one of them to me with a smile. He’s got a full beard, a full belly, hair past his shoulders, and a pink hawaiian shirt to go with his khaki shorts and flip-flops. This man is clearly one of the most talented professionals working in the field today.
​
“So, do you mind if I ask…” He motions to my cane while I take a seat.
“How that happened?”
“Yes.”
“That’s classified. I’m not even joking.”
He nods once, like that was more or less what he expected to hear. He leans back in his chair, which creaks a bit, and takes a slow drink from his coffee while reading on his computer. “So you studied at Columbia University before the Bombing?”
“Yes.”
“And your family lived in New York?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He doesn’t say it unkindly, but he does say it as rote. ‘Oh you’re from one of the places that doesn’t exist anymore? Sorry to hear that.’
I nod awkwardly. “Yes.”
“And you were focusing on studying brain-computer interfacing?”
I feel like a recording. “Yes.”
“It’s very uncommon to add a student this late. The term begins today.”
“Yes.”
“We can’t provide housing for you on such a short notice, for one.”
“I have that handled, sir.”
He scrunches his face up. “Jonas, please. Americans are so formal.”
“Alright, er, Jonas.”
“So, Martin, what I’m asking for is a reason. To take you in right now, I mean, instead of next year.”
I nod. This is thankfully something I had planned for. My hand slips into my pocket, fingering the box holding the scanner electrodes. “Well, Jonas… I think there’s something you should take a look at.”
​
Handling paperwork and basic orientation takes most of the morning. I manage to get morning-and-evening classes to share my time off with the lambchops. That only works because most people don’t want evening classes. Evenings are for partying if you’re a student, so late classes are mostly for adults with jobs.
I end up standing around nervously by the entrance to the university building, counting down the time. I watch people passing by as calmly as I can, still checking my pad every minute or so for any messages and jerking my head around like a bird at anything that’s even a bit of a shade of gray.
I can tell the alien girls are coming even before I see them, since everyone is glancing curiously their way. I straighten my back and shift my weight from foot to foot. I feel like a dog at an airport, waiting for the return of its owner.
They’re looking around as I see them, and Thiva’s the first to spot me. Her ears perk up and Vilek immediately looks to me as well. As they speed up into a sprint, I’m a bit surprised to see them both wearing clothes. Both girls are wearing custom boots made to fit their digitigrade legs.
They’re both wearing coveralls, Vilek’s in a hospital teal and Thiva’s in a bright red. It’s been explained to me that many at the university have a student culture of wearing colorful coveralls that they decorate with patches, called ‘Ovve’, and that Thiva’s red marks her as a mechanical engineering student. Vileks’s teal, presumably, mark her as studying healthcare. Or specifically therapy, perhaps. I need to look it up.
Seeing as computer science students are apparently expected to wear pink ones, I’m thinking I might sit out this grand and colorful tradition. On the other hand according to the Internet it’s an informal rule to cut a bit from the ‘Ovve’ of anyone you’ve exchanged body fluids with and patch it onto your own. So I suppose I could be convinced.
The girls collide with me, thankfully gently. Their tails are wagging like crazy out of the back of their outfits, and they’re clinging to me. I inhale deeply, take in the distinct and pleasant scent of my cute Venlil friends, and cling to them as well. My fingers stroke through their thick fur, and I hear their happy wordless bleating and whistling.
I close my eyes and enjoy the moment, not giving one whit for the passersby watching the scene.
“Oh, girls, I-” Vilek punches me in the arm unexpectedly. The right one, thankfully.
“Ow!”
Even though her ears signal joy and her tail is wagging, her voice is still stern. “We learned what ‘lambchops’ means!”
Ah.
​
The student flat isn’t very expansive, but it’s larger than the one we shared on Venlil Prime. Probably because humans are just plain larger.
It’s currently sparsely furnished. There’s a couple of desks, a couch, a table, a beanbag chair, and a bunk bed. I take my shoes off in the hallway, as the girls do. When in Lund.
They help me unpack. There’s not a lot, but they had already set aside a little corner for me. I’ve got the beanbag chair instead of a desk, which I’m perfectly fine with.
I sigh and lean against a wall briefly. “I’m… so glad to be home.”
Thiva turns her head a little, flicking an ear in question. “You missed being on Earth?”
I chuckle, and pinch her ear-tip lightly. I lean over to give Vilek one too, for fairness. It earns me a pair of bleeps from them, and I go on the offensive to rub their heads and scratch their ears and do everything I can to make the lambchops squeal happily. They thankfully oblige. “I missed being with my herd.”
My friends are safe, they’re here with me, and we all have paths forward. I’ve fought and bled for this opportunity. I’m allowed to enjoy it.
I sit down on the couch with a quiet groan of satisfaction, finally getting to put my cane aside. “So, girls… how are you feeling about Earth so far?”
They grumble immediately. “It is so freaking cold!” “Snow! We do not like the snow!”
“It’s only for another couple of… Months.” They’re undressing right in front of me. I am left briefly stunned.
Oh right they don’t normally wear clothes.
Reminding myself of that doesn’t help. The context is what it is. They’re my best friends and my two favorite girls and they’re stripping naked before me.
My brain fails me. “…Okay, so, uhh. Um. Hmmh. Huh.”
Mother of God there’s nothing different! They’re naked. They’re always naked! It hasn’t been a problem on VP, it won’t be a problem here! Man up!
I take a deep and steadying breath and resolutely refuse to think of patches of white and red on a set of pink coveralls, with pink patches on their matching ones.
“I guess we should… buy some food? And some clothes for me to use? And…”
And they turn their heads toward me, staring at me with one eye each. Side by side. Making me feel like I'm being stared down by a single creature. One with forward-facing eyes. And an orange blush.
They take slow steps closer. Thiva speaks first with an amused lilt to her voice. “Or maybe this is a good time to talk. You know, about the house rules.”
Vilek speaks as well, moving her tail sinuously in a teasing motion. “Relationship statuses.”
Thiva comes in with the finisher, practically purring. “Sleeping arrangements.”
Ah.
​
---
And that's the end! Thank you all so much for reading, and check the comments for a small request from yours truly!
[First] [Previous]

i don't know if it does this to anyone else but it makes me want to go find a large tree and sit underneath it
The place where I live, there is about a 3 mile hike in the desert (reminds me of the Waste since I live in the Southwest US) and there are cactus and brush, lizards and snakes that are often found on the trail. But when you get to the end of the 3 mile hike, there is a lone pine tree, far in the distance, completely out of place among the desert surrounding it.
I always think of that tree when I read this scene.

This was Ever. At the Helm of Chef Duffy, formerly of (***) Grace, you step into an awe inspiring space worthy of the finest restaurant; complete with $1,000 chairs, and hanging food from the ceiling. You grab your first drink from anywhere in the opening hallway.
You are served 10 courses throughout the evening. Everything ranged from Good, to very good, but nothing blew me away in the sense that I’ll be thinking about it in a month. Duffy’s signature, the liquid nitrogen frozen hamachi curls, was definitely the stand out dish of the evening. Props also go to the rabbit, A5, and final dessert course. The caviar was underwhelming and a very small portion compared to other Michelin restaurants, whilst the asparagus and scallop were fine. Evening could have used two more courses as well.
Service left something to be desired compared to other (**), which is where I felt the experience felt flat. Ever seemed like 1.5 star cooking, in a 3 star building, with .75 star service. Everything was very rugged. Waiters didn’t transition smoothly, they didn’t sync with each other properly, dishes came not in sync, or at the wrong moment while the somollier was still talking. Chairs wouldn’t be pulled open, and there wasn’t the attention to detail I’ve seen at many other places. There was no continuity of service, and general flow of the evening just felt very very VERY rough. It’s like they knew everything they had to do but the execution was off. The service captain, however, was wonderful.
Overall, the potential in this space is massive. Add 1 or 2 standout dishes + cleanup the service and I can see a third star. Until then, would probably reccomend a skip (for now).

Misc:
- The Back Story Of The Heian Era & The 3 Great Vengeful Spirits.
- Ainu and Itadorimaru connection
- Nuances of Curse energy
- Answer between what comes first, soul or body?
- Reformation of the jujutsu society (as gojo killed the higher-ups)
- Merging with Tengen
- The “bomb” Kenjaku was supposed to drop
- What was Yuki's domain
- How to heal soul damage
- What is Gakuganji going to do with the information about creating cursed corpse
- Importance of Takaba in this story
- Result of Culling Games and stopping the merging
- If the merger does happen, how will the final curse look like
- Political and world fallout of Culling Games, the revelation of Cursed Spirits, Sorcerers, etc(possible for the epilogue)
- The whole plot with the soldiers and everything whatever happened with them lmao
- Wtf happened to Remi?
- (VERY IMPORTANT) Is geto coming back? Because he reacted when Gojo called out to him during sealing
- Did we ever find out who the other traitor is other than Mechamaru (it is hinted it is one of the higher-ups, maybe even Tengen????)
- Can toji possibly be immortal if we keep summoning the soul information in different bodies
- Also does the granny techniques bring back a dead person?
- Did maki also kill furudante ? i hope he didn't get caught in the crossfire. he was my favorite character in the entire series
​
Sukuna:
- His cursed technique and conditions to activate it
- Why is he still look like Megumi, why he doesn’t convert back to his old body
- Did he defeat Maharoga and other Shikigami off screen
- Why is Sukuna the “fallen angel”
- Can sukuna use megumi domain
- Can sukuna heal soul damage ? hinted by maki when they fought “can he heal damage by soul liberation blade?”
- The cut on his finger after the bath
- What did yorozu give to sukuna and how does he know about love
​
​
Gojo:
- How did gojo escape from the prison realm (kenjaku hints at it in chapter 221)
- Gogo clan other members
- What is he going to do with the last remaining finger?
- Lime green new technique
- What did gojo do between 19th nov and 24th dec
- How did Gojo react when he saw Choso (because Gojo saw him killing people in Shibuya)
- Does Gojo know his dead boyfriend is Yuuji's daddy
​
​
Kenjaku:
- How is he going to end the culling games?
- His relation to tengen
- What was his goal when he created Yuji
- Backstory/origin of motivation
- Why did he say he does not remember what regret feels like
​
​
Tengen:
- Reggie said that tenges lied about the purposed of the culling games (so why did he lie)
- Relationship to Kenny and sukuna
​
​
Yuji:
- Cursed technique? Getting Sukuna’s technique
- Possible body swapping
- Does he know about Kenjaku being his father? His backstory with his parents
- How does Yuji's grandfather cursing him result in the end of the manga
- Black flash on command?
- Sukuna said to Yuji “that brat back then” what did he mean? He also said “kenjaku is sure twisted”
​
​
Megumi:
- Dead or alive?
- Finding out toji is his father
- Final shikigami
- Full/completed domain (imagine how op maharoga would be in a completed domain)
​
​
Nobara:
- Dead or alive
- -Nobara full backstory(there is an implication that something serious has been left out in chapter 63, Accomplices)
​
​
Nanami:
- What Ino has to say about Nanami
​
​
Todo:
- Current condition
​
​
Panda
- Third core
​
​
Miwa:
- What was she doing in the colony (follow up)
- What will she do with all the fame after soloing Sukuna
​
​
Yuta:
- Conditions to activate the technique
- Domain
​
​
Kashimo:
- His one-time CT
- Kashimo vs Sukuna
​
​
Higaruma:
- “im going to turn myself in” and then how did he end up with the gang?
​
​
Yuki:
- Research on the soul
​
​
Angel:
- Relation to Sukuna the “fallen angel” and her vendetta against him
​
​
Uraume:
- How are they still alive? They seem to have the same body they had in the Heian era.

When you're rich enough, you get perks you can only dream of. Literally. But somehow, my paradise turned into hell.
Have you ever had a dream so amazing, you wished you could relive it? Explore it? Relish it? Well, when you're rich enough, you don't have to wish. It's a reality thanks to dream banks. You may have heard of them and their pricy services, which include recording, saving, and projecting dreams.
For example, if you'd like a dream recorded, you can book one of their luxurious suites for the night, where the dream techs will fit you with a special helmet and leave you to rest. The next morning, they'll replay the recorded dream for you via the helmet and ask if you want to shell out the extra bucks to save it. If you don't, they'll delete it and you can pay to book for another time to try again.
If you do decide to save it, you must select an item within the dream that will act as the exit key. (This will come in handy during projections.) While still wearing the helmet, you must touch the item, and the dream techs will label those electric signals as the key.
Afterwards, everything is saved under your name, and you can now relive your dream at any time by booking a suite for three, five, or eight hours. Unlike recordings, during projections, you don't have to wait for sleep to come. After you enjoy a snack of your choice, the helmet is fitted and you're immediately transported to your dream, where you have free will and can enjoy it at your leisure. And if you ever need to leave early, this is when you touch the key, which will shut down the helmet right away.
In my case, the key is the stegosaurus leather rug I have hanging on the wall of my throne room. I never have a reason to touch it otherwise, making it a perfect key. I've also never had to touch it. Experiencing life as an all-powerful, worshipped being who lives on my own planet and hunts dinosaurs in my spare time, I relished my dream to the last second.
Yes, the fees are exorbitant, but at the time, I felt it was worth it. The techs were skilled, the system was sleek, and the dreams were private. Each could only be unlocked by the unique brainwaves of the dreamer.
Or so I thought.
My literal nightmare began when I booked a five-hour projection on a rainy Friday afternoon. After taking a sip of champagne to wash down the cranberry brie bites, I settled into the cool silk sheets with a smile. My usual dream tech smiled back as she fastened my helmet, and the last thing I heard was her wishing me pleasant dreams before I was plunged into darkness.
I waited for the split-second adjustment from reality to the dream world, and my confusion grew when I didn't find myself on my throne surrounded by fawning gods and goddesses.
Instead, I found myself in the middle of an endless street. Alone. There were no cars, no life, not even wind. Towering street lamps lined the sidewalk as far as I could see, arcing over the road and tinting everything an eerie red. Behind them, identical buildings stood side by side, silent, their dark, narrow windows hollow.
My pulse spiking, I whipped around. The other direction was just as endless. Uneasy confusion prickled beneath my skin. This had to be someone else's dream. The techs must have made a mistake. I didn't know how it was possible, but there was no other explanation.
My unease piqued as my situation sank in. I was in a stranger's dream and I didn't know the key. I was stuck here until my five hours ran out. Or until the techs realized their mistake. I was ready to rip them a new one once I was out, but until then, I had no choice but to wait.
I studied my surroundings with a frown before I walked over to the curb and sat down, and that was when I noticed I couldn't feel anything. I also noticed I was naked. It didn't matter. There was no one here, and none of this was real anyway.
Time passed, and I tried to distract myself from my nettled offense by humming, but no sound came out. Sitting up, I took a deep breath and screamed. Not even a squeak was heard. I slapped my hand against the ground. Nothing. This place was like a black hole of the senses.
Sighing, I lay down on my back and stared at the red light above me, wondering if I could fall asleep in a dream. I tried, but the more I wished to escape this silent, crimson prison, the more it seemed to come into focus. Soon, the utter lack of noise and movement grew from slightly unnerving to completely intolerable.
There was no way I could wait. I'd go insane. I had to get out of here. I had to find the key.
Jumping up, I ran to the nearest building and wrenched open the door, and a pitch black void greeted me. I gasped, and gasped again as it felt like my very breath was being suctioned out of my lungs. Panicking, silent wheezes rattled in my chest as I struggled to yank myself out of the vacuum, jerking my limbs and bucking my body until I toppled over backwards on the sidewalk.
Gulping in fitful breaths, I scrambled to my feet and ran down the road without looking back, my wide eyes scanning the horizon for salvation. I just wanted out of here, but the hellish path stretched on forever, making me feel like I was running in place as every identical building and street lamp mocked me. Even my silent stomping and mute panting served to draw insanity closer.
And then, a person showed up.
There, in the distance.
With my hope spurred, I raced towards them, desperate. I didn't care who they were. I needed to break this monotony.
As I got closer, hope morphed to confusion, and then to despair. The person was me. It was a mirror, propped up across the entire street.
Sweat-soaked, I slowed down to a jog before I stopped right in front of my reflection. It was me alright, naked, exhausted, and frustrated. But the eyes, something was off about the eyes. With an anxious frown, I stepped closer, staring into them, and they stared back …
… until they glanced behind me.
I gasped and jumped away, and so did my reflection … before it glanced over my shoulder again.
A chill trickled down my spine. My reflection had nothing behind it but the empty street, so I gulped and turned around, and my mouth fell open in a silent scream as a lovecraftian behemoth barrelled its way towards me. With its slick shell gleaming red beneath the lights, it slammed down one spiny tentacle after the other as its five mouths bared their dripping, concentric fangs.
Drenched in undiluted horror, tremors gripped my body as I stumbled away until my back was against the mirror. I knew death was a foolproof key in a dream, but I didn't know if this creature would kill me right away or leave me to suffer in agony until my five hours were up.
With it only inches away, I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed myself into the mirror, and my stomach flipped as I fell backwards. I opened my mouth to gasp, but there was nothing for me to draw in. Floating in an airless void, I flailed and thrashed, my wild eyes scanning the darkness for answers as I began to spin around.
Although death would free me, one of my greatest fears was suffocating. On one of my weightless rotations, a red, glass cube passed me by, and I grabbed it, hoping it was a breathing device. I brought it close to my face, and I gawked at what it held within.
Me.
Surrounded by identical buildings and red street lamps while a lovecraftian behemoth tore me apart.
Horrified, I threw the cube as far as I could and increased my efforts to escape this void. Yet all the flailing and thrashing was for naught as the darkness revealed no end. My eyesight began to go red as my lungs spasmed, and I clawed at my throat as my pulse stuttered in my chest.
The red kept growing and growing until it engulfed my entire vision, and I gave up. There was nothing to do but face my fears and die. With my straining heart lumbering, I let myself go limp as I stared at the red and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I wasn't dying.
In fact, I could breathe just fine.
Frowning, I opened my eyes, and intense unease spread through my core. Above me, a red moon had taken up the entire sky, each one of its craters crystal clear, like eyes watching me. I turned my head away, and I realized I was in a park, laying down on the grass. Sitting up, I blinked in surprise at the pond right beside me, its opaque water reflecting the moon's red light. Ducks were swimming in a circle across its surface, their movements smooth with nary a splash.
Trees surrounded us, so dense I couldn't tell when one began and the other ended. It was mind-numbingly quiet here as well, and I still couldn't feel anything or make any noise, but at least the ducks were moving. This place seemed more tolerable than the last, and I was willing to wait out my five hours here. I hoped at least an hour had passed already, but with dreams, one never knew. All I knew was that I was too exhausted to search for the key. And too scared. I didn't know whose dream this was, but they had to be masochistic if they saved this nightmare.
Curling up beside the pond, I worked on calming myself down as I watched the ducks swim in their systematic circle over and over and over. I tried counting the rotations the way one would count sheep, but that still didn't lull me to sleep. I wished I'd chosen the three-hour projection, but at least I hadn't chosen the eight-hour one.
Distorted circus music crackled around me and I jolted up, my heart ricocheting in my chest. There was finally sound, but the last thing I wanted to hear was a cliche horror movie soundtrack. Gulping, I looked around. The music was coming from the trees, and my stomach dropped when I spied a shadow behind one of them. Then another. And another. They emerged into the crimson moonlight, and my blood turned to ice.
Clowns.
I whipped around, trembling to the rhythm of my frantic pulse. They were surrounding me. Dozens of them. As classic as any clown could be. Colorful clothes, big shoes, silly hair, exaggerated makeup. I wasn't scared of clowns, as long as they were where they belonged. And they didn't belong here, staring at me with big, empty eyes and yellow, toothy grins.
I tried to convince myself that they weren't dangerous since they didn't have weapons and didn't seem monstrous, but when they took a step closer in unison, I jumped back, nearly falling into the pond. The ducks remained oblivious, still swimming in their circle. The distorted circus music got louder, and my hair stood on end when I saw the grass ripple in front of each clown. They were sending something my way through the ground.
Panicking, I jumped into the pond, and I screamed as I sank right in. There was no bottom. There was no water either. The pond was filled with red, translucent spheres, each the size of a tennis ball. Still able to breathe, I began swimming through the spheres with clumsy breast strokes, just hoping I could end up as far away from the clowns as possible.
After swimming for what felt like enough time, I tried to swim up, until I realized I had no idea which direction I was facing. Remember a trick for those stuck in avalanches, I spat, but my glob of saliva just hovered in front of me. Before panic could set in, I noticed what looked like an office desk floating amidst the spheres in the distance. After blinking a few times to make sure it was really there, I swam towards it, desperate for any change in my situation.
It was an office desk, a wooden one with carved borders and locked drawers. Tucked beneath it was a stool, and the moment I pulled it out and set it under my ass, an office replaced the red spheres.
I grunted as gravity returned, and I looked around in bewilderment at the cluttered bookshelves and grimy floors. Dust was floating everywhere, highlighted by the red light filtering in through the blinds behind me. I jumped as a clock hanging on the wall chimed. Its glass was too dirty for me to tell the time, but I was glad I could hear. I coughed at the dust. And I could make noise. I dusted my hands. And I could feel. I could even smell, which I now wished I couldn't as I wrinkled my nose at the faint stench of rot.
After failing to read the spines of some of the books on the shelves, I studied the shadowy corners of the room. A slack-jawed skeleton hung in the far end, and a faded poster with anatomical diagrams curled off a cupboard. This had to be a doctor's office. Was the creator of this dream a doctor?
A silhouette slid in front of the frosted glass door, and I gulped as the knob began to turn. A hand reached in, gripping the edge one finger at a time, and my heart dropped as I knew this horror cliche was only going to be followed by another. Having no time to think, I slid off the stool and crouched beneath the desk, my hand over my mouth as cobwebs clung to me.
Praying spiders wouldn't swarm me, I peeked through a small slit in the wood, and I froze when an emaciated nurse walked in the room. Layers upon layers of blood coated her scrubs, so much so that I couldn't even tell what color they originally were. She had no shoes. No feet either. Just ankle stubs, and my stomach turned as I heard bone clunk against the tiles.
A surgical mask covered her face, as bloodstained as her scrubs, and grimy lab goggles obscured her eyes. I was grateful, because judging by the pus leaking out of her scabbed, balding scalp, I didn't want to know what her face looked like. The closer she got, the stronger the stench of rot became, and I struggled to keep myself from retching.
She stopped halfway into the room, and I gawked at her hands. They were transforming. Her fingers elongating into razor-edged blades. She then began to hunch over, and I cringed as her spine cracked and popped until she was as bent as a candy cane, her face staring at her pelvis.
As if that wasn't unsettling enough, her head creaked as it spun around 180 degrees, now facing the front, upside down. Right after, her arms shot to the ground, and I watched with increasing dread as she bent them at the elbows and wrists so they flanked her head like distorted T-Rex arms.
She spread her fingers out and took a few more steps towards me, and I held my breath, hoping she couldn't hear my rabid heart or smell my fear. Her ankle bones clicked and clacked against the tiles as she made her way around the desk, and I cowered as my frantic eyes searched for a weapon. I found none, but I did spy a brass button beside my head.
With her legs now an arms distance away, I had nothing to lose as I jammed my thumb into the button. The back of the desk flung open, and I scrambled to my feet and dashed out from my hiding place, screaming in response to the nurse screeching behind me. Bursting through the door, I held up my fists and began punching like a maniac in fearful anticipation of a horde of nurses swarming me.
Except I was no longer in a hospital. I was in an outdoor parking lot. Alone. And judging by the roiling red clouds, a storm was brewing. After a second to collect my bearings, I dove into the closest car, thankful it was unlocked. The moment I slammed the door shut, lightning blinded me as thunder cracked and the downpour began. Sighing in relief, I tried to shake away my adrenaline, but the bloodshot eyes in my rearview mirror reignited my panic.
Before I could react, a belt snapped over my neck, pinning my head back against the headrest. With a frightened wheeze, I clawed at the leather, and I flinched as hot, heavy breath wafted across my ear. Gagging at the putrid smell, I reached over, desperate to scratch my strangler's face or poke their eyes out.
I felt their greasy hair and tried to pull it, but my fingers refused to hold on. I tried again and again, using my nails for purchase, but the strands just kept slipping out of my weak grip. Shifting focus, I tried to claw at their eyes, but it felt as though I was moving through molasses as my hand slid down their face. Once I felt a wet, bulbous eye, I tried to scratch it, but I didn't have enough strength to do anything damage.
My frustration clashed with my terror and I tried to punch them, but my arm swung back in slow motion and merely prodded a stubbly cheek. Tears welled in my eyes as I writhed and gasped, my strangler's laugh adding insult to injury. Despite knowing death will set me free, fear and self-preservation rummaged through my mind, searching for a solution. And they found one.
Hoping I had enough grip and energy, I reached down and found the reclining lever. Wrapping my fingers around it tight, I jerked it up and heaved my body back, and I gulped in a deep breath as I fell backwards, the belt now slack. Not at all prepared to face my attacker, I slipped out from beneath the belt, flung open the door, and zoomed out into the storm.
Sheets of rain obscured my vision, but not enough for me to see that the keys were left inside a red convertible. After making sure no one was hiding in the back, I jumped in, started the engine, and took off, the wheels squealing through the puddles. A sole street curled down a hill, and I took it, adrenaline pumping in waves through my quivering body.
This rush was a confusing mixture of exhilaration and apprehension. I wanted out, but I wasn't giving up. I made it this far, and I was going to survive every cliche this masochist dreamed up. Sharks? Snakes? Zombies? Bring it on. And afterwards, I was going to detail every single trial and tribulation I went through as I sued the dream bank for all the trauma they caused me.
Up ahead, the road curved, and I gasped as it ended in a cliff. I slammed the breaks, but they didn't do anything. Breaking out in a cold sweat, I slammed them again and again as I yanked the hand break as far as it would go. The car refused to slow down, and I cursed myself for not anticipating this cliche. In a move of desperation, I swerved, but it wasn't enough as the car careened over the edge and took me with it.
My heart hung in my throat as I hung on to the steering wheel, my knuckles white, my screams frozen in my lungs, the raindrops like needles. An endless body of water spread below me, and I knew sharks were my next challenge. I screwed my eyes shut as I awaited the inevitable plunge …
… and I gasped as the car crashed against the surface.
I lurched forward, and I cried out as I bashed my forehead against the wheel. Groaning, I leaned back, my ears ringing as I looked around, disoriented. I was still in the convertible, but we were right side up, having crashed into the concrete wall of an indoor garage. Blood trickled down my face and I reached up, only to feel around my head in shock.
I was wearing the helmet.
Why was it in the dream?
Or had I made it out?
I looked down. I wasn't naked. My pyjamas were plastered to my sweat-soaked skin. I was out. I looked around at the broken glass and mangled metal in confusion. But if I was finally out, why was I in a car and not between silk sheets?
I removed the helmet, and a yell from behind made me jump. I turned to see one of the dream techs running towards me. Was she always that skinny? And why were her scrubs red instead of the usual blue?
She made it to me, panting as she took the helmet out of my hands, and I wrinkled my nose at her unpleasant breath. She said I'd had a nightmare and began sleepwalking, and I'd left the dream bank and stole a car from their underground parking before she triggered a wake-up signal in the helmet, which made me crash.
I stared at her, not believing what I was hearing. I told her I'd booked a projection, not a recording, and she gave me a concerned frown and claimed the opposite. Anger replaced my confusion, and I called her a liar and accused them of misconduct, and she reminded me that dreams can only be unlocked by the dreamer.
Furious, I cursed at her as I tried to get out of the car, demanding to see my file. She was quick to tell me not to move in case I made my injuries worse as she pulled out her phone and said she was going to call an ambulance.
While I sat there and waited, fuming, I glimpsed my reflection in the dangling rearview mirror. Unease rippled beneath my skin and I sat up, grabbing the mirror and angling it to show my neck.
There was an angry red mark across it.
As though I was recently strangled.
Trembling, I tilted the mirror up.
Cobwebs. Stuck in my hair.
Dumbstruck in utter stupefaction, I scanned the rest of my body. My pyjamas were dirty and there was black under my fingernails, but the rest of my examination was cut short by tinny circus music. A chill jolted down my spine and I whipped my head to face the dream tech. That was her ringtone. She smiled as she answered the call, and I drew back at her yellow, toothy grin.
What was going on? I was out of the dream, I knew I was. Had everything been real? What had the dream bank done with me? Done to me?
Ambulance sirens wailed as they entered the underground parking, and the flashing red lights reflecting off the walls triggered my recent traumas. With terror-fueled adrenaline flooding my veins, I jerked my legs free of the wreck, jumped out of the car, and booked it, the dream tech's yells merging with the screeching sirens behind me.
SR

Heads up! This story is both unpolished and unfinished, and posted here only for the sake of not letting my work go entirely to waste. If you want to continue the story yourself, feel free to do so.
Credit for The Nature of Predators goes to u/spacepaladin15.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: September, 2136)
At first, we assumed it to be an Arxur weapon, but we had plenty of time to get a more detailed look at the object intersecting our FTL trajectory. A mass of energy, far more than a star could emit, yet giving off no light. Gravitational pull was intense, but completely wrong for a black hole. Maybe the remains of a massive warp core accident? Whatever it was, it was directly in our path.
We had ample time before our collision, and nothing we could do. Our course was set, and escape vessels couldn’t be launched during an FTL jump. All that was left was to wait, and pray for a mercifully quick death that we all knew was unlikely. We built our starships to withstand direct assault from Arxur warships. Our deaths would be both inevitable and slow.
I was away from the refugee’s quarters, on the bridge. I couldn’t bear to watch pups cry in terror, as their parents tried hopelessly to ease their fear. The bridge was only marginally better. Some of the crew were facing their imminent death with stoicism. Many were praying. Many were crying. I don’t remember what I was doing when it hit, but I was probably crying too.
Then… then…
Pain, agonizing and blinding pain. No screaming. No noise at all. Silence, darkness, death.
Movement. But I couldn’t possibly move myself. Was I carried?
​
My first coherent memories started taking shape next to a fire. I couldn’t see, but the warmth and crackling were unmistakable. I tried to move, only to find myself unmoving. Was I in the wreckage of the ship? I felt no pain. Was I already dead?
“Hey, look who’s finally back in the land of the living. Can you hear me?”
A human. The species that started this whole mess. That attacked our cradle, let the Arxur find an easy target. That taunted us with their “Evacuation” cattle roundups. The disgusting mockery of a voice washed over me, tainting my very soul.
That fire must be to roast my flesh. Does it want my fear, before it kills me? It won’t get a single goddamn word, not so much as a noise.
“You… damn, he must still be out of it. Maybe another stimpak..?”
Cli-hsssss. A stabbing pain in my arm, followed by… relief? My arm twitched slightly, but I couldn’t manage anything more. A rushing sound filled my ears, overpowering the growl on my left until it bore me away to unconsciousness.
—
I woke up on a bed, staring at what must’ve been the ceiling, though all I could see was vague rust-brown shapes in the distance. My body still refused to move. And yet still, somehow, so little pain. Was my nervous system destroyed?
No. Hunger. Brutal, snarling hunger stabbed through my stomach like a dagger. I made a weak noise, remembered where I was, and rapidly forced silence. If it knows I’m awake, it’ll torture me until it lets me die…
“Oh! You— you’re awake again! Can you hear me?”
Don’t make a noise. It might lose interest.
“...No. Dammit. It’s going to starve if it doesn’t fully wake up soon… I can’t afford all these meds for much longer anyway. I’ll just have to… leave this here for it. Maybe it’ll wake again while I’m out.”
And just like that, a rush of movement and it was gone. It worked! I lived… I lived, just so I could starve…
​
By the graces of the protector. Food. I could smell food, just inches to my right. Can I move to pick it up? Can I move my jaw to eat?
Is it a trap? The human must be trying to fatten me up. Or maybe it didn’t leave at all, and is just waiting in the shadows to see if I take the bait. Or… maybe…
Fuck it. I was already good as dead, I could at least die full. I tried moving my arm, but to no avail. My other arm was no better. Maybe I could move my head?
The world shifted around me, a nauseating whirl of muted colors. But that meant my head could move. I could move… the food was still just barely out of reach. I can almost taste it… it’s so close to my nose…
I let out a weak cry of frustration. I couldn’t help myself. Did the human intend for this torture? The frustration became rage, filling my body like a white-hot star until I—
Trembling, my claw grasped the food. Rage and hunger animated my arm, pushing it forward. Whatever this was, it was soft. It smelled heavenly. I brought it up to my face. My vision was just recovered enough to make out its form; a strayu-like pillow drizzled with a sweet glaze. I tore into it like an animal, barely even tasting. I must not have eaten in days.
Gone in seconds, and the hunger was barely sated. But it was enough energy to force movement with. Slowly, unsteadily, I rose to a sitting position. The world threatened to shift away from under me, but I held, trying to get my bearings.
I’m in… some sort of shack. Bare, rusted sheet metal on the walls; clearly an improvised structure. Other than that oddity, the room was surprisingly normal. No blood dripping from cages, no hunting trophies on the walls. A torn up carpet, a beaten-up table and chair, some cabinets, all illuminated by soft rays of light pouring in from a window over the table. And right next to my little mattress… is that more food? Some sort of orange vegetable. Like the sweet strayu, I ate without even tasting.
Much better. I was still starving, but only metaphorically. I could even move my other arm, though my legs were entirely numb and refused to cooperate no matter how much I pushed them. Could I escape by dragging my body with my arms?
No. I was still too weak. I had to count on the human fattening me up a bit more before I could make a break for it.
​
​
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Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Just a hair to the right… and… Now. The interloper, a feral dog that had wandered onto the property, dropped without a sound.
I couldn’t afford to attract any attention, so I’d hastily slapped together a silencer for my pipe revolver. An old oil filter, just small enough to not obstruct the scope I’d hastily tied to the top. The gun looked ridiculous, but it got the job done silently. If I attracted any visitors, my alien guest was as good as dead. Nearly a week after finding it, and it still wasn’t waking up consistently.
Now’s not the time for thought. Focus. Now.
The second dog also dropped. The alpha of the pack still hadn’t noticed anything, a miracle. I lined up one last shot… pulled the trigger, and finally let myself breath. That was way too close. Every day without the fence finished was another day of silent stress.
Putting up a fence was easy enough, but putting up a fence QUIETLY was nightmarishly slow work, constantly punctuated by hiding from any would-be visitors. But these dogs had wandered onto the property without even seeing me. Could they smell the alien? I knew Dogmeat could track injuries from a far greater distance…
Fence should've been up yesterday. Back to work.
I’m running out of barbed wire. And screws. And boards. Can I afford another expedition? What if Dogmeat can’t defend him? Not a chance in hell I’m risking any other group learning about this… although Mama Murphy probably knows anyway, doesn’t she. Maybe the Minutemen can—
No. I can’t risk it. I’ll have to improvise. Maybe I can set up a Tesla arc as defense and leave to raid Sunshine Tidings. Rusted metal sheets don’t make for the best walls, but better than nothing.
The sun was still high, so I had some time if I hurried. As I began gathering supplies, a thought crossed my mind. A Tesla arc was better than nothing, and Dogmeat was formidable enough, but… surely if the alien was in serious danger, it could use some self defense. Those spikes weren’t gonna cut it. Maybe that bastard Kellogg’s old .44 would finally get some use?
I grabbed the .44 revolver, a spare arc trap I’d salvaged from Fort Hagan, and some tools. It would have to do. There was already power hooked up to the shack for heating, so wiring the—
The food’s gone.
Dogmeat didn’t eat carrots, so I knew there was only one culprit. The alien must’ve woken up while I was working. It was back asleep now, but at least it got something down. It wouldn’t starve. Thank god.
…right. If it can wake up, this trap is probably more dangerous to it than any invader. I walked back over to the shed, stowed the Tesla arc and tools, and grabbed a handful of vegetables and a water canteen. If it could stomach food, it needed to start putting on weight now to make up for lost time. This would be a start, at least.
I set the food and water on the table (taking care not to break the digital chimera I’d already laid there), and the gun beside the bed. I knew it could reach to there, without a doubt. Maybe toss in a handful more bullets, too; it’s not like I’d ever be able to make myself use the damn thing. I gave one last glance at the alien curled up on a bare mattress before closing the door and setting out.
—
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Help me. Kay-ut. Ki-ra. Protector. Anyone. It’s right there.
When I heard the human coming, I faked sleep hoping it wouldn’t check. As seconds passed, that hope grew thinner and thinner. Clearly, it could see the food was gone. Not that it needed to figure anything out; it could probably see through my deception just looking at me. Ki-yu, trickster; please, let this work. Let me live a moment longer. Noises all around me. Was it laying out torturous weaponry? Was it getting ready to gut me?
Protector. Please. I don’t want to die.
The noise around me stopped. Had the gods heard my prayers? I dared not check; if the human was still there, and I so much as opened an eye, I was dead. But death failed to claim me, and more noises failed to appear, until I finally worked up the courage to take advantage of my blessing and open my eyes.
The human was gone. I was alive. One more look around the room, to make sure it hadn’t—
A gun. A human weapon, close enough to grab. And ammo…
I knew humans were masters at trapping, at deceiving; such was their nature. I stared at the gun, trying to figure out what the trap was.
But I was tired, and hungry, and every sense told me that this wasn’t a trap, but a loaded gun. An answer to my prayers for safety. I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. I picked it up. It felt solid and weighty in my hands, lending some sense of security to the otherwise hopeless situation. Emboldened, I tried to rise to my feet again.
If I grabbed some of the furniture and stood on my good leg, I could just about stay upright without pain. That would have to do for now. Maybe I could use something in this room as a crutch. A leg of the table might do nicely, if I could—
Food. More food, all over the table. A sprawl of alien vegetables, including that orange one I had earlier. A metal jug, probably filled with water. And… is that a translator?
Curiosity overpowered both my hunger and my fear. On closer inspection, it was indeed a translator, one of the older dedicated units. Wired into… some sort of metal armband with a green flickering screen. The craftsmanship was shoddy; some parts were literally held together with insulated tape. Still, it appeared to be powered on and functional.
If I wasn’t in so much danger… I’d love to get a better look at what the human did with this thing. To wire Federation tech directly into one of their devices, and make it work…
My attention drifted back to the bounty laid out on the table before me. It could all be poisoned, but I’d already eaten the human’s food; what harm could it do to be full?
—
Sweeter than the orange one, but not as filling. Kind of mushy. Now no longer starving, I began to savor my meal slightly more. The green fruit was next, the one nearly the size of my skull. Upon breaking open the shell, it turned out to be pinkish red inside, and so juicy that I didn’t even need the water in the jug.
Bitter, but strangely satisfying. Next was a massive purple flower, which I could only guess was supposed to be food as well. The taste was unpleasant, but it felt bizarrely good to eat. Maybe a medicinal herb?
Why would the human give me a medicinal herb?
I’d been circling around the question for some time now. Why the food? Why the gun? Why the lack of gutting? Even if those supposed “empathy tests” weren’t faked, our species were at war! Did it not know?
Well-fed prey made for better-tasting prey, but a gun did not feed. A translator did not feed. Did it really want to talk to me? I weighed my options.
Option 1: Run. Impossible to do in my current state. Even with a large head start, even with uninjured legs, humans were nothing if not persistent; my odds were not all too favorable. And where would I go, anyway?
Option 2: Hide. Impossible to do in any state. Humans were perceptive and cunning. Nothing short of divine protection would hide me. And again, where would I go afterwards?
Option 3: Fight. I had a loaded gun, but for all I knew it was only there to lure me into a false sense of security. And besides, did I really expect to outfight a predator?
Option 4: Talk. It wasn’t likely, but maybe the human would have some sympathy (or at least fake some sympathy to keep up appearances). I was already injured, and it hadn’t torn me apart already; it clearly had something else in mind. Maybe the translator was involved in its “Something else”?
I didn’t… like that last option, but it seemed a hair better than shooting on sight when the human came back. Maybe I was forsaking the protection of the gods, forsaking my fellow Gojid. But none of the options were without risk, and I had to try something bold if I wanted to survive.
A noise from outside roused me from my thoughts. It’s coming. Time to make your choice.
​
​
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Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Halfway through the outbound trip, I realized I’d forgotten my pip-boy at camp. I’d taken both off, while working on wiring in that translator to the spare one from Vault 81. Having no way of assessing potential injuries simply would not do.
Halfway through the return trip, I realized I’d brought Dogmeat with me instead of leaving him to guard. I managed to make myself move a little faster. That .44 was no guarantee of safety, not if the alien simply couldn’t get up.
Once back, I could at least be sure that nothing happened. No blue blood seeping through the shack’s foundation. I grabbed the pip-boy, ordered Dogmeat to patrol, and prepared to leave before the daylight faded.
That’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Leaving without even checking on your guest?
I was leaving so I could build a fence for its protection, but… a quick check couldn’t hurt. Just to make sure nothing happened, right? Yeah. Sure. I had the time. Though maybe barging straight in wasn’t the brightest idea, not when I had just given it a revolver.
I knocked twice, and tried to lower my voice to a more soothing register. I had no idea if my hacked-together translator abomination would work, so tone was key. Before I could even speak, I heard a wild scrambling from the inside.
“Don’t— please don’t k-kill me, human, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”
…I guess I should be glad the translator worked? What the hell was that?
“I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise. Is it OK with you if I come inside?”
“I… Y-Yes.”
I gave Dogmeat a strong look to stay back, and cracked open the door. The terrified sniveling over the translator couldn’t have prepared me for what met my gaze.
A few weeks ago, I’d heard a heart-wrenching noise while poking around the edge of the glowing sea; a lone radstag doe, torn literally in half by a deathclaw. The beast was scared off by an approaching Vertibird, leaving the doe to wail helplessly until I put it out of its misery.
I had nothing else I could compare the alien to. It was shaking like an aspen leaf, eyes screwed shut and body curled up against the wall. The gun was still technically in its hand (claw?), but pointed at nothing. Just looking at the thing made me feel helpless.
But I brought it back from the brink of death. Soothing terror would surely be easier than saving its life.
—
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Protector. Please, give me strength. It’s… It’s going to…
No. It just wants to talk. Rania, get a hold of yourself.
I cracked open an eye. Tears largely blinded me from the horrifying details of the predator, but the human still towered over me, casting an engulfing shadow over my weakened form. It was all I could do to not further embarrass myself with incoherent pleading.
It seemed to take notice of my fear, crouching down to roughly eye level.
“You’re OK. I’m not going to hurt you, no matter what. What’s your name?”
“R-Rania.” I forced another eye open. The human had moved itself to a chair. Soft daylight illuminated a pair of forward-facing eyes, but no predatory scowl. It had an expression which could be mistaken for solemn sympathy on another species. But it had no reason not to be sincere. There was no other audience, nor anything I could do to escape. Could it really be concerned?
“Rania. My name is Nate. Can you tell me… what you are?”
“Just Nate? I— I thought humans had two names.”
“Oh, uhh… Nathan Dunne. I just go by Nate.”
I noticed a distinct look of confusion engulf the human’s face. Actually, I started to notice a lot of things. It wasn’t just the building and translator that were so clearly improvised. It— Nate’s armor was clearly not standard-issue anything. Nor the weapon on his side, some sort of pistol made seemingly from scrap.
He didn’t look like a UN soldier, nor a civilian of any type. And… just now… did he ask what I was? How could he not know?
“I’m a… I’m a G—Gojid. Does that mean anything to you?”
He shook his head, which even I knew was a human gesture for no. “Not as such. I might need to work out some issues with the translator, though, so don't count on it meaning—”
“The Federation? The cradle? Venlil? Arxur? UN?”
A bizarre shudder passed through Nate. “I know about the UN, though I can’t imagine how they’re relevant now… and no to the rest.”
“I can’t imagine how they’re relevant”!? What the hell could that mean?
“What— what does the UN mean to you?”
Again, that shudder, like a shadow cast over his soul. “They were a global group, trying to keep international peace. When the first Resource wars sparked… they collapsed like a house of cards. 2052. I was 12. After that, it…” he trailed off, before forcing himself to speak. “It all went to hell. As you can see.”
I couldn’t speak for shock. Predators were deceitful by their nature, yet I knew in my heart his words were sincere. It was plain as day, etched across his face. And if so… What the hell? What the hell!? What was any of that?
“As you can see? What do you mean?”
“Can you walk?”
Should I reveal my weakness? I don’t see any way he couldn’t notice my condition by now, so maybe I can get some sympathy for it?
“I… no, I don’t think so…”
“Then I can carry you outside. If you want, I mean. You’ll see what I meant by ‘went to hell’ real quickly.”
He’d have to… oh Protector, if he chose to carry me to slaughter, there’d be nothing I could do. But by this point, my fear was starting to wear thin from weariness. Curiosity was slowly taking the upper hand.
“S-show me.”
And just like that, the world moved out from under me. Instinctively, I grasped the human’s artificial pelt like a pup clinging to its mother. Light flooded my still tearstained eyes. I blinked them clear, and looked out on the world.
​
​
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Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Was this Earth? This couldn’t be Earth. Earth was green, wasn’t it?
Yellow foliage, grey trees. A soft blue sky, intermittently broken up by concrete highways that towered towards the clouds. And on the horizon, the mammoth corpse of a city, a metal carcass that dominated the skyline.
No green. No life. Not even wind. The whole scene was eerily still, seemingly frozen in time.
Unable to make sense of the wider world, my attention drifted closer. A ring of ramshackle fencing, a larger building that I might mistake for a house. An ancient hand-worked water pump. A plot of vegetables. A beast with glistening fangs, bounding towards—
“Dogmeat, no. Stay.”
Somehow, impossibly, the beast heeded the command, slowing down enough for me to get a better look at my imminent demise. Long brown fur with black markings, a swishing tail, a red fabric tied around its neck. Forward-facing eyes gleaming with hideous intelligence. It sat down, tilting its head and letting out a shrill whine.
“You still haven’t met Dogmeat yet, have you— Rania? Rania!”
I couldn’t breathe. It was looking straight at me. I thought the human was terrifying, but this thing made it look harmless. Did Nate not realize the danger he was in?
“N— No! Please… don’t let it…”
“It’s not going to hurt you either. You’re OK. Breathe.” Nate turned slightly, shielding the beast from view. “Here. We can go back inside if he scares you too much.” I managed to choke out an affirmation, and felt darkness overtake me as we rushed back into the relative safety of the shack. The door clicked shut, sealing the beast outside.
“Rania, talk to me. Can you breathe?”
“Please… please don’t feed me to it…”
Nate’s eyes went wide, and his hand rose to cover his mouth. I didn’t know much human body language (aside from the vicious snarl they called a smile), but shock was a constant across almost every species. His eyes cast around the room wildly, his breathing becoming erratic before he managed to regain control.
“Rania, I— I’m not going to feed you to him. You— listen, I won’t even let him in. It’s safe here.” He clearly had something else to say, and silently struggled with the words for a moment before finding his phrasing. “Can you tell me why you’re so scared? What happened before I found you?”
The words took several moments to consciously register, but their effect was immediate. If Nate was trying to startle me out of my fear, he couldn’t have done a better job. When I spoke, it was with startling clarity as fear was replaced by near-indignant confusion.
“How could I not be scared? You’re predators. Even if… even if you really don’t want to kill me, seeing injured prey must be a powerful temptation to your instincts, no? Not to mention the invasion of the cradle; even if you do have empathy, why try to save an enemy species?”
A few moments of stillness, and then I mimicked his previous motion of shock as I realized what I’d done. If he somehow didn’t know the situation with the Gojid before, he did now. Even prey empathy didn’t extend to their sworn enemies. My stupid thoughtless rambling meant I was good as dead.
“Rania.” Nate’s words were slow, soft, and measured. “I don’t know where you come from or what the situation is out… up there. But I can promise you this.” He tapped my shoulder, snapping me out of my terrified reverie and forcing me to pay full attention. “I’m never going to hurt you. I’ll keep it safe here, as long as it takes for you to heal. You can hold me to that.”
“Safe… even safe from that monster..?”
Nate looked deeply hurt, but quickly covered it up with his previous expression of concern. “Yes. I wish I could prove to you that my dog is friendly, but… if he scares you that much, I’ll find somewhere else for him.”
He stole a glance out the window, before turning back to me. “Listen. I need to get some supplies for the fence while there’s still light. I’ll take Dogmeat with me. Do you know how to use this?” He gestured towards the gun, still sitting where I’d carelessly let it slip from my claws minutes earlier.
“Y-yes.”
Apparently seeing straight through my lie, he bent down to show me. “Here, you just need to pull back the hammer. Finger over the trigger, and line up these sights on your target. Only pull the trigger when you know you have your shot.”
Nate stood up, putting one hand on the door before remembering something. “If you start hurting, you can use this.” He set a syringe down on the table. “Just stab wherever it hurts. The pack’ll do the rest for you. I’ll be back at sundown.”
And just like that, he was gone.
​
​
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
For a while, I just sat there, gun in hand and mind slowly dissolving from all the new information weighing it down. But boredom is a powerful thing, and even injured as I was, restlessness started to take hold.
With the beast gone, and gun in hand, I started convincing myself that it might be a good idea to get another look at the land. I needed to know what I had to work with in case… something happened. And I swore I saw a vegetable garden earlier. Curiosity was getting the better of me.
I tested my legs again. One was sore, but shockingly capable. The other was still burning when I applied pressure, and swaddled in bandages. I didn’t particularly feel like knowing what was under there. One leg would have to do. I didn’t need my legs to shoot, after all.
Cautiously, without making a sound, I cracked the door open. Nobody was out there. I took one shaky step. Then another. Inch by silent sore inch, I made my way over to the “house”.
Like everything out here, it was a rough-hewn heap of rusted metal and thick planks of wood. On closer inspection, however, some care had clearly been put into making it insulated. The windows even had glass (albeit covered in dust), rather than the screen mesh in my shack. This must be where the human lives.
What could Nate be hiding from me?
My curiosity burned brighter than the pain in my leg as I ambled towards the door. Unlocked. I peeked inside.
Thick layers of carpet. A fireplace on the wall, a couple paintings. A mattress much better-maintained than mine, pushed up under one of the windows.
No blood dripping from cages. No hunting trophies on the walls. No indication that this was the lair of a predator. If not for the construction materials, it could be mistaken for a house back on the cradle. It even has refrigeration and lights, without a functional power grid. I guess that predatory cunning comes in handy.
I already knew what the fridge must be filled with. I made the decision not to look. It’d be better if Nate didn’t know I was here, and that’d be pretty hard to hide with vomit all over his carpet. I couldn’t stop myself from looking in one of the cabinets, though. The thing was stuffed with cans of food, nearly full to bursting. Some were clearly homemade, some looked like they’d been excavated from the dirt. Maybe they had been.
My good leg was starting to ache, cutting my exploration short. With no small hesitation, I forced myself back outside, back to the shack where I could rest up a bit.
—
I was only steps away from the door when a horrifying sight stopped me in my tracks. Dead animals, three of them. Sickly looking things, but recognizably the same species as that ‘Dogmeat’. I couldn’t look away. Was Nate hunting before I woke up? I stepped closer, morbid curiosity dowsing my pain. I don’t see any bite marks. And… predators don’t eat other predators.
​
Did he kill them to protect me?
Humans were apex predators on their planet. It couldn’t have been self-defense. Nor could it have been hunger, if he’d just left them to rot. So… what other reasons would he have to fight?
I looked closer, my eyes meeting a series of glassy stares. Two of them looked literally skin and bones, but the third looked a lot like Dogmeat. Mouth closed, eyes staring up at the sky unseeing. I almost felt bad for it.
“I wish I could prove to you that my dog is friendly, but… if he scares you that much, I’ll find somewhere else for him.”
Did Nate feel any conflict, having to shoot them on my behalf? Was he going to shoot Dogmeat too, just to ease my fears? He clearly cared about the beast, but if he thought “keeping me safe” meant…
​
No. I wouldn’t let it come to that. I had to overcome my fear. If I wanted to survive, I needed to be stronger.
Reaching out to the body, arm trembling, I ran a claw down its side. It was soft… still warm, too. The thought that this predator had been alive so recently, only to be put down for my safety, managed to elicit a twinge of sorrow. That feeling, hold on to that. Force it through your fear.
My movements got bolder, even exploring the rows of sharp teeth hidden by a clenched jaw. And the soft fur on its underbelly… its long tail, which sat limp and unmoving on the dust. I could feel my fear begin to fade more and more with every second I sat next to the body of this predator.
Eventually, I forced myself to rise. As I walked back to my bed, I stole one last glance backwards. Instead of horrifying predators, all I saw was a family of three. That they had to die so I could live… the thought filled me with a strange sense of shame.
I couldn’t stand there forever. My poor legs wouldn’t allow it. Back to the bed, step by shaky step.
​
​
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Hauling sheet metal was no easy task, even with the help of a dog. It was dark by the time I got home; I’d missed my appointment with the sunset by nearly half an hour.
Supplies stowed away, armor shed, weapons holstered. I rummaged around the fridge for a radstag fry I’d prepared a couple days ago. I didn’t have the energy to cook, and I still needed to check in with Rania. Dogmeat hovered around my ankles, performing his best puppy impression.
These might be the last meals you get to eat with him. I gave a few scraps for his unconvincing performance.
I knew the minutemen would take good care of him, and Valentine could make good use of his nose. But saying goodbye would be a challenge. He’d had my back practically since I escaped Vault 111, and casting him aside felt like nothing short of a betrayal.
The radstag felt like sawdust in my mouth. I tossed the rest of it to Dogmeat, who looked up quizzically rather than digging in. I knew he was wondering why I was being so generous all of a sudden, but I wasn’t ready to break the news to him yet.
—
“Is it OK with you if I come in?”
The voice responding sounded completely different. Still recognizably Rania, but without the terrified quivering I’d expected. “Yes. We need to talk.”
I slipped inside, taking care not to let out too much heat. The figure facing me, while again still undoubtedly Rania, was otherwise unrecognizable. Sitting up straight, unshaking, looking directly at me. A far cry from the poor creature I’d talked to when I left. He (he? I decided to assume it was male, given the voice from the translator) turned his head slightly to the side, leaving one eye to meet both of mine in what I assumed was an intense stare for a person with side-facing eyes.
“Nate.” Rania’s voice was thick with determination. “I’ve decided… I want to get used to Dogmeat. If he’s really as friendly as you say, you shouldn’t have to get rid of him just because of my fear.”
It was all I could do to suppress a full-bodied sigh of relief. If he’s on the fence on this decision, showing my joy would force his hand. I have to stay calm. “Can I ask why?”
“I, uh… I found the other predators. The feral ones. The ones you shot.”
Oh.
“And I… I don’t want you to have to do the same for him. It doesn’t…” The quivering returned in shades, but he continued. “Even if you meant ‘find somewhere else for him’ literally, you shouldn’t have to do that for my sake.”
“I…” I buried my face in my hands, trying to beat back tears. “Thank you. I couldn’t imagine having to… thank you. I can still keep him away from you if you’re scared. You shouldn’t have to live in fear.”
Rania shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Actually, I was thinking I should… you know, get used to him, not just tolerate him from a distance. Face my fear head-on. Just… not tonight, OK?”
For all that quivering, he’s a lot braver than I thought he’d be.
“Yeah. We can get something worked out later. Right now, you need to rest. I’m not just talking about tonight; you’re still injured. Best you can do right now is rest and eat. Which reminds me… The vegetables I brought you earlier. How were they? Any you really liked?”
“Oh, uhhh… yeah, the orange one was really nice. And that red mushy one wasn’t so pleasant; I could eat it anyway to get full, but I’d rather not. Why do you have so many vegetables, anyway?”
Why wouldn’t I? “What do you mean?”
“Well, I thought… predators eat flesh, right? Were you growing them for decoration? I mean… it was nice to see something green and growing out here, but that seems like a lot of effort!”
I couldn’t manage a verbal response to this. All I could give was a baffled stare, which Rania seemed to interpret as a threat.
“I— I didn’t mean to insult you—”
“No, no, it’s just…” I rubbed my eyes. Hauling sheet metal had sapped all my energy, but I couldn’t just let this slide. “I mean… humans aren’t obligate carnivores. Most predators aren’t; even deathclaws forage for mutfruit when they can. Or does the word ‘predator’ mean something else to you?”
It was Rania’s turn for a blank stare, and I began to wonder if I’d just said something insulting. He looked down, mumbling something the translator couldn’t catch, then turned his attention back. “I think we should talk about this later. I need to rest.”
I knew it was a flimsy excuse (I could practically see his mind overheating as he stared back into the ground), but he wasn’t exactly wrong. I bid my farewell with a solemn nod.
—
The moon cast a picturesque blue light through the windows, giving just enough illumination to fend off sleep. On its own, the meager light couldn’t fight off the exhaustion radiating through my muscles, but Rania’s bizarre outburst was also keeping me up.
Not knowing about the history of our planet was perfectly reasonable, given his alien identity. Being so scared of humans despite apparently knowing about them was strange, but nothing a bit of trauma couldn’t induce. But even schoolchildren knew the basics of the food chain, and I found it hard to believe that a space-faring alien race would be less knowledgeable about ecology than the local population of raiders. Even with no education at all, certain things were obvious by observation.
If nothing else, Rania was right about one thing. We will need to talk about this later.
​
​
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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Introduction

As promised, here is a spreadsheet of all of my previous posts, as well as what cards I suggested in each. If this is your first time reading one of these posts, know that I attempt to rate them somewhere from B- to S+, leaving out any card that I didn’t feel was strong enough to earn at least that much. Also, while there are many potential ways to build Dihada, I try to rate them specifically on my own themes as explained in the original post. That being said, please leave suggestions if I’ve left anything out!
Lastly, sorry for this being such a lengthy post. In my defense, “legendary” was a theme in this set, so I think it was to be expected. Without further ado, here are the potential updates we’re getting, first from the main set, and followed by the commander deck additions.

Main Set

[[The Battle of Bywater]]: Was this made for us??? For only three mana we get a board wipe for powerful enemies? And then we’re rewarded for surviving it with our indestructible creatures? Definitely a board wipe we can include. S+ Rating.
[[Boromir, Warden of the Tower]]: One does not simply make a Dihada list without Boromir. Having Vigilance is always useful for a deck with a planeswalker commander, and there are definitely times where your opponents might have to worry about his first ability, but I’m looking more at his second ability. For a deck relying on board wipes to gain advantage, Boromir can help swing that advantage way harder. In fact, that’s why I love Odric, Lunarch Marshal, Agrus Kos, Eternal Soldier, and Avacyn’s Memorial (or Avacyn herself). Push that advantage. S Rating.
[[Dawn of a New Age]]: This card seems really cool and can net a ton of value for fairly little resources/risk. Sadly not legendary. A+ Rating.
[[Flowering of the White Tree]]: I’m not sure how this card exists, since it’s a straight buff to pretty much every anthem. I guess it being legendary is supposed to be a downside but let’s be real this is absurd value in a commander deck and is probably going to be a staple in most white commander decks, but especially all Dihada decks since we can grab this from -3. S Rating.
[[Frodo, Sauron’s Bane]]: I largely view 1 drops as unnecessary in Dihada decks, but this is clearly an exception. Three mana for a 2/3 lifelink isn’t great, but considering that the upgrade is instant speed makes it a bit better. Let’s be honest, though, this card is only being considered for the kill condition he has. This card is definitely cool in a deck that has enough ring temptation, but that’s likely not my deck and I don’t see it happening. B- Rating.
[[Gandalf the White]]: I have to admit, even as someone who isn’t a fan of LotR, I think I would find it difficult not wanting to play him if I were to obtain him. But is he good? I think so. I don’t think he really benefits from being in my deck too much, and is similar to how I felt about Elesh Norn, Mother of Machines. However, the Flash aspect is very interesting, and can change how a game plays. By using Dihada’s +2 on him, you are able to avoid enemy board wipes, since Gandalf will survive them and then you can flash out legendaries before your turn. I don’t know if that’s truly worth the slot, but he at least earns strong consideration for a sideboard, if you have one. B rating.
[[Rosie Cotton of South Lane]]: My deck doesn’t focus heavily on token creatures, but it does contain a decent amount of treasure tokens, specifically with our commander. Back in the Phyrexia: All Will Be One post I mentioned the play I’d most prefer with Mondrak being to +2 to defender her followed by a turn five Mondrak into a -3 from Dihada. I never specified what creature I’d want to defend Dihada for this play because I didn’t think it mattered much. Suddenly Rosie Cotton enters the picture and we have a potential 12/12 indestructible Mondrak. But even without Mondrak, she works very well with our commander. S- Rating.
[[Samwise the Stouthearted]]: Not a reanimation card, but not too far off. Yes, putting a card into your hand as opposed to the battlefield is much worse and not really our focus, but I like it because it’s legendary and because it says “permanent card,” meaning it can return most of the things we play. There’s even a world in which we let Dihada die and use Samwise to return her to our hand as to avoid commander tax. Getting him from a -3 means the table will know about him and be weary about losing value to you, which is solid deterring. B+ Rating.
[[Tale of Tinuviel]]: This does a lot of things the deck likes, but I don’t think the card is good enough to take the slot of a better reanimation card, such as Invasion of Tolvada. Besides, the reanimation cards we really want are either legendary or can be cast from the graveyard like Unburial Rites so we can dump it with Dihada without worry. B- Rating.
[[War of the Last Alliance]]: WotC seem to have realized that they’ve printed a lot of legendary legendary-support, and while this is great for us, perhaps it’s also good to print a lot of non-legendary legendary-support, and this is a prime example. TWO tutors? I’d run it even without that last chapter, but I can’t complain. The fact that you can search up both Olivia and Junji and get your reanimation loop going just by playing this card is wonderful. Or you can search for Magda so you can instead search for an artifact like Avacyn’s Memorial. There’s even a world in which you search up Aurelia, the Warleader to play on the turn of that last chapter and kill two people with overwhelming damage. Despite not being legendary, this gets an easy S- rating from me.
[[Isildur’s Fateful Strike]]: Legendary instants and sorceries can be difficult to cast, but probably not for a legendary-themed deck like Dihada. I like to play a few destruction effects but I usually like to have options as opposed to creatures only. That being said, you can grab this from a -3, so it’s hard to complain. The hand limiting effect isn’t bad if it’s done pretty early I suppose, or to counter a large hand (remember that it’s an instant). My biggest problem with this card is actually the flavor. It looks like you’re limiting their “hand” to “four” because you’re cutting off the ring finger, but the art (and movie) clearly show multiple fingers getting sliced off. Weird. Anyway, S- Rating.
[[Lobelia Sackville-Baggins]]: The best thing about playing Dihada is having access to way more cards than anyone else. This card helps this advantage by letting you play more of those cards. Save her for a rainy day and suddenly you’ve got a bunch of treasure, which at the very least can be used for commander tax. Not bad. B+ Rating.
[[Nasty End]]: Again, Dihada’s -3 is usually powerful enough that this is unnecessary, so I wouldn’t put this in my own deck. That being said, there are plenty of non-legendary cards worth drawing, too, so it’s nice that we aren’t forced to discard them. I would probably save this for if my own creature was about to be destroyed anyway to squeeze that extra bit of value from it. B- Rating.
[[One Ring to Rule Them All]]: Self-milling isn’t exactly a bad thing for us, but destroying all nonlegendary creatures is really why we want to play this card. That being said, there are other legendary-themed decks, not to mention that Commanders are all legendary, so I don’t like this effect over general destruction. It’s why I don’t play Urza’s Ruinous Blast, too, and at least that card is grabbable by -3. B Rating.
[[Sauron, the Necromancer]]: I am not a fan of exiling the cards I’m attempting to loop back onto the battlefield, so I can’t say I want to play this card, but I can’t ignore it either. If you’ve got enough Ring temptation in the deck, then keeping the token is nice, but the risk seems unnecessary to me. B- Rating.
[[Witch-king of Angmar]]: This thing’s play pattern seems sick in Dihada. The first and most obvious thing is that it has Flying, which is always welcome, and 5 power to make that keyword a serious threat. The second ability is pretty great for us, too, since it deters people from attacking us (always useful in multiplayer), and should someone actually attack you, not only does it hurt them but it benefits us by increasing our Ring temptations. Lastly, the cherry on top, it can become indestructible! Any legendary card with indestructible capabilities is sure to grab my attention since it can survive my board wipes without requiring a +2 from Dihada, but this also allows it to survive most targeted removal, which people will want to use in order to remove his deterring from the situation. And is it costly to make him indestructible? Not when you have Dihada as a planeswalker and plenty of value cards in the deck. In fact, discarding a card can sometimes benefit us with our reanimation theme. TLDR Literally everything about this card is good for us. S+ Rating.
[[Eomer, Marshal of Rohan]]: Additional combat phase potential on a solid statline card. With Sauron, the Lidless Eye, and Gandalf, White Rider, this set has a decent amount of support for aggression, especially for any Token variants. A+ Rating.
[[Gloin, Dwarf Emissary]]: I put this in a similar category as Mahadi, Emporium Master, and Gadrak, the Crown-Scourge. They’re three drops that can get you treasure, and this is good for us, although I would say that Gloin has much slower potential than the others. So why play him? He’s a Dwarf, and if you’re running Magda, there are definitely going to be games where Gloin gets going. And the goad ability isn’t terrible. B Rating.
[[Rising of the Day]]: As I’ve been saying, I hope to test my Haste cards soon. To reiterate, haste is a great option to follow up board wipes to keep aggression going. The fact that this both gives haste and buffs attackers makes it a pretty solid option for the Token variant. I really wish this were legendary itself, though. B Rating.
[[Spiteful Banditry]]: Not much to say about this. Red Meathook Massacre is obviously very strong, even with its advantages. For instance, the damage won’t kill our indestructible creatures while Meathook could, and treasure has synergy with a lot of the cards in our deck. But Meathook is legendary, which probably makes it better, but why the hell am I choosing one in the first place? Sure it’s a tight deck but surely it has room for both. S Rating.
[[There and Back Again]]: This is not a legendary card, and I don’t think I would call this legendary-support, either. But I look at those 14 treasures and think about all the things I could cast after a Dihada -3, or even being able to pay for more commander tax. The problem is fitting it into the deck. B- Rating.
[[The Balrog, Durin’s Bane]]: A huge threat in any deck, it’s a 7/5 haste that will be difficult for many decks to block, and even if they do, that’s okay. But none of this is particularly Dihada-related, so why play him? The cost reduction works with treasure tokens, my dudes. S- Rating.
[[Eowyn, Fearless Knight]]: This card hurts my brain. It has midrange stats, a control effect, and aggro potential, so it could probably be put into most decks I imagine, and ours is no exception. In most cases, hitting a commander is the best option, but there are definitely exceptions to avoid, but this in no way devalues the card. S Rating.
[[King of the Oathbreakers]]: I’m not playing many spirits so this is another card I’m not playing, but not necessarily bad in Dihada decks. There are some good legendary spirits, most importantly Agrus Kos, Eternal Soldier for the spreading of Dihada’s +2, but don’t sleep on Hofri Ghostforge as support for this kind of strategy if you choose to include it. Weirdly, he activates even if targeted by your own spells. I’m…not sure how that’s relevant, but go wild. B- Rating.
[[Lotho, Corrupt Shirriff]]: With the treasure we get from Dihada and friends, casting two spells a turn even with a potentially expensive curve can be quite doable. For us, Lotho replaces one of the treasures we might be spending to do so, And don’t forget we usually have large hands from -3s so you don’t have to worry about having the resources. And if he doesn’t get any value from your opponents, that’s mostly a good thing, too. He almost feels like a worse Smothering Tithe, but that isn’t meant as an insult. A Rating.
[[Merry, Esquire of Rohan]]: Obviously he works wonderfully in an aggro deck with equipment and such, but it’s the draw that’s most enticing. It won’t be incredibly difficult to trigger it, and it might not even be difficult to keep him alive. In a multiplayer game, there will probably be someone tapped out or lacking creatures, so you can send Merry that way. But, of course, there’s always Dihada’s sweet protection, too. I’ve said that card draw isn’t needed in a Dihada deck, but it doesn’t hurt, either, especially when it’s on a legendary permanent. A+ Rating.
[[Shadowfax, Lord of Horses]]: While the horse lord effect is cool, thankfully that haste ability does apply to itself, and that’s all I really care about. There are plenty of cards in the deck that this can cheat into play, including all three Olivias (though you miss Crimson Bride’s timing). For Shadrix Silverquill, missing the timing could be considered a good thing at times. And while you would miss Crimson Bride or Aurelia, the Warleader’s timings, you could +2 Dihada during the second main phase if you’re worried. A+ Rating.
[[Anduril, Flame of the West]]: There’s so much equipment-themed legendary cards in this set that an equipment Dihada just got far more viable, but this is solid in a non-equipment themed deck, too. With board wipes being a primary strategy to make way for our indestructible creatures, an equipment that creates more flying attackers is powerful to say the least. It will likely make your average game end quicker. S Rating.
[[Horn of Gondor]]: Even without humans in the deck, this card has exponential growth build in. It’s like a Krenko, Mob Boss, except it doesn’t have the weakness of being a creature. Also, we actually do have plenty of awesome human options in the deck already. At worst, it’s three mana for a chump blocker each turn. B Rating.
[[Horn of the Mark]]: With haste cards, this card becomes way more viable. There’s a lot of card draw in this set, but this is one of my favorites. The idea of grabbing a creature from the top five every turn sounds like a dream, and for only a two mana investment and attacking with two creatures. If you lack legendary land, then you probably won’t benefit from this as much as other card draws, since this can’t get you land and Dihada won’t be getting you as much land. S Rating.
[[Mithril Coat]]: We keep getting more indestructible options and I’m not complaining. Every one we add makes our board wipes a bit stronger. Don’t sleep on the fact that this is indestructible, too! There will definitely be times when we need to destroy artifacts and enchantments with Cleansing Nova, and this protects itself. Plus, most cards can’t remove it. S Rating.
[[The One Ring]]: As I keep saying, card draw often feels unnecessary, but with a lifelink commander it’s hard to resist the temptation The One Ring has to offer. Perhaps it’s difficult to resist the temptation even without life gain. Protection from everything until your next turn sounds unreal, and I think the best way to abuse that is to use it to kill someone. To clarify, I don’t mean that this gives your creatures protection (it doesn’t), but that you can safely all in someone without worrying about getting killed while tapped out. That sounds fantastic to me. S+ Rating.
[[Palantir of Orthanc]]: With our reanimation cards, self-milling isn’t a big deal. The longer the game goes on, the more worried we might get about milling ourselves out, but this is commander! We have a 99 card deck. I think we’re good. Also, the longer the game goes on, the more likely it is that a player won’t want to risk losing a ton of life. S Rating.
[[Phial of Galadriel]]: I know people read this card and instantly focus on the first two abilities, but that’s not my concern. This is a legendary mana rock, and its mana value may seem less desirable than others, it’s something we can grab from Dihada and absolutely worth a slot, in my opinion. I doubt the first two effects will occur much in my version, but it may help others. I dream of the day I have less than five life and can pull off a lifelink Heartless Hidetsugu trigger to gain an enormous amount of life. S- Rating.
[[Barad-dur]]: COLORED LEGENDARY LAND! And it can build an army as a mana sink! S+ Rating.
[[Great Hall of the Citadel]]: Not a legendary land but a pretty good land for us to be playing with all the legendary spells we have. S- Rating.
[[The Grey Havens]]: PSEUDO-COLORED LEGENDARY LAND, and it’s uncommon!! Early in the game it may only tap for colorless, but the scry can help us to look for colored land. Plus, after a -3 or two, we’ll have the colors we need. S+ Rating.
[[Minas Tirith]]: COLORED LEGENDARY LAND! And it comes with card draw! S+ Rating.
[[Mines of Moria]]: COLORED LEGENDARY LAND! And it can turn milled cards (like land) into treasures! S+ Rating.
[[Mount Doom]]: MULTICOLORED LEGENDARY LAND! I could be mistaken, but to my knowledge this is the first legendary dual land in the game. I’d have included it simply based on that. But on top of that it comes with a ping for each opponent and even a board wipe? Pure insanity. S+ Rating.

Starter Kit

[[Gandalf, White Rider]]: Another Gandalf! This one is probably more suited for your deck. Having Vigilance is always useful for a deck with a planeswalker commander. He can help get you a bunch of power by casting the many spells you’ll have access to with Dihada’s -3, you’ll get to scry to make sure you hit what you want to hit, and then he doesn’t even die! And while returning fifth from the top may seem like a lot, as long as you can -3, you’ll only have to wait one turn to see him again, making all of his benefits consistent. S Rating.
[[Gollum, Scheming Guide]]: Gollum’s play pattern is that he doesn’t seem to die in combat. Either the opponent guesses correctly and Gollum is protected by being removed from combat, or they guess wrong and Gollum is protected by being unblockable. I suppose the downside is that you may be revealing the top card of your deck for free with no other actions. But the upside is potentially drawing a card every turn. Is it worth it? Gameplay-wise, maybe. Fun-wise, definitely. B Rating.
[[Witch-king, Bringer of Ruin]]: While nowhere near as good as the other Witch-king, there is definitely some synergy in the deck because usually players don’t have many creatures after repeated board wipes. Having this out forces players to either hold back their bigger cards for safety, or to play multiple, likely smaller, creatures. It’s a good position to be. A- Rating.
[[Fires of Mount Doom]]: Weirdly the best thing about this card, to me, is the equipment destruction. Besides that, I don’t see the two damage to a creature or the two damage to players as particularly useful, and the card advantage you can gain from it is surely less than Dihada. If you happen to have one I guess it’s a good budget option, but I can’t see myself pushing a card out of the deck to make way for this. B- Rating.
[[Sauron, the Lidless Eye]]: This is not a card that I will be putting in my deck, but I’ve seen comments from people who play a Token variant of Dihada that would benefit from this card. My version of the deck doesn’t go wide with all of the board wipes I include. If you find that you often go wide, Sauron is a decent card for you. It can also be good if you use an Aristocrat version that can sacrifice the creature you controlled, but remember that you only control it for the single turn. As for my personal assessment, B- rating, but like I said his stock goes up in the right deck.

Commander Decks

[[Gwaihir, Greatest of the Eagles]]: THE EAGLES ARE COMING!! Seriously, though, this card is absolutely nuts for us. I have no idea why this isn’t six or seven mana. A 5/5 flying that can give other creatures flying and makes more fliers that also give other creatures flying seems like a lot for only five mana, and it’s mostly colorless mana to boot. I suppose having to gain three life every turn is supposed to be a major weakness? But clearly it’s not for us. I have no problem whatsoever +2ing this every turn. S+ Rating.
[[The Gaffer]]: So much card draw in this entire set I’m kind of sick of it. This would be a lot better with three power, since Dihada could make him trigger himself. Just to reiterate, card draw becomes more important the less legendary land you have, since -3 won’t net you as many land and treasure is only one time use, so you need other ways of ensuring you get more land. A Rating.
[[Gollum, Obsessed Stalker]]: An interesting addition that can help you deal a ton of damage, either over time or in the right situation, due to Dihada’s lifelink. Obviously my favorite would be Heartless Hidetsugu, a combo which I believe instantly kills everyone in the majority of situations, and the only times it wouldn’t are due to Heartless Hidetsugu’s “rounded down” clause. So the fact that this is a cheap creature we can play that can secure us a lot of damage over time or result in an instant kill combo makes it versatile and threatening. If you’re not playing Heartless Hidetsugu (why, tho?) or a lifelink variant of the deck, its rating would lower, but S- Rating for me.
[[Gimli of the Glittering Caves]]: This card looks really strong on paper as something that can deal a ton of damage, make a ton of treasures, even gain a ton of life with +2. That being said, I don’t play too many ways to give evasion, meaning that he’ll likely be blocked on repeat. Our version of “evasion” comes from board wiping after a +2, and I don’t know if it’s worth it to do that too often. That being said, the additions of Gwaihir and The Black Gate give us more evasion options! A Rating.
[[Lobelia, Defender of Bag End]]: “Without paying its mana cost” has me excited about this card. It isn’t like it’s difficult for us to get artifacts to sacrifice with -3. And even once we run out of cards to cast we can use extra treasures to ping for two and gain two. And since it says “play a card” instead of cast, we can even trade treasure for land if that’s what we exiled, and that’s pretty cool. Plus I love having knowledge of the cards my opponents don’t have access to while they don’t. There’s even a world in which this is removed immediately, only to be reanimated and surprise everyone with those cards, so the fun factor is on point, too. S- Rating.
[[Too Greedily, Too Deep]]: I like my reanimation decks to be playable from the graveyard in case we discard them, but I can’t say the same for board wipes since there aren’t many options that fit. So even though this is a reanimation card that doesn’t have flashback, it doubles as a board wipe and, I think, is acceptable to go in. S- Rating.
[[Wake the Dragon]]: This seems like a budget card to me, but I have a soft spot for Flashback cards since we don’t mind discarding them from the -3. B- Rating.
[[Crown of Gondor]]: I’m always a fan of introducing The Monarch into the game. As I’ve said, I love deterring effects, and while The Monarch makes people want to attack us temporarily, it quickly becomes a deterring effect. B+ Rating.
[[The Black Gate]]: LEGENDARY LAND!! And evasion is a rare addition for us!

Box Toppers

[[Morgul-Knife]]: AKA Shadowspear. We don’t include a ton of trample and this could make a big difference. Plus everything else it has to offer. S Rating.
[[Isengard, Saruman’s Fortress]]: AKA Boseiju, Who Shelters All. Being able to make your board wipes, destruction, and reanimation effects uncounterable is always cool, but coming into play tapped, only adding colorless, and needing to pay life is a serious trade off. A+ Rating.
[[The Dead Marshes]]: AKA Urborg, Tomb of Yawgmoth. Obviously a great card. Expensive. S+ Rating.
[[Glittering Caves of Aglarond]]: AKA Gemstone Caverns. In a multiplayer game, chances are you're not the starting player, making this likely to go off if in your starting hand. Losing a card from your hand may not feel great, but accelerating your plays is probably worth it. Not to mention Dihada is going to refill your hand. S+ Rating.
[[Osgiliath, Fallen Capital]]: AKA Kor Haven. Again, tapping for colorless is tough in a three color deck, but being able to defend against a creature every turn is cool for the turns that you -3 instead of +2.Remember that you can protect Dihada this way. S+ Rating.
[[Helm’s Deep]]: AKA Shinka, the Bloodsoaked Keep. Colored legendary land and can give our creatures first strike. S+ Rating.

Conclusion

“End? No, the journey doesn't end here.” -Gandalf to Pippin